by Sally Green
Stop that! Tash pressed the knife harder against Frost’s neck, but she merely smiled, and in Tash’s vision more chickens joined in, all headless, all racing round and round, dozens of them.
Stop it! You’ll be the one without a head if you’re not careful.
If you were going to kill me, you’d have killed me. I don’t know what you really want, but you’re not very good at getting it. You’re not good at anything are you, Pea-Brain?
I can tunnel through stone.
At that Frost frowned and her eyes flitted to the tunnel Tash had made.
Tash raised her eyebrows. Not such a pea-brain after all, am I?
But she got no reply—there was nothing but a sort of strange emptiness. It was as if Frost was deliberately cutting all her thoughts off from Tash while she thought about this. Finally, she spoke again.
So, you like the demons, do you?
Yes. And I want to know what’s happening to them. You know, don’t you?
There’s a special one, isn’t there? I can see you trying not to think of him. Oh, right, you’ve given him a name—Twist. How sweet. Do you call him that because that’s how he kills people—by twisting their heads off?
No! He’s called Twist, ’cause of the markings on his face. He . . .
He’s what? A nice demon? Oh, but I see he imprisoned you in stone. Maybe not so nice then?
Twist didn’t imprison me. And anyway, I got out.
Silence again, but not for so long this time.
So how do you do it?
Tash smiled. She’d been wondering why Frost hadn’t called for help or tried to get free—she wanted information from Tash as much as Tash wanted information from her.
I can get information out of your head without those buffoons. If they come, they’ll probably slit your throat.
Maybe you can get the information out of my head, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be able to tunnel like me. I guess I’ve just got the knack.
So what’s this knack?
You tell me about the demons first. How many are left? What are they doing?
We’ve killed a few, but mostly they’re hiding. It’s all very dull. The soldiers throw dead bodies into the core pit; new demons come out. They’re killed, and the smoke is collected and piled up here. Commander Fallon is happy.
Fallon. Is he the soldier you go around with?
I don’t go around with him; he goes around with me. He’d know nothing if it wasn’t for me. He’s another pea-brain. He just wants smoke, smoke, and more smoke.
And you help him get it.
They need the smoke to fight their war—and lots of it. You should have seen the cage last week. It was full to the roof before they sent it off to the boys’ brigades. It’s getting easier too—the amount of smoke in the core is growing, and the new demons are being born out of it faster and faster. Which I can see is something you’re interested in . . .
Frost smiled. Her teeth were rotten, and her eyes glowed lilac in the light, just like a demon’s. Then she frowned. My teeth aren’t rotten.
Are too. But the demons are putting themselves into the core of smoke. I’ve seen them. Why are they doing that?
Frost grinned. Now that information is a bit too valuable for the likes of you.
Tell me, and I’ll teach you how to tunnel.
No deal, Pea-Brain. I’m sure tunneling is fun, but I’m get-ting out of here soon, and then I’m never going in a tunnel again.
After you’ve killed all the demons, you mean? You and these horrible soldiers.
If I didn’t help them, they’d just find someone else. Anyway, why shouldn’t I? At the end of this, they’re going to pay me so much I’ll never have to work again. I can eat and drink whatever I want, never work, never get hungry, and even have a pony to ride.
People are dying, the world’s at war, and you want a pony?
Frost sneered. People are always dying. The world’s always at war. The Calidorians betrayed us Abasks, and my people were destroyed. But we kept our history alive in our little community of slaves. I’ve worked in the Brigantine mines for years, slaved for mine owners from as soon as I was old enough to crawl. I got out and I’m not going back. And I reckon if I want a pony, I’ll have one.
Tash wanted to get out too.
There’s a slight problem with that, though, Pea-Brain. You’re not going to get away from the Brigantines. The soldiers will cut you to pieces. And I’ll watch as they throw your body into the core and wait until a puny, pea-brained demon comes out, and I’ll kill it myself.
And, with that, Frost gripped Tash’s arm and shouted. The noise filled the cavern with a horrible clanging.
Tash twisted free of Frost’s grip and darted to her tunnel, just reaching it as a Brigantine soldier appeared. Tash ran on, the shouts of the Brigantine soldier echoing behind her.
Tash had the advantage that the tunnel was made by her and for her, so it was small and narrow, and the sound of the soldier soon faded behind her. She made it up to the mid-level terrace where she’d started and peeked into the cavern. There were Brigantines just below, heading her way. She had to find her tunnel back to the surface. She had to get out.
She almost reached it when she heard a loud, high-pitched clanging. Across the cavern, Frost was standing with Fallon, the Brigantine commander, pointing at Tash with a look of delight on her face.
Tash darted into her tunnel and ran for her life.
CATHERINE
ARMY CAMP, NORTHERN PITORIA
Love and friendship make the best marriage.
Pitorian saying
CATHERINE HAD hardly been parted from Tzsayn since her return to camp. He was recovering well, though Catherine suspected he lied about the amount of pain he was in. But it was also obvious that he was happy, and so was she. The country was at war, there was much to fear, and yet Catherine felt a lightness that she’d never known before. She knew that her future with Tzsayn was right, and together they’d get through whatever lay in their path.
Of course, that didn’t mean there were no arguments.
“We don’t need to marry immediately,” Tzsayn said.
“But you were the one telling me I had to decide quickly!”
“We were going to wait until the coronation, and I can’t go through with that ceremony until I’m fully healed. Savage says he’ll chop my other leg off if I try.”
“But I want to marry now. It won’t be a public ceremony. It will be just us. Privately making it . . . legal.”
“Ah, I know how keen on the law you are, Judge Catherine.”
“Are you trying to get out of it now? Why so reluctant?”
Tzsayn shook his head. “I’m not reluctant.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m . . . I’d like to feel a little more like myself. I want you to love me, not pity me.”
Catherine took his hand and kissed it. “I love you. Totally. I don’t pity you at all. We said we’d be honest and I am. I worry that you’re in pain and that life will be harder for you with one leg, but I know you’ll find ways to cope—and I’ll do all I can to help. But I need you to trust me on this. Marriage now is the right thing.”
“Now?”
“Tomorrow. I’m having a dress made. It’ll be ready in the morning.”
And so, the next morning after the war council, which had to go ahead as if nothing unusual was happening, Tanya helped Catherine put on her new dress and presented her with a platter of fruit, honey, and cheese.
Catherine felt her eyes fill. In Brigant, the bride’s mother would bring her the wedding breakfast—her last meal as a single woman.
“Thank you, Tanya, I’d forgotten about this tradition. It’s good to have something of home here with me.”
“Not all things from Brigant are bad.”
“Bu
t it’s strange to think my mother doesn’t even know I’m about to marry.”
“She knew you were to marry Tzsayn. Even if the cir-cumstances are somewhat different from those we expected, I’m sure she would wish you a very happy life together.”
A messenger came to say that the king was waiting. And Catherine’s heart was suddenly beating hard.
“Let me check from all angles,” Tanya said, running round Catherine and tweaking the hang of the simple white and silver dress.
“Can we go now?”
“Yes, you’re looking perfect.”
They walked together to Tzsayn’s bedchamber where Tzsayn, General Davyon, and the chancellor were waiting.
Catherine was delighted that, for the first time since the operation, Tzsayn was out of his bed and dressed. In fact, he looked stunning in blue silk and leather with a fur trim at the collar and cuffs. To his jacket was pinned a white wissun blossom—the flower that Catherine had chosen as her emblem. He was sitting on one of two throne-like seats and he got to his feet with the help of a crutch and Davyon as Catherine entered.
Tanya escorted Catherine to the other throne and Catherine sat down, knowing that only then would Tzsayn return to his own seat. She smiled at him, and he smiled back and took her hand in his.
The marriage documents were already drawn up and laid out on a table. The wording was ambiguous enough that it could be interpreted that the marriage was a confirmation of the earlier, rushed ceremony that was supposed to have happened in Rossarb, while also being binding in and of itself.
Catherine confirmed her name and watched Tzsayn as he confirmed his. She promised she’d be a loyal wife and love her husband always, and Tzsayn returned these promises in kind. Then Tzsayn signed the document, and Catherine picked up the quill and put her name next to his.
Tzsayn took her hand again and kissed it.
“I’m happier than words can say, Catherine.”
Catherine wanted to laugh with happiness, and whispered, “I love you.”
“And I love you.” Tzsayn pulled her to him and nearly toppled from the chair, but he was laughing too as Davyon held him up.
The chancellor cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you now, Your Majesties.”
Davyon too excused himself, as did Tanya. A dinner was served for Catherine and Tzsayn alone.
“Do any of the servants suspect, do you think?”
“As far as anyone is concerned, this is a meal to celebrate my return to health, and your purchase of some ships.”
Catherine put on an exaggerated frown. “No mention of ships this afternoon, please.”
“Agreed, as long as you don’t ask about my leg. Which is fine. Savage has done his job well.”
“You’re not even tired?”
“I’m delighted to be out of that damned bed and wearing clothes again. But yes, as I must be honest with you, I’m a little tired, but very, very happy.”
They talked until evening, when more food was brought, the candles lit, and rose petals strewn across the floor.
“Everyone seems particularly attentive,” she said, though she felt like she was almost in a dream.
“I should hope so. I’m king. You’re queen.” Tzsayn smiled broadly. “And husband and wife too.” He leaned to her and kissed her lips. “And happy, I hope.”
“Very happy. I can’t quite believe it’s true, though.”
The war council that morning seemed like a lifetime ago, and she’d mostly managed not to think of the fighting. Time spent not thinking of war felt like a precious gift. She looked at Tzsayn and said, “If I’m being honest—which I must be—I’m a little nervous.”
“I’m nervous too.”
“Impossible!”
“It doesn’t happen often,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. “And I’m hoping this will help. You’re mine. I’m yours. We belong together.” He put his hand on her waist and pulled her to him. “Forever.”
Catherine stroked his cheek with her fingertips, the good cheek with perfect skin.
“For all my father’s faults—and I won’t waste our time by listing them—he did choose you as my husband. And he was right to do so. He did it for all the wrong reasons, but he chose the right man for me.”
Tzsayn shuddered. “I don’t want to think of him this evening. One night free of that monster would be good.”
“You’re right. This is not the night to talk of him. This is for us.” She smiled and stroked his cheek, this time the scarred one. It was smooth but uneven, like melted wax. Tzsayn turned his head so their lips met and they kissed again, their tongues touching, his arms holding her body to him and her hands reaching up his back.
Tzsayn began to unbutton his jacket with fumbling fingers.
Catherine giggled as she tried to help, saying, “The candlelight is very atmospheric, but I can’t see well enough to undo the ties.”
Eventually Tzsayn undid the last one and slid his jacket off. He raised his shirt over his head, revealing his body, half-scarred as his face was.
“Not so pretty, but I hope you can bear it,” he said.
Catherine smiled at him and traced the line down his slim stomach between the scarred and unscarred skin. His muscles twitched. He was beautiful.
And now he turned her round and slowly undid the ribbons of her dress, kissing her neck after every pull. And all the while, Catherine could feel her dress loosen.
“I love you,” she said as he undid the final bow.
AMBROSE
NORTHERN PLATEAU, PITORIA
IT WAS pouring rain, and Ambrose was up to his knees in mud. The mission had gone badly wrong and was getting worse. It had been two days since they had reached the demon hollow—only to discover that it wasn’t a demon hollow anymore. Since then, they had been marching across the Northern Plateau in search of another, to no avail. The men were tired, cold, and hungry, but all they could do was keep plodding on. Ambrose wanted to scream with frustration, except he was too exhausted.
By the light of a low fire that night, Ambrose looked at his soldiers and could see that they had begun to lose their belief. They were quiet, and even Anlax had run out of jokes. Was this where Ambrose’s fight would end? Lost on the Northern Plateau and starved to death?
Geratan looked particularly miserable as he approached Ambrose. “I’m sorry I’ve led you into this mess.”
Ambrose shook his head. “You couldn’t have known that the hollow would close up.” And Ambrose hadn’t even thought it might happen. He was the leader; he should have considered all possibilities when he was planning the mission. He was responsible. Had he been too caught up in his own misery, his own personal problems?
It was up to him to find a solution. “We have just enough food to make it back to the camp if we turn round now. But if we reequip and come out again, it could still take a week or longer to find a demon hollow. We’ll be too late to prevent the Brigantines getting the smoke to their boy army. However, if we stay out here, we risk starving before we find another hollow.”
Geratan winced. “Poor choices both. Which way are you leaning?”
“I don’t know,” Ambrose replied. But he did know. They’d have to head back. His mission had failed.
EDYON
CALIA, CALIDOR
EDYON WAS standing with Byron on his terrace, which overlooked the sea. The white of the buildings of Calia stood out brightly. He looked out and then to Byron. It was a glorious day and a glorious view—Byron was incredibly handsome. “Thank you again for taking the smoke and saving our lives,” Edyon said to him.
Byron smiled a little shyly. “Your father asked me to. He said it might not be necessary. I’m sorry that it was.”
“As am I,” Edyon agreed. Though perhaps not very sorry. He was now the hero of the day, and his father was safe from the traitors.
“Th
ere’s something I still don’t understand about your side of the story,” Byron said.
“What’s that?”
“The bit about stealing the mirror. I mean, why were you really in Regan’s room? Did you suspect him?”
Edyon shook his head. “Alas no. I really was in there stealing a mirror.”
“But . . . I can’t believe you’re a thief! Did you not have a mirror in your room?”
“You believe in my vanity more than my thievery?”
Byron smiled and shrugged.
“The truth is that I have a compulsion to steal.” Edyon hated to even admit it. “Obviously I’m not proud of it and it’s hard to explain, but I get an urge to take things sometimes. And I don’t know if it’s because I’m so weak, so flawed, but I give in to it. Every time. I’m never sure when it’ll happen. But I’ve stolen for a long time—since as early as I can remember. I stopped recently, for a brief time . . . There was a person . . . He helped me to not steal.”
Byron raised his eyebrows. “A person?”
Edyon took a breath. Now he had to be really honest. Now he had to say it out loud. “A boy. I loved him.”
Byron didn’t scream in horror, so Edyon continued. “He used to be a servant to my father. It’s a long, complicated story, but fate threw us together in Pitoria. We went through many trials, and I fell in love with him.”
Edyon watched Byron for his reaction.
Byron’s eyes showed interest and concern. “The friend who helped you in all your trials. The one who escaped with you across the Northern Plateau.”
“That’s him. His name is March.”
“And you loved March, but did he not love you?”
“That’s a very good question. I think he did. He wasn’t quite as open with his feelings as I am.”
“Not many are, Your Highness.”
“He was quite the opposite to me, in fact, but he saved my life on several occasions, and I’m proud to say I helped him through terrible suffering too.” Edyon’s eyes filled with tears at the memory of March lying in pain after being tortured in Rossarb.
