by M. L. Greye
He and Rand ate in silence – focusing on filling their bellies. When Declan was halfway through his plate, Rand’s gaze caught something behind him. Declan twisted around in his seat to see what had Rand so engrossed. It was the Blue with the abnormally white hair and honey-colored skin. She had her tray of food in front of her at an empty table two rows down.
Declan glanced back at Rand to find him still enraptured by the pretty fresh-faced. He wasn’t even blinking. Declan grunted.
“Come with me.” He pushed himself up to his feet and picked up his tray. He had some questions for the Blue, and Rand could get a better look at her up close. Rand frowned but stood as well, grabbing his own tray.
“Where?” Rand asked.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he led Rand to the Blue’s table. He lowered onto the bench across from her, and Rand sat beside him. The Blue looked up, quirking her brow. Declan decided to dive right in. “Again? You said again?”
Rand tossed a quick glance at Declan, confused. The woman just shrugged and rattled off something Declan couldn’t understand. Heerth. Declan didn’t speak Heerth. He winced, but then Rand replied back to her in the same language. The Blue grunted in response and said something back to Rand.
Declan turned to the Gray. “You know Heerth? What did she say?”
Letting out a sigh, as if it were a huge inconvenience for him, Rand said, “Again is one of the few words she knows in our language. She’s picked it up during the last couple days since she arrived.”
That didn’t really answer his question. But before he had Rand interrogate her, he figured it’d be polite to learn who she was.
Declan jerked his chin in the Blue’s direction. “Ask her what her name is.”
He rolled his eyes, but asked the question in Heerth anyway. The Blue’s gaze flickered between him and Declan before she replied, “Fiona Cortz.”
“Fiona,” Declan repeated. Then to Rand, “Ask her why she told the Back Rube to hold her under the water again.”
“She did what?” Rand’s eyes widened.
“Ask her.”
The Gray turned to Fiona. They exchanged words back and forth until Rand suddenly swore. To Declan, he said, “She did it because she wanted to set him off guard. Also, she legitimately wants to get better. It worked out in her favor, though. She got an extra meal out of it for the day.”
“Why does she want to do what the Back Rubes want?” Declan stared at her. “Why does she want to get better?”
Rand relayed his questions. When Fiona responded, Rand loosed a low, dark laugh. “She wants to be strong enough to one day drown her Main. To one day go so deep beneath the surface that not even the sharks will be able to find him.”
Declan snorted and gnawed off a chunk of his dry roll. “If you ever figure out how to drown yours, come back for mine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Emry waited until lunchtime to slip out into the woods again. She was paying the stables in Breccan to come every day now. It was easier this way than picking just four days a week. On the days she could slip away from her duties, then she’d have a horse waiting for her. She’d return it to the stable hand at the same spot two to four hours later, and he would take it back to the city with him. On the days when she was stuck at the palace, whichever stable hand was sent that day simply went back the way he’d come. He was to wait thirty minutes for her. If she didn’t arrive, then he was free to go. Thus far, it’d served her well.
Today she wouldn’t be going to the Ranga Pit. She’d be going to an inn – The Coiled Harp. Even though dinner was out of the question for that evening, maybe Declan’s parents would settle for lunch. Hopefully they would be willing to accept her help – whatever she could offer them.
When she’d arrived at the usual designated meeting spot, Emry had asked the stable hand for directions to the inn. He’d sighed in a way Emry doubted his employer would have appreciated and said it’d be easier just to take her there himself, especially since it was on the way back to the stables. The teenaged boy led her into Breccan at a pace Emry could only describe as purposeful. He slowed when someone blocked the road and sped up whenever he could.
They made it to the outskirts – known as the Visiting District – where grand inns and smaller ones were scattered for all those visiting the capital. Beyond the streets closest to the road, there were long boulevards leading to the homes of the upper and lower nobility of Enn. Piran’s parents lived along here. Emry had been to Moira’s home with Cit on a few occasions. The upper nobility of Enn preferred to reside in their homes whereas the upper nobility of the other regions had rooms in the palace. Emry had always thought the Enn upper nobles did it just to let the others know they were the locals.
Emry twisted down several blocks, trailing behind the stable boy, until he came to a modest, but clean inn. A swinging sign above its door, painted in yellow and blue, told her it was The Coiled Harp. They’d arrived. Emry thanked the boy with a coin.
As he headed off, she turned to the inn. There was an attending servant out front who would secure her horse for her. She handed the young woman her reins and headed in – grateful to get out of the frosty air.
She was greeted in typical Enn fashion at a front desk. She quickly asked the short man with vivid green eyes behind the counter if Declan’s parents had returned. He merely waved a hand behind him and told her they were in the dining room.
As Emry walked past the man toward the dining room, nervous energy bubbled up within her. Was she being too rash? She knew next to nothing about Declan’s parents. Perhaps what they’d wished of her father was vulgar or unlawful. She’d really run off on impulse, and she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite her.
It took her three sweeps of the dining room to find Declan’s parents. Three. She literally had to let her eyes move from table to table until finally she noticed Llydia. Levric was seated beside her. Emry wanted to roll her eyes. For brown-eyed, the ability to hide in plain sight was instinctual. Levric was no different. Taking a deep breath, Emry made her way to their table – off to the right side of the room, in between its center and edge.
Upon seeing her, Levric stood and offered out his arm. “Emry, what a pleasant surprise.”
Emry wasn’t sure if she’d feel the same way if their roles were reversed, but she clasped wrists with him all the same. She smiled and took a chair beside Llydia, across from Levric. “Thank you. I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry my father wasn’t able to help you today. I’d like to do what I can for you instead.”
Llydia inhaled sharply and threw a worried glance around the room to see if anyone was listening. “Your father?”
Levric leaned back in his chair, eyeing her warily. “I take it Emry is short for Emerald.”
“It is,” she replied. There was no going back from here. Declan was going to find out who she was – who Ewan was. His parents would share the news as soon as they returned to Anexia. “Emry is the name your son knew me by.”
Llydia’s gaze dropped to her hands in her lap and Levric frowned, his dark brow furrowing. “What sort of help are you capable of offering us?”
He hadn’t said it in a mean way – there was curiosity in his tone. Yet, the question still made her bristle. “I’m capable of more than you may think. Don’t let appearances fool you.”
Levric watched her for a moment as his wife watched him. “Why would a princess of Enlennd seek out two lowly villagers from Anexia in person?”
Emry held back a wince. Excellent question. How much should she confide in them? How much did they already know?
The two people in front of her weren’t just anyone – they were Declan’s parents. They were the ones who had raised the man who had saved her.
For that reason alone, she felt as though she could trust them. Not to mention, she was angry with her father for saying he was above listening to the problems of commoners. Then, there was her underlying purpose – Emry wished to be that person, the one who bridged the
gap between her people. To end this silly Feud. To stop her nation from looking vulnerable to greedy other countries.
“Because the princess is concerned over the state of Enlennd, and she has to start somewhere,” she replied, switching to her Anexian accent. Her real accent – the accent she’d first used with Llydia the day before.
“What do you know of the state of Enlennd?” Again, not malicious, just curious. Cautious, even.
She bit the tip of her tongue. “I know the Rioters are real people, and the Royals would rather them go on as fractious nuisances.”
“Not everyone is a Rioter or Royal,” Levric remarked.
“I realize that.” She let out a short laugh. “The world is not that simple.”
“Let me perhaps ask my original question in a different way.” Levric paused. “What’s your threshold for how much aid you’re willing to bestow us?”
Emry hesitated in answering. They still hadn’t told her the reason they’d requested an audience with Onyx, and she didn’t want to go around making blind promises. She didn’t want her word to feel cheap, and if their request was something outrageous she wouldn’t be able to keep her promises.
But these were Declan’s parents. It was possible he was raised by crazies, but looking at them now … Emry adjusted her eyes and her vision filled with the light swirling within them.
She was pleased to find little darkness mixed in. They were good people.
She blinked, returning her vision to normal and smiled out one side of her mouth, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t have a threshold. I wish to offer as much of my services as you may require.”
Levric exchanged a glance with Llydia, who said quietly, “We should take this somewhere private.”
:::::
Both Declan and Rand had been given some rare free time on the same afternoon. After their meal together, they’d decided to take advantage of it in the only way they knew how in the camp – by sparring. Faster and faster, Declan pushed Rand to keep up – tossing in his advice every once in a while, until they both were sweating and Rand was panting. It was much harder for Declan to become winded.
Rand stepped back, bending over his knees while he caught his breath. “I want you to start tapping your speed.”
“Why?” Declan blinked.
“Because I want to be challenged,” he spat out.
Declan loosed a surprised laugh and waved a hand at Rand’s hunched form. “Is this you not being challenged?”
The Gray swore at him and straightened. “I’m getting better, less mistakes. I need you to push me, to make me go faster, to force me to focus.”
“Why?” He repeated. “For what end? To off your Main as well?”
Rand’s responding laugh was bitter. “I don’t have just one Main. Fiona’s plan won’t work for me.”
“How many Mains do you have?”
“Eight.”
“Eight?” Declan choked on the word. “Why? I’ve only ever seen you with Simon.”
“Simon is my Main in all sense of the word.” Rand rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck on either side. “But after my … deliberate suicide attempt took out several Back Rubes, including my own previous Main, I was given extras as a precaution.”
Declan swore and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. A sort of sadness filled him – for what Rand had done, why he’d done it, and for the fact that escape really was impossible.
He wondered how many in this camp were just like Rand. He knew the last Teal had chosen death – had given up. Rand had sought death and been denied it. Everyone knew just how depressing life in this camp was. Declan tipped his head back to look at the clouds.
Maybe he just hadn’t gotten to that point, but he didn’t think so. He didn’t think that he ever would. No, he knew he wouldn’t.
From some place deep inside of him – so deep it almost belonged to someone else – he knew he would endure and battle it with all that he was. He didn’t give up. Not like that.
He was a fighter. A warrior.
Even though at times he felt weak and small and helpless, he kept going. He always would.
Declan wouldn’t go searching for death, not even when it was staring him in the eyes. He’d fight it – muddy, bloody, and glaring.
It was who he was. Who he had always been. Who he always would be.
“Have you noticed how there are always clouds overhead?”
The question startled Declan. He whirled back to Rand. “Who hasn’t?”
“Who do you think blocks the sun?” Rand snorted.
“You?” Declan stared at him. “You maintain the cloud cover all day and night? While also dueling? And sleeping?”
“Guilty.”
“Why?” Declan demanded. He hadn’t seen the sun in months. A flash of irrational anger ripped through him – at the gloom Rand brought to his world.
Rand gazed up into his clouds. “Two reasons. One, to distract myself so completely that I don’t have the time or energy to plot my own death again. Because I know that this time whatever I did, I’d succeed, and I’d take down the entire camp with me. Then two, the Back Rubes hate it, and I enjoy pissing them off in whatever way I can.”
“They haven’t made you stop?” Declan frowned.
“For a week, I made every metal surface they touched give them a shock.” Again, he let out an embittered laugh. “They’ve decided this is easier.”
Sometimes Declan forgot how long Rand had been captive. Declan had been here for four months, but Rand had been here for years. Just like that, his anger cooled. He saw why Rand kept up the clouds. He didn’t like it, but he liked the idea of making the Back Rubes squirm at the same time. But to do it every second of his life – the amount of power that took…
Declan winced. “That sounds exhausting.”
“That’s sort of the point.” Rand grunted. He paused a moment, then said, “You should try it.”
“Teals can’t make clouds.”
“Obviously,” Rand retorted. “I meant you should push your limits on your own. Make yourself into the fastest man alive.”
“All for the vanity of it?” He raised an eyebrow. “To try to kill my Main only to be given seven more? Doesn’t sound worth the effort.”
“No,” Rand shook his head, “do it so that you can become a one-man army. So that no Back Rube bastard can ever lay another hand on you.”
Declan glanced down at the blades in his hands. They belonged to the camp. Rand had won his own set to use, but Declan was stuck with these worn shards of metal. Absently, he ran his thumbs along the plain brown hilts. “There’s just one problem with that theory, Rand. Back Rubes don’t need to touch you to make your blood boil.”
Rand grimaced and lifted his blades up once more. “Fine. For vanity, then.”
“Now there’s a motivator.” Declan brought up his own blades, spreading his legs to widen his stance. He was done talking. For now, at least. Maybe he’d think more on it tonight when he was alone in his tent – to help keep back his own dark thoughts. So to Rand, he just said, “I’ll tap my speed. Let’s see if your clouds thin.”
:::::
There was only one chair in Declan’s parents’ rented room, and Emry decided to claim it, figuring it’d be strange if she sat on their bed. Levric and Llydia settled onto its edge just fine. They stared at each other for a moment until Emry broke the silence, “You still haven’t told me how to help you.”
Llydia tossed a glance at Levric. She opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but Levric didn’t give her a chance. He asked, “What is your goal for Enlennd, dearest princess? You say you’re concerned over the state of our country, but do you have an idea of how you wish it were instead?”
Emry grimaced at dearest princess. “Please just call me Emry, and yes, I do have a goal. I’d like to mend the rift my grandfather created.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I want to avoid other nations thinking we’re weak. Of getting the notion we’d be an easy co
nquest. I wish for Enlennd to thrive.”
“All noble notions, Emry.” Levric nodded. “Yet, even the best goals are worthless without the actions to accomplish them. Have you devised any sort of steps to reach this goal? Do you even understand what is causing the rift?”
Again, Levric’s questions were asked out of curiosity rather than ire. Emry swallowed, trying not to stiffen at his words. “I only know what I have gleaned for myself in the lesser courts of the regions, excluding Anexia. As for a plan, I have a half-baked idea without really the means to accomplish it.”
Levric offered her a small smile. “Half-baked?”
It honestly might have been even less than that. Emry bit the tip of her tongue. “I know my father does nothing to check the balance of the nobility overseeing the commoners – that their laws go unchecked because of him. Well, I wish to become the one to challenge them. To be better than my father.”
“Because you’re to be queen?” Llydia asked quietly.
Emry flinched. Of course she had led them to that thought. If she wasn’t the elder sister, why would she care so much? But if she admitted her birthright and word of it got out, she would be punished in some way or another. It was a law her father held dear … for some reason. He believed it protected his daughters if no one knew who was older. But it was stupid, and Emry was irritated with Onyx from their quarrel that morning. So it was with some belligerence that Emry answered, “Yes."
Levric rubbed his bearded chin with one hand. “Are you much involved in your father’s political maneuvers?”
At that she did stiffen. “No.”
“Then, it would take years for this plan of yours to be put into motion.”
This was her problem. The hurdle she couldn’t seem to be able to cross. Emry held back a sigh. “I did say it was half-baked.”
