by M. L. Greye
He sighed, watching his bunk room fill with light over and over again. As he listened to the corresponding, almost deafening, cracks of thunder, he subconsciously counted the bunks in his head. Twelve. There were twelve bunks, just as there were twelve in each of the rooms in the barracks. Although, he’d never fully understood why his space was called a bunk when there was no bunk bed involved.
The bunk rooms were square, divided into bunks that more closely resembled cubbies. Wood panels that went from floor to ceiling separated each of the twelve beds that lined the room. Above the beds were shelves for the belongings of each border warrior, and below were drawers for clothing. In the center of the room was a tattered red and yellow rug.
Currently, Declan was on his back in his own bunk, staring up at the ceiling. He was on the left side of the room from the door – two bunks down from the room’s only window. A flash of light flared through the room simultaneously with a clap of thunder. Declan winced. There was no way he’d be getting back to sleep during this.
Summer was the season for storms like this in Anexia. They were frequent and made for less travelers, usually including bandits. There was just something about Harkin's disappearance that unsettled Declan. He wasn’t able to buy that it was bandits who took Harkin.
The man could have just been a deserter, but by the way the officers were acting, Declan doubted it was that simple. He felt like he was missing information. His commander was a sturdy chap, not easily scared. For Jaymes to practically double the patrols, whatever had happened to Harkin had to have been more than some mere bandits. They’d had bandits around the border before, but there’d never been double patrols.
The whole thing made Declan uneasy. He didn’t want to be ambushed by bandits in the dead of night, but he had his suspicions that whatever Harkin had faced was worse. Why else would some of the officers have a spooked look in their eyes? What were they hiding from their warriors?
Another blaze followed immediately by a boom had some of the other men in the room stirring in their bunks. The storm was right above them now. As the room filled once again with light for that half second, Declan’s gaze landed on the empty bunk directly across from him.
Harkin’s bunk. His things had already been removed – sent back to his family. The bunk had even been filled again with someone outside now on Harkin’s old patrol shift.
It’d been a quick replacement. Almost as if Harkin had simply been transferred somewhere else along the border. But he hadn’t. The thought cast a shadow over Declan. It kept him from falling back to sleep until long after the lightning and thunder had faded away.
:::::
It’d been a month since Emry had begun her Turanga lessons. Her arms were stronger now, and she could spin and twist about as fast as a Heerth child could. She was improving at a snail’s pace. All thanks to Trezim’s royal decree that Eazon only practice with her for an hour, two tops, a day. It infuriated Emry.
Instead of learning the intricate movements of the Turanga – of how to defend herself – she was forced to be among the Heerth court. At least her mastery of the language was getting better every day. At the very least, there was that.
With how much she chatted over trays of food, or on strolls through the gardens, or during soirees she’d come to fondly think of as potential marriage candidate meet-and-greets, she felt as though she should be completely fluent by now. Give her a couple more months, and she’d speak like a native.
It was on one of those garden strolls with the king’s court that she presently found herself. The paths were lined with servants clad all in white. The servants held enormous palm fronds in their hands, fanning the nobles who meandered about the paved lanes in the last rays of sunshine.
Flickering lamps of orange-eyed fire dangled in between the servants. The lamps themselves were made of beautifully crafted copper with thousands of diamond shaped holes poked into them for the light to shine through. They were attached to black iron poles bent at the top, like a shepherd’s hook. The lanterns swayed lightly in the gentle, warm breeze from the fronds.
Emry was finally catching a few moments to herself near a couple of wandering peacocks. She had been with some portly young man – a Heerth lord who had inherited his title as barely more than a boy – for nearly an hour as he followed her around the gardens like a lost puppy. But he’d grown too hot and had sought out refreshments about five minutes ago, leaving Emry to admire the brightly colored birds in the glow from the lamps.
Peacocks were rare in Enlennd. It made Emry sad. They were truly the most beautiful birds she’d ever seen.
“Nasty thing, fire.” Trezim’s voice at her side startled her.
She whirled.
He was bedecked in turquoise and red today. His tanned chest on display beneath his tunic vest.
The smooth, lean muscles he sported were in stark contrast from the soft, round edges of her previous companion. She really did like the look of Trezim.
Still, she wasn’t very happy with him. She simply frowned and replied in Heerth, “I can’t say I’ve ever felt the same way.”
He grimaced. “It scorches the skin faster than the sun.”
“Yes…” She let the word trail off. “Thank you for stating the obvious?”
Trezim didn’t respond to that. Instead, he smirked. “Shouldn’t you be flirting with your new young lord?”
“I wasn’t aware I was in possession of a new young lord.” She grunted.
“I’m sure you could easily remedy that.”
“Shouldn’t you be off flirting with some new conquest, Trez?” Emry rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood to entertain him.
“Why else do you think I’m walking with you?” Trezim winked.
“Me?” Emry halted midstep and turned to fully look at him. Was he being serious? He couldn’t be, not after what he’d forced upon her.
“Of course. You’re the loveliest flower in the gardens.” Trezim snatched up her hand and kissed the air just above her knuckles. An Enlennd gesture.
Well, that cleared up Emry’s confusion. He was simply being his usual, irritatingly charming self. She extracted her hand from his grip and began forward again. “You’re wasting your pretty words on someone who doesn’t care.”
“You’re not still upset with me over the shortened Turanga lessons, are you?” Trezim caught up with her in two strides.
Of course she was.
He’d put a cage around the freedom she’d thought he’d promised. But this was his kingdom, not hers. She was here as a guest. A helpless, powerless guest. Emry balled her hands into fists at her sides – her nails digging into her palms.
“Oh, you are. I can see it on your face.” He winced. “I did it for you – to shield you from the worst of the gossip. This court can be vicious.”
Emry snorted. Her old governess would have gone into hysterics at the noise. “Every court can be vicious. You did it to cover your back. You didn’t want word to get out that you were the one who instigated my fighting lessons.”
His half smile slipped. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did,” she retorted. “You practically said it yourself. You don’t want any sort of responsibility here in Zyntar. You just want to go home to Acoba. It would be a shame if your father actually discovered that you had any sort of attachment or relationship with me. Not even simple friendship because that would mean you weren’t just a philanderer and might be asked to stay here instead.”
Trezim stared at her. “People would talk about you if-”
“Who cares?” Emry threw her arms out wide, the gold bangles on her wrists tinkling from the movement. “Their words would just be rumors. Words might sting, but they do not wound. Not if you don’t let them. Care a little less about what people will think of you and a little more about how you treat others.”
“You don’t care at all what people think of you?” Trezim demanded incredulously.
“I care a lot less than you.”
“And
why is that?”
She had to hold back a sneer. “My father exiled my mother because he was so worried his new Court wouldn’t accept her. He never even gave her a chance.”
“Perhaps he knew that your Court would never accept her and thought to shield her from the rejection,” Trezim protested.
“He should have fought for her!” Emry blurted.
There it was. The words she’d kept inside since her mother’s death. Since she’d been forced to live in her father’s Enn palace and witness the lack of respect the Court had for their king’s late wife. Emry took a deep, steadying breath and said quietly, “He should have cared less about what his Court thought and more about how he treated the woman he supposedly loved. He should have been braver.”
“Emerald, is my exasperating brother tiring you?” Sabine slid up to Emry’s other side, looping her arm through Emry’s. Casting her voice much lower so that only Emry and Trez could hear her, she whispered, “People are starting to notice you’re arguing.”
“Of course they are,” Emry grunted, glaring at Trezim.
Sabine watched the exchange. “Care to join me, Emerald? I am in need of a translator. The Quirl ambassador’s Heerth is minimal at best.”
Emry recognized the escape Sabine was offering her. “Gladly.”
“Splendid.” Sabine dipped her head to her brother, a coy smile on her face. “Go infuriate some other unsuspecting lady. I’m stealing this one.”
Trezim merely dipped his head in farewell, and Emry wasn’t sad to see him go.
For the next two months, Emry saw very little of Trezim. She never outright avoided him, but she didn’t go out of her way to make contact, either. Trezim kept himself busy with whatever it was that he did, and Emry focused on what little training she was permitted.
So when the anniversary of Ewan’s death arrived, she spent the first few hours of it doing what she did every morning – practicing on the clay round with Eazon. Her arms no longer shook when she held her staff, and she could now walk through opening stages easily. However, if she was asked to do anything more advanced than a beginning phase, she became sloppy and stumbling. Her slow progress annoyed her.
She’d been in Heerth for half a year, and she was barely able to swing a staff around. She only had six more months in Heerth before she had to return home. Despite her lessons, she still felt incredibly helpless. It was borderline maddening.
To make matters worse, Eazon told her this morning that he would be returning to Acoba with Trezim in a few days. Summer was coming to a close, and it appeared so were Emry’s lessons. Eazon encouraged her to join the court group lessons the other ladies participated in twice a week. Because going from a lesson every day to twice a week was certainly going to help keep up what few skills she possessed.
Emry felt like screaming.
With the anniversary of Ewan’s death came Autumn’s Eve. Or, as Heerth called it, Sun’s Farewell. The holiday and Ewan’s death would forever be entwined together – a lasting blemish on the day until she perished.
Yet, with the holiday came another festival – a lesser one for Heerth. This festival was to begin at sunset when the sun faded, which meant that Emry’s presence wasn’t required until then.
After bathing from her lesson in the morning, she’d taken a quick lunch in her rooms before heading to the palace library. It was the only place she could go without being forced to confront someone she knew. She went there for the same reason she’d eaten in her rooms … Today was not her day.
Her handmaidens wisely didn’t question her odd behavior as they trailed after her over the intricately tiled floors. They didn’t arch a single one of their well-shaped brows at her choice of taking the long, less traveled route to the library. They merely followed in silence, their eyes darting this way and that in their usual fashion. Always looking for potential dangers. It really grated on Emry’s nerves that her maids were better trained than she was.
Once inside the library, Emry made her way through the many tiled arches and compartments lining the walls – filled with scrolls and books as ancient as the city. Zyntar was known for its wealth of knowledge. It almost rivaled the Great Marble Athenaeum of Quirl.
The Solar Palace’s library was a collection of rooms – a labyrinth of knowledge – carved into the basement floor of the palace. The cooler, drier air down here was better for the ancient texts.
Flickering candelabras and stained-glass skylights above lit each room. The skylights were made from glass so thick it was practically stone. They were inlaid into the floor of the solarium above. Just like the entire palace, the floors in the library were small hexagon tiles. Down here, though, they were shades of coral, blue, green, purple, and yellow.
Emry’s bare feet were nearly silent over the tiles. She’d purposely worn a pair of the bottomless sandals that were void of her usual gold coins. Her maids had done the same. Also leaving behind their many bangles as she had. Without being told, her maids had picked up on her wish to not be found. Whatever the king was paying them, they deserved a raise.
She wended her way through the rooms until she came to a particular alcove with a skylight set right above it. Emry sank onto the deep green chaise lounge. Her handmaidens took some of the orange and purple cushions positioned on the floor of the alcove. They’d been here before. They were familiar with Emry’s favorite haunts.
“Can we get you anything, sunflower?” Patice asked, hands clasped in her lap.
“I think I would like to rest before the festival.” Emry forced a smile. “Wake me when it is time to dress?”
“Of course, sunflower,” Tawna said.
“Thank you.” Emry leaned back against the chaise with a sigh and shut her eyes. She didn’t worry about her handmaids growing bored. They would switch off so only one would keep watch at a time. Or they would read.
It was a rare treat for them to be admitted to the library. Only scholars and the king’s royal children didn’t need permission. Her maids would take advantage of the trip, and Emry could rest. Maybe a nap would help relieve the tension in her shoulders, and the fountains above could drown out her memories from a year ago today.
CHAPTER SIX
Sun’s Farewell was nothing like its welcome, except for the street performers. There were still plenty of those.
Emry’s handmaidens had run off to be with their families as soon as they’d arrived at the festival, which meant she was able to wander the streets with Sabine alone. For the farewell, there was no grand entrance for the royal family. They both had eaten street food – Emry having two helpings of syrupy biscuits as dessert. With them both full, but the sun not quite completely set to begin the night of dancing, Emry and Sabine were amusing themselves by drifting from performer to performer.
They’d just left a pale-eyed who walked through fire by coating himself in ice, and were making their way towards a rough-hewn stage someone had thrown together just for the day. A musical group was putting on a show atop the small stage and had collected quite the crowd. Emry and Sabine were having to shove their way through to get a glimpse of the troupe. They managed to slip into the left side of the stage near the front.
The group was made up of three men and a woman with teal eyes. The woman was singing and rolling her body in the dance Emry had come to recognize as belly dancing – the gold coins on her belt at her waist chiming with each twist of her hips. One man was on a set of drums in the back, another on a guitar, and the third played a clarinet. The woman – a Teal – held a tambourine in one hand as she sang in Heerth, keeping time with her hips.
“They’re good,” Sabine shouted at her.
Emry only nodded, flashing a smile at her friend. They were good – very good compared with the other musicians she’d seen that day. No wonder there was such a crowd.
A hand grazed across the skin on her lower back, and Emry bristled just as Trezim appeared at her side. “Fancy meeting you here,” he yelled down into her ear.
Sabine rai
sed an eyebrow at her brother. “I thought you weren’t coming until after sundown.”
Trezim waved a hand up at the pink and orange horizon. “The sun’s setting now. Close enough.”
The troupe’s song was coming to a close. The crowd they’d attracted cheered. Emry and the two Heerth royals clapped as well. The belly-dancing singer bowed, swinging her tambourine wide. After another moment or two, the drummer began again, causing the crowd to quiet a little as they were entranced once more.
Then, suddenly, there were drummers everywhere. To the startled delight of everyone else, brown-eyed drummers weeded their way to the stage through the crowd. The guitarist and belly dancer joined in once more. Then finally the man on the clarinet.
Emry found herself grinning. The exotic music was beautiful. So loud it made her ears ring, but beautiful all the same. And it kept getting louder. The notes more complex, coming faster and faster. The dancer’s hips shaking at a speed only a Teal could keep up.
The climax was coming. Emry could feel it – the buildup coming to its fullest point. The crowd began to clap and stomp along with the drums. Emry couldn’t help but do the same, Trezim copying her on one side and Sabine on her other. The clarinet played some of the highest notes Emry had ever heard on the instrument. Intricate notes for deft fingers. She cheered along with everyone around her.
Then chaos erupted.
:::::
Declan woke to the smell of jasmine, and he swore there was drumming in his head. He sat up in his bunk and rubbed his eyes.
The room was dim. The sun would be setting soon, which explained why the room was empty. The festivities for Autumn’s Eve would begin any moment. If they hadn’t already. Declan groaned and eased to his feet.
He had just enough time to grab something to eat before his next shift began. A shift he’d taken on purpose, so that he could avoid anything to do with Autumn’s Eve. The whole reason why he’d taken two shifts in a row the day and night before. He’d wanted to be so exhausted that he’d sleep through the entire day.
