The Exalted

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  CHAPTER SIX

  Bo

  “Truth be told, I don’t think there’s ever been a group of people so dedicated to the art of subtle insults as the singleborn of Alskad.”

  —from Bo to Vi

  The next day, the council meeting dragged on through three meals and so many pots of kaffe that I lost count. Despite an endless series of subtle digs and fruitless accusations, Runa managed, with her imposing intellect and blunt speech, to force the council to grudgingly admit that there might be some truth in the story we’d laid before them.

  Watching the queen marshal her council into formation was inspirational, a thing of beauty. The moment one of the councillors’ eyes began to glaze, Runa was in their face, knotting strands of their life story into the narrative she wove about the Suzerain’s horrifying corruption of the temple and exploitation of the people of Alskad. By the time Runa called the session to a close, we’d voted unanimously that the Suzerain had created a problem that was the duty of the crown to solve.

  It was, perhaps, too ambitious of me to have expected that the council might actually begin to chew over the multitude of ways we could address the Suzerain’s injustices and the growing power they held within the empire.

  “I know that you all have lives of your own, but I would like to see this matter resolved as quickly as possible,” Runa said, rising from the table. “To that end, I will call another session of the council to order at noon on the day after tomorrow.”

  Dame Turshaw huffed and scowled at Runa. “If you’re so set on putting into place a plan of action, why not set the meeting for tomorrow?”

  The thin veneer of control slipped from the queen’s face, and Runa gave Dame Turshaw a look so withering, it could have scoured the light from the sun. A moment later, the queen’s ferocity had been replaced with cool disdain, but I was certain that not a soul in the council chamber had missed the exchange.

  “As you well know, we cannot hold a meeting tomorrow,” Runa said, all ice and thunder, “because it is my birthday, and I will be otherwise occupied with the annual parade and celebrations that the crown has always held to uplift the spirits of the citizens of Alskad.”

  Dame Turshaw’s lips disappeared into a thin line, but she continued to meet Runa’s steady gaze. It was clear to everyone in the room that she’d “forgotten” the queen’s birthday as a thinly veiled jab. Lisette hid a smile in her kaffe cup and Patrise gave me a lazy grin. I looked around the table to see all the other councillors wearing looks of amusement that ranged from well concealed to recklessly overt.

  Foxes, the lot of them. They’d each be as furious at being called out as Dame Turshaw was now, but they reveled in her shame, nevertheless.

  When Dame Turshaw kept silent, Runa gathered her papers and pushed her throne back from the table. “If there are no further objections, I suggest that we resume this discussion, as planned, the day after tomorrow. You are dismissed.”

  The queen stood, and the rest of the council stood and bowed deferentially to Runa, ignoring me, as the doors swung open. Everyone followed her silently out, leaving me alone in the cold room. I sank back into my throne and wrapped my hands around my swiftly cooling cup of kaffe.

  To preserve the secret of the passage to my suite, I’d have to go the long way, but I wanted to give the councillors every opportunity to meander back to their own rooms before I left. The well of my patience had long since run dry, and I was tired enough that I was barely clinging to civility. I watched the fires crackle for a time, my body shifting and settling like the logs, releasing the tension of the day and moving toward sleep.

  Hamil’s teeth, but sleep sounded like heaven. I tried not to think about the short hours I’d spend in bed before the servants appeared to help me ready myself for the queen’s birthday revelries. I drained my kaffe and stood. With a last glance at the old, scarred table littered with kaffe cups and crystal wineglasses, picked-over platters of fish and pickled vegetables, the crumbs and heels of loaves of bread and hard knobs of butter kept cold in the chill of the room, I left.

  I’d not even made it past the council room’s antechamber before Lisette swooped in beside me and laced her arm through mine. Through my haze of exhaustion, I wondered where Patrise had gotten off to. I almost never saw the two of them apart.

  “Darling, do tell me what the queen is aiming at. You must realize that we all know this is a power play,” Lisette said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Despite what the old bat believes, we aren’t stupid. I know there’s more to this story than you’re letting on. Patrise and I can help you get your way with the council.”

  “Thank you, Lisette, but I believe Runa has nothing but Alskad’s best intentions in mind. The Suzerain have simply overstepped the bounds of their duties and must be checked.”

  With a delicate snort of laughter, Lisette shrugged. “You know that I’m here to be of use to you, Bo. And you’ve grown into quite a strapping young man. Perhaps I can help...relieve some of your tension. Take your mind off your troubles.”

  Lisette tucked a curl behind my ear and traced a finger along my jawline. The woman was anything but subtle. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to shudder and take off down the hall at a dead sprint. Lisette was beautiful, certainly, but her beauty was like that of a pit viper—something I wanted to stay far, far away from.

  “A generous offer, I’m sure,” I said, “but one I’ll have to decline.”

  Lisette twined her long fingers with mine. “Use me, little princeling. I can be very...obliging.”

  I bit back my irritation and disentangled myself from her grasp. The guards at each end of the hallway wore looks of studied disinterest, but their eyes flicked quickly away from us when I glanced at them.

  A person was never truly alone in the palace. It’d taken me by surprise, how much I missed the decadent solitude of a life without servants when Swinton and I had returned from Ilor. My whole life had been spent in the company of servants. Karyta, the head of our staff, and her brother, Jasper, the head cook, had been as much parents to me as my mother and father.

  Myrella. A twinge of grief and regret washed over me each time I thought of her—the woman who’d wanted a child so badly that she’d accepted me into her home and worked past my father’s infidelity. Never one for cuddles and kisses, she hadn’t exactly been a warm mother, but she’d loved me in the best way she could, with all her ambition and cunning and accumulation of resources.

  I hadn’t been to see Ina, the woman who’d given birth to Vi and me, since returning to Penby. Perhaps it was cowardice, or perhaps I didn’t want to be somehow disloyal to the woman who’d raised me, my mother. Either way, I couldn’t quite bring myself to face her, even if Runa would agree to it.

  “You know, I am quite well connected,” Lisette said, trying to regain my attention. “Even if you’re not interested in the other diversions I excel at, you could make use of the information I can provide for you. A king must use all the tools available to him in order to succeed, my dear cousin.”

  I studied Lisette’s sharp, elegant features, her olive skin and glossy auburn hair glowing in the dim light of the solar lamps. She could hardly hold back her glee.

  “Honestly,” I said, crossing the hall toward the stairs. “If your other spies are even the least bit as useless as Birger and Temperance were, then I think I’ll do better collecting my own information. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting to bed. I’ve a long day tomorrow. Good night.”

  Lisette hurried to catch up with me, refusing to be dismissed. “I’m quite the history enthusiast, you know, and I’ve never seen your quarters. I heard that you have some of the first empress’s things in your rooms. Artifacts.” She draped herself over my shoulder and twirled a finger in one of my curls. “Perhaps you’d like to show me?”

  A blush crept up my neck, but I shook her off and kept walking. She was nothing if n
ot persistent, and her hints weren’t even the least bit subtle anymore. Swinton would collapse in a heap of laughter the moment I told him about this nonsense.

  The staircase that led to the royal wing of the palace was tantalizingly close, and the guards at the base of the stairs wouldn’t let anyone pass. Not without explicit permission from Queen Runa or myself. As I opened my mouth to issue an order to the guards, Patrise appeared at the top of the stairs, stopping me in my tracks.

  I stared at him, baffled. Where’d he come from? Perhaps the queen had invited him to her chambers? Lisette’s proposition still souring in my throat, I wondered if Patrise had tried the same tact with Runa, and shuddered at the thought.

  “Our Ambrose doesn’t like girls, Lissie. You should know that by now. Haven’t you seen the great hulking peasant he’s been toting around since his return?” Patrise glided down the staircase, his slow smile opening like a trove of horrifying secrets. “I bet your young man wouldn’t mind if Lissie and I showed up in your bed, would he, Ambrose? His preferences run the gamut, I believe.”

  Patrise’s voice was all velvet and venom, making my temper burn. I was done—with both of them. I turned on a heel to face them, letting my fury cut blackly into my eyes and voice.

  “Shove off, vultures. I’m not a child you can pet and spoil for secrets anymore.” I was shouting, but I couldn’t bring myself to care who I disturbed. “I am done. Do you hear me? I am done with your games. I am done with your manipulations. Neither of you will ever bear the weight of the crown. Never. So you can stop with your lies and your power plays and stay the hell away from me.”

  Patrise raised an eyebrow at me, and Lisette smiled her sly, charming smirk. I took a deep breath, nodded stiffly at them and fled up the stairs without so much as a good-night.

  * * *

  When the guards pulled open my sitting room door, I was surprised to find the room already occupied. I’d assumed that Swinton would’ve retreated to his bedroom in the suite we shared hours ago, but instead I found him sprawled over a settee, chatting with Runa. The queen’s feet were propped on a pouf pulled dangerously close to the fire, and she had a huge fur blanket wrapped around her, making her look like nothing so much as a surly bear. They didn’t so much as look up when I entered the room, but Swinton pulled himself into something that vaguely resembled a sitting position and patted the settee beside him.

  “We expected you ages ago,” Runa said. “What took so long?”

  “I was held up,” I said, curling up next to Swinton and pulling a thick blanket over myself.

  “Get the boy something warm to drink. It’s just impossible to shake the chill of that awful room, isn’t it, Bo?”

  Swinton pecked me on the cheek and went to the sideboard. He came back with three steaming porcelain cups. He gave one to the queen and passed another to me. The sharp, boozy tang of ouzel punched into my nostrils, nearly obscuring the herbal tea’s floral notes. Swinton settled next to me, nudged my elbow with one socked foot and, when I lifted my teacup out of the way, swung his legs up onto my lap. Runa watched us, amusement playing in her amber eyes.

  “It went well tonight. The council has begun to respect you.”

  “I’m glad to hear you think so,” I said. “I’m worried about Rylain, though. She seemed genuinely angry.” I took a sip of my tea, savoring the sweet, honeyed warmth as it poured down my throat and into my belly.

  “That woman’s never been interested in anything beyond her histories, her wine and her birds. Don’t worry about her,” Runa said dismissively. “Her feelings were hurt, is all.”

  “Runa’s told me how badly those nattering idiots wanted to paint you a liar, as expected,” Swinton interjected. “How long do you think until we’re able to start burning temples to the ground and the Suzerain with them? I suppose we can spare some of the anchorites. Send them to work in Ilor in place of the poor, exploited laborers? How about that? They’re sworn to a life of service, after all.”

  I sighed and took another sip from my teacup. It didn’t matter how many times we had this conversation; we always landed in the same place.

  “We can’t just tear down the temples, bully,” I said, the pet name hanging in the air between us like a white flag of truce. “They’re not all bad, after all. It’s the Suzerain’s corrupt leadership that’s the problem, not the religion and everything that goes along with it. No matter what our own personal beliefs are, we can’t tell anyone else what they ought to believe. Not through words or actions. Besides, we have a plan—we expose the Suzerain’s corruption to the people. Alskaders are, after all, a discerning lot. They’ll see the truth if we do the work to set it before them. Runa—”

  “Gran,” she interrupted. “We’re alone. I insist that you call me Gran when we’re alone, and enough of this talk about politics. We’ve done enough work for today. On to brighter things. Yes?”

  “May I call you Gran, too?” Swinton asked, his face a picture of innocence and mischief all at once.

  I reached under the blanket and pinched his thigh. He grinned at me.

  “That depends,” Runa said, not missing a beat. “What are your intentions toward my grandson?”

  Swinton’s brows shot up his forehead, nearly to his hairline. He pressed a hand over his heart and looked from Runa to me and back again.

  “Madame, you cut me to the core. Why, even after all these weeks, even after I have bared the depths of my soul to you—to think that you could possibly begin to imagine my intentions are anything less than honorable! Do we not follow every rule of your household? Do we not sleep in separate beds and refrain from expressing our extraordinary fondness for one another in public? Do I not allow your dim-witted lords and ladies to travel through your palace, their pockets unpicked? Do I not tell you each time I see one of your honorable and well-trained guards snoozing in your hallways? What more need I do to prove myself to you?”

  Midway through this soliloquy, laughter began to burble in my stomach, and by the time Swinton had finished, I was gasping for breath. Runa’s eyes glittered, and she chuckled as she raised her glass to Swinton.

  “A solid, if rather unusual, argument, my dear. You may call me Gran, in private, if you pour me one more of these. And then it’s off to bed for all of us. Tomorrow will be a very long day.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Vi

  “I don’t know if you noticed in the short time we were together, but I have a bit of a temper. It’s so strange, though—the farther away you are, the more quickly my feelings flare. I can go from elation to ire in a matter of moments. It’s exhausting.”

  —from Vi to Bo

  I woke to the pop and crackle of potatoes roasting in the embers of our fire. The sun, peeking from between the trees, painted the sky in pink and orange and globe-thistle blue. Throwing off the rough blanket covering my legs, I sprang to my feet and looked around the campsite, fumbling for the knife in my boot. I didn’t remember falling asleep, and I certainly hadn’t fetched my blanket from its spot by the fire before doing so. And yet, inexplicably, morning had come, and Curlin was nowhere to be seen.

  I didn’t think she’d leave without waking me, but I’d fallen asleep on my watch, and there was no telling what kind of danger lurked amid the jungle trees. What if the Shriven had been following us? What if a wildcat had hauled her into the woods? Dozens of terrifying possibilities flew through my mind.

  Gritting my teeth, I sprinted across the path to the clearing where we’d hobbled Beetle and Curlin’s gray mule. They were grazing peacefully, just as they’d been the night before. The mule—the sweet creature desperately needed a name—whinnied a greeting at me, then swiveled its head to look down the path. Following her gaze, I saw Curlin coming up the path, and with her, a sight that made my heart beat in my chest like a drum.

  Beside her, leading a mule and a small cart, was Mal, and a ways down the path behind them
, on a tall buckskin gelding I recognized from the Whipplestons’ stable, Quill. His reins were caught, dangerously, between his teeth as he studied a map, and his brown skin glowed in the growing light of the rising sun. As much as I was still furious with him, seeing his face made me feel as though I’d finally exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding since I’d stormed out of his room and then his house.

  “I don’t know if you know this, Vi, but leaving without saying goodbye is considered rude in most civilized societies,” Mal called, laughter playing around the edges of his words.

  I stared down at my boots, the heat of a blush sweeping across my cheeks as thoughts flew through my head like a flock of gulls swooping and calling for my attention. Glad as I was to see them, if Mal and Quill tried to convince me to abandon my plans, I might scream. And though it had taken me ages—plus the panic of waking up and thinking her gone—to realize it, I knew now that I needed Curlin. If she took their side, I might as well give up and take the next sunship back to Alskad. At least then I could help Bo.

  “The word you’re looking for is sorry,” Curlin teased.

  “What’re they doing here?”

  “You really think you’d be able to find a group of people who don’t want to be found?” Mal asked, flabbergasted. “And even if you managed to walk into their camp, bold as anything, do you think you’d live to make your case? And you with one of the Shriven by your side? No offense, Curlin.”

  “None taken.”

  Mal reined in his mule and looked back at Quill, whose eyes were trained on me. We stared at each other, and for a moment, I felt like we might just stay that way, stuck in a stubborn impasse, until we turned to stone and then to dust. But then Quill kicked his foot out of his stirrup and dismounted with a sigh. He led his horse across the clearing to me and reached out to take my hand. “I’m sorry. I never should have tried to dictate decisions that are yours to make. I let my desire to see you safe get in the way of what I knew you wanted.”