My chest tightens. He wants to die?
“All I do is hurt. I hurt those around me. I hurt myself. I hurt society. It would be better if I was merely bones in the dirt. Harmless bones that cannot endanger good people.” He slams a fist on the ground, looking out over Smoke. “They don’t understand. And I don’t blame them. I blame myself. Everyone asks why I fight so well. What’s the secret?” He laughs bitterly, talking more to himself now than to me. The faraway light in his eyes scares me. “It’s a simple secret. I don’t care if I die. That’s why I fight so well. Simple. Easy. I could care less whether they gut me. The only thing that keeps me going is the idea that I can’t let one of those filthy, bloody, hell-cursed monsters roam this area while I live.” The bitterness has become fury. And I’ve seen what he does when he’s furious.
“Shade.” I draw close.
He’s mumbling, still staring at the city below. “They don’t know . . . They don’t know the horror that they could face. The agony. The pain. They live happily. They smile. Smile!” He grinds the word between his teeth. “Why do they smile? They have family. Life. Love. Ignorance. They have their pious, pitying ignorance. ‘Oh, you’ll be alright.’ ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. How awful for you.’ I hate them. I hate them all for their pity. And they hate me too. For everything those damned monsters turned me into, they hate me.”
I grab his shoulders, turning him to face me. “You listen to me! They didn’t turn you into anything. You’re not a monster! Hear me? You . . . are . . . not . . .” I draw closer, with each word, looking him straight in the eye. “Are not a monster,” I finish. “And you are alive, whether you like it or not. And I, for one, am glad you’re not dead!”
If he was dead, I would be too. I’d have been killed a long, long time ago on a darkened street, bleeding beside my father, while shadows cackled, hissed, and rasped above me.
They were monsters. He is not.
I realize how close we are, my hands on his shoulders, our faces leaned towards each other. Our breath blends in the air between us, fogging into clouds of moisture. He blinks – the fury, the tension, the self loathing – slowly vanishing from his face. He’s calming himself. I start to pull back, afraid of the static rushing between us. He grips my arms and gently pulls me back in front of him. The air becomes pressure as he leans closer, flicking his eyes over my face.
I see it beyond his head, carved into the wall of the mountain, so faint that I nearly pass it over. But it is there. Shade pulls back, noticing my shift in attention. He looks over his shoulder at the place my eyes have suddenly become fixated on.
Bordas equistia selentia vermana.
Where had I heard those ancient words before?
“How did that get there?”
Shade follows my pointed finger, his old self back again. He looks eager to change the subject. “I don’t know,” he says. “It must be ancient Kelban. I can’t read much of it.”
It didn’t look like ancient Kelban on closer examination. No. The words were too strange. Too mysterious.
Someone clears his throat behind us. Shade and I turn to behold a man dressed in soldier colors, a glinting emblem on his metal shoulder pad. A captain. He looks nervous, as if he witnessed something important. How much had he heard? Or seen?
“What is it, man?” Shade asks in his stern, taciturn voice. The harshness is back. The Shade I’d spoken to – comforted – moments before is gone.
“His majesty will see her now.”
Chapter XXVIII
Axle meets us at the bottom of the stairwell. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks are red as if he’s been running. He sucks in a couple of breaths.
“What’s wrong?” Shade asks.
“Not good. N-not good at all,” Axle gasps. “Lucius is already in session with the king.”
Shade shrugs. “That’s nothing new. The worm never wastes any time trying to degrade us.”
Axle’s brow furrows. “Dirk is with him.”
Shade stiffens and looks at me. The same reaction is written plainly in both of our faces.
Oh, shit!
I have to run to keep up with Shade and Axle. They stop in front of a large oaken door. The two men guarding the entrance are covered in metal, plate armor from head-to-toe. I can only see their eyes peering through the slits welded into the shiny helmets.
“We have an appointment with the king,” Axle says in his diplomatic tone.
The taller of the guards speaks in a gruff voice, “His majesty is otherwise engaged at the present moment. A messenger will be sent to inform you when he is ready to entertain your company.”
“A messenger was already sent,” Shade grinds between his teeth. There is no shadow of diplomacy in his voice. Only blunt power.
The guard cranes his neck – helmet – to look at the fierce warrior. “King Arkran will request your company shortly. Until then, be so kind as to wait, patiently and quietly, shadow-killer.”
Shade and Axle exchange a guarded look. I step back cautiously. I know that look.
“To hell with that,” Shade growls, and slams the pommels of both his swords into the guard’s stomach so fast I don’t even see him draw the weapons. The guard slams back against the wall.
Axle trips his guard and rams the pommel of his Illathonian blade into the man’s neck. The guard goes still.
Both warriors sheathe their swords and turn to me.
“Follow,” Shade gestures as Axle opens the large door. There’s a hallway behind it.
As I match my steps with theirs, a pit of nausea circles in my stomach. Back in Kelba, anyone who dared to dispatch the Celectate’s guards would be drawn, quartered, or worse.
What barbaric punishment is meted out in this land?
The hallway turns a sharp corner. Before we’ve even reached it, angry, raised voices chime in my ears. Once again, Shade and Axle share a knowing look before turning the corner harshly. I follow and nearly collide into their suddenly immobile forms.
The room is very large. Fifty feet across. Fifty feet wide. The ceiling has to be at least twice that. And from its stone embodiment hangs an immaculate, iron chandelier lit with hundreds of candles. It lights up the entire room.
The room is packed with people – most of them noble. The scents of foreign cologne, animal skins, and rich dye tease my nostrils.
“. . .your highness, is a threat to our city and a curse to our kind. I . . .” Dirk stops mid-sentence and gapes at us. Obviously, we were an unexpected arrival.
Everyone notices our entrance now.
“What are you doing here?” Lucius strides forward, his deep purple robe brushing the floor. An amethyst ring glints from the middle finger of his left hand.
“Arriving at the king’s summons,” Axle answers and glares at the noble pointedly, “despite your best efforts.”
Shade turns towards the center of the room – the part that I cannot see over his shoulder – and cranes his head slightly. “Your highness, I introduce Lady Kyla Kelonia Bone of Kelba.” He steps aside, allowing me the free will to move forward.
A podium is carved into the stone wall thirty feet in front of me. On top of it, a stone throne is also set and molded into place. In the throne, King Arkran of the Wilds stares back at me through heavy-lidded brown eyes. He looks half-asleep. A long brown and gray streaked beard shields his neck, but his hair is cropped close around his head. He lifts his head straight when he sees me and those eyes widen.
I curtsy.
“Your majesty, this is the one who has caused so much trouble in our peaceful realm,” Lucius stretches a hand in my direction.
“Peaceful,” Gregor scoffs. “Where have you been getting such shitty information?”
“Such language, Gregor, in front of the king is most deplorable,” Lucius chastises.
“We won’t talk about what else is deplorable right now.”
“What are you saying?”
“You, of all people, know what I’m
saying.”
“Your highness . . .” Lucius faces the king, “. . . your highness I move in favor of citizen Dirk’s suggestion. Get rid of the Kelban.”
“Before allowing her a chance to speak?” Axle asks. “That seems most unfair.” But his eyes shift between Lucius and the king nervously.
“Seems to me,” says a muscled young man on King Arkran’s right side, “she doesn’t speak at all.”
“She speaks,” says a clipped voice. I recognize it immediately. Princess Arene. She stands on King Arkran’s left and glares at me beneath thick lashes. “Don’t you, outsider?”
I stare at her, but don’t respond. King Arkran’s head leans forward a fraction of an inch, his eyes circling my face intently.
“Why don’t you say anything?” Lucius snarls.
“I speak when I want to,” I glare pointedly at him, “and only when I want to.”
“See! I told you, father. She’s a bitch,” Princess Arene whines and pulls at King Arkran’s arm. “You believe me now, don’t you? That she’s . . .”
“Oh, quit your bawling, Arene. Can’t you see father’s got enough problems to deal with? Don’t add your incessant whining to his list?” the young man sighs.
“Back off, Ivan!” she snaps. “Father, you . . .”
Prince Ivan looks in my direction and spots Axle. His lips widen into a smile. No – a sneer.
Axle’s reaction is a snarl between ground teeth.
Apparently, the royal children were royal pains in the ass to both of my elite friends.
“Your highness, I move that this meeting be adjourned. She is obviously invaluable to us. What possible use could there be for another outsider cursing our existence?” Lucius adds a hint of desperation to his tone. “I believe it would be better for us if she . . .”
“You believe it would be better for you if she was done away with,” Gregor interrupts him.
“I’ve had enough of your insinuations!” Lucius draws himself up to his full height.
“They weren’t insinuations.”
“Why you . . .”
King Arkran shoots from his seat, fire in his gaze. “Enough!” he roars.
Silence fills the room.
“You . . .” He points at me. “Come here.”
The stone grinds into the soles of my feet, which I had left bare earlier that morning. I had not expected to be called, so soon, into the king’s presence. I stop at the bottom of the podium and try to ignore Princess Arene and Prince Ivan’s eyes boring into each side of my skull.
“You are of Kelban nobility?” the king asks.
I nod.
“I take it your father was a lord?”
“Yes.”
“And you are married?” So he did notice the scar on my wrist and its purpose.
“Bonded. To Lord Rugan of Glothan, sire.”
He chooses to ignore my correction and move on. “Have you born any children for this lord?”
“Do I look like I have?”
“You ask his majesty no questions, outsider!” Lucius snarls.
King Arkran holds up a hand to halt his adviser. “Quite alright. I’m assuming from your answer, Kelban, that you have born no heirs for this lord and remain barren.”
“Unyielding, sire. Not barren.”
“Correct his highness one more time, outsider, and I’ll lash you,” Lucius threatens with an upraised hand.
“Like you lash your slaves?”
His jaw tightens in fury.
“Lady . . . Bone, was it?” At my nod, King Arkran gestures towards a side-door behind his throne. “Follow me. I think our conversation will go a lot smoother with far less supervision.”
Someone snickers behind me. Keegan. I had forgotten he was there.
“Your highness, I find that extremely unwise and . . .”
King Arkran cuts off Lucius’s warning with a wave of his hand. “Not another word, Lucius, or I confiscate half your wealth. Understood?”
The adviser remains silent.
The king beckons me again.
Don’t follow.
But I do.
He closes the door behind me.
The king’s solar is not what I expected. There’s a crackling fireplace. A couch with a bearskin stretched across its unruly mass. A modest table and chair. A four-poster bed big enough to hold ten men. And, last of all, a giant map of the entire kingdom of Kelba – before the poisoning decimation – hanging on the wall opposite of the fire.
“Sit.” King Arkran gestures to the chair and the couch.
I brace my legs. “I prefer to stand.”
He turns around from where he’d been admiring the sleek, leather map and the corner of his mouth twists upwards. I don’t know if he’s amused or irked by my behavior. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you?”
I shrug.
“A girl who only speaks when she wants to and does what she wants . . .” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “It’s not a common sight.”
On that, I agree with him.
He pours a glass of wine from a decanter on the nearby table and offers it to me. I shake my head. He shrugs, and downs the contents, before filling again. Beneath his regal robes, I locate the paunch of his belly. The round torso. The meaty legs. He is no Celectate Wood of muscle, power, and charm.
“It’s been a while since I’ve entertained a Kelban visitor. And a noble Kelban at that.” He peruses my garment – and the shoulder my sleeve carefully covers. He frowns when he can’t see the scar. “One could simply look at you and know you had a fine upbringing. The way you walk – the confidence, the pride, the honor – it all speaks to your fine heritage. And you said your family name was . . . it was something of the human anatomy . . . gods, it slips my mind.” He snaps his fingers.
“Bone.”
“Yes. Bone. Good family name. Fine heritage, I assume?”
His honey-sweet words are making me uneasy. I cross my arms. “With respect, sire, are we here to discuss my lineage?”
“No. But I find it helpful to know every bit of back-story behind the outsiders I must allow within my borders. Wouldn’t you, if you were in my place?”
He’s caught me there, and he knows it.
“My father is a High Lord.” I’d almost forgotten the importance of that part because it didn’t matter.
“You’re . . . you’re a High Lord’s daughter?” he asks, breathlessly.
That nauseous pit in my stomach tightens. “Y-yes.”
Beneath shaggy eyebrows, his eyes glitter. His lips widen into a smile. He walks up to me and places a hand on my shoulder, close to my neck. I flinch beneath it. It is ice cold. He leads me towards the map. Some of the markings are incorrect. He has placed several important cities too far from their actual posts. There are also several river branches that do not exist inked onto the fine leather. Wherever he got the map, it was poorly made.
“Fine piece of work, isn’t it? It’s three hundred years old.”
I stare at him in astonishment. Three hundred years old? Gods, that was decades before the poison decimated Kelba. The river branches might have disappeared over time since then. And the cities have been moved closer to their current positions to account for the lack of water in those areas. The map is practically worthless. And the cities of Smoke, Agron, and Brunt inked onto the leather have obviously been added within the last few years.
“It is ancient,” is all I say to him. Worthlessly ancient.
“Aye,” he agrees. “Old as the mountains, but still strong. Like us. Like the people of this land your kind deserted.” He says it like a fact, without a trace of bitterness or resentment. “But it is lacking. I am hoping you might be able to help me with that.”
His eyes hold mine in a steady gaze. I dare not look away. “What?”
“For instance,” he whispers and grips my hand. Disgust rolls within me at his touch. His hands are too soft. I am used to Shade’s callused, gnarled fingers. Axle’s bony, strong hands. To feel softness,
especially in one from the opposite sex, discomforts me. King Arkran guides my hand upwards. Up, up, up until it’s positioned over the inked dot named “Kirath.” “The fortifications around this city – are they stone? Brick? Mortar? Both?”
I stare at him in shock.
He tries again and positions my hand towards the edge of Kelba. Over Rag-vara – Kelba’s leading city of trade. “What kind of dealings go on here? Illicit? Legal? Who conducts trade with your land? Who . . .?”
I pull my hand away from his and step back. “You want me to betray them.”
“Haven’t they betrayed you?” He takes my arm gently and his coercion changes to soft understanding. “They hurt you. Branded you. Carved you up like a piece of meat. A slave. Something to be used by them. Does it not make you angry? Don’t you want a little revenge on them? The way I see it, you’re the same as us. You want your life back – but they took it from you, didn’t they? I can give it back to you. All the wealth. The splendor. The recognition. The title. All you have to do is help me. Help me and together we can restore this land to its former glory. We won’t be in the shadows any longer.”
I spent my entire life around bastards like him. Around soft-spoken lords and secretive sons-of-bitches. If he thinks his smooth words and his feigned understanding of what I went through and what I lost will make me divulge all the information he desires, he picked the wrong Kelban to seduce.
Shade and Axle said the man used people for his own gain. That he desired ability when he saw it. But Shade had also said if I had no worth to King Arkran then I was useless. And useless people were thrown out.
Killed.
“Why? Why do you need this information?”
“To take back what is rightfully ours. What your kind stole from us. Humanity. Recognition. Life. We want it back. We’ll take it back in the end, with or without cooperation from those like you, Kyla Bone.”
“You want to unite the nations again?” Truly, such a thought had once crossed my mind. To have the separated halves of Kelba joined once more would be a dream come true.
Ostracized (The Ostracized Saga Book 1) Page 48
