The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set

by Heidi Catherine

  “Prepare for freedom,” she said, softly. Jeremiah strained his ears to catch any further words. “Pass the word.”

  Not daring to reply, Jeremiah nodded, as much as he was able without seeming to be moving his head.

  He wondered how Freckle Nose of all people knew what was happening. Or if the freedom she spoke of was even the same one he was working toward with Rose and Micah.

  He walked quietly to the arena, noticing that his blanket had been removed for the Whispering, leaving one thousand mats lined up neatly in rows. Some Whisperers were there already, preparing to wait the hours it would take for the sun to reach its highest point in the sky. Other Whisperers were still in the dining hall, taking their time finishing breakfast. Yet more would still be finishing their morning chores— tasks that would take half the time if not needed to be done in silence.

  The Conductor wasn’t here either, which again was unusual. Normally he was pacing the arena before a Whispering as if psyching himself up for a performance. Well, that’s what it really was, Jeremiah supposed. A pretty powerful performance though. One that could change the world in unexplained ways.

  Jeremiah took his time going to his mat, missing the days when he could walk all the way to the back of the arena. His position was so close to the front doors now.

  A male Whisperer was walking behind him. Without turning his head, he thought it might be Round Face.

  “Prepare for freedom,” was hissed in Jeremiah’s ear. He stiffened, hoping the guards hadn’t heard this not-so-quiet whisper. “Pass the word.”

  Jeremiah knelt on his mat, keeping his eyes focused on the floor, holding his breath as he waited for any repercussions. None came. What was going on here? No Whisperer had spoken to him for five years and today two had spoken the same words aloud to him. Freedom was coming, if only everyone remained calm. If a group of Whisperers had another plan, it could jeopardize his own.

  The minutes ticked by, stretching out into an hour or more. It was hard to tell sometimes. Time had a new meaning in the palace than it’d had back home in the valley.

  Eventually, he heard the familiar tapping of the Conductor’s sword on the floor as he walked. Jeremiah kept his gaze down, not wanting to attract any attention, particularly on a day when so much danger was present.

  The tapping of the sword was also unusual today. It wasn’t the Conductor’s usual rhythm. And it was getting closer to him. Soon he wouldn’t be able to ignore it.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Each tap louder than the one before it. Then a series of taps in front of Jeremiah’s mat to attract his attention.

  Jeremiah raised his face, sweeping his eyes up the Conductor’s robe, being careful not to reach his eyes.

  Or not his eyes. Her eyes.

  Jeremiah stifled a gasp and concentrated on drawing in a deep breath to still his shock.

  It was Mean Mouth standing before him. Whisperer number one. Why did she have the Conductor’s sword? Was this the change he was sensing rippling through the palace this morning?

  As he drew in a second breath, he cursed himself for his stupidity. Mean Mouth didn’t have the Conductor’s sword. She was the Conductor. Something must’ve happened to the former one. It was the only explanation, even though this hadn’t occurred in all the time he’d been here.

  What did she want with him? Had she heard Round Face talking earlier and thought it’d been him to speak? How was he going to explain? It was an impossible task when you weren’t allowed to use words.

  She tapped her sword in front of him again and pointed to the position to his left. There was no mat there. He hadn’t noticed everyone moving up a place.

  Relief slid down Jeremiah’s spine. Of course. If she’d moved into the Conductor’s role, then her place was vacant. It was time to move up again, to fifth position.

  When Micah had told him her plan and he’d imagined ways they might be able to get those ahead of him sent to the dungeon, he’d never thought about the possibility of the Conductor himself being taken away. Or killed? He was unlikely to ever find out what really happened to him.

  He quickly picked up his mat and assumed his new position. Mean Mouth—the Conductor—walked on, no doubt to make sure everyone else followed suit.

  As he knelt back down, he wished he’d paid more attention to Mean Mouth over the years. Despite living in such close quarters to her since his arrival at the palace, he’d never really thought about her too much. Perhaps because she was one of the Whisperers he’d never warmed to, hence the unflattering name he’d pinned on her. It wasn’t just that her mouth was pulled into a permanent scowl, it was her… aura? Was that the right word? It was the energy she put out around her, just like the energy he’d picked up on in the dining hall this morning, only it held a negative charge instead of a positive one.

  As much as he couldn’t help but be glad that the Conductor had gone, he doubted this new Conductor was going to be any better. She might even be worse. Which meant of course that the King was going to love her. She’d do his bidding without an ounce of remorse.

  The sun was getting higher now and soon all positions in the arena were filled.

  The heavy doors at the back of the arena opened with a loud clunk, as they always did. There was only one person in the palace who dared to make such a noise. The King, who was no doubt making his way to the balcony for his observation.

  The Conductor returned to the front of the arena and tapped her sword seven times, waiting two seconds between each tap.

  “The Whisperers are whispering. The Whisperers are whispering,” the chant began.

  Jeremiah noticed his voice warming with each word he spoke. His vocal chords felt like a bird being let out of a cage. Free to stretch and fly.

  The Conductor swept her sword across the arena with a little difficulty. She was far shorter than the previous Conductor and she made the sword look heavy. It had seemed to have been made from feathers, the way the previous Conductor had held it.

  Jeremiah dropped to his knees, alongside the other Whisperers in the first row. He waited for the rows behind him to follow, wondering if the new Conductor had the capacity to discipline them, mentally as well as physically. Taking someone’s head from their shoulders was something he felt firmly he’d never be able to do.

  The Conductor raised the sword above her head. Jeremiah braved a glance up at her and saw her eyes darting across the arena, looking for anyone out of place. Her mouth was pulled into an even tighter grimace than usual.

  It seemed she was satisfied with what she saw. No matter how much the Whisperers were holding onto the hope of freedom, none of them were willing to step too far out of line just yet. Or perhaps they felt as confused and sorry for this new Conductor as Jeremiah. No matter how mean she looked, she wasn’t in a position he envied. Despite his realization that the only way for change to properly occur was for him to be Conductor, he dreaded that day rather than relished the idea of it.

  The Conductor brought her sword down and from Jeremiah’s position in the middle of the front row, he could see her shaking hands.

  Jeremiah waited for her to receive her signal from the King and begin the Whisper. He realized he’d never heard Mean Mouth’s voice before and hoped it didn’t match the shape of her mouth.

  “The Conductor is resting in peace,” she whispered. Her voice had a higher pitch than the previous Conductor, yet still quite deep for a female.

  Jeremiah lifted his head, along with the rest of the first row, and removed his hood. What a strange whisper. Just to add to the list of unusual things for the day, it was rare for the King to wish for something that didn’t directly involve himself or his needs. To offer up a wish that was completely for the benefit of someone else—even if it was just for their soul—was surprising. At least Jeremiah now knew what’d happened to the Conductor. He was dead. Oh, how he’d love to know how he died. They may be about to wish for his eternal peace, but Jeremiah hoped that his death had been the opposite. He didn’t deserve to have
left this earth in peace after the suffering and pain he’d caused so many innocent people.

  “The Conductor is resting in peace,” came the whisper once more.

  Jeremiah got to his feet, his movement in perfect synchronicity with the rest of his row.

  “The Conductor is resting in peace,” they chanted.

  Row after row joined in the chant, each voice whispering for peace for a man none of them had ever cared for, knowing that the universe would grant this Whisper, whether they wanted it to or not. The Conductor would soon be resting in peace.

  They chanted over and over, their fragile voices cracking under the strain of delivering a thousand whispers. Yet as always, they did it, with each row falling silent one by one under the Conductor’s command as they pulled their hoods back over their heads.

  Now that the Whispering was done, they were allowed to rest. Most Whisperers chose to lie on their mats and stare at the ceiling.

  Jeremiah glanced at the balcony and noticed the King was still standing there, observing. Was there no end to unusual occurrences today! Perhaps he was just checking on his new Conductor to assess her level of control. Although, he had a smirk on his face. An awful smirk. Something wasn’t right.

  A noise caught Jeremiah’s attention and he carefully redirected his gaze to scan the room. Would this be the Conductor’s first test? How would she handle the discipline of the first Whisperer to make noise in her presence?

  But it wasn’t a Whisperer. It was the Conductor herself. She’d collapsed on the floor and was lying completely still.

  Jeremiah had seen enough death in the past five years to know it when he saw it. She wasn’t unconscious. She was most definitely dead.

  Two guards rushed over and lifted her from the floor, carrying her from the room. When they passed Jeremiah, he had a clear view of her face. And he noticed the strangest thing.

  Mean Mouth’s face was so relaxed that somehow her mouth had lost its grimace. She looked… beautiful. How strange that Jeremiah had never noticed that before. Her face was the perfect picture of happiness. She was just so peaceful.

  It was this thought that made Jeremiah’s heart skip a beat. She was just so peaceful. The Conductor was indeed resting in peace.

  He looked up at the balcony and saw that the King’s smirk was now a smile, so bright that Jeremiah could practically count his teeth.

  He’d wanted this to happen! His Whisper had gone exactly as he’d intended! They’d thought they were whispering for peace for the former Conductor’s soul, when indeed he’d tricked them into whispering for a murder.

  The strange thing was that Mean Mouth would most likely have made an excellent Conductor if he’d given her the chance.

  Jeremiah wondered what exactly it was about her that the King hadn’t liked? Whatever it was, he hoped that he didn’t possess the same quality. As when he got to the job, he needed to keep it for at least a little while. Long enough to raise his sword and use it against the King.

  Because freedom was coming, just like Freckle Nose and Round Face had both said. And with Mean Mouth’s death, they were all one step closer.

  MICAH

  THREE

  Micah wasn’t quite sure what to make of what just happened at the Whispering. She was just glad to be tucked away in the back row and not to have witnessed it at such close proximity as poor Jeremiah had. Although, the way the Whisperers were moving up lately, soon she’d be in the second last row. The palace was churning through Whisperers, having to bring some back from the dungeon to make up the one thousand they needed.

  She could tell the Whisperers were from the dungeon and not fresh recruits. There was a big difference in the expressions old Whisperers wore compared to the new. They had a hardened look about them, with all the hope having been wiped from their eyes.

  Except there’d been something different in the air today. The Whisperers had started whispering to each other, speaking of freedom and spreading the word. It seemed that Whispering ceremonies weren’t the only way for words to own their power. She wasn’t sure how or when this had all started, but it was good. When Jeremiah became the Conductor, they were going to need the Whisperers on their side, ready to act.

  She’d already learned that overthrowing the King and gaining freedom for the Whisperers wasn’t a job that could be done alone. They needed to band together, just like that poor Whisperer had told them to before she’d died. All of them. It was the only way.

  Micah stretched out on her mat, glad she wasn’t tall. She had no idea how Jeremiah got comfortable on these things.

  As much as she thought what the King had done to the new Conductor in the Whispering was a cruel trick, she couldn’t help but be a little glad. That new Conductor had had a mean face. Micah hadn’t trusted her. She was likely to be even worse than the previous Conductor. Plus, her removal meant that the next Whisperer in line would take her place, which moved Jeremiah into fourth position now. It was happening faster than she expected.

  She still felt sick about what she’d done to that poor man with the rat poison. It was hard to believe she’d actually killed a man, whether it had been accidentally or on purpose. And that poor woman in the bathroom, who was hopefully still alive in the dungeon. Once Micah escaped this hell, if there was another hell in the afterlife, then she was certainly destined to go there.

  She knew exactly who the next Conductor was going to be, having studied the faces of the four people she needed to remove to get Jeremiah where they needed him.

  The next in line was a man. He appeared to Micah to be too weak for the position, yet despite this, she suspected the King would like this one better. She couldn’t help thinking the problem he’d had with the last one was her gender. Because that was the only obvious difference between her and the last Conductor. They both had the same vicious streak in them. And the way the King was so desperate to have a son and do away with his daughters told Micah that he valued males over females.

  She heard the familiar tapping of the sword on the floor as the new Conductor entered the room. She rolled over and chanced a glance. Two seconds of observation told her that she was right. He was most definitely too weak for this position.

  The way he was walking and tapping his sword wasn’t the way a leader should do it. It lacked authority and power. He tapped his sword like he was petrified of using it, not waiting for the first opportunity, like the past two Conductors.

  A ripple spread over the sleeping Whisperers. None of whom were actually sleeping of course, yet all doing a fine job of pretending they were.

  “Freedom is coming!” called a Whisperer from the opposite side of the arena to the new Conductor.

  The Conductor snapped his head in their direction and marched forward, looking for the source of the outburst. It seemed Micah hadn’t been the only one to sense this new Conductor’s weakness.

  Micah’s heart beat so hard it felt like it was going to burst from the strain of the blood flowing through it. She lifted her head slightly to see the Conductor studying the Whisperers on their mats, but all were feigning sleep and she was too far away to see their faces to work out for herself who had dared to speak.

  Before she knew what she was doing, Micah rested her head on her mat, cleared her throat and called out as loudly as she could, “Freedom is coming!”

  She stilled herself, trying to steady her breathing, closing her eyes to add to the innocent facade. What had she done? She was losing her mind! But at least her actions had saved the Whisperer who’d spoken first. Maybe that would help to make up for the life of the Whisperer she’d taken away.

  The sound of the Conductor’s sword tapping on the floor came closer as he altered the direction of his search.

  Yet he never reached her mat, for across the other side of the arena came another voice. “Freedom is coming!”

  The Conductor marched away and yet another voice called out, each time on the opposite side of the arena to where the Conductor stood.

  Then m
ore Whisperers gathered their courage and instead of one voice calling at a time, there were many.

  Micah called out a few more times and soon the whole arena was shouting, no matter whether they were near the Conductor or not. They rose to stand and their voices grew louder, shouting in unison in the way that their Whisperings had trained them to do.

  “Freedom is coming! Freedom is coming!” Micah wondered if this would be as powerful as a Whispering. Their voices were certainly louder, so surely the universe had to hear their pleas.

  The Conductor’s face had turned red now. “Stop this!” he shouted, his voice lost over the din of the Whisperers’ chant. “Stop this!”

  But nobody stopped anything. They just got louder. There was safety in numbers. The Conductor was hardly going to kill the whole army. Micah doubted he had it in him to kill one of them, let alone a thousand.

  “Freedom is coming! Freedom is coming!” the shouting continued.

  Micah stood on the tips of her toes, tempted to do a cartwheel. Her body ached to move in the way it was accustomed. The energy in the room was incredible. It wasn’t just Micah who wanted this madness to end. Or Jeremiah. It was everyone. This cruelty had to stop. She felt happier right now at this moment than she thought she’d ever been in her life.

  A hush rippled across the room as Whisperers sunk back to their mats. From the back of the arena, Micah couldn’t see what was happening. However, as more Whisperers pressed their bodies to the floor, it became clear.

  The King was here. And he looked the complete opposite to how he’d looked standing on the balcony at yesterday’s Whispering. There was no smile on his face now.

  He went directly to the Conductor and took the sword from his hands, without speaking a word.

  The Conductor knelt at the King’s feet and clasped his hands in front of him.

  “I’m sorry, my Lord,” he said. “Please show mercy.”

  Even from the back of the arena, Micah could see the tears pouring down the man’s face.