by Janeal Falor
“Occasionally you remember, but you often act like you don't.”
I jump to my feet. “Do you want to have another wager over this?”
“I'm being serious.”
“So am I.”
“Fine. Let's wager. You win—I'll leave you alone about this. I win—you'll consider what I'm warning you about.”
“Fine.” I kick my shoes off.
To my surprise, Nash opens the door and says something to one of the guards. Instead of closing it like he usually does when he's finished, he leaves it open. He pulls out the low table and sets a chair on each side.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Aren't we going to fight?”
“Oh we will, but not like you're thinking.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
The next moment, Eldim walks in the door, nako set in hand. The wooden box is closed, the intricately carved pieces inside. The outside holds pegs, where the pieces fit and move around.
“Oh, no.” I shake my head. “That's not what we agreed on.”
“You didn’t specify the fight. This is what I pick. A game of strategy and cunning.”
“That's not fair,” I say.
Nash turns to Eldim. “Thank you. That will be all.”
Eldim bows to me and then leaves the room and closes the door behind him.
“I'll even be a gentleman,” Nash says. “I'll let you go first.”
I grab the black pieces, though red is supposed to go first. Red is not a color I like. Nash lifts an eyebrow.
We set up our pieces strategically across our side of the board. I set mine in alternating rows, while he sets his up like an army. He is a guard. Maybe that makes a difference to what he chooses.
He jumps his first piece three pegs. “Your move.”
We alternate moving pieces, until I lose my first one.
“Ugh.” That's not a good sign.
The turns keep coming, and I snag a couple of his pieces. I grin, excited to have gotten one up on him.
Surprisingly, he grins back, like he hasn't a care in the world. “Ready to give in?” he asks.
“Never.”
He captures one of my pieces then. And another. And another. Next thing I know, I only have one piece left, and unless he's stupid—which he clearly is not—he will get it next turn.
I move my piece closer to his in defiance. With a small smile, he captures it.
I lost. Of course I lost.
“Now will you take me seriously about Ranen?” he asks.
I purse my lips. I don't want to concede and yet— “I suppose I have to.”
A look of satisfaction overcomes him. “Good. I don't like fighting with you. I'm sorry for the problems we've had.”
His words send a sizzle of pleasure through me. “I agree. I don't like fighting with you, either. We shouldn't do it anymore. But if I'm going to heed your advice about Ranen, I want you to do something for me.”
His gaze becomes guarded. “What's that?”
“I want to go out among the people.”
“It's not safe. People have tried to take your life in the palace. Can you imagine what would happen if they found out you were outside these walls?” He sighs. “We could bring a lot of guards, but it's still risky.”
“No guards. I'll go in disguise.” Because it feels like too long since I had fresh air. I'm as much a prisoner here as I ever was at Daros's.
“I don't like it. Something could go wrong.”
“Between you and me, I'll be fine.”
He moves to the window and stares outside. He must let me. If he doesn't, I'll sneak out myself. “Why do you want to go?” he asks.
“I want to see the people as they are.” And being their queen I can look at things in a different way. Maybe I’ll realize what I missed before, when I was in a stupor.
When Nash turns, I can't tell what he's thinking.
“We can do this,” he says. “But I have to be with you at all times, and it has to be a good disguise.”
I suppress a squeal of delight—don't know where it even came from. “Thank you. Can we go this afternoon?”
“May as well get it over with. If you go get a disguise, and I'll find a way out of the palace.”
This had better go smoothly.
Chapter 30
A disguise is easy. I convince Inkga to give me one of her day dresses and a small bit of fabric. She complies with only a faint look of confusion. She's doing well since the poison worked its way out of her system. It's like she wasn’t sick in the first place. I won't have someone’s tray be sent up in a way that could be confused with mine again, though.
Once dressed, I take the extra fabric and wrap it around my hair. Best of all, the material doesn't match the dress, making me look even more like a Poruah. The only thing to take care of now is my face. A bit of dust should do the trick, once we're out of the palace.
I pass from room to room, waiting for Nash. He hasn't changed his mind, has he? I'll be upset if he has. I was quick to change, so maybe that's all it is. Still, I wait and wait.
About mid-afternoon, I answer the door to find Nash in peasant garb—simple brown cloth trousers with a loose cotton shirt. There's string crisscrossing at the neck of the cream shirt. He has boots that come up to his knees, and a cloak, probably to hide weapons in.
“Where is Her Majes—” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m impressed with your disguise.”
“Thank you.”
He holds out a second brown cloak. “For you.”
“Thank you.” I move to grab it, but he stops me.
“Let me help you.” He grabs the cloak with both hands and whisks it around my shoulders, then ties it together in the front. “There. I wish we could do something to hide your face, but that would be more suspicious than leaving it in plain view. At least you're not familiar to the people yet, as your portrait hasn't been painted. Those who saw you were mostly Kurah class. It's doubtful they'll be out on the streets where we're going.”
“Good. Let's go.”
With a nod, Nash and I leave the room. “Afet, Wilric, come with us,” he says. “The rest of you, stay here and make certain no one enters the queen's chambers.”
The two guards follow after me, with Nash in the lead. He takes us through the palace until we reach a dead end with a potted plant on the side of an open window. After looking around, he does something to the wall. I can't tell what, but a secret door opens.
“Well done,” I say.
“There still may be some men in the passageway, but hopefully they don't recognize you.”
We get in the passageway, and Nash quickly fills the guards in on what we're doing.
“I didn't know they were coming with us,” I say.
“You need more than only my protection. They'll keep their distance but will be there in case we need help.”
I want to argue, but the longer we talk, the less time we'll have for sightseeing. “Fine.”
We follow Nash through the long, dark passageway, with only a few torches here and there to light the way. We twist and turn through a serpentine path. It feels never ending, like the rest of the palace. Who designed this place, anyway?
I'm thinking about what we're going to find. What the people will be like. I haven’t tried to care about them. They've always been obstacles in killing a target. I want to know what they're really like. I have to learn to care for them if I am their queen. No one ever cared for me, and I almost chose to end my life because of everything that happened to me. I don't want the same to happen to my people if there's something I can do to help.
When we come to another dead end, Nash pushes a stone on the wall, and it opens up behind a large bush outside the palace but still inside the walls.
There's barely room for us to go out. The branches claw at my arms, but my cloak protects me. We end up on a sunny strip of grass.
Nash strides toward the front entrance of the gate. Getting past the guards has my pulse racing. I tak
e slow, steady breaths to try and calm it. What's the worst they can do? Realize I'm the queen? Then I can order them to let us out.
That does the trick. My heartbeat slows back to normal.
The entrance is wide enough for a wagon to come through. The portcullis is up, but guards line the way. None I recognize, but I take in their faces, trying to remember them.
“What are you doing out here, Nash?” the closest guard asks. “I haven't seen you since the queen made you Head Advisor.”
“Thought it'd be a good day to go to the market. Stretch my legs,” Nash replies.
“And who is this girl you have with you? She doesn't look familiar.”
I give him what feels like a pretty smile.
“She's a new servant girl,” Nash says. “Thought I'd take her with me and the boys.”
“You know I can’t let her back in without being vetted.”
I keep my smile pasted on. I'm tempted to play the coquette, but without knowing him better, I don't know if it would help or hinder our cause. He has to let us out. I need to see my people.
“Come on, Piru. You know me. I work for the queen herself. I have her trust. You can let us out and back in when we return.”
The guard shifts, eyeing the guards on either side of him.
“It's me,” Nash says. “I'm always loyal to the queen.”
Finally, the guard says, “If the girl’s with you three, I'll trust her. Go on, then. Have a good time.”
We pass by the guards without a problem, and then we're free. Out in the open.
Memories rush to me. That day I came here. How much despair I felt. How heavy my heart was with the grief of my actions. It's still here, simmering under the surface, though it's not as dark.
It doesn't take long for us to reach the market. Afet and Wilric take separate directions away from us. We see everything from a very few high-nosed Kurah class to Poruah afflicted with almaca, left out on the streets. I wish there was something I could do for them, but nothing can be done once someone has caught the fateful disease. The more spots they accumulate, the faster they wither away to nothing.
Now that I'm paying attention to the people instead of myself, it's strange. There are lots of downcast gazes and very little smiling or laughing even among those without almaca.
“What's wrong with everyone?” I ask Nash.
“Lots of things. Taxes. Lack of food. The uncertainty that comes with a new ruler.”
“Aren't they used to it by now?”
He looks at me. Really looks. “Don't you know?”
I shake my head.
“Where did you come from?” His eyebrows are drawn together.
I face away from him. This would be a good time to tell him everything. He has a right to know what kind of monster I am. And yet, the words won't come. How do you tell someone you're an assassin? That you are capable of much depravity?
You don't.
“I'm unfamiliar with the people,” I say, turning back toward him.
He presses his lips together, like he's trying to stop himself from asking more.
We wander through the stalls. I wish I'd brought some gold with me. Not that I need anything, but I could support the shop owners through buying something. Give money to the hungriest-looking children.
There's food out on the stalls, but not as much as I remember. Perhaps it's because I now have an abundance of food. I'm not starving.
Only a few purchase the food. The rest look at it longingly. “Why aren't more people buying things?” I ask.
“Because of the heavy taxes. They don't have enough.” His voice holds a taint of bitterness.
“You disagree with how things are done?”
“Let's just say it's not my place to judge.”
That's not helpful. “But as your queen, I'm asking for a direct answer.”
“Shh. You don't want to give yourself away.” He moves closer, like he expects someone to dart out with a sword at any moment.
I would push him away, except his presence is soothing. “No one has noticed. Answer the question.”
“Fine. You want to know? I'll tell you. I think the taxes were a horrible idea. It's left very few Medi class. The poor are suffering, and even the rich are feeling its sting.”
I look ahead, at a little girl staring at a table of apples with big, hungry eyes. “I wish I had some money to buy her one.”
Nash doesn't hesitate. He strides over to the stall, purchases several apples, and hands them to the girl.
“Thank you, Mister,” she says, looking at him like he's just saved her life.
Maybe he has.
She scampers off. Nash says, “I should have fed her sooner. Wish I could feed more of them. I’m distracted with trying to protect you.”
“And you don’t have enough money to feed them all.”
“True, but I like to do what I can.”
Am I doing all I can? “There are changes that need to be made.”
“Major ones, that will take a lot of work to make happen.” He continues walking, and I follow beside him.
“I don't know how to go about it.” It's more work than I've had to do before. Ending a life is easy; making a living for a country is hard.
“I'm certain you'll figure out what's best.”
“That's all you're going to give me?” I ask. “You're my Head Advisor. Shouldn't you offer more?”
“What more do you want me to add?” he replies.
“Something. Anything.”
He opens his mouth, and then closes it again.
“What were you going to say?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It isn't something we need to speak of.”
“Now you've got me even more curious.”
“My advice”—he sounds like he's getting back to the original subject, instead of answering my question—“is that you decide what changes you want to make, and go from there. It might take a law change, convincing people of something, or standing your ground when no one else agrees with you. Whatever it is, you have to set your mind to do it and follow through.”
“Are you certain you haven't been Head Advisor before?” I ask.
He lifts an eyebrow.
“You know what you're talking about is all.” But do I know what to do about it? I'm not sure. Maybe I should start with asking the first queen questions about queens of the past. Experiences they've had. Rules they've made, and the consequences of those laws.
“If you're willing,” Nash says to me, “I think we should return.”
“Yes, I've seen enough.”
More than ever before.
Chapter 31
The first queen stands before me, clear as can be. “So, you found me.”
“I wanted to make certain you're real.”
“That's smart. Good initiative, like a queen needs.”
At least I did one thing right.
“You did more than one thing right. You've done a lot of things right. You're making a lot of progress, a good portion of which is due to Nash.”
“You know Nash?”
“I do. He's good for you. You should open up to him more, instead of arguing with him.”
“Because that would mean opening up with you too.”
“It's true. It would help me as well. That doesn't mean it wouldn't be good for you. If you're not ready to talk to him, are you ready to talk to me?”
“No.” Never. I can't open myself up to secrets that would hurt.
“You have to give in sometime. It's not good to keep things locked up inside.”
I ignore her comment and say, “I need your help.”
“That's why I'm here.”
“How have the other queens ruled? How have they handled changing laws and doing what's best for the people?”
She gives me a look that I don't understand, which is strange; I can usually read people. Maybe it's because I'm in a dream. She says, “Queens don't always do what's best for the people.”
“T
hat much is evident. How can I?”
“You need to look into your heart. Your feelings. Deep down, you know what you should do.”
It doesn't feel that way.
“Why is it so hard to find information on you?” I ask.
“Because I existed so long ago. Most knowledge about me was long ago lost or destroyed.”
“Why destroyed?”
“Because people don’t always appreciate what they have. Which is why I imbued myself into the Mortum Tura with magic. I knew things would be misplaced over time, but I wouldn't go missing, as long as they used the chalice to choose a new queen.”
“How did you make the chalice?”
She sits down like she's on a chair, but really, she just floats in the middle of the blurry, colored space. “That is a story for another time. For now, we need to learn about your worth.”
“I'd rather learn about the chalice.”
“Of course you would, which is part of the reason it's so important to discuss your value. You're over an entire kingdom now. You can't be taking risks like climbing up the side of the building. What if you fell?”
“I never fall.”
“But what if you did?”
I jolt awake. What was that sound?
There it is again—a faint patter of steps.
I slowly reach under my pillow and grab my dagger. Whoever it is, they aren’t going to take my life. The first queen has a point. I'm over a whole country now. Besides, I won't be killed in my bed.
The whistle of something moving quickly though the air is the only warning I get that a knife is hurtled toward me. I dodge out of the way and then spring up on my feet. I take a step toward the window, where my attacker is, and kick him square in the chest.
He falls with a grunt. There's not time to light a candle and see who it is. I crouch down, dagger in hand, ready to attack.
There's a shuffle of movement from my attacker, but he’s moving away from me, not closer. My attacker is scared. I run toward the noise. A shadow moves. I jump on it, putting my dagger to its neck.
The person tries to shove me off, but I cling to them. “Move, and I'll jam this dagger through your neck,” I say.
My attacker freezes in place.
