The Sunderlands

by Anastasia King

  “Stop or I’ll tell everyone about the women!” Faye screams.

  Queen Hero tosses her head back, her blood-curdled hair sticking to her face and neck. Laughter bubbles up in her throat.

  “I’ll tell them all. They’ll overthrow you!” Faye charges at Queen Hero, but another guard catches her and holds her back.

  “Tell them!” Queen Hero barks. “Better yet, I’ll show them myself. Rydel!”

  “My Queen,” He steps forward and bows.

  “Summon Andraste.”

  I step back as Rydel passes me and is escorted out of the courtroom by three of the Queen’s guards. Faye crumples to the floor beside her sister. Moriya’s yellow eyes brim with tears at the sight of Faye on her knees. She mouths something to her sister, and they reach for each other. Moriya grabs onto Faye with both hands as the guards attempt to separate them.

  “No!” Faye screams.

  “Seize Faye.” Queen Hero flutters her fingers at Cadathan.

  “No! You can’t have her!” Moriya growls. Cadathan lifts Faye up from under her arms.

  “Please,” Moriya flings herself onto the floor, prostrating herself before Queen Hero. Lying in the blood. “Spare Faye. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Have we not served you faithfully for years, my Queen? Please, do not punish her rashness. Punish me instead.”

  “It’s okay, Mor.” Faye says as the guard puts her in chains. She doesn’t resist.

  “It will be okay.” She gives in as Moriya continues pleading with the Queen.

  I turn away, not able to watch as they drag her away. My mind is filled with only one name: Liriene. Her face replaces Fayes and it feels like every nerve in my body is aflame. Millions of tiny sparks under my skin. Tears drown out my vision and I wipe my eyes, also trying to wipe away the vision of my sister in shackles.

  Moriya kicks and screams, trying to fight for her sister as another guard grabs her by the hair.

  “Not my sister!” She roars. “Please!”

  I watch through my tears as Cadanthan pushes Faye through the crowd and out of the courtroom.

  “Fuck you!” Moriya spits at Hero. “Damn you! If you hurt her—"

  “Jorah,” Queen Hero says. “Make her quiet.” The one called Jorah kicks Moriya in the stomach, knocking her onto her hands and knees. Doubled over, she curls into a ball. Her wheezing turns into sobbing.

  Rydel returns with someone following him. Her black and gray shaggy robes cover her from head to toe. As they approach, I glimpse her face beneath the hood. Her skin is dull and dark gray. On Rydel’s heels, she approaches the Queen and keeps her eyes on the floor. Her nose crinkles and her mouth tightens as she walks through the blood. Queen Hero circles around her and tears the hood of her robe back, revealing silky straight black hair that reaches her waist. A strange shadow hangs around her neck like a torque, something easily recognizable as supernatural.

  “Sing for Moriya, Andraste,” Queen Hero leans in close to her ear, and continues stripping away the woman’s robes. She’s naked beneath, but she does not cover herself. Instead, she allows Hero to strip her. She holds her hands at her side and opens her mouth. Two sharp fangs jut out from her top row of teeth and her tongue lolls out of her mouth, split like a snake’s. The black of her irises takes over her eyes; like ink pouring into milk, until there are no whites.

  Her voice sounds far away at first, a high-pitched whistle tone that swells and deepens until it fills the room and collides with everyone in it. In the wake of her song, the palace quakes and people stumble over. The chandeliers shiver and chime. Relentlessly, without taking a breath, her song endures. All we can do is try to keep our balance.

  The robe slips down her frame to her feet and she steps out of it, raising her hands and her voice to a near deafening pitch. The stained-glass windows shatter. Moriya screams as she touches her ears and finds blood on her hands. I cover my ears, but the sound breaks through. A headache splits my skull and my teeth chatter.

  I finally notice her swollen belly as she steps forward. Her bare feet trek through the blood. She rolls her neck back and trills her voice, orchestrating a hymn of destruction. People fall to their knees as she passes by, her shadowy torque draping over her shoulders and trailing down her body. Moriya convulses. The strange woman’s vibrato rings in my bones and raises every hair on my body. Her voice dissipates into a distant whistling tone once more, and the song ends. Moriya does not stir.

  Queen Hero’s applause earns a pointed smile from the woman. There’s only one explanation for what she is. People cower as she turns and walks back to Hero’s side. Her hands lovingly careen over the edges of her abdomen. I wipe a drop of blood from my ear lobe and stare at her. Queen Hero places her hand on the woman’s pregnant belly.

  “Andraste is a Lamentar and fugitive of Illyn,” Queen Hero says. The crowd roils, waving their fists and shouting obscenities at the foreigner.

  “She was a slave in her homeland, raped and impregnated by her former master,” Hero raises her voice.

  The crowd’s rage simmers down but some mutter still.

  “A monster!”

  “She fled Illyn, crossed the Rift, and stumbled into our land. Alone, exhausted, famished and with child. Dying. Our men found her collapsed in the woods. They brought her here, to me. I had her fed, clothed, and gave her shelter here in the palace. Hid her.”

  “You knowingly welcomed Aureum’s enemy into our land?” A courtier shouts. Queen Hero shakes her head and laughs. She draws back and throws the axe. It somersaults through the air and lodges in his rib cage. Blood spurts from his chest and gurgles in his throat, silencing his scream. I flinch but not from fear— from the overwhelming rush of pleasurable adrenaline. He flies backward and hits the ground, sliding into the crowd. People dash out of his body’s way, shrieking and sobbing. Hero has some combat skill I didn’t see before.

  “There are others like her under my care! The women Faye mentioned, who were enslaved, sold, abused, and broken. Who have found their way into our lands and into my care.” Hero opens her arms to the courtiers. “Judge me as a traitor. Accuse me of conspiring with our natural enemy.”

  Nobody dares speak.

  “Or praise me as Savior of the damned.”

  “What about your own people?” My voice comes out stronger than I expected. “The damned of the Sunderlands.”

  Queen Hero searches the crowd for the person who dared question her, not immediately realizing it was me.

  I lift my hands. “You have been very generous in your mercy to these refugees. I am sure they would praise you as you deserve. But what about your people in the clans, my Queen?”

  “I have spoken with you about the army’s disobedience!”

  “And I have spoken with your advisor, Rydel. With Paragon Kade himself, who denies rebellion. He accuses you of ordering the Legion of Ro’Hale to abandon the clans.”

  “What do you accuse me of, Coroner?” Queen Hero stalks closer to me. “What else have you heard? What lies fly like fiery arrows?” She stops and points her finger toward the palace doors. “What has your beloved child Oracle told you?”

  I look around at the sea of eyes trained on me. Reminding me of my kinsmen in the clans.

  “Sweet Queen,” Rydel intervenes. “I do not think your cousin is accusing you.”

  “Are you siding with her?” Hero snaps at her lover.

  “As the ambassador of Elistria, it is my duty to be objective.” He smiles at her. “I’m not taking sides, but ensuring peace is kept.”

  “There will be no peace for the Sunderlands! This land is lost to us,” She says. “War and havoc will purge this land with a fiery storm!”

  “The only thing this land needs to be purged of is the plague of humans, their control, and oppression!” I ball my hands into fists. Several courtiers cheer in agreement. “Our war is with the Baore! Not with each other. Look around, Queen Hero.” Her eyes dart from me to Rydel to the courtiers. “The longer you reign with terror and bloodshed,
the farther you will drive your people from you until they have no choice but to rise against you.”

  “They fear me because they are guilty!” She says. “My mother’s blood is on their hands!”

  She crosses the distance between us, getting in my face. “You told me you believed me.” She crumples, leaning forward, and puts her hands on her knees. “Please, Keres! Someone must believe me!” She stands again and knots her fingers in her hair. I lock my mouth shut.

  “Say you have an answer for me. You’ve been to see the Oracle. Tell me her revelations!” She runs back to the body where her axe is and rips it out of him. “You went to see Osira. I gave you charge of her! You told me to let you help her, to get answers. I want my answer now!”

  “Queen Hero,” my hand goes to the scythe at my hip.

  “I have waited long enough! I get my answer from the Gods today or the girl dies.”

  The room is spinning. My head is feeling fuzzy. My hand tightens on the scythe hilt.

  Do you know the truth? Rydel’s voice slips into my mind.

  Osira gave an answer.

  Will the truth get you killed? He asks.

  It’s looking that way.

  If you lie, the girl dies.

  Yes.

  Then you must choose.

  Lie and get Osira killed, or tell the truth, and accuse the Queen of killing her own mother before the court? Accuse the Queen, earn her wrath and endanger my own life. Or worse— stir her people against her. They will usurp her if they learn the truth. If I allow that or if I kill her myself, I’ll have failed my duty to protect her. I’d be making the Mirrored Throne vulnerable to our enemy, King Berlium. Breaking this kingdom wide open.

  Or do I sacrifice Osira? Tell the Queen she doesn’t have an answer. Let her take her frustration out on the child. To keep us safe from the Baore. To save my own life and make my escape.

  Is my life even worth it?

  I think of what Ivaia must have felt when faced with the choice to sacrifice her sister to King Berlium: to maintain the alliance or to break the spell, free her sister, and cost our kingdom everything. She got herself exiled and was disowned by the very family she was fighting to save. She chose her sister’s life over her own, and over the fate of our entire Province. She must have known what her fate would be.

  But if I know Ivaia, I know exactly how she made such an impossible decision: by faith. Since I’ve known her, Ivaia’s unwavering belief in Elymas and her God-given power has driven everything she’s ever done. Adept and tenacious in her magical practice, Ivaia revealed a curse on the Queen of Ro’hale. A curse so binding and dangerous, she felt compelled to break it no matter the cost. She sensed darkness in the bear king’s hold on her sister. She stayed true to herself despite the consequences and severed the tie between the Baore and the Sunderlands without a second thought. For the love of her sister, for the sake of our people, for faith in herself. Now, a hero in exile.

  I stare down the Huntress in this court of beasts and draw strength from the lessons I’ve learned under Ivaia. Is my life worth saving at the expense of an innocent girl? If I save myself at her expense then, no, I don’t deserve to live. But I don’t have to die and neither does Osira. Not for a liar.

  “My friend Osi said the Gods are coming to the Sunderlands.” I draw my scythe. “But One’s already here with me.”

  Queen Hero has a power that holds her spine straight when she walks and clears her throat when she speaks. A confidence that turns heads, and a mercilessness that sends them rolling across the floor. A perversion of Mrithyn’s power that I despise seeing in one of my own kin.

  But I possess a power too. One I’ve long resented. Well, no more. Resenting my power isn’t helping anyone. Passing blame— it’s cowardly. The Death Spirit in me grins and I bare all its teeth at Hero. It’s time I had a little faith.

  Queen Hero grips her axe, wringing it as if it were Osira’s neck.

  I turn toward the crowd of courtiers, “My name is Keres Aurelian, right hand to the God of Death. An heir to the Mirrored Throne, I came by blood right to this court. On behalf of King Arias and the Heralds of the Moldorn…”

  At that, Hero goes rigid and the people whisper.

  “To question the actions of mortals and measure the influence of meddling Gods.” I hold up my scythe. “For years, while you’ve slept behind the palace walls in peace, the clans have suffered at the hands of the Dalis. In the darkness I sowed Death’s vengeance and reaped the souls of our enemies. I stood as a bulwark against their waves of assault and tempered their power over our lands. I know I’ve done well, for you’ve not felt the losses the clans have.”

  The court is silent, watching my every move. Hero fidgets with her axe.

  “Within the palace you are sheltered, you remain ignorant of the blight on our land. I slayed the beast of Trethermor Glade, a Gnorrer that crossed the rift into our land from Illyn. I brought its bones to the Oracle and helped her interpret the Gods’ revelations so you would be blind no longer.”

  “Well?” Hero raises her axe toward me.

  I hold up a quieting hand and lower my voice. “They have revealed the late Queen Herrona’s killer in a vision.”

  Rydel backs away from Queen Hero and folds his hands behind his back, watching me. In my mind, I apologize to King Arias for failing my mission. I pray to every God in the Pantheon that the Mirrored Throne is protected from the Baore’s grasp in Hero’s downfall. I’d rather see it in Rydel’s hands than King Berlium’s.

  Queen Hero murdered her own mother and would go to the lengths of killing Osira to protect her lie. Whether Osira never got an answer from the Gods or learned the truth, Hero would have killed her. She was toying with me, making me believe her. No more. The Sunderlands deserves better, and I won’t let Hero make Osira her scapegoat.

  “I am merely an instrument of the divine; and the Gods accuse Queen Herrona’s murderer through me now.” I point my scythe at the Huntress Queen. “Queen Hero slew her own mother.”

  The uproar is deafening. The courtiers close in on Hero, but her guards draw their blades and kill anyone in their path as they run to her. I step back, searching for a way through the crowd. Queen Hero snarls and runs toward me, slamming into a noble instead. Andraste raises her voice, bellowing in defense of her rescuer. I look for Rydel but can’t find him. Stumbling backward and ducking down out of Hero’s sight, I reach for the bottle of Scorn in my pocket.

  A buxom rabbit girl with long red hair grabs my hand. “Keres, this way!” She pulls me through the crowd and down a passageway. I shove Scorn back into my pocket.

  I don’t allow myself to stop or turn around. Hardening myself against my kingdom’s cry for help, I turn a cold shoulder to the emptiness of my cousin’s soul. I run. Hopefully, after my escape, I’ll be able to channel Osira and warn her. My skin pebbles, the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and a sense of impending doom overrides my thoughts.

  Hurrying in silence with Nadia, I pay no attention to the grandeur of the palace or the screams of its exotic, mis fitting residents.

  We burst through the white door into the deserted pleasure gardens and sprint down the rows of banquet tables. At the other end of the gardens, there’s an ivy-covered gate. She stops here and pulls my rucksack from behind a bush. Shoving it into my arms, she opens it briefly.

  “Your mother’s necklace.” She says.

  “How did you know—”

  “Run east, ford the river, and go home! Don’t look back. Don’t stop until you’re there. I’ll get to Osira.”

  “Nadia,” I grab her shoulders. “Why are you helping me?”

  She brushes me off and catches my face in her satin-soft hands. She kisses me full on the mouth. My body locks in shock.

  “Goodbye, Keres.” She smiles and her blue eyes deepen a shade. She opens the creaky gate and pushes me through, locking it behind me.

  Go home. Your people are in danger and you will not find help here. You must go to them. Osira tried
to warn me.

  “I walk through a strange land, cast under the shadow of the wings of Death...” I toss my rucksack over my shoulder and point myself east. “Ancestors, guide my steps. Gods, go with me, and I will fear no evil.”

  27. THE ACCURSED

  The Ro’Hale Kingdom claws at my back and nips at my ankles as I try to leave. I have no choice but to move forward despite so many secrets that are yet to unravel their truth. I’m leaving the Ro’Hale Kingdom with more questions than I came with. Why did Hero kill her mother? What will happen to Osira? Will Elistria seize the Mirrored Throne through Rydel? What God holds sway over the kingdom? How long will Aureum be safe with Illyn fugitives leaking into our strongholds?

  I have no choice but to do as I’m told and return home. As usual. I’m a frozen ant. I grip my prayer beads in sweaty palms.

  What I did back there took a spark of courage, but now that fire is dwindling back into fear. It’s like I caused an explosion at court and turned my back to the flames. Ran away. I know my decision to protect Osira and flee will have consequences. I’m also trusting the Gods are on my side.

  “Move on, Keres.” The Death Spirt hisses. But the burning question in the forefront of my mind is, how will the people of the Sunderlands get the help they need? I stirred the people and they will rise against Hero, but they won’t rise for the clans. They just want to survive; want to end her bloody tyranny. I just want to survive myself.

  I can’t stand alone forever. Which means I’ve got a witch to visit.

  The decrepit hut and its wards attempt to repel me, but I approach despite them. More than the magic, my pride halts me at the creaking door.

  I hear a wolf howling somewhere in the distance.

  “Oh, Gods!” A bit jumpier than usual, I stop short, making eye contact with another wolf. Its shaggy, gray fur and beady eyes regard me. Its teeth bare. It looks me up and down, and then just howls back in reply to its distant kin. I walk away slowly. It doesn’t seem to care about me though. It just lets me slip by. I pick up my pace, never letting my attention wander again.