Transcendent: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Kacy Chronicles Book 4)

by Anderle, Michael

  Jaclyn stopped in front of the steps leading up to the throne and dipped into an elegant curtsey. Her movements were practiced, liquid, and full of irony.

  Jordan and Ashley had taken the two hours they'd made Jaclyn wait to put on beautiful clothes and explain to the guards how they wanted them to behave.

  Jordan wore a purple satin vest with black trim, over a white blouse with billowy sleeves. Her legs were encased in black leather leggings and black knee-high boots. Jordan had thought long and hard about wearing armor, but in the end had decided to wear a black scabbard, which held a shortsword along her thigh; anything else, and sitting on the throne would have been unbearably uncomfortable. She didn't choose to arm herself because she thought Jaclyn was a threat——after all, she had a palace full of guards to call on now. But Jordan no longer felt quite like herself without some kind of weaponry. She was a warrior, and that made her a warrior queen.

  Ashley, however, was armed to the teeth in his usual style, though he had exchanged his rough boiled leather for a purple vest that matched Jordan's.

  The throne Jordan sat in was nothing less than spectacular.

  A white marble base cradled a polished blackwood seat and a back that arched high above Jordan's head. The Rodanian crest had been carved into the throne's back and a torch placed a distance behind the crest in a holder specially made. The flames danced and crackled, visible through the crest to anyone standing in front of the throne. A shadow of the crest was thrown onto the floor in front of Jordan, quivering there, bringing the Rodanian symbol to life.

  The throne would have to be remade, and the crest altered to include a Nycht wing.

  Jordan and Ashley watched Jaclyn bow in silence. When she straightened, they still did not speak. They did not speak for such a long time that Jaclyn shifted from one foot to the other.

  It was the first clue that she was uncertain of herself here—–which, all things considered, was astonishing. It was also astonishing that Jaclyn had journeyed to Rodania only in the company of a few hired men, and that she had not brought them to the palace with her.

  This was a strategic move in true Jaclyn style. She would not give any clue that she was in a precarious position, maintaining the image that she was innocent and entitled.

  Jaclyn finally spoke. "When is the coronation?"

  "Next week," said Ashley, his voice flat. "And you'll address Jordan as ‘Your Majesty’."

  Jaclyn's hands clasped in front of her gown, and a muscle jumped in her jaw. "I shall remain onhand until then, if you might have someone show me to my rooms."

  It took everything Jordan had not to fall off the throne with shocked laughter.

  "Your… rooms." Ashley repeated. His voice remained so void of emotion, so bored and uninterested, that Jordan almost applauded.

  "Of course." Jaclyn's chin lifted defensively. "The Queen Mother must have her own suite of rooms."

  "You tried to have me killed," Ashley leaned forward, a subconscious movement Jordan recognized as a preparation to attack. His voice was hostile, and Jordan's body tensed, but Ashley did not attack. "You tried to have me kill Jordan. You've been conspiring with Diruk against the king, and hampering trade of important medicine, all to keep the king on the edge of death until you were ready to deliver the fatal blow. You are not royalty. You are a traitor."

  "I did not try and have you killed," Jaclyn drew up tall, and her surprise at this was so genuine that Jordan almost believed her. But the fact that it was the only thing she denied in the long line of accusations was laughable. "I would never. I love you! You are the reason I have done everything I have since leaving Earth!"

  "You have one chance," said Jordan. Both Ashley and Jaclyn fell silent and looked at her. "Explain your actions to the daughter you abandoned. If your story makes sense, you'll be allowed to leave Rodania alive, merely banished. If not," Jordan shrugged. "You'll have the traitor's trial you deserve."

  Jaclyn did not hesitate. "Leaving you behind was the hardest thing I have ever done, and my biggest regret."

  "What a load of—–" Ashley began. Jordan raised her hand to stop him, and he closed his mouth.

  Jaclyn's words were exactly what Jordan had been hoping to hear when she had first found her mother hiding in the trade office, off the coast of Maticaw. The child that Jordan had been yearned to believe them, needed to believe them. But the woman she had become knew better. Still, she was determined to give Jaclyn her say, once and done forever.

  "I could only take one of my children, and in the state I was in, I was not confident I could even care for you properly," Jaclyn said, looking at Ashley. Her eyes had grown soft, the eyes of a mother. "I don't know what your father," she looked back at Jordan now, "Allan, told you, but I had very bad post-partum depression. I could not stay on Earth; it would have been a death sentence. I am human, but I have never felt like I belonged. After falling through the portal the first time and meeting Torpizar, who then brought me to King Konig, I knew I was meant for more. For only here could I fulfill my destiny. Only here could my offspring fulfill theirs."

  "His destiny," said Jordan.

  "Better one than none," Jaclyn responded, quick as a snake. "Make no mistake, neither of you would be here now if it weren't for me. Look how beautifully everything turned out for you. You are rulers, you have inherited your rightful places. If I had not come back from Earth, if I had not clawed my way up from nothing, if I had not allied myself with the prince, you," she seemed almost to sneer the word as she jerked her chin at Jordan, "would still be in Richmond. Maybe you had the smarts to become a lawyer or a doctor, or maybe you would have followed in Allan's footsteps and gone into politics, but here," Jaclyn laughed and it was a sound that made Jordan shiver. "You are a queen!"

  Jaclyn's eyes were alight with mania, and Jordan watched her with a growing sense of pity and sadness. Jaclyn believed what she was saying, the delusions ran so deep.

  Suddenly, Jordan had no desire for revenge; she felt weary to her bones. Weary of conflict and confusion, weary of feeling angry, weary of politics and false accusations and selfishness.

  Jaclyn was still speaking. "I was the one who was strong enough, brave enough to do the hard thing. Do you think any family achieves greatness without someone in the background willing to do the dirty work?" Her voice was growing harder. "The two of you are where you are now because my actions have bestowed it upon you."

  At this, Ashley reached a hand over and laid it on Jordan's arm, squeezing gently, as though frightened Jordan might fly from her seat and tear Jaclyn's head from her neck. But there was no risk of that. Jordan lay her other hand on top of Ashley's, telling him it was okay. She was no longer angry—–only terribly sad.

  Jaclyn's eyes fell on the connection between the twins, and her face went white with rage. Her seething gaze lifted to Ashley's face. "After everything I have done for you, everything I have given you. You dare to call me a traitor? You dare to turn your back on me, now that my plan to see you get your inheritance is complete? You ungrateful little maggot." She spat this, and her face transformed into a Medusa-like mask of wrath.

  Ashley's hand spasmed on Jordan's arm, his fingers clenching.

  Jordan looked over at him. His face was white as a sheet, and there was green around his mouth, as though he needed to be sick.

  "You are dismissed," Jordan said, alarm bells going off in her belly.

  "You will give me the respect and position I am due," Jaclyn continued as though Jordan hadn't spoken. "My children are the royalty of Rodania, my children!" her voice rose finally, to a pitch that echoed through the throne room. "I carried you! I birthed you! I am the Queen Mother!"

  Jordan shot a look at one of the Nycht guards, and he moved forward to Jaclyn's right side. Another guard closed in on her left.

  Jaclyn's hands curled into claws and she made to go toward the steps leading up to the throne when the Nychts took her by the upper arms.

  "Release me!" she screamed, her face now nearly pur
ple.

  Jordan could feel Ashley quaking beside her.

  "Take her to one of the rooms in the East tower and put guards on her, please," Jordan said numbly. Her face felt wooden, and her heart ached.

  The Nychts dragged Jaclyn backward, still screaming to be released. Halfway to the door, Jaclyn seemed to get a hold of herself and, instead of being dragged, began to walk. She stumbled twice, and both times Ashley visibly winced.

  Then the doors to the throne room were closed, and the twins were left in silence.

  Jordan watched as Ashley slouched forward in agony, his face in his hands. His whole body trembled.

  "What would you like to do with her?" Jordan asked. "We'll have to make a decision quickly. We can get her help and do so quietly."

  "Help?" Ashley turned to look at Jordan, aghast.

  "She is very sick."

  "Then put her out of her misery!" Ashley barked. "Send her to Trevilsom, where traitors belong."

  "You don't mean that."

  He let out a long sigh and raked a hand through his hair. He looked over at Jordan, and his expression was grief laced with respect. "It is a very lucky thing for her that you were born first. She has taught me to be brutal and unforgiving. I would not be merciful. You decide what to do with her; I'll not protest."

  Ashley rose and headed for the door behind the thrones, his shoulders drooping, as though he carried the weight of the world on them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jordan lay awake, listening to Sol's deep breathing. She tried timing her own breath to his, hoping it would help her slip down the slide of slumber and give her mind and heart a desperately needed reprieve from emotional turmoil. Somewhere in the belly of the palace, her mother was contained in a room, awaiting some form of judgement.

  What to do with Jaclyn?

  She turned her head and looked at Sol. His face was relaxed with sleep, and his exhales were flirting with the idea of turning into full-blown snores. Her eyes drifted beyond him, to one of the three balconies attached to their room in the palace. She let out a long sigh and blinked like an owl. She missed their little apartment, but as Heir Apparent—–and soon to be queen—–the palace was now her official home.

  Heavy is the head that wears the crown, she thought.

  She was acquiring a far too intimate understanding of just how heavy that crown was. She had a feeling she was only getting a small taste of what was to come.

  She rubbed at her face and rolled out of bed, slowly, so she didn't wake Sol. Her bare feet found the cool hardwood floor, and she got up and grabbed the robe that had been tossed over the back of the chair near their bed.

  It had appeared there as if by magic. It was disconcerting, having servants do things for her. A pot of tea of some mystical sleep-inducing blend had appeared in front of the fireplace, hot and steaming. They'd drunk the entire pot, but it hadn't done its job—–at least not for Jordan.

  She visited the water closet and then went out onto the balcony. Oriceran's two moons hung low in a blanket of stars. Upper Rodania was a dark landscape dotted with warm yellow lights. Streets and terraces were illuminated by nighttime lamps. All was still, peaceful.

  Jordan leaned her elbows on the railing and rested her chin in her hands, trying to focus on the wind tugging at her hair and ruffling her feathers. She failed, and her mind was pulled back to Jaclyn and Diruk as if by magnets.

  Diruk was to be sent to Trevilsom according to Rodanian laws; there was nothing that could be done about that. He was a traitor; he'd caused the deaths of hundreds of warriors and citizens, and the destruction of dozens of villages. He claimed his intention had been to only allow one harpy through the barrier, to distract all of Rodania from the upcoming vote in order for him to create the right political climate that he could win.

  It didn't matter, his fate was death.

  Jaclyn was a different story. She was not a citizen of Rodania, which meant that there was no protocol for her offenses. It was the Council and the reigning monarch who were to decide her fate. The Council had made their preference known––ban her from Rodania and remove her from her post at the trade office. Balroc even preferred Trevilsom for her, but the others thought it was too harsh a sentence.

  What do you think, Your Majesty? Balroc had asked her.

  As if she was capable of passing judgement so easily. As if Jaclyn wasn't her biological mother.

  Tears blurred Jordan's vision and threatened to spill, her view of the stars becoming a muddy panorama. Jordan didn't want the responsibility of deciding Jaclyn's fate, but she couldn't leave it up to Ashley, either. Her brother was angry enough with Jaclyn to make a rash decision.

  ‘Do you believe in rehabilitation?’ Sol had asked her before they had fallen asleep.

  Jordan had replied that yes, she did. She was inclined toward mercy. They could never have the kind of relationship Jordan had always wanted with her mother, but it didn't mean she deserved death.

  Sol's hands slipped around Jordan's waist, and his lips pressed against her shoulder, pulling her away from her troubles.

  "Is my snoring keeping you awake?" His voice rasped with sleep.

  "No."

  They stood there for a time, looking at the stars.

  "I'm going to let her go," Jordan said quietly.

  Sol nodded against her back. "It's not like you to do anything else."

  "She can't keep her post, though. She's too treacherous."

  Sol made a sound of agreement. "What about sending her back to Earth?"

  "I did think of that. It might be for the best, but what would she do there? She'd have to start over."

  "That's not your problem, love. If anyone has proven that they can go from nothing to something in no time, it's Jaclyn. She's like a…"

  "A what?"

  "Nevermind. It doesn't matter what I think. She's your… mother. Biologically, anyway."

  Suddenly Jordan knew what Sol was going to say. "Like a cockroach?"

  Sol chuckled. "Mmhmm." He kissed her cheek. "Can I get something for you? Something to help you sleep? More of that tea?"

  "I guess. Can't hurt, anyway. Aysha will be nearby."

  "I'll make it for you. I still feel weird asking servants to do things for us." Sol moved away from her, and she heard their door open and close.

  She smiled. He wouldn't make it very far before Aysha would pounce on him. Sol would likely never make another pot of tea in his life.

  Jordan shivered when a cool breeze moved over her, tousling her feathers. She retreated into the room and closed the terrace doors.

  "Look at you now. Queen of Rodania."

  Jordan whirled, her heart in her throat. "Sohne!"

  In the middle of the room, having appeared as though she was a ghost, was the Elf princess. The torches around the room flared to life with Elf-light, casting shadows against every wall and illuminating the women in that unusual blue-white glare. Jordan hadn't seen that strange Elf-light since she had last been in Charra-Rae.

  Sohne wore a long ethereal gown of pure white. Her red hair appeared the color of blood in the light, and her skin seemed to glow. The gown was sleeveless, with a neckline that plunged almost to the Elf's belly button. The skin of Sohne's stomach was decorated with Elvish symbols, just like the ones that wound their way up Jordan's arm.

  Jordan straightened. It was on her lips to ask how the Elf had gotten in, but it was a foolish question. Sohne had powerful, penetrating magic. Jordan doubted there was anywhere that could keep her out, if she had a mind to get in.

  "You've come to collect." Jordan's heart was hammering around inside her ribcage like a frightened bird. She folded her hands in front of her to keep from wringing them. She began to walk slowly around the perimeter of the room.

  "Congratulations on your elevation in life." Sohne inclined her head in a movement of exquisite grace hiding layers of meaning. It was the nod of acknowledgement of Jordan's new station, but it was devoid of submission.

  "You kne
w this was going to happen." Jordan's eyes narrowed. "A promise from some random Arpak is almost meaningless, but a promise from a queen…" she trailed off.

  "I am not your enemy, Jordan." Sohne crossed her arms and began to walk in the opposite direction that Jordan was moving in.

  The two women circled one another slowly. To Jordan, it felt like skirting a snake in the middle of a hiking trail. Her eyes shifted to the door and back to Sohne.

  "Sol won't be back until we're done here."

  Damn. I really need to work on my poker face.

  "What do you want?" Jordan couldn't help but bare her teeth. Her skin prickled with distrust.

  "Nothing you won't be happy to give me. Haven't I proven several times already that we have common interests? I have no desire to make an enemy of Rodania."

  "Spit it out."

  Sohne looked down with a small smile. She continued walking slowly around the room, her knees pushing at the fabric of her dress, making it float as though it were made of cobweb. "Some time ago, before you and I ever met, I was visited by an emissary who made the very long journey to Charra-Rae in order to deliver a foolish threat." Sohne's voice took on a lyrical quality. "They told me that if I were to sell any more of my fungus to anyone aside from Jack, the Trademaster at the port of Maticaw, that Charra-Rae would burn to the ground."

  Jordan's blood turned to ice. "Jaclyn," she whispered. How foolish her mother had been.

  Sohne inclined her head. "I'm not sure why your mother thought that an alias and staying behind closed doors would protect her." She spread her hands. "For here we are. Her own daughter is going to give her over to me. It's poetry. Don't you think?"

  Jordan's hands turned to ice, and a feeling came over her like all of the water in her body was draining toward her feet. Her legs felt like lead. "You want my mother?"

  "That's right. I would ask for Prince Diruk as well, since the threats were made by both of them as a way to prevent King Konig from becoming well again. But I know that Rodanian law demands he be sent to Trevilsom." She smiled. "I think this punishment is adequate."

  "What are you going to do with her?" But Jordan already knew the answer. Jaclyn was going to be gnashwitted––sentenced to live the same day over and over in perpetuity, without functioning memory, reasoning, logic or emotion.