“More than a bit, but I think that’s a worry for another day.”
Curlin took a quick step behind me to walk on my other side. I raised an eyebrow at her quizzically.
“I told you I’d protect your weaker side,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t make a thing of it.”
I elbowed Curlin in the ribs, the same way I’d done hundreds of times when we were children, and walked with her into the forest, puffed with Aphra’s false bravery.
* * *
We spread ourselves in a line throughout the trees, looping the Shriven’s camp at the base of the mountain. We moved more silently than wraiths across the forest floor, and once in position, waited for our signal from the rebel camp. We hoped Quill had made it across the Shriven’s lines and into the rebel camp to ready them for the fight.
Pots clanged and fires crackled in the Shriven camp. They were all focused forward, in the direction of Biz and Neve’s camp. Their low laughter and quiet conversations drifted through the trees, and even with Aphra’s false confidence, my heart began to pound with anticipation. Then a branch snapped behind me, the sound as loud as a gunshot, and I whirled around, drawing my knives.
Lei, her chubby cheeks and close-cropped curls dappled with mud, stood frozen just behind me. A bow and quiver were slung over one of her shoulders, and a kaffe knife as long as her forearm was strapped to her waist.
“Shit,” I mouthed.
Before I could collect my thoughts, Curlin had crossed the distance to Lei without a sound. We were so close to the Shriven camp that any noise, any sound at all, could alert them to our presence. Curlin jabbed a finger into Lei’s shoulder and glowered at her expectantly. Lei silently snarled right back at Curlin, brandishing the kaffe knife. I shook my head.
“No,” I mouthed, gesturing emphatically with each word. “Go. Now.”
Curlin shook her head and pointed up the mountain. There wasn’t enough time for Lei to get safely away. She’d have to hide. Dzallie’s toes, I could’ve throttled the little girl. Curlin bit her lip, scanning the clearing for somewhere we could stash her. Finally, my throat tight with fear, I pointed to a tree with thick limbs that started too high for anyone to climb without help. We could lift Lei into the branches. Most folks never looked up anyway, and it was the best we could do.
We waited in a tense clump at the base of the tree, watching the only visible patch of gray sky, our fingers laced together so tightly I could feel each of our thudding heartbeats in the small bones of our hands. Finally, an explosion on the mountainside sent sparks flying into the clouds, and we moved. Lei stepped into the cup of Curlin’s and my hands, and we vaulted her into the tree. I waved emphatically, gesturing for her to climb to a spot where no one would see her. All around us, our rebel group surged out of the trees and ran, bellowing, into the Shriven camp.
“Climb as high as you can, and wait for us,” I yelled up to Lei, and took off after the others.
Branches whipped my face, and I had to push myself hard to keep up with Curlin. All around us, bodies crashed into one another, screeching with rage and anguish as they tore at each other. The Shriven hadn’t expected this fight—I’d never seen them in anything but their crisp black robes, yet here they were half-clothed, their tattoos fully visible, snaking round their limbs and across their chests. Their shorn heads weren’t powdered black from crown to cheek, and half of them were barefoot. But even unprepared, they fought with the same frightening bloodlust that kept the entirety of Alskad in constant terror.
Our people hacked at the Shriven like they were kaffe bushes, but the Shriven were faster than wind, faster than light. They moved like liquid, their weapons as much a part of their bodies as their hands. They fought with the same intensity and ferocious zeal as Curlin, but even in the midst of the melee, I could see the difference their years of experience made. The Shriven were faster, stronger and much more vicious, and the rebels we’d trained so carefully began to fall all around me.
We were simply no match for them. The Shriven used their entire camp as a makeshift armory, blinding our people with flapping blankets and setting whole tents ablaze, heedless of the loss of their shelter. And even as Quill’s rebels swarmed into the camp from the other side, the Shriven tripped them with their tents’ guylines and flung flaming blankets over them like nets from hell. I searched desperately for Quill, but didn’t see him anywhere.
Suddenly a blade flashed toward me, and I ducked into a roll, coming up slashing, the heat of a banked cook fire all too close on my left. One knife slid into my attacker’s leg, and the other I thrust up, jarring my wrist as it hit bone. Bright blood spurted from the shocked Shriven’s inner thigh, and I knew my cut had found home. I yanked my other knife free of his hip and hurtled over toward Curlin, who was locked in a furious exchange of blows with a man nearly twice her size.
Pain exploded across my back and sent me flying forward into the dirt. I landed hard on my knees, face-planting into the sodden earth with my arms wide to avoid accidentally skewering myself. As soon as I hit the ground, I rolled myself onto my back, despite the shocks of agony crisscrossing my body. One of the Shriven, a woman perhaps in her midfifties, stalked toward me, swinging a spiked iron ball from a long chain. Drops of blood—my blood—dripped from its spikes. A wicked grin spread across her face, turning the loops and lines of her tattoos into menacing spikes.
I scrambled clumsily to my feet, wanting to help Curlin, and at the same time knowing that I couldn’t take my eyes off this woman for even a second. She studied me, her dark eyes traveling the length of my body with slow, measured assessment. All around us, the sounds of people dying flooded the air, along with the sharp iron tang of their blood. But the woman circled me like we were alone in the world, without a thought for the warriors fighting to the death all around us.
“Gray eyes, freckles, black curls,” she purred. “What are you, sixteen?”
I adjusted my grip on my knives nervously. Aphra’s confidence came through in my words, even as I thought it had long since left me. “If you wanted to court me, you started off on the wrong foot, bitch.”
The woman’s wicked smile finally touched her eyes. “That’s no way for a princess to speak to a loyal supporter of the crown.”
She knows who I am. But even as I realized this, my heartbeat began to thunder in my ears as the pain between my shoulders faded and my vision tunneled. Something was wrong with me. Dreadfully, horribly, wrong.
“Not a princess for long, though. Not once the Suzerain get their hands on you. With you in their power, there’s nothing they won’t be able to make your worthless, lying brother do. Even Runa will have to bow to their wishes. The people of Alskad will never trust a liar who wanted a twin on the throne—not in times like these.” The woman smirked at me. “Now, I’m still working on the exact formula, but I imagine you ought to be feeling a bit woozy just now.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched the trail of Aphra’s red-gold hair as she ran past. It was so pretty. Like a river of treasure streaming past me in the sunlight. I was warm. So warm. And tired. I bit my lip hard, trying to force myself back to lucidity. Someone was yelling. Why were they yelling? We were supposed to be quiet. Where was Curlin? She was supposed to be with me. Next to my shoulder.
I cocked my head to one side and considered the woman who stood in front of me, her hands on her hips. “Do you know Curlin?” I asked. “She’s like you. Shriven. Or she was. She’s supposed to be here.” I pointed to the ground beside me. “She’s always supposed to be here.”
The woman’s face was blurry. There was that yelling again. Someone needed to tell them to be quiet. We were sneaking. The Shriven woman was so blurry. Was she Curlin? My head spun as her eyes went wide, wide, wide, red blood cascading down her face as she crumpled to the ground.
Iron hands around my arms. A face—two faces—thrust into mine. Half one person, half the other. Hair like
the sun. Like fire. So close to me. I tried to twist away. Shrank back. So tired. A body behind me, holding me up. A shock of pain on my cheek. Eyelids heavy. So, so tired.
A voice, garbled at first. “Listen to me, Vi. Hear me. You will wake up. You will get out of here. Run. Find a horse. Follow Curlin. You have to stay awake until we’re safe.”
The world snapped back into focus, and before I could think, I was running. One foot in front of the other, eyes on Curlin’s back, I ran. We tore through the trees, all of my focus intent on keeping my body upright and moving forward. Nothing else mattered. Nothing was real except my feet pounding the earth, running toward safety. The pain that had traveled in waves up and down my body was now a memory so distant it was almost impossible to recall.
As we ran through a familiar copse of trees, I heard Curlin shout something, but it didn’t have to do with me, and so it didn’t matter. One of our people appeared, holding three unfamiliar horses. Curlin tossed me a set of reins and boosted me into the big dun’s saddle.
“Can you ride?” she asked.
“We have to get away.” My answer wasn’t an answer, but it was all I had.
Her eyes traveled over me critically, but I was already digging my heels into the horse’s flanks. I could hear them behind us. They were coming, and they were fast. I had to ride, had to run, had to get away. Get away. Away.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bo
“Stay safe, Vi. If you do nothing else, if you must abandon your cause and hide yourself on some distant mountain to do so...please just stay safe. I can’t stand to lose you, too.”
—from Bo to Vi
An earsplitting squeal jolted me out of the nothingness of sleep. I sat up in the unfamiliar room, looking around blearily as the memories of the last few days came flooding back to me. The sharp tendrils of a headache laced through my skull, prodding and squeezing. I let myself fall back on the lumpy pillows and pulled a quilt up over my head. The last thing I wanted to do was face whatever waited for me at the bottom of that staircase.
I wanted to go back to my cozy sitting room in the palace, drinking tea with Gran and Swinton as they ribbed and teased each other. I wanted to go back to a time when I had allies as powerful as my enemies. A time when I didn’t have to battle giants armed only with my wits and the few people who knew the full extent of what we faced: Swinton, Gerlene and, far away fighting her own battles in Ilor, Vi.
“It’s just us,” a voice called up the stairs, and a moment later Tie and Chase stomped into the bedroom, followed closely by Fern, Trix, Pem and Still. Tie ruffled Trix’s short hair and then blew into his hands, shivering. Pem and Still crawled onto the bed with me, nesting on a pile of pillows in the corner.
“What time is it?” I asked.
Fern and Trix exchanged a quick and nearly imperceptible look. “Around nine.”
“In the morning?” I shot out of bed, panicked. “How long have I been asleep?”
Tie gently pushed me back to sit on the bed. “At night. Don’t worry. You needed the rest.”
“What about Swinton? Where is he?” I asked, heart thundering in my chest.
“He’s not back yet,” Chase said. “But it was chaos outside the palace. I’m sure he’ll be back soon enough.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. I had to trust them. I had to trust that Swinton could take care of himself. “And? What did they announce?”
Chase looked at me quizzically. “Oh, right. The regent. It’s some person named Rylain? I’ve never even seen her mentioned in the papers or nothing. Seems like a strange choice. Do you know her?”
Thoughts whirred through my mind like hummingbirds. Why Rylain? Why not Patrise or Lisette? They were younger, more involved in politics, knew more about the running of the country. Chase was right. It was a strange choice.
“I do,” I said. “She’s my cousin. Older. A bit of a recluse. She’s not even on the council anymore. And what about Gerlene? Did you find her?”
Tie nodded. “Yeah. Caught her leaving her house to see the regent announced. Slipped her your note and told her where we live. She said she’d come as soon as she could get away without being noticed. I’ve not seen her that preoccupied before.”
“How do you know her?” I asked.
“She’s always been a fair decent advocate for folks in the End. Her sister runs a soup kitchen not far from here, and Miss Gerlene does a lot of legal work for folks who can’t afford to hire someone. She’s been an awful lot more involved the last few months, though. Makes sense now.” He winked at me.
“Sometimes she brings us pastries,” Pem added.
“I’m still sorry that Ina’s been so selfish with the funds my father put aside for her. It was more than enough to take care of you. All of you.”
Fern laughed. “Clearly you don’t know our ma well at all. She spends every tvilling on tacky junk and getting plastered. We do well enough for ourselves. And we manage to steal a fair amount from her when she passes through here.”
I cringed. The front door screeched open, and I looked at Chase. “Not to tell you your own business, but have you considered oiling that thing? It makes a terrible racket.”
Pem, who’d been scooting closer and closer to me on the bed, petted my snarled curls. “If it didn’t squeal, how would we know when someone comes in?”
I took a deep breath through my nose and looked around the room at the tired faces of my strange new family. They might not have Runa’s power, but they were resourceful, scrappy and surprisingly loyal. I was lucky to have found them. For that, at least, I could be grateful to Ina and Dammal. “Well, then, I suppose we should see who’s come.”
* * *
I waited on the landing as my half siblings ricocheted down the stairs, their voices loud and their boots louder. The seconds ticked slowly by, marked by my galloping heart. If the castle guard had come, or worse yet, the Shriven, I would have to hide myself again, and fast. And, like the thoughtless, pampered princeling I was, I’d left my jacket on the bed and my boots by the bedside. What if I had to run? What if someone found them and persecuted my siblings because of it?
Just as my spiraling worries began to take hold, a familiar voice called up to me from the bottom of the stairs. “Best come down here, bully. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Swinton. I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. He was safe. He’d come back to me safe. But then a single, musical chuckle shattered my grateful reverie. There was only one person in the world who laughed like that, and she didn’t belong here. Lisette wouldn’t be caught dead in the End.
“Come on, Bo, darling. Show us you’re not a ghost after all.”
I groaned. Not only Lisette, but Patrise, too. Why, in Gadrian’s flaming heart, would Swinton have brought them here? And at a time like this? I rubbed a helpless hand through my hair with a sigh, tucked my shirt into my trousers and padded down the stairs. There was nothing I could do but own my disarray and face my cousins despite it.
Patrise and Lisette, decked out in indigo silk mourning clothes and thick fur wraps, raised their eyebrows in twin expressions of amusement as I descended the stairs.
“The queen is dead,” Lisette said, her expression and voice suddenly somber.
“Long live the king,” Patrise finished, and the pair of them dropped to their knees just as I reached the last step.
My siblings looked from me to my cousins and back again before kneeling, as well. A blush exploded across my face as Swinton followed suit. I swallowed, fighting back tears.
“Please, you don’t have to—”
Patrise cut me off. “It’s the customary protocol, Your Majesty. We do have to.” He raised one eyebrow. “Though I never imagined you’d be barefoot and in your shirtsleeves when we finally did it.”
Everyone stood and stared at me, as though I might have some answer for
this bizarre situation.
“Why are you here?” I asked, then looked at Swinton, pleading. “Why did you bring them?”
“You need allies, Bo. They want to see you on the throne. They can help. They helped me get the perfume I collected—the only proof of the Suzerain’s wretched scheme that exists. They could have destroyed it, but I have it all here.” He patted a hardened leather case he held.
“I hope you wrapped it carefully,” I said, fear coming through my words clear as a bell. “I can only imagine what would happen if it broke.”
Tie clapped his hands. “This isn’t a conversation for the front hall. You lot settle yourselves in the parlor. We’ll scrounge up some tea and something to eat.”
Lisette smiled coquettishly at Tie. “You don’t happen to have any kaffe, do you? Or perhaps something a bit stronger? Our Bo here has had a nasty time of it.”
Chase, Tie and Swinton burst into peals of laughter. Swinton clasped Lisette by the shoulders and steered her into the parlor, still chuckling. “You are out of your depth, aren’t you, Lissie? You royal lot haven’t the faintest idea how the world really works. A single pot of kaffe costs more than most people earn in a week.”
I took one of the parlor’s overstuffed armchairs, and Patrise and Lisette perched on the edge of the sofa. Pem and Still positioned themselves on the floor on either side of me, and the rest of my siblings bustled in and out, carrying mismatched teacups and dishes.
Swinton settled into the chair beside me and fixed Patrise and Lisette with a hard stare. “Well? You two want to tell Bo what you told me?”
Patrise looked at Lisette, who pursed her lips and nodded. “Rylain has been planning this for a very, very long time, Bo. We have good reason to believe that she orchestrated your mother’s death, as well as Penelope’s. She was almost certainly behind the queen’s assassination.”
“Surely you’re mistaken. Rylain would never do that. She couldn’t. She has no interest in power. She barely even comes to court.”
The Exalted Page 13
