“It’s not fair. Make her share it with me!”
Lydia held a fisted hand over her head while Nash jumped for it and complained loudly to Oleez.
I stood at the rail of Gods Pavilion, near the entrance to the graveyard, watching them argue. Montegue scheduled a stop here on the way to Tor’s Watch to soak his feet. There was a bubbling hot spring that the marble pavilion had been built around, and at the center three descending circular steps surrounded the steaming pink water. It looked like misty clouds at sunset, and besides its reputed curative qualities, breathing the steam was supposed to impart the blessings of the gods. Though Montegue used the word strength instead of blessings.
I heard him speaking quietly with Paxton and Truko about revenue at the arena and ways to increase it. He wanted more money—and soon. Truko tried to explain that revenue always went down in the winter months as crops were fewer and weather discouraged travel. I wondered at the urgency in Montegue’s voice, the way he lowered it and hissed his words through clenched teeth. Find a way to increase it. With so much at his disposal, why did he need more—and quickly? Was it only to help the citizens as he claimed? Or was he worried about the seer’s prediction of a starving winter?
Banques had instructed me not to speak to Nash and Lydia on the way here—apparently neither of them wanted to be anywhere near me, and I had to ride several paces ahead of them between Paxton and Truko, with a buffer of soldiers just behind us. But when we turned at a switchback, both of the children had their eyes fixed on me.
Nash rode on the same horse in front of Montegue, while Lydia rode with Banques. As young as they were, Nash and Lydia were both competent riders. They used to have their own horses. Now, wedged in saddles with
Banques and Montegue, the real reason they didn’t ride alone was suddenly obvious. He is using them for protection. Revulsion burned inside me.
Even with all the soldiers that surrounded Montegue and Banques, they still feared a loyalist might be hiding high on a bluff or just off the trail. No one would risk shooting one of the Ballenger children with an arrow. An unstated threat was there too. Hurt the king in any way, and what would happen to the children? I wasn’t the only one who had to follow rules.
How long before the last loyalist was pummeled into submission and the king didn’t need them for protection any longer? And he was using me as part of his plan to make the town comply. Once Lydia and Nash ceased to be an asset, would they become a liability? A threat to his monarchy? Would they only become more Ballengers who might one day rise up and exact their revenge against him?
But then I watched Montegue laugh as he lifted Nash down from his horse. He ruffled his hair and told him to go play with his sister. They’ve actually become very fond of me. I give them attention, presents. More than he ever did.
Fifteen minutes hadn’t passed when an argument broke out. “Give it, Lydia!”
It wasn’t like Nash to complain, especially over a common eyestone, nor like Lydia to withhold it. They were always the best of friends. I watched their bickering with interest. Oleez was only mildly trying to settle the squabbling, as if she didn’t really care, and Montegue became increasingly irritated with the noise, his brotherly façade cracking.
“I can help you find another,” I blurted out. “There’s sure to be some over by the wash.” The children stopped arguing and stared at me, a fiery gleam lighting their eyes. Banques’s head swiveled with a start. I had spoken to them against his orders. “Only with His Majesty’s permission of course,” I added.
Montegue weighed the thought for a moment, then looked over at Lydia and Nash. I knew that sending them and their squabbling over to the wash and out of his earshot was tempting for him.
“Will that solve your problem?” he asked them. Nash shrugged unenthusiastically. “I guess.”
Lydia frowned. “As long as she doesn’t touch us,” she said, her face pinched with convincing disgust. My throat throbbed. I knew what I saw in her eyes, the juggling, the hatred, the show, the performance expertly spun in every breath and blink. She was someone I recognized—a survivor.
Montegue was eager to get back to his conversation with Paxton and Truko. He nodded to two soldiers assigned to follow the children as they played around the graveyard. “Stay close,” Banques instructed them, then shot me a warning glance, a reminder of the rules of the game. I wasn’t in the inner circle of trust yet.
But I was getting closer.
The king had pressed near to me again this morning after an announcement. He stared at my lips. The ones Jase had kissed. The lips he believed the Patrei had wanted but couldn’t truly have. A riddle filled his eyes, and the answer was just out of his reach.
“Did you love him?” he had asked.
For the first time in my life, I was grateful for my years as a starving orphan. Grateful I’d learned to smile and juggle and pretend I didn’t care about a sour crabapple within arm’s reach as a quarterlord scrutinized every move I made. Grateful for my artful shrugs and indifferent sighs. Grateful that I had learned how to size up a mark and how to patiently feed their fantasy.
Everything inside of me ached with Jase. I would never stop loving him. But my answer to the king was a quick smirk. I threw off his ridiculous question like he was a child asking if the moon was made of cheese, just enough insult to cure him of the notion. And it was a notion he wanted to toss away. The same way he refused to hear murderer murmured through the crowd, but heard long live the king instead.
 |
We knelt at a dry wash near the creek. Oleez joined us sifting through the piles of pebbles. Lydia and Nash continued to argue, but when the guards became bored and stepped away, Lydia managed to whisper to me, “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Nash said.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I whispered back. “I’m going to get you out of here and back to your family. I promise. You just have to be patient and keep doing what you’re doing.”
“They’ve had no choice,” Oleez explained, her voice hushed as her eyes darted to both sides to make sure no one was within earshot. She said she had been in town shopping with the children when the attack came. Their straza were overwhelmed by soldiers who descended on the town like mad, swooping bats, sending everyone scattering for their lives. She and the children were captured. They’d been targeted by Hagur, an arena employee who had been tailing them, knowing the attack was coming. In the event of an abduction, the children had always been coached to go along with their captors until help came to free them, to do whatever was necessary to survive. Oleez confessed it was not a plan she ever thought would come to fruition. She reached out and protectively brushed the hair from Lydia’s eyes.
“What about Rybart?” I asked. “Was he preying on the town as the king said?”
“Someone was. I don’t know if it was Rybart. But it was as bad as it’s ever been. Businesses torched. Raids on caravans. The Ballengers were pulled in all directions.”
“Is that why Montegue had to send in troops?”
“So he claims, but the troops came as a surprise. Mason had just hired on more crews to patrol. It had been quiet for a few days, which is why I even came to town with the children. Then the troops roared in. Everything started exploding around us. They say the family escaped to the vault. They’re blaming everything on them. They—”
“Finish up down there!” No Neck yelled. “The king’s putting his boots on!”
Oleez shot a worried glance at No Neck. “Some of these soldiers, like that one, they are not of this world,” she whispered. “There is something not right about them.” I had wondered about them too.
“Coming!” I called back.
“I hate the king,” Nash hissed.
“Someday I will kill him,” Lydia concurred.
“No,” I said firmly. “I will take care of that in due time. You just keep doing what you’re doing. And those things I said about your brother—” My throat swelled, and this time it was Nash who comforted me.
“The king made you say those things about Jase. I know.” His voice was tiny and wise, and I had to stab my nails into my palm to keep from choking.
“We knew none of it was true,” Lydia added. “Our brother isn’t dead.
He’s the Patrei. He’s too young to die.”
I pulled in a deep breath, trying to keep from crumbling. They were survivors, but still children.
“Where is he?” Nash asked. “When is he coming?”
I looked at Oleez. She had seen the mutilated hand bearing the signet ring too.
“Kazi?” Lydia prodded.
I cleared my throat, forcing the wobble from it. “As soon as he can,” I answered. “Jase will come as soon as he can.”
|
The call to depart had come. The weather had turned and snow had begun to fall. Lydia and Nash ran ahead, following on Oleez’s heels, multiple shimmering eyestones clutched in their fists.
As I passed the Ballenger family tomb, I paused, staring at the tall scrolled pillars. I stepped closer. Ghosts … I felt their slumber, the ones who had let go and rested. I felt the gentle beat of their hearts, their peace— but I felt the others too—those ghosts who were a gathered sigh whispering over my head, restless, an ageless breath still anchored to this world, the ones who, for some reason, couldn’t let go.
They were shimmers of light, cool fingers brushing my arms, lifting strands of my hair, curious, remembering, hoping—reliving moments, wishing for a second chance—much like the living. Shhhh. It was only a breeze whispering through the pines if you didn’t know. If you had never looked Death in the eye, you likely couldn’t recognize it at all.
The large tomb held numerous crypts, but I knew one of them was marked with the name of an occupant who wasn’t even there. It was not her
breaths I heard. Instead, she was buried at the base of Breda’s Tears, the moon and sun as her companions. I was the only one Jase had ever entrusted with the truth of the empty crypt. He had gone against everything he ever had been taught and the law of the land, to grant the last wish of his sister.
I marveled at the lavish and enormous memorial, the one that had frightened Sylvey so much as she faced death. Carved twelve-foot angels bearing scowls and holding swords larger than a man guarded either side of the entrance, their features daunting and imposing. Their deep-set eyes followed you wherever you moved. A richly sculpted eagle graced the cornice above, its enormous claws gripping a fluted ledge, its glare casting a timeless warning to those who approached. An abundance of chiseled fruit draped in leafy marble garlands wound through the spaces between. The details were intricate, right down to the pebbled skin of lemons. In Venda the dead were buried in unmarked graves, sometimes with a clump of thannis laid on top that quickly tumbled away in the harsh winds.
Either come in or go away.
I stepped back, startled by the faint voice.
There was no going in. The stone door was eight feet high. I remembered that at Karsen’s funeral it took two large men to push it shut. How did fifteen-year-old Jase ever do it by himself in the middle of the night? Desperation? Maybe. Desperation could make you incredibly stupid or incredibly strong, or maybe both.
I pressed my cheek against the door, the smooth stone cold against my skin, my eyes stinging. Jase. My heart said he wasn’t dead. This was not his realm. He is alive. But my head told me something different. The clink of his ring on the floor when Banques threw it still made my throat swell. I closed my eyes, trying to will away the pain, banishing thoughts of rings and remembering my vow to Jase instead.
Kazi …
My eyes flew open. The sound was close, warming my ear, as if it straddled two worlds. I stepped back from the door, angling my head, trying to hear more.
I didn’t know … I swear I didn’t know. I’m sorry.
The voice drifted away on the wind, shhhh.
“On your horse! The king is waiting!”
And with No Neck’s order, I left the voices behind and went to face the new ones that were waiting for me at Tor’s Watch. How many of them might be dead too?
