Elix: Sci-Fi Romance (The Gladius Syndicate Book 2) by Emma James (20)

Phaelenx noticed his friend’s eyes seemed to be oddly clouded. He frowned. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“No,” Brutus said bravely. He saluted. “Why, I feel better than ever before.”

The crowd of men assembled on deck followed suit, saluting Phaelenx and turned to Labrax. “We are ready!” They chanted in unison.

A cold chill ran down Phaelenx’s spine. He remembered Selene’s words about Taryn. Looking out for the men, he saw the same odd look in their eyes. Some of them even seemed to be glowing with a faint greenish cast.

Give in, an unfamiliar voice urged Phaelenx. It will feel so good. Give yourself over, Phaelenx. Relax, and give in.

Phaelenx shuddered. The voice was female and very sultry and seductive. It wrapped around Phaelenx like a cloak of cashmere and silk, as soft as Selene’s skin. Give in, the voice urged again. Relax, Phaelenx, this is what you must do now.

“No,” Phaelenx said out loud, shaking his head and stomping his foot on the wooden deck of the ship.

“Sir?” Brutus looked at Phaelenx with concern. “What is the matter?”

Phaelenx stared warily at his friend. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I am fine. Get the men ready to set sail – we leave at once.”

Captain Labrax was standing on the docks, calling instructions to all of the men on board. Phaelenx watched in kind of a nervous wonder as the sails unfurled, shining brightly in the chilly rays of the sun. One by one, the ships began to leave the harbor.

Selene, Phaelenx thought, shielding his eyes from the sun and looking at the Zhekan shore. Please, be safe. I promise I will return to you soon.

Phaelenx had no idea how he was going to save his own life, much less the lives of others. As the ship sailed from the harbor onto the open water, Phaelenx felt a small thrill rush through his body. There was something intoxicating about the prospect of the open sea – the fresh salt air whipping against Phaelenx’s brow, waves crashing against the hull of the ship, and nothing but blue skies and cerulean water for miles and miles. Why there was even something exciting about the prospect of battle. Perhaps Nasenia had hidden, untold treasures – perhaps they would enrich Phaelenx’s life, and he would be even happier than he had ever dreamed.

Phaelenx blinked in horror, looking down at his feet. What is wrong with me, he thought nervously. This isn’t exciting at all! We’re going to our death! He held out his arms and looked down at the shining armor clinging to his muscles. That was when he noticed the faint greenish glow coming from the armor in waves.

The armor, Phaelenx realized nervously, plucking at his gauntlets. It is possessed! In horror, he began stripping himself of the heavy metal pieces and throwing them to the ground.

“Brother, what are you doing?” Brutus asked. He picked up a piece of Phaelenx’s gauntlet and handed it back over. “We will need this armor in order to win against the people of Nasenia!”

“I find myself much stronger without it,” Phaelenx said dryly. He pried at his breastplate until it clattered to the deck with a metallic clang. “I have never fought in armor, and I find it awkward.” He narrowed his eyes at Brutus. “I command you to remove yours as well.”

Brutus shook his head. “No,” he said defiantly. “Captain Labrax has said the punishment for any unarmored man is death, Phaelenx. It is very serious.”

Yes, of course, it is, Phaelenx thought sarcastically. Seeing as how we might turn the ship around and go home, unpossessed!

The skies darkened as the fleet sailed away from Zheka. Soon, the shoreline had disappeared, leaving Phaelenx with no view other than the wide sea. The waves began to churn and crest, white foam appearing on the surface of the dark water. Another horrifying chill ran through Phaelenx’s body as he realized he didn’t know how to swim. This is suicide, Phaelenx thought as he stood at the prow and queasily watched the flow of water below the ship. It’s going into the arena without a weapon, and facing seven hungry tigers!

The ships sailed on. Phaelenx ordered Brutus to distribute meager rations and water among the men.

“Look!” Brutus yelled. He pointed towards the horizon. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Phaelenx got to his feet and poured the last of his water down his throat. It was lukewarm and tasted of hay. “What is it?”

“Nasenia!” Brutus said. He grinned. “We have made it!”

Phaelenx fought the wave of dread that was cresting over his head. “Aye,” he said. “And now what is the plan?”

Brutus turned to him in confusion. “You are the first mate,” he said. “You decide the plan!”

Phaelenx blinked. “In the name of the gods, Brutus,” he said sharply. “I have never fought before in my life. How is a man such as I ready to command an entire fleet?”

Brutus narrowed his eyes. “Captain Labrax is confident in you,” he said. “And so am I.”

The men clapped and cheered, calling Phaelenx’s name over and over. Finally, Phaelenx walked to the prow of the ship. “We rest,” he said. “And tonight, we attack.” He expected the men to fight him on his decision, but to his shock, they nodded and began to prepare to drop anchor. Small boats tethered to the side of the ship swung in the breeze, and it was with a heavy heart that Phaelenx ordered them to be dropped down to the waiting sea.

The day passed slowly. The Zhekan ships floated in the water, rising up and down with the crest of the waves. Phaelenx began to feel faintly ill, but to his relief, the rest of the men looked to be the picture of health. He had another round of rations distributed and the men began to chat and sing songs of war and victory.

Finally, at nightfall, Phaelenx gave the signal for the men to lower themselves down into the rowboats. He went into a boat with Brutus and Huen Covendane. Huen, too, seemed to be possessed – his eyes were manic and glittering, and he could talk of little other than slaughtering Nasenian natives.

“Men, be quiet,” Phaelenx snapped after the fifth round of a popular folk song. “Please, I need quiet.”

Brutus looked at him in disdain. “Captain Labrax wants our full attention on the task at hand,” he said. “Just think! A few men killed, and the whole country belongs to us!”

“Aye,” Phaelenx replied. And that is exactly what I am afraid of.

As the men were rowing towards shore, the skies began to darken. Thunder clapped overhead and soon, rain began to fall. Phaelenx could no longer see the shoreline – even though he knew the boat was close, it suddenly felt like trying to navigate through a maze. The storm felt otherworldly, almost as if the gods themselves were punishing Phaelenx and the others for their bloodthirsty plans.

“First mate!” Brutus yelled, rain streaming down his face. “What do we do? What is the plan?”

“Go back to the ship!” Phaelenx yelled. He took hold of the oars and began to row, powerfully pushing the boat through the troubled waters of the sea. Water sloshed into the boat and Phaelenx ordered Brutus and Huen to scoop the water in pails and dump it over the sides, but as quickly as they worked, they were no match for the raging sea. By the time the rowboat reached the large schooner, it was practically underwater.

Exhausted, the men scrambled aboard.

“We wait until the storm passes,” Phaelenx said, secretly glad to have a reason for stalling. “Then, we think of a new plan!”

The men cheered. They were clearly fatigued, but Phaelenx could still see the gleaming green light in their eyes. They’re going to work until they’re dead, Phaelenx realized. Again, he thought of Selene and the others back on the Zhekan shores. Now that all of the young men were gone, what would happen? He shuddered – he hadn’t even thought of what would become of Selene in his absence.

When the storm cleared, Phaelenx got to his feet and looked for the shore of Nasenia. The waters were still churning and angry, but he saw a small fleet of ships sailing towards the men.

“Look!” Phaelenx yelled. He pointed to the ships. The men got to their feet and cheered. The ships were sailing quickly through the still-raging waters, and Phaelenx knew there would be no time to board another of the rowboats.

“Sir, what are we to do?” Brutus asked anxiously.

Phaelenx glanced at the cannons tethered to the dock. “We attack,” he said solemnly. “And under no circumstances are we to let Nasenian men board this ship. If it seems like they will board us, we are to sail back.”

Brutus nodded. He saluted Phaelenx, then organized the men on board. They loaded the cannons, and at Phaelenx’s command, fired them into the sea.

The result was immediate. Powerful cannon balls shot through the air, damaging the approaching ships. One of them began to sink, and Phaelenx’s men cheered and cried.

It seemed that the war had truly begun.

More ships appeared – all smaller and older than the Zhekan ships – and Phaelenx directed his men to an easy victory. He had Brutus take a rowboat out to one of the ships, and watched through a spy glass as Brutus boarded and fought.

“Men, go with him,” Phaelenx ordered, pointing to another row boat. “Make sure the ship is not too damaged to sail, and then we will make it our own!”

The men complied immediately. Phaelenx stayed on the large schooner, watching as small boat after small boat sailed to the Nasenian fleet. Screams and gunshots filled the air, and Phaelenx watched in horror as man after man collapsed into the sea.

After what felt like hours, the fire stopped. Phaelenx held the glass to his cheek, peering out at the Nasenian fleet. Two of the ships had sunk, but three more had survived, and Brutus was ordering the men to steer the ships back to the Zhekans.

Just as Phaelenx was about to collapse with fatigue, a shadow slid over the sun. Phaelenx turned and gasped – there was another fleet of ships – huge and black and frightening – on the horizon.

“It’s Glasule,” Phaelenx said out loud. The words chilled him to the bone. As the ships approached, he paced back and forth on the decks. The Glasulian schooners were warships. Large flags fluttered in the breeze, and the stained black wood was frightening enough to scare even the bravest man to the bone.

When Brutus and the others returned, Phaelenx gathered them together. “Those ships,” Phaelenx said, pointing to the approaching fleet. “We must flee. They will kill us.”

The men blinked.

“We must flee, now!” Phaelenx ordered. “I command you, prepare the ship to sail!”

None of the men moved.

“Move!” Phaelenx yelled. “Now!”

“Phaelenx, those men don’t wish to harm us,” Brutus said in a dreamy kind of voice. “They are here to help.”

“No,” Phaelenx said quickly. “They are not coming to help us, Brutus – they are coming to kill us! Don’t you understand, this whole thing was a ruse! Glasule wants to take us over, and they’re going to do it unless we move!”

Brutus and the other men exchanged a nervous look.

“Phaelenx, sir, you are being quite paranoid,” Brutus said. He closed his eyes. “Why, I feel nothing but relief and happiness.”

Phaelenx stared in horror. The enchantment is too strong, he thought as he glanced around in a blind panic. I am not strong enough to manipulate them all!

The black fleet approached. Soon, the ships were right next to the Zhekan ships. Men with swords and guns, dressed in black rags, leaped aboard.

“Welcome, men!” Brutus called heartily. “We welcome you to share our spoils!”

What happened next was something Phaelenx would never forget. A Glasulian man, dressed all in black, with a large captain’s hat on his head, smirked.

“Aye,” he said. “So they say!” He spoke the common tongue, but his voice was harsh and deep. He took a large sword from a scabbard at his hip and sliced it through the air, almost too quickly for Phaelenx to see. The blade connected with Brutus’s neck and blood sprayed through the air. Brutus’s head dropped to the decks, rolling in a crimson splatter.

The other men stared. Their eyes were still glowing green, and Phaelenx wondered whether or not any of them had registered what had just happened. He knew he had to make a decision – and fast. Running forward, Phaelenx threw a powerful punch through the air. His fist landed on the Glasulian’s man jaw, and to his relief, the man crumpled to the decks. Phaelenx reached down and grabbed the bloody sword. Brandishing it in the air, he turned to face his men.

“Men!” Phaelenx roared. “This is what will happen if you do not join me! Join me and fight our true enemy – the men of Glasule!”

The men, including Huen and Baelan, blinked.

“Do you not realize we are all to die?” Phaelenx roared loudly. “This will be the end of us!”

The men didn’t reply. They were white in the face with horror, but none of them moved. More men in black began to board the ship, and Phaelenx knew he could no longer stand still. Leaping forward, he swung his sword through the air. The heavy blade was powerful, and he stabbed two men from Glasule in the chest, sweeping them overboard and wiping the blade on his trousers.

Phaelenx fought the men in black singlehandedly. He closed his eyes and invoked a brief prayer to the gods, channeling all of the strength he knew he had. Even though he was weakened by his time in the castle dungeons, he was still powerful and strong. Dancing with the sword seemed to come naturally to him, and soon Phaelenx was fighting as though he was back home, in the Zhekan arena. He sliced and stabbed, avoiding splashes of blood and angry cries from the Glasulian men.

The deck of the ship was littered with bodies. Phaelenx’s crew stood, blinking, not moving a muscle. Brutus’s body was thrown overboard, and Phaelenx barely had time to think of his friend before dodging a brutal swing of a mace. He screamed as he leaped to the side and slashed through the air with his sword.

When the last Glasulian man hit the deck, dead, Phaelenx turned to his men. He was panting and covered in blood and sweat. Adrenaline was flowing powerfully through his body and his muscles were sore and trembling.

“Men,” Phaelenx called in an unsteady voice. “Do you not believe me now?”

Huen Covendane stepped forward. His eyes were glittering green. “You have betrayed your orders,” he said in a harsh, unfamiliar voice. “When we return, victorious, to Zheka, I shall see that you are thrown in the dungeons until you wither away.”

Phaelenx took a deep breath. “Then I’m leaving,” he said. He threw the sword on the deck of the ship and blood spattered his face and chest. “And unless you all leave, you will die.”

The men said nothing as Phaelenx threw a rope to the Glasulian ship and hauled himself over. They stared with wide eyes and trembling mouths.

Phaelenx landed on the polished black deck of the Glasulian ship and looked around. He grabbed a dagger from the deck and clutched it his hand, ready to defend himself against anymore attackers.

But the ship was empty. All of the men had boarded the Zhekan ship, and now they lay, dead and stinking, like a pile of carrion.

Phaelenx went to the wheel of the ship and spun it, desperate to return home. As the ship began to sail away from the Zhekan fleet, his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness.

The last thing Phaelenx thought about before passing out was Selene.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Selene

“Selene, please, eat something,” Arsinoe coaxed. “You look as though you are wasting away! Why, I could have the cook slice meat on your cheekbones!”

Taryn giggled. “Why, Selene, you know men don’t care for skinny women,” she said, narrowing her eyes and tossing her red hair. “Your mother knows best – perhaps you should listen to her.”

Selene stabbed at a piece of lamb with her fork, spearing it and sliding it around on her plate. In the days since Phaelenx and the other men had left, she had eaten little but bread and water. She felt ill and scared and anxious – all at once, it was almost too much to bear.

“My brother is out there,” Selene said warily. “Your love, remember? Have you forgotten him so easily?”

Taryn laughed again. The sound filled Selene with hot anger. “I am confident in Baelan,” she said sweetly. “I am sure he will follow orders and fight perfectly. He is a very strong man – I am sure he will make me proud.”

Arsinoe smiled affectionately. “You are a good wife,” she said. “And a wonderful daughter.”

Selene stared. I might as well leave, she thought bitterly. It’s as if I’ve been completely replaced!

Selene suffered through another long hour of dinner, listening to the lady Taryn’s stories of her time as a youth, and her mother’s endless simpering. It was almost too much to bear. In the end, Selene made herself eat a few small pieces of roasted meat.

She knew that whatever happened, she would need to keep her strength up.

After dinner, Selene met with Aine. The two left the royal compound and strolled down to the docks. Aine looked tearful and sad – it was one of the only times Selene had seen her new friend anything but cheerful.

“Do not worry,” Selene said. “I am sure they will be fine.”

Aine cocked her head to the side and smiled sadly. “I am envious of your confidence,” she said. She sighed. “Huen is not a good fighter. I know he would never admit as much, but it is true.” She shrugged. “He only cares for scholarly things.”

Selene sighed. “Phaelenx is a good fighter,” she said. “But it isn’t him I’m worried about.” She bit her lip.

Aine gave her mischievous smile. “You’re lying,” she said. “You love him. I can tell.”

Selene flushed. “Come,” she said. “Let us walk around. Perhaps it will calm our nerves.”

As the skies began to darken, the sea churned and waved. Selene stepped back from the docks as a wave of salt water splashed over the edge of the bulkhead, soaking her cloak.

“What is that?” Aine asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I do not know,” Selene said with a shrug. “Perhaps another storm. Doesn’t it seem to you like we’re getting a lot of them lately?”

“No,” Aine said. She grabbed Selene’s arm and pointed. “On the horizon. What is that?”

Selene looked up. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sight. A large black schooner was sailing slowly towards the Zhekan harbor. Unfamiliar flags waved in the breeze, and Selene could see at least one of the flags was tattered and torn.

“I do not know,” Selene said. Her palms began to sweat nervously and she wiped them on her cloak.

“Should we go back to the compound?” Aine asked. There was a frightened expression on her handsome, olive face. “Perhaps we should alert someone – anyone!”

“No,” Selene said. She reached for Aine’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Come with me.”

Selene led Aine away from the docks and into the woods. She stayed just behind the line of trees. “It may not be safe in the compound for much longer,” Selene hissed. “We should stay here, in case we need to leave.”

Aine looked at her with wide eyes. “Leave? You mean, leave Zheka?”

Selene didn’t reply. Her mind was churning with busy thoughts, and she gnawed anxiously at her lip as the ship drew nearer and nearer. As it slid into the docks, Selene waited with bated breath for men to emerge.

But no one did.

“Selene, I don’t see any men on that ship,” Aine said softly. “Is it…is it a ghost ship?”

Selene blinked. She stared off into the distance and shook her head, recalling the eerie green light that she’d seen around the Zhekan ships weeks before.

“I do not think so,” Selene said. She bit her lip. “We should go look.”

Aine looked at her with fearful eyes. “What? Selene, it’s too dangerous! What if there are…” She trailed off. “I don’t know, pirates on board?”

Selene shook her head. She got to her feet and brushed her hands on her damp cloak. “We have to be brave,” she said, more for her own benefit than Aine’s. “We must go look.”

With her heart pounding, Selene led the way down to the docks. The ship was floating in the water. From where she stood, Selene thought it looked almost peaceful. There was a rope ladder swung over the side of one deck and she gripped the rough material with both hands, struggling to get a foot hold. Climbing the rope was harder than she’d expected, and her chest was heaving with effort by the time she hauled herself over the railing of the ship.

There, on the deck, lay Phaelenx. His eyes were closed and he was covered in blood and bruises. When she saw him, Selene screamed. She covered her mouth with both hands and ran to his side, dropping to her knees and taking one of his massive hands on her own.

“Phaelenx!” Selene cried. “It’s me, wake up!”

Phaelenx stirred. His lashes fluttered against his bruised cheek. Selene was trembling with fear – she’d never seen a man look this bad. But when Phaelenx opened his eyes and saw her, he smiled.

“Your voice,” Phaelenx croaked in a dry tone. “I thought it was the voice of a mermaid.”

Selene threw herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around his muscular bulk. “You’re alive!” She cried, unable to keep the emotion from her voice. “Phaelenx, I was so frightened!”

Phaelenx chuckled. “Aye,” he said. He pushed himself into a sitting position and shook his head. “Have I truly made it back to Zheka?”

Aine dropped to her knees, white in the face. “Tell me,” she said in a trembling voice. “What has happened to the others? Are they alive? What of Huen?” She pressed on. “Please, Phaelenx, tell me!”

“Do not worry,” Phaelenx said. He wiped his brow and sighed. Selene could see that he was tired and wan, but trying to be strong and brave. “Huen is alive. You have no reason to weep.”

Aine closed her eyes. “Thank the gods,” she muttered, clasping both hands in front of her chest. “Oh, thank them!”

“What happened?” Selene asked urgently. “And what ship is this?”

“’Tis a ship of Glasule,” Phaelenx said. “As soon as we attacked Nasenia, this black fleet came from the sea.” He sighed heavily and Selene watched blow flowing freely from a cut on his shoulder. “I killed the men on board, took the ship, and turned for home.”

“Why didn’t you bring Huen?” Aine asked in a shrill voice. “Why did you leave him?”

“Aine, hush!” Selene said sharply. “He must have had a good reason!”

“Aye,” Phaelenx said. “Your Huen was quite enraptured with the idea of staying.”

“But what if he is killed by the Glasulians?” Aine asked. She was trembling with fear and Selene put an arm around her friend, pulling her close.

“I do not think the people of Glasule wish to kill our men,” Phaelenx said. “I believe they wish to capture them, to take them as slaves.”

Selene and Aine blinked.

“Huen, a slave?” Aine began to cry. “I cannot believe it!”

“Hush,” Selene said. She pulled her friend closer. “He is not dead, and that is something. Do not worry, Aine, we will get this all fixed.”

Aine looked at her with a miserable expression. “How can you know that?”

Selene sighed. “You have to trust me,” she said.

Aine frowned.

“Selene is right,” Phaelenx said. When Aine gave him a skeptical look, he patted her on the shoulder. “I know,” Phaelenx added quickly. “I know, it is hard to believe.” He took a deep breath.

“You must be so weary,” Selene said. She frowned, knitting her brows together in deep thought. “We should get you inside, and I will find some food for you.”

“We need to request an audience with the queen,” Phaelenx said. He shook his head. “She has to understand what is going on.”

“Do you think she will grant it?”

Phaelenx didn’t answer. “We must try,” he said slowly, after a long pause.

“Aye,” Selene said. She detached herself from Aine and Phaelenx. “Come,” she said. “There is no time to lose.”

The small party made their way off the black Glasulian ship and up the large hill towards the castle. Just as Selene was about to cross the drawbridge, she stopped dead in her tracks. There, ahead by a little more than twenty feet, was the lady Taryn.

“Isn’t that your brother’s wife?” Aine asked, leaning in close. “Taryn?”

Selene nodded wordlessly.

Taryn’s slender figure was floating a few inches above the ground, and she was glowing green.

Aine gave Selene a terrified look. “What are we going to do?” She whispered hotly.

Selene swallowed and straightened up tall. “We follow her,” she said. “That’s the only choice we have.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Phaelenx

Phaelenx, Selene, and Aine made their way inside the castle. There were loud sounds – bangs and booms and explosions – from nearly every angle, and Phaelenx was just able to pull Selene and Aine out of the way as a large wardrobe crashed into the stone hallway.

“What is happening?” Aine cried in a high voice. “Selene, what’s going on?”

“Hush!” Selene said sharply. She picked up her skirts with both hands and ran into the great hall.

Phaelenx took Aine by the shoulder and gripped her tightly. “Aine, you must find a safe place for yourself,” he said in a low voice. “You could get hurt!”

Aine stiffened in Phaelenx’s grasp. “I do not care,” she said with a sniff. “I want to help.”

Phaelenx sighed and nodded. He knew there was no time to argue. “Fine,” he said. “Keep your head down!”

The sight that awaited Phaelenx in the great hall was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. Queen Zornaya was standing in front of her throne, her hands waving in the air before her. A cloud of blue smoke emerged from her hands and filled the air with a potently foul smell.

“Die!” Zornaya yelled. The queen looked distressed. Her face was twisted into a scowl and her long dark hair flowed behind her in a mass of tangles.

A high, cold, evil laughter filled the hall. Phaelenx gasped as Taryn floated into sight. She no longer looked beautiful – her pale skin had turned sallow and her red hair looked lifeless on her head. Before Phaelenx’s eyes, she transformed into a withered old crone with bright green eyes and a toothy grin.

“You have fallen prey to me,” she yelled. “For I, Namaya of Glasule will see your kingdom in ruins before the day is through!” She raised her hands in the air and a small army of tiny people appeared – their skin was gray and rotting, and the stench of death filled the main hall. The undead warriors moved forward, staggering on their feet. As they came closer and closer to Phaelenx, Selene, and Aine, Phaelenx reached for the dagger at his side and gripped it tightly in one hand.

“Phaelenx!” Selene yelled above the din. “We have to fight them! We have to kill them!”

Gritting his teeth, Phaelenx leaped forward and sliced at the air with his dagger. He sliced and cut at the small undead figures. Wounds and gashed appeared in their gray skin, and limbs fell to the floor. But to his horror, the undead people kept moving forward, obviously undeterred by the physical damage to their bodies.

Namaya threw her head back and cackled. “You are all fools!” She yelled loudly. “And now, I am the most powerful sorceress in the world! I will kill you all, and leave your corpses as a warning! And for generations, your descendants will be my slaves!”

Phaelenx lunged again with the knife, slicing and dicing at the undead. Finally, his blade decapitated one of the undead men and the figure crumpled to the ground. But for each undead person that Phaelenx was able to kill, Namaya conjured ten more.

“This isn’t working!” Selene shrieked angrily. She pulled her cloak off and tossed it to the ground before darting to Queen Zornaya’s side and screaming curses at Namaya. Phaelenx watched, spellbound by the anger and hatred on Selene’s beautiful face as she assisted Namaya in the battle against the undead.

Out of the corner of his eye, Phaelenx saw Aerdan dart into the hall. He was brandishing a long sword. When he saw Phaelenx, he yelled loudly. Phaelenx ran to his side.

“There are armor and weapons in the great hall,” Aerdan panted. “Grab whatever you can, please!”

Phaelenx didn’t have to be told twice. Turning on his heel, he ran into the hall and grabbed a huge mace from its place on the wall. Gripping it with both hands, he returned to the scene of the battle and launched himself at the waves of undead people. He swung the mace through the air, watching with satisfaction as the gray, undead bodies fell before him.

“You can do that all you like!” Namaya cried in a high voice. She glared at Phaelenx. “But I am stronger, don’t forget it!”

Phaelenx fought and fought until sweat was streaming down his face and stinging his eyes. It was second nature to him, killing – but this was different. This was like nothing Phaelenx had ever experienced before. But as hard as he worked, Namaya worked harder. It seemed effortless for her – all she had to do was wave her hands through the air and call a few simple words for waves of the dead to appear.

Finally, Phaelenx dropped the mace to the ground. He bared his hands and leaped at the undead, grabbing one in his hands and ripping it apart until a disgusting green liquid spewed from the thing’s eyes and nose.

“Phaelenx!” Selene yelled. “Be careful!” There was a note of panic in her voice. Phaelenx growled as he threw the body of the undead to the ground and reached for three more. He was so large that the undead men only came up to his waist, but their razor-sharp teeth and gray eyes were more than enough to frighten him. Still, he kept fighting and fighting. He felt his strength beginning to fade, but Phaelenx didn’t let that slow him down. He reached for the mace again and swung it in a circle, taking out seven undead men at once.

The battle in the great hall was the bloodiest thing Phaelenx had ever seen. All sorts of foul smells – sweat, blood, and desperation – filled the hall and Phaelenx charged at wave after wave of undead men.

Namaya stood close to Queen Zornaya, cackling evilly. “You are beginning to lose strength!” She cried triumphantly. She turned to Phaelenx and snapped her fingers in the air.

Intense, torturous pain racked Phaelenx’s body. He dropped to his knees and howled in rage and pain as the agony seared his skin like a powerful burn. Fight her, Phaelenx thought. You have to fight her off, or she’s going to make sure you can’t even get up! He summoned every inch of strength in his body and mind and got to his feet, bracing against the pain like he was on a ship in the middle of a storm at sea. It was tremendously difficult, but Phaelenx waded through the pain and swung the mace through the air.

Undead bodies went flying, smacking against the walls and ceiling.

Selene and Queen Zornaya fought as best as they could, but each time Phaelenx looked over, he felt more nervous and scared than before. Selene was obviously losing her strength, and she’d been hit in the face. Blood gushed from a cut on her forehead, and even though Phaelenx knew it probably looked worse than it was, he couldn’t help but feel distracted and anxious knowing she was hurt.

“Selene, keep fighting!” Phaelenx yelled. He reached for his dagger and sliced viciously at the wave of undead. No matter how many bodies he felled to the ground, there was another six to take its place. I can’t keep doing this, Phaelenx thought as he sighed with exhaustion. I’m going to collapse, and then what?

He didn’t want to think of what happened next. Stepping away from the undead bodies littering the floor, Phaelenx made his way behind Namaya. She was throwing curses and hexes left and right, and Selene and Queen Zornaya were dodging them like vicious insects. Phaelenx bared his hands and approached the sorceress. He felt a cold chill of fear. Just touching her could kill me, Phaelenx thought as he stepped behind the sorceress and held his hands high in the air. She could curse me, keep me alive in a coma for hundreds or years. Put me in the dungeons to rot. Or worse, torture Selene right in front of me, knowing I’d be powerless to stop her!

When Selene realized what Phaelenx was about to do, she screamed.

But it was too late. Phaelenx reached out and put his hands on Namaya’s shoulders, pushing her down on the ground. She was much stronger than she looked, but he was still able to overpower her. Namaya’s face twisted in rage as she spat and fought and kicked like an animal.

“Let me go, you Zhekan savage!” Namaya yelled. “What are you doing?”

“Selene, help me!” Phaelenx yelled. “You have to attack her while she’s down!”

Phaelenx pinned Namaya to the stone ground. She was still cursing and spitting, but Phaelenx managed to dodge her evil words and sparks. He wrapped a hand around her throat and closed his fingers.

Selene and Queen Zornaya rushed to his side. The queen removed a staff from her side and pointed it down at Namaya.

“You have brought havoc and chaos to my land,” the queen said. Her voice was deadly calm, and almost impossible to hear over the din of the fighting. “And for that, you shall die.” Queen Zornaya pointed the end of the staff at Namaya’s neck and cried a loud curse.

A loud boom! filled the great hall. Green smoke floated from Queen Zornaya’s staff, covering Namaya’s prone body in a heavy fog. She struggled for a few seconds under Phaelenx’s grasp, then went limp.

Suddenly, the undead vanished. The hall was eerily quiet.

“Is she…” Phaelenx asked cautiously.

“Dead?” Queen Zornaya asked. “I hope so,” she said haughtily, putting her staff back at her side.

Phaelenx shuddered. He was afraid to release his grip on Namaya’s neck.

“You may release her,” Queen Zornaya said. “I am quite sure she is dead.”

The queen looked relieved and exhausted as Phaelenx reluctantly took his hands from Namaya’s body and got to his feet.

Selene launched herself at Phaelenx, throwing her arms around his neck. He wiped the blood from her forehead before pressing his lips to her face and kissing her.

“I cannot believe it,” Selene said softly. She collapsed against Phaelenx. “How did you do that?”

“Yes,” Queen Zornaya echoed. She coughed and Selene and Phaelenx sprang apart. “A normal man – even a man of great strength, such as yourself – would not have been able to hold a witch to the ground.”

Phaelenx took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Wait a moment,” the queen said. She frowned, stepping forward. “Are you Phaelenx Cobbler, son of Darius and Tryphaena?”

Phaelenx nodded. “Aye, your majesty,” he said. He lowered his eyes. “Forgive me – I did what I thought what was best.”

Queen Zornaya was silent for a long moment. “I know,” she said. “Your mother was a very powerful witch in her day. Has your father mentioned her?”

Suddenly, Darius’s words of weeks ago came rushing back to Phaelenx: Tryphaena was a powerful witch. ‘Tis a pity you inherited none of her seeing.

“I never knew my mother,” Phaelenx said softly. “My father has…only told me a bit.”

Queen Zornaya nodded. “Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice. “Without you – and your late mother’s gift – that would have been the end of Zheka.”

Selene was looking at Phaelenx with an awestruck expression. “Why, you never told me that,” she said. “How could you have kept that from me?”

Phaelenx frowned.

“She was powerful enough to give her son a very wonderful gift,” Queen Zornaya said. She looked sober and stern. “And your gift is what saved our kingdom. Phaelenx Cobbler, you are truly a hero. Most Zhekan men do not possess an ounce of magic. Tell me, child – how long have you been aware of this gift?”

“I never knew,” Phaelenx said.

“But you threw yourself at her,” the queen continued. “Why would you have done that? You could have died.”

“I had to protect what I love,” Phaelenx said simply. Behind Queen Zornaya’s back, Selene caught his eye and smiled.

Before Queen Zornaya could reply, the doors of the hall flung open. Baelan ran inside, looking around. His hair was sticking up in wild tufts all over his head.

“Where is she?” Baelan asked. “Where is the lady Taryn?”

Selene and Phaelenx exchanged a nervous glance.

Queen Zornaya cleared her throat. “Baelan, please. Sit down.”

Baelan shook his head. “Tell me! She left days ago, with no word! I haven’t been able to find her, or talk to her!”

“Baelan, the lady Taryn is no more,” Queen Zornaya said gently. She took his hand. “She was a deceitful witch.”

Baelan blinked. Anger crossed his face, but Phaelenx knew he wouldn’t be stupid enough to question the word of the queen.

“What happened?”

Selene stepped forward. “Baelan, Taryn was an evil sorceress. She was from Glasule. The witch, Namaya.”

Baelan blinked again. “What?”

“You heard your sister,” Queen Zornaya said gently. “She did not lie to you, Baelan.”

Baelan’s face fell. His jaw dropped and he fell to his knees on the stone ground, covering his face as he began to weep.

“This is all my fault,” Baelan wailed. “If it wasn’t for me, this never would have happened!”

“Hush, now,” Queen Zornaya said sternly. “This is no time for self-pity, Baelan. And it was not your fault. If this had not happened to you, it would have been another young man. It could have been anyone.”

Baelan shook his head and climbed to his feet, looking miserable. “I feel awful,” he said. His face was pale and bloodless. “I cannot believe it. I cannot believe she would deceive me!”

“She deceived each and every one of us,” the queen said. Her tone was still stern, but kind. “Baelan, please – do not take it personally.”

“I loved her,” Baelan said quietly. “I never even thought to question her.”

Queen Zornaya cleared her throat. “There will be time for this later,” she said. “For now, we must go down to the pier and wait for the return of our brave men.” Holding her head high, she walked out of the room. Baelan and Aine followed close behind, leaving Selene and Phaelenx together in a sea of gore.

For a moment, Phaelenx and Selene didn’t speak. They clung tightly together, holding onto each other. Selene began to sob in Phaelenx’s arms, but she only cried for a few moments. When she drew back, she lifted her face to his and kissed him.

“I am still leaving,” Phaelenx said in a heavy voice. “I cannot stay here. Things may have returned to normal, but my strength is gone…I am no warrior.”

“I do not care,” Selene said fiercely. She took Phaelenx’s hand in her own and gripped it tightly. “I want to be with you, Phaelenx, no matter where we are.”

Phaelenx nodded gratefully. “And I want to be with you,” he said quietly.

Selene bit her lip. “And what of our friends? What of Huen?” She looked bleak. “I wonder if he is dead.”

Phaelenx couldn’t find the words to reply. “I know,” he said heavily. He sighed. “I know it is wrong, Selene, but I cannot help but feel happy regardless. We will always have each other, and that is what I care about most.”

Selene looked into Phaelenx’s eyes and nodded slowly. As they embraced, Phaelenx thought a brief prayer for the rest of the Zhekan men at sea. He realized that this could very well be the end of the old ways…but still, he didn’t want to stay around long enough to find out.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Selene

It didn’t take long for the ships to return to the harbor. Queen Zornaya ordered a large camp to be setup at the docks, and as the men began to return, women were there to heal, feed, and water the wounded men. After Namaya’s demise, the Glasulian warships had vanished into thin air.

On the third day, as Selene, Phaelenx, Aine, Aerdan, and Angelica were waiting by the docks, a large ship appeared.

“That’s the largest Zhekan ship,” Phaelenx said. He thought of Brutus and closed his eyes. “May the gods have kept all other men safe.”

“Aye,” Selene said softly. She reached for Aine’s hand and held it. “I am sure Huen will return in fine condition,” she said.

Aine didn’t reply.

The ship seemed to take forever as it arrived at the dock. Selene and the others waited anxiously for the first sign of Zhekan men to appear on the decks. At the sight of a few familiar Zhekan warriors, Selene and Aine burst into applause. Aine tore her hand free of Selene’s and ran down the dock, crying Huen’s name.

Huen stood at the prow of the ship, looking exhausted. There was a bloody bandage wrapped around his right arm, but otherwise, he looked fine. When he saw Aine, his eyes lit up and he leaped over the railing, landing gracefully on the docks.

“Huen!” Aine yelled. “You’re safe!”

Huen ran towards her and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly and lifting her up in the air. The sight was heartwarming, and Selene took Phaelenx’s hand in her own.

“I haven’t told my family yet,” Selene said quietly. “I plan to do it tonight, over supper.” She looked at Phaelenx. “Will you join us?”

“I am not sure if that would be right,” Phaelenx said. “I should go visit with my father and Brenna.”

Selene nodded. “I understand,” she said.

Before Phaelenx could reply, a murmur rippled through the crowd. Selene and Phaelenx looked to the right and saw Queen Zornaya approaching, flanked by Aerdan and Angelica. She was dressed in a regal gown of gold and purple velvet, and Selene couldn’t remember having seen the queen look more beautiful.

As Queen Zornaya made her way to the harbor, all conversation halted. Zornaya smiled at her people.

“Good day, my beloved subjects,” she said. “I have a very important announcement for everyone.”

Selene’s heart sank and she threw a worried glance at Phaelenx. Oh, no, Selene thought. No, not now!

“I am sure you are all waiting to hear what will become of us,” Queen Zornaya said, holding her chin high. “And while this decision hasn’t been an easy one to reach, I want you all to know one thing – we will never allow ourselves to be placed in danger again. From this point forward, Zheka shall have an army, and a navy.”

She smiled at the crowd.

“And before any of you ask, no, we are not planning a war. This is merely a defensive measure – because any country as great as Zheka should be prepared to defend itself in the event of war. I think we can all agree on that.”

The crowd began to clap and cheer and the queen smiled tolerantly.

“I want to thank you all for your patience during this crisis,” Queen Zornaya said. “And I want to draw attention to one of Zheka’s most storied warriors – Phaelenx Cobbler. Phaelenx, are you in the crowd?”

Everyone stepped away from Phaelenx. When the queen saw him, she smiled.

“Phaelenx saved us all,” she said. “He is not only a man of great physical strength but a man of great magical capabilities. He is truly a rarity.”

Selene looked up at Phaelenx and grinned. To her surprise, he was flushing.

“Thank you,” Phaelenx said, his voice quiet and stern.

“Without Phaelenx, I am not sure what would have happened to us all,” the queen continued. “And tonight, there will be a large banquet in his honor.”

Selene took Phaelenx’s hand and squeezed. “See,” she said softly. “You’re a hero now.”

Phaelenx wrinkled his nose. “Perhaps,” he said. “But this changes nothing. I wish to find a new home, with you, Selene.”

When the queen had gone, Phaelenx was mobbed by crowds of people who wanted to give thanks. Selene watched with pride as her beau was congratulated by seemingly everyone in the kingdom. When the sun began to set, she slowly turned and left the crowd, making her way back to the royal compound.

Knowing that she was going to leave home, Selene took extra care as she walked. She looked at everything as if to notice it for the first time. But she didn’t feel sad about leaving – she felt excited as if she were about to embark on a new adventure.

The royal compound was almost empty, with the exception of Selene’s home. She dressed in one of her better gowns and took extra care with her hair. When it was time for supper, she made her way into the dining room and sat at the table before Arsinoe and Baelan had ever appeared.

“Why, daughter,” Arsinoe said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know,” Selene said. “I was down at the docks, with the others. Huen has returned safely.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Arsinoe said. She looked at her daughter. “Selene, what is it? You look as if you want to say something important.”

Selene nodded. She took a deep breath. Somehow, the idea of confronting her mother was even scarier than fighting the evil sorceress.

“Mother, I am leaving Zheka,” Selene said. “I am going with Phaelenx Cobbler.”

Arsinoe’s eyes grew wide. “Why? You have everything you could ever want, right here. Well, perhaps with the exception of Freidan,” she added sourly. “Apparently, he decided you were too much trouble for him to handle.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Selene said. “And…because, mother, neither Phaelenx and I can be happy here. We plan to leave, to find a new home.”

“And what, go to Glasule and be ripped apart by beasts?”

Selene shook her head. “No,” she said. “I…I am not sure where we will go.”

Arsinoe looked at her daughter for a long time, until her expression softened. “I see,” she said. “I do hope you will write us, and perhaps visit from time to time.”

Selene nodded. She felt grateful that her mother wasn’t putting up more of a fight. It was as if Arsinoe had finally learned to understand her daughter after years of conflict.

“Selene, I must speak with you,” Baelan said. His brow was creased and sweaty. “It is urgent.”

“Very well,” Selene said. She rose from the table and walked into the hall. Baelan followed close behind. To her great surprise, her brother pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Selene, I am so very sorry,” Baelan said. He stepped away from Selene and lowered his gaze. “I am sorry I did not listen to your concerns about the lady—about Taryn,” he said. “I feel a tremendous amount of guilt.”

Selene bit her lip. She was tempted to dismiss her brother’s apology until she caught the look in his eyes. His dark lashes were brimming with tears, and his chin was trembling. Selene felt herself soften.

“I understand,” Selene said. She took a deep breath, trying to be as charitable as possible. “Love…makes us do strange things, Baelan. I am sure you loved her, or at least the woman you thought her to be.”

Baelan nodded sorrowfully. “I did,” he said. “For all the good it did me.”

Selene smiled. “Baelan, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Is it true? Are you really leaving? With that warrior?”

Selene nodded. “Aye,” she said. “We are leaving tonight, after the banquet.”

Baelan pulled her into another hug. “We have never been close,” he said. “I am sorry for that, Selene. Perhaps we were too similar, after all.”

Selene laughed. “Yes,” she said. “And perhaps this could be the start of a friendship. It isn’t as if I’ll never return to visit.”

Baelan nodded. He’d grown serious once again. “Thank you for accepting my apology,” he said. “I just hope our mother doesn’t challenge you too much.”

Selene bit her lip. “I think she will honestly be relieved to see me gone,” she said. “I was never the daughter she wanted, and we both know it.”

Baelan frowned. “How sad,” he said. He hugged his sister once more. “And again, thank you.”

Selene nodded. “Of course,” she said. “You are my brother.” She narrowed her eyebrows in mock-sternness. “Just, please, choose a better woman next time,” she said. “One who isn’t bent on destroying our country.”

Baelan nodded, adopting her faux serious tone. “Aye,” he said. “I think I can manage that.”

Snickering, the two went back into the dining room and sat with Arsinoe. Despite genuinely enjoying herself with her family, Selene was anxious to leave. She bolted her dinner. Just as she was about to get up and pack her things, Arsinoe cleared her throat.

“Selene, please, know you won’t be leaving empty-handed,” she said, reaching up to her neck and unfastening the necklace of gold and amethyst she’d always worn. She handed it to Selene. “Keep this to remember me by.”

To her surprise, Selene’s eyes filled with tears. She leaned down and hugged her mother. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I appreciate it.”

Arsinoe nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And stop by the kitchens, please, on your way out. I’ll have Cook send you off with baskets of food.” She narrowed her eyes. “That Phaelenx can’t be coming with much, can he?”

Selene bristled. “He is a good man, mother.”

Arsinoe nodded. “I expect as much,” she said. She sighed. “Daughter, I just hope you will be happy.”

Selene nodded. “I will be,” she said. “I know it.”

Arsinoe looked at her for a long time before smiling. She pulled her daughter into another hug. “Good,” Arsinoe whispered. “I have always wanted your happiness.”

Funny way you had of showing it, Selene thought. But she didn’t say anything unkind. She dipped her head to her mother’s, kissing her cheek. Then she bade Baelan and Arsinoe farewell and went upstairs to pack her trunk.

It took Selene no time at all to gather the things she needed. When she was ready, she left the royal compound with a few gowns, her favorite cloak, a basket of food, and Arsinoe’s amethyst necklace.

Phaelenx was waiting by the edge of the woods. He was standing with the reins of two white stallions in his hands. Selene smiled when she saw him. Happiness blossomed in her chest and she couldn’t help flushing at the look Phaelenx gave her.

“A gift from the queen,” Phaelenx said, gesturing to the horses. “For my ‘services.’”

“Smart woman,” Selene said.

Phaelenx took Selene in his arms and kissed her gently, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Are you happy, my love?” Phaelenx asked when the kiss was broken.

Selene closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. “Yes,” she said. “As long as we are together, I will always be happy.”

Phaelenx kissed her once more before scooping her up with an easy gesture and placing her on the back of one of the horses. Then he climbed onto his own stallion and took the reins in his hands.

“Where shall we go?” Phaelenx asked.

Selene smiled. “Wherever we like,” she replied.

As the two rode off into the woods, Selene wasn’t sure what her future held. She’d spent so much of her life bucking tradition and fighting authority that she’d never given thought to what would happen when she settled down. But being with Phaelenx wasn’t like settling down at all – on the contrary, Selene felt freer and happier than ever before.

While the future was uncertain, Selene knew one thing would always be true: as long as she and Phaelenx were together, they would always be happy.

ZHEKAN MATES - BOOK FOUR

CHAPTER ONE

Baelan

Baelan Covendane stretched out on his feather bed and yawned. The sun was just beginning to fade into the lower quadrant of the sky, and his chamber was warm and humid. The muggy air was enough to make Baelan feel both relaxed and stifled.

The dinner gong sounded – three loud chimes – but even that wasn’t enough to make Baelan rise from his supine position. Instead of getting to his feet, he rolled over and pulled a feather pillow over his head, burying his face in the silken cover.

He hadn’t always been like this.

Months ago, Baelan had been happy.

And when the trouble had started, Baelan was the last person to see the light.

The gong sounded again – one long, ominous chime, meant to hurry all stragglers into their respective dining rooms. The royal compound was busiest at this time of day, with servants ferrying high towers of food from their kitchens to their waiting masters and mistresses.

Baelan groaned. For what seemed like the hundredth time in the past few weeks, he had no appetite.

Perhaps Mother will forget all about me, Baelan thought as he rolled over in bed. The silken sheets beneath his body were warmed and musky from his unwashed body. I’m lying like a pig in the muck, Baelan thought as he lowered his face to his armpit and sniffed. The stink that filled his nostrils was enough to make him flinch.

But it didn’t matter that Baelan was grimy and unclean. He had no reason to leave his chamber, no reason to socialize with his family or friends.

He was in self-imposed exile, and it seemed only fitting that he should remain in such.

For a few moments, the air was hot and still and silent. Baelan yawned again and pulled the coverlet over his legs, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind. It seemed to Baelan that when he was awake, his mind was tired and sluggish. But whenever he lay down in bed and prepared for sleep, suddenly his mind was awake and alert. Thoughts – meaningless thoughts, things that made no sense – churned through his mind. Songs Baelan had not heard in years filled his head, and his feet twitched with the ghosts of dances in months past.

I am so weary, Baelan thought. And it is all my fault.

A loud rapping at Baelan’s chamber made him jump.

“Baelan? Are you in there?”

Ignoring the sound of his mother’s voice, Baelan groaned and rolled over again, pulling the silken pillow over his head.

“Baelan, I hope you are decent. I am coming inside.”

Still, Baelan didn’t move.

The door creaked and rumbled, swinging open. Sharp footsteps sounded on the stone floor.

“Baelan! Are you asleep?”

Baelan didn’t reply.

Seconds later, Baelan felt his mother’s touch on his arm.

“Baelan, I know you are awake,” she said in an even, no-nonsense voice. “Get up. You are late for dinner.”

“I am not hungry,” Baelan mumbled, his words drowning in the fabric of the pillows.

“Get up!”

When Baelan didn’t move, his mother’s fingers closed around his shoulder and hauled him up into a sitting position.

“Baelan, look at me,” Baelan’s mother, Arsinoe, commanded.

Baelan heaved a tremendous sigh before opening his eyes and giving his mother a sarcastic expression.

“What is it, mother?”

Arsinoe sighed. “Baelan, please, you are acting like a child,” she said. “You are a man! What is the reason for this, for this moping? For this stewing about?”

Baelan laughed humorlessly. “You know exactly why,” he replied, yawning and rubbing the rough sleeve of his tunic against his face. He could feel three or four days’ worth of growth on his chin and jaw.

“Baelan!” Arsinoe snapped, crossing her arms over her petite frame. “Do not be so surly and disobedient with me!”

Baelan didn’t reply. “I am not hungry,” he said, carefully enunciating every word.

“Come down to dinner, please,” Arsinoe said. “We have a guest this evening, and I would very much like for you to visit with her.”

Baelan stared at his mother. “Who?”

“Aya Covendane,” Arsinoe replied. “She has not dined with us since your sister left the kingdom, and I am sure she has a great deal of happy news to share.”

Baelan shrugged. “She lives practically next door,” he said. “I can see her whenever I wish.”

Arsinoe gritted her teeth. Historically, Arsinoe had been much more lenient with Baelan than with his younger sister, Selene, who had always been the troublemaker of the family. But now that Selene had left Zheka with her lover, Arsinoe’s focus on Baelan had been magnified.

“Baelan,” Arsinoe said, biting her lip. “Please. I know why you are upset. You must try to move forward. You are not responsible for this.”

“I am,” Baelan said stubbornly. He sighed. “If I had not been so stupid and willful, perhaps the kingdom would never have been placed in danger.”

Arsinoe sighed. “You must work on learning to forgive yourself,” she said softly. She reached out and put a hand on Baelan’s shoulder, momentarily tender and calm.

“I cannot,” Baelan said. He closed his eyes and this time, the image branded on his eyelids was that of the Lady Taryn. “I cannot forget her.”

“Baelan, the woman you knew did not exist,” Arsinoe said gently. “She was smoke and mirrors, all magic. You know this.”

Baelan stared at his mother. “Yes,” he said sharply. “And yet I was foolish enough to fall for her anyway. What of that, Mother?”

Arsinoe didn’t reply. She grew stern once again. “Baelan, please wash and then join us downstairs,” she said. “We will be expecting you.”

When Arsinoe left Baelan’s chamber, he debated lying back down in bed and trying to sleep. But talking to his mother had left him all too uncomfortable and aware of his surroundings.

If only I had not fallen for the Lady Taryn, I would not be so miserable, Baelan thought as he slowly got to his feet. His joints were stiff and creaky after being in bed for so many hours. As he crossed the cold stone floor of his chamber, he shivered. There was a bowl of tepid water on the table by the door, and Baelan splashed his face, beneath his arms, and his neck before drying off with a rumpled muslin cloth. He gazed in the mirror, not liking the dark circles under his radiant blue eyes.

If Baelan had been able to emerge from his shell of self-pity, he would have seen a handsome man in the glass. But all he could focus on was the dead look in his eyes, the way that wrinkles formed around the corners of his mouth like an old man.

By the gods, I am only nine and twenty, Baelan thought, narrowing his eyes at his own reflection. And I look like an old man!

Had Baelan not been worried about Arsinoe storming back in and literally dragging him downstairs, the thought would have been enough to send him back to bed. Instead, he pulled on a leather vest and a couple of golden bracelets that clung to his muscular forearms. He poured some water over his dark hair, slicked it back from his tanned forehead, and reluctantly left his chamber.

The halls of the royal apartments were silent as Baelan made his way down the wide, arched hallway and into his family’s dining room. All of the seats were filled – something that hadn’t occurred since Selene had left Zheka.

When Arsinoe saw Baelan, she forced a smile. “Thank you for joining us,” she said primly. “I have seated you next to the Lady Aya.”

“Hello, Baelan,” Aya said, dipping her head and flushing.

“Hello,” Baelan said as he lowered himself into the wooden chair. “It’s been a while since I have seen you, lady.”

Aya nodded. She was a pretty girl – pale, with dark blonde curly hair arranged in a braided crown at the top of her head.

“Yes,” Aya replied. She blushed again. “I do not think I have seen you since before Selene left.”

Baelan nodded.

Arsinoe rang a small bell and two of the kitchen servants came into the kitchen, carrying steaming dishes of fowl and game. One of the servants knelt before Baelan and heaped steaming roast goose on his plate, followed by a healthy serving of mashed squash and browned carrots. The food smelled good, but Baelan couldn’t summon the will to eat. He poked at his meat with the tip of his knife and tried not to frown when a trickle of grease emerged from the goose.

“What is it, Baelan?” Aya asked softly. “Is the goose not to your liking?”

Baelan shrugged. “’Tis fine,” he replied.

“Baelan,” Arsinoe said sharply. “You have not inquired about Aya, perhaps you could take a walk with her after our meal and ask how she has been.”

Aya blushed a crimson red. “Oh, that’s not necessary,” she said softly. She smiled at Baelan. “I am sure Baelan is just tired, is that right?”

Baelan nodded. Thank you, he thought as he looked at Aya. She must be just as embarrassed as I am, he thought as he watched the slow and careful way she lifted a bite of squash to her mouth. It can’t be much fun, a single woman at her age, with no prospects.

It was hard not to feel bitter. Aya is single and childless, and since my marriage ended in shambles, I must be the only suitable man for her, Baelan thought angrily, tightening his grip on his knife.

“Have some wine, Baelan,” Aya said gently. She got to her feet and poured wine from a silver jug into his glass. He took the glass in both hands and drank the entire thing, barely tasting the wine as it slid down his throat.

“More, please,” Baelan said, holding the glass towards Aya. She flushed once more but refilled it, then tucked her long skirts beneath her thighs and sat back down.

“Aya’s mother tells me that Aya has begun learning a new type of embroidery,” Arsinoe began, keeping one eye locked on Baelan. “Isn’t that wonderful?” She smiled at Aya. “You must be very gifted.”

“Oh, ma’am, I wouldn’t say that,” Aya said nervously. Baelan watched as her hands twisted in her lap under the table. “I just hope to learn new skills and better myself.”

“That is a very good notion,” Arsinoe said. “Baelan, you should take more of an interest in the lady Aya.” She raised an eyebrow at Baelan. “Do you not think it would be good?”

“Sure,” Baelan said, shaking his head. “Fine.”

The silence that fell over the table was almost unbearable. Finally, Aya cleared her throat.

“More wine, anyone?”

Baelan drained his glass and shoved the empty mug at Aya. His head felt hot and achy like he’d been drinking for days instead of mere minutes.

Aya refilled his glass.

“Baelan, take care,” Arsinoe said, her tone maddeningly calm.

“I’m fine,” Baelan said irritably. He grabbed the wine glass and poured the liquid down his throat, barely even tasting it before shoving the glass back in Aya’s direction. Aya gave Baelan an odd look, but he gestured angrily to the glass and she dutifully refilled it.

“There,” Aya said. She glanced into the pitcher. “We are almost out of wine.”

Baelan couldn’t help but notice she looked relieved.

“I’ll go to the cellars and get more,” Baelan said, getting to his feet. There was a massive rush of blood to his head, and for a moment he thought he would pass out, but thankfully he managed to stay upright.

“Baelan, that is a job for the servants,” Arsinoe snapped. “Sit back down!”

Baelan ignored her. “I’ll be back,” he said, then hiccupped loudly before stumbling out of the dining room and down the stairs to the kitchens and cellars.

Servants passed by, all laden with heavy trays and dishes. Baelan ignored them, too, and they did the same – as a royal cousin, Baelan had free access to most of the rooms in the royal compound. When he made it to the cellars, he grabbed a bottle of aged red wine and pulled the cork out with his fingers before tilting his head back and drinking straight from the bottle.

He had no desire to rejoin his family. Instead, Baelan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set out for the royal castle. He staggered out of the royal compound. The sun had set, but the air was still light and warm. Crickets chirped and sounded, hidden in the grass, and Baelan was tempted to lie back and stare at the sky until the stars appeared.

Baelan pushed on. By the time he stumbled across the drawbridge to the castle, he was sweating profusely. He could smell himself – musky and greasy, almost like a farm animal, and the realization soured his mood even further. Walking unevenly into the castle, Baelan made his way to the spiral staircase that led up to the royal family’s apartments.

“Aerdan!” Baelan yelled, pounding on a heavy wooden door. “I know you’re in there!”

When the door opened, Baelan was greeted by the sight of a beautiful young woman with loose tangles of black hair falling around her shoulders. She didn’t smile.

“Hello, Angelica,” Baelan said, hiccupping loudly. “Where’s Aerdan?”

Angelica’s frown deepened. “He is asleep,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and sighing. “At least, he was.” She put her hand on the growing bulge of her belly. “Would you like me to send him out?”

“Can I come in?”

Baelan’s request was met with a frosty look from Angelica.

“Wait here,” Angelica said, closing the door. Baelan leaned against the heavy wood but he couldn’t make out the snatches of conversation coming from the other side.

A few moments later, the door swung open. Aerdan stood there, looking distinguished and royal even though his brown hair was rumpled and he had dark circles under his eyes.

“Come on,” Baelan said irritably. He passed Aerdan the bottle of wine. Aerdan took one skeptical look and shook his head.

“Baelan,” Aerdan said, frowning. “This is almost empty. How long have you been drinking?”

“Not long enough,” Baelan slurred. “I’m a failure.”

Aerdan groaned. “Not this again,” he said, taking his friend by the arm. “You have to forgive yourself.”

“You sound like my mother,” Baelan snapped. He felt a renewed rush of energy and he grabbed the bottle back from Aerdan, throwing back his head and taking a long drink.

“Have you ever considered that your mother is possibly right?”

“No,” Baelan said. He stumbled down the stairway, then led Aerdan out of the castle, weaving on his feet. He nearly fell over more than over, but somehow managed to stay upright.

“Where are we going?” Aerdan asked in exasperation. “I cannot leave Angelica alone for long – you know, she is breeding and sickly!”

“Forget her,” Baelan slurred. He finished the last of the wine and tossed the bottle at the stone walls surrounding the royal castle. The glass shattered into dozens of tiny pieces and fell to the ground. A few shards struck Baelan in the forearms, but he didn’t even feel the pain.

Aerdan narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to forgive you that comment because I know you’re drunk,” he said seriously. “But Angelica is my wife, Baelan.” He shook his head and gave Baelan a bitter look. “Friend, I care for you. But this – this self-indulgent, horrible behavior! It’s too much, you need to grow up!”

Baelan rolled his eyes. “No one cares for me,” he said, wrenching his arm away from Aerdan.

“Baelan!” Aerdan yelled. As the soon-to-be High Commander, Aerdan was every inch the royal man who would lead Zheka. Despite this, Baelan had rarely seen that side of his friend. As royal cousins, Baelan and Aerdan had played together since they were infants. They were truly best friends and confidants.

“What?” Baelan asked sourly.

When Aerdan’s fist connected with Baelan’s jaw, he felt no pain. He merely stumbled backward before falling in a mess of mud and excrement.

“What was that for?” Baelan asked, rubbing his jaw and glaring at Aerdan. From his undignified seat, it looked like there were three Aerdans swaying in front of him.

Aerdan sighed. “I cannot continue to watch you destroy your life for no good reason,” he said. “I know that my words are harsh, but my intent is pure, friend.”

Baelan didn’t reply.

“You are mourning the loss of someone who never existed, someone who only wanted to trick you,” Aerdan continued. “And while I won’t placate you and tell you that you did the right thing, I think most people would have fallen under her spell.”

“Hey,” Baelan said. He struggled to get to his feet, but slipped and fell right back down in the muck. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“Save it, Baelan,” Aerdan said, shaking his head. “You have done nothing but pity yourself and mope around for the last two moons! I am sick of it!”

“I have not,” Baelan said indignantly.

“Yes, you have,” Aerdan said. “Friend, I cannot allow you to continue indulging yourself as would a child! I am going to be a father, I have to be a man. And I encourage you to do the same.”

“Yes,” Baelan said, glaring fiercely at Aerdan’s sculpted face. “You forget – I have no wife. I have not even a strumpet, a girl to bed in the hay!”

Aerdan shrugged. “There are many beautiful women in the kingdom,” he said. “I am sure you will find the one who is meant for you eventually.”

Aerdan stared at Baelan for a long moment before offering his hand. At first, Baelan refused to take it.

“Baelan, come on,” Aerdan said. “I will lead you back to the compound.”

Baelan got to his feet, swaying unsteadily. “No,” he said. “No. I will not go home. Not just yet.”

Aerdan sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Friend, live your life on your own terms. But do not be surprised if all your friends forsake you when you continue acting like a fool.” He shook his head once more, then turned in his leather boots and stalked away.

What an ass, Baelan thought as he watched Aerdan’s frame disappear into the twilight. The weather was beginning to cool – the mud and shit spattering Baelan’s trousers felt freezing cold – but Baelan had no urge to return home, to bathe, or even to apologize to Arsinoe, Aya, or Aerdan for the bullish way he’d behaved.

Instead, Baelan tottered on nervous legs down to the docks. There was a group of men there, drinking and carousing. Normally, Baelan would have stood out – after all, his clothes were fine ones, and it was easy to tell by a glance at his hands that he had never worked a day of manual labor in his life. Although as he was, covered in mud and grime, Baelan blended right in.

“Good sir!” One of the men yelled. “Care for a drink?”

Baelan nodded and the man passed a skin full of wine over to him. Baelan took the skin in both hands and poured half of the wine straight into his mouth. It spilled from his lips, dribbling down his chin and staining the front of his tunic.

“Good gods, man!” The man yelled.

Baelan shrugged, then reached into his pocket and handed the man a few pieces of silver. “I think that should more than cover the cost,” he said, his eyes bloodshot and watery. “I have no quarrel with you, sir.”

The crowd fell silent. It was unusual to see a man as openly wealthy as Baelan down at the docks.

“Tell me, men, what news,” Baelan said. He was unaware of the fact that he was practically shouting.

“Can you read?”

“Aye,” Baelan said, touching his forehead with the fingers of one hand. “But right now, I think I am too far gone.”

The men burst out laughing. One of them thumped Baelan on the back, making him cough, and then passed Baelan a piece of dirty parchment.

“The queen has called for men to join her,” one of the men said. “She wants us to have a navy, a working defensive navy!”

Baelan blinked as the idea slowly penetrated his mind. “Are we to sail away from here?”

“Aye,” the same man said. “Sounds a fright to me, I don’t fancy the water much.”

Judging from the way he smelled, Baelan could tell he wasn’t lying.

“Do you have a quill?” Baelan asked, squinting down at the parchment. He could only make out a few words – the queen’s name, followed by a bunch of small print that he couldn’t read.

It felt like an eon before someone passed Baelan a crude pen fashioned from a feather. Ink dripped from the tip. Baelan wrapped one hand around the pen and lowered the nib to the parchment before signing his name, Baelan Covendane, in a crooked, looping scrawl.

The men stared at him. “You’re a royal cousin?”

“Aye,” Baelan said, nodding his head. “I am.”

The men blinked in wonder. “And you’ve just signed the naval form!”

“Aye,” Baelan said. He glanced down. Seeing his name scrawled on the parchment sent a sobering thrill through his body.

“Why you could die,” one of the men said with wide eyes.

Baelan could only shrug. “I may,” he said. “But it’s just as well. I do not deserve to live.”

Before the men at the docks could inquire as to what Baelan meant, he’d turned on a drunken heel and begun staggering back home to the royal compound.

Chapter Two

Baelan

“Baelan!”

Baelan’s eyes opened and he groaned. His head ached and his vision was fogged over. Arsinoe was bent over his bed, narrowing her eyes and glaring at her son.

“What?” Baelan asked. His voice was a groggy creak. “What is it?”

“I cannot believe you!” Arsinoe shouted. Her cry was shrill – it was so high, in fact, that Baelan imagined the glass of his windows shattering with her fierce voice.

“Gods, mother, please,” Baelan whined, pulling a pillow over his head. “My head! How it aches!”

Arsinoe snatched the pillow away from her son’s face and threw it to the floor. Her face was twisted into a mask of murderous rage – she looked angry enough to spit.

“You will die,” Arsinoe said, shaking her head and setting her white lips in a thin line. “I cannot believe you would choose to be so irresponsible!”

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” Baelan said irritably, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes with his hands balled into fists. “What’ve I done now? Is this about Aya?”

The look Arsinoe gave him was cold enough to freeze the sun into a giant ball of ice.

“No,” Arsinoe said sarcastically. “No, Baelan, that is not why I am so angry with you! You have joined the navy! Queen Zornaya’s navy! A soldier showed up this very morning to collect you!”

“Oh,” was all Baelan could say. He blinked. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Arsinoe said through clenched teeth. “I want you to fix it. Go to the queen and tell her you made a mistake. She’ll understand – I just know she will.” Arsinoe tossed her hair. “I’ve arranged for you to be at the palace and take audience with the queen.”

Baelan shook his head.

“Yes, you will go,” Arsinoe said, shaking her head. “I don’t care how awful you feel – you deserve it, for putting me through this kind of anguish!”

Baelan stared dully at his mother. “No,” he said. “I mean, I will not meet with the queen. I have no desire to back out of my promise.”

“Baelan, please,” Arsinoe said. She sat on the edge of Baelan’s bed and reached for her son’s hand. “I know you are depressed. I know you feel that you have no right to be happy…”

“That isn’t it,” Baelan said stiffly, even though his mother was exactly correct. “I want to do something useful. I’ve never done that before, mother, I’ve never been of use to anyone!”

“That isn’t true,” Arsinoe said. “You have been a good, loyal son. You have been a good brother to Selene, and your father and I are very proud of you.”

Baelan shook his head in disgust. “A good brother to Selene, mother, are you crazy?” He narrowed his eyes and the dull pain in his head seemed to expand. “We fought constantly!”

“Well, you know your sister – she was always a little different,” Arsinoe replied. “Baelan, what I am trying to tell you is this: your father and I love you.” She put her hand on Baelan’s shoulder, but Baelan sensed that his mother was holding back.

Baelan nodded.

“And to do this – to join a navy! – is suicide, Baelan.” Now, Arsinoe’s clutching fingers on Baelan’s arm began to feel oppressive. “And I cannot allow you, my only son, to go from me in such a way!”

“I will not die,” Baelan said stubbornly. The truth of the matter was, now that the alcohol had worn off, Baelan felt shaky and nervous. He had lost his nerve – he had lost every ounce of will pushing him forward – and he felt like turning tail and hiding under the thick quilts of his bed for the rest of his life.

But as sickly and weak as Baelan felt from a night of drinking and poor sleep, he knew he could never admit as much to his mother…or to anyone. After all, he was a man. And men weren’t to address their feelings, at least not when it came to feeling like a coward.

“You could very well become seriously injured, then,” Arsinoe said. “Baelan, please, listen to me. Queen Zornaya is a reasonable woman, and she will consider your request.” She eyed Baelan. “Besides,” Arsinoe said quietly. “I have told her that you were…inebriated at the time of your signature. That should disqualify you automatically.”

Baelan heaved a sigh. “Mother, I’m not quitting,” he said. “I’ve said it, and I’ll say it again. I’ll say it until you listen to me – this is my life. I’m an adult man, with nothing to show it. I have no wife, no family, nothing of my own.”

“And you think this is the way to get those things?” Arsinoe asked. The sadness in her voice was evident as she released her grip on Baelan and folded both of her hands in her lap.

Baelan didn’t reply.

“Son, you deserve happiness,” Arsinoe said gently. “And I do not think you will find it serving in the navy of the queen.”

Baelan shrugged. “I signed up to do it, and I’m not going to back out,” he said, pushing the covers away from his body and getting to his feet. He could smell his own musk and the scent made him sick. He walked across the floor of his chamber, took fresh clothing, and stood there staring expectantly at Arsinoe.

“Are you going to watch me, too?” Baelan asked crossly.

Arsinoe shook her head. She flushed as she got to her feet. “Baelan,” she said softly. “I beg you – please – do not do this.” She sniffed. “I have already lost one child. I don’t need to lose both in the same year.”

“You have not lost Selene, and you will not lose me,” Baelan replied. “Selene can be reached with post, and well, I am sure I will be in port for most of the year. After all, this is a defensive navy, mother.” He stood for a moment, grasping for a point which had been a trace of an idea. “And besides,” Baelan added, his voice loud and confident. “It’s my responsibility.”

“I don’t see why you think that way,” Arsinoe replied. “You are a royal cousin, Baelan, you are not some wretch condemned to a life of poverty! Why are you punishing yourself?”

“Because,” Baelan said hotly. “If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t need a defensive navy in the first place. I would never have brought Zheka into danger if I had not fallen for the Lady Taryn, and stayed oblivious to the danger she posed.”

Arsinoe looked at her son for a long moment.

“Aye,” she said softly. “You are stubborn, my son.”

“I get it from you,” Baelan said, chuckling. “You know I do.”

Arsinoe gave him a sad smile. “Perhaps you are correct,” she said. “But Baelan, I am so worried for you.” She bit her lip. “Please, promise me that you will work hard and value your life.”

Baelan frowned.

“Please,” Arsinoe repeated. “It’s very important.”

Baelan sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I promise.”

Arsinoe stood up and walked over to her son, planting a dry kiss on his cheek. “I will send word to the queen that you are determined to keep your vow,” she said. “And I am sure your father will be proud of you.”

Baelan nodded. He was becoming more uncomfortable by the second, and he wished his mother would leave. She seemed to linger in the doorway for an inordinate length of time before clucking her tongue against her teeth and finally walking away.

As soon as he was alone, Baelan flopped back down into the bed. He was both embarrassed and insulted that his mother had tried to intervene on his behalf. She thinks I cannot take care of myself, he thought as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Baelan’s haze of depression was so obfuscating that it almost hurt to think. Between that and the wicked hangover from all of the wine, he had barely moved by the time the sun was beginning to sink low in the sky. He got up and washed properly, put on clean clothes, and joined his family at the dinner table, still exhausted.

As soon as Baelan entered the room, his father, Ashton, stood up and saluted him.

“I am proud of you,” Ashton said. He handed over a rolled piece of parchment. “This is from the queen. You are to meet with the other men at the docks tomorrow morning.”

Arsinoe smiled, but Baelan saw tears in her eyes.

“Yes,” she echoed. “Isn’t that nice, Baelan? Your father is so happy.”

Baelan nodded. He took the parchment from his father and slipped it into the pockets of his trousers.

“We should enjoy a perfect meal together,” Arsinoe said, smiling at Baelan and Ashton. “This might be the last time we are together as a family for quite a while.”

Ashton snorted. “Nonsense,” he said. “The queen would never put our son in danger.”

Baelan felt a pang of irritation. “I signed up, father,” he said calmly. “I’ll do whatever is asked of me with pride.”

“I am sure you will,” Arsinoe said. She reached across the table and patted Baelan’s hand.

Why is it that now, when I’m just about to leave home, I feel like more of a child than ever before, Baelan thought as he stared down at his empty plate.

Soon, the dining hall was filled with servants. They all beamed at Baelan and the cook handed out an extra large portion of lamb, Baelan’s favorite dish.

“We will all miss you, sir,” the cook said, wiping a tear from her eye.

Baelan frowned. “It’s not as though I’m going off to war,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t be in any danger, you know.”

The cook nodded, but she still looked teary.

The rest of dinner wasn’t much better. Baelan picked at his food – the lamb smelled delicious, but he had little appetite – and merely sipped at his wine. His head was still throbbing, and he found himself staring out the small windows that faced Zheka’s harbor.

Tomorrow, I’ll be a free man, Baelan thought as he speared a small piece of meat on his fork. And then, perhaps, I can begin to atone for my sins.

After dinner, Baelan slipped away and locked himself in his chamber. As the moon rose higher in the sky, he flopped down on his bed and stared pensively out the window. He knew he should be excited – or at least nervous – for the next day, but he couldn’t summon the will to think.

Finally, after hours of tossing and turning, Baelan fell into a restless sleep.

The morning came quickly – so quickly that Baelan was shocked when he opened his eyes and saw the sun shining overhead. He dressed quickly, grabbed the parchment his father had given him the night before, and ran downstairs into the main hall of the royal compound.

Arsinoe and Ashton stood at the entrance, dressed in their most splendid robes. Arsinoe pulled Baelan into a tight embrace.

“You will be wonderful,” she said, stroking the side of his face.

Baelan resisted the urge to push his mother’s hand away. He forced a smile. “Thank you.”

Ashton patted Baelan on the back with such force that Baelan staggered forward.

“Make us proud,” Ashton said.

Baelan nodded. “I will,” he said.

Turning on his heel and walking away from his family felt strange, almost intoxicating. It felt easier than Baelan would have expected. Why I could have left at any time, he realized with a frown as he began the long walk from the royal compound to the Zhekan harbor.

There was a huge crowd of men assembled on the grass. Most of them were scarred, muscular, huge – much bigger than Baelan. Even though he was lean and muscled, he still felt like a tiny shrimp compared to the rest of the men. Baelan found a place at the back of the crowd. He dropped to his knees and sat lazily on the grass, idly picking at a few longer green blades with his fingers.

Baelan didn’t have to wait long. A man dressed in a strange uniform – a broad jacket and wide trousers – walked and stood at a podium at the front of the crowd. He blew a bright brass whistle and the sound was so loud that Baelan winced.

“Men! Today, you have come to fulfill your destiny. It is in honor of Queen Zornaya that we have gathered today,” the man said. “I am your commander. I am your captain.”

The man sounded so pompous and self-important that Baelan couldn’t help sniggering into his sleeve.

“Hey!” A man seated next to Baelan with huge muscles narrowed his eyes. “Shut your mouth!”

Baelan rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he said arrogantly.

When the man’s fist connected with Baelan’s jaw, the punch caught him off guard. At first, it didn’t even hurt – but after a few seconds, the pain began trickling down Baelan’s neck. He put a hand to his cheek and winced.

“What was that for?” Baelan asked sourly.

“Shut your mouth,” his attacker hissed through clenched teeth.

“Why should I?” Baelan said, narrowing his eyes. “Why, I’m a royal cousin! You don’t dare lay a hand on me!”

The burly man got to his feet and growled. Standing, he was almost two heads taller than Baelan. Baelan shrank at the sight of the large man looming in front of him. He was so distracted that he failed to see the naval commander had abandoned his podium and joined the burly man’s side.

“You, there!” The commander yelled. “Who are you?”

Baelan got to his feet and wiped his hands on his trousers. He tasted iron and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing down to see blood.

“I am Baelan Covendane, a royal cousin,” Baelan said smugly. “And this ogre just attacked me!”

The commander nodded. “I see,” he said archly. He turned to the burly man. “And why would you do that?”

The burly man saluted the commander, squinting into the bright rays of the sun. “He was laughing, sir,” he said in a deep voice. “I put him in his place.”

The commander nodded. “Very well, then,” he said. “You may continue as you see fit.”

The burly man balled his hands into fists and approached Baelan, dancing on the balls of his feet as elegantly as a sylph.

“Hey,” Baelan said shortly. “What in the name of the gods is going on,” he asked warily, stepping back.

The burly man swung his fist. When his hand connected with Baelan’s stomach, Baelan crumpled to the ground in pain. He cried out and wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling his legs close to his body and whimpering.

“Pathetic,” the commander said. “Stop it,” he added. “This man has been humiliated enough…for now.”

Baelan opened his eyes. He felt angry and embarrassed, but mostly, he was just afraid.

“Please,” Baelan said. “You will regret what you have done when my parents intervene!”

The commander’s laughter was a harsh, caustic sound. After a few seconds, the other men joined in. Soon, Baelan was surrounded by a chorus of mocking.

“Your parents,” the commander said, shaking his head and laughing. “You, a grown man! Still hiding behind mother’s skirts?”

The laughter grew louder. Baelan glared at the burly man who had punched him twice – he was doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks.

Baelan drew himself up to his full height. “Why, yes,” he said, trying to keep composure. “My mother is a very powerful friend of the queen.”

The commander snorted. He shook his head and grinned. “You’re a fool,” he said. “And as of now, you’re my assistant.”

Baelan narrowed his eyes.

The commander leaned closer, still grinning. There was a malicious gleam in his dark eye. “That’s not a good thing,” he added, shaking his head. “And tonight, I will have you wash the docks of all the ships while the rest of us feast.”

Baelan blinked. It took a few seconds for the words to sink in.

“And don’t even think of saying the queen’s name again,” the commander continued. “You’ve already shown me what kind of man you are.”

“And what kind of man is that?” Baelan asked hotly.

The commander stared at him for a long moment before chuckling and shaking his head.

“You’re a lazy man,” he said. “An entitled man – a man who is used to being served from a silver spoon.”

“Why, that isn’t true!” Baelan said indignantly. “I am a man, just like you.”

The commander rolled his eyes. “We’ll see about that,” he said, still chuckling under his breath. “Indeed we will.”

--

That night, as the other men supped and drank on the shores by the harbor, Baelan sweated and strained over a mop and a bucket of water mixed with lye.

He felt more regretful than ever before.

Chapter Three

Rillie

Rillie Caulmont sang to herself under her breath as she pushed the broom back and forth over the dusty stone hearth.

“Rillie! That better be working I hear, not more of your song!”

Rillie bit her lip, but she didn’t stop singing. She lowered her beautiful voice to a mere whisper, rolling the words over her tongue and lips like polished stones. She closed her eyes, twirling and dancing to the beat of an imaginary drum, the strumming of an invisible harp.

“Rillie!”

Rillie’s pale grey eyes flew open and she stumbled backward in surprise. Her father, Gwiven, stood there with an exasperated look on his lined face.

“Sorry, father,” Rillie said. She tossed her long blonde hair over one shoulder. “Really. I am.”

Gwiven sighed in exasperation and then shook his head. He began to chuckle. “It is all right,” he said. “Why not finish your chores, then we’ll have some supper?”

“Yes, father,” Rillie said. She eased past her father, then began aggressively sweeping the stone floor of their small cottage.

Rillie and her father, Gwiven, had lived alone in the cottage for years, ever since Rillie could remember. She’d never met her mother. According to Gwiven, her mother Cirilyse had been a beautiful siren. But Rillie could only remember the face of her father, growing older with each year.

“Father, did you hear?” Rillie paused, wrapping the fingers of her right hand around the broomstick and swaying in the air as if she were dancing. “There’s a new ship down at the docks!”

Gwiven shook his head. “That’s none of your concern,” he said. “You know I don’t like you down there.” He shuddered. “Ever since…”

Rillie bit her lip and fell silent. “I know,” she said. “But that was months ago, father, and look – we survived!”

Gwiven rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank the gods,” he said irritably. “We survived famine and plague and war.”

“What?” Rillie frowned. “That’s a good thing, remember?”

Gwiven shook his head. “Aye,” he said. “Forgive me, child. I’m just a bitter old man – you know that all too well.”

Rillie hid her smile in the tangles of her long hair. It was a dance she knew well – Gwiven would complain, she would soothe, then her father would sigh and give up. It seemed that in the past few years, Gwiven had grown more cantankerous and grouchy…but Rillie imagined that such was to be expected. After all, her father was growing older by the day.

Rillie began to sing under her breath, softly, as she continued sweeping the hearth. Gwiven raised an eyebrow but said nothing to silence her, and Rillie’s imagination began taking her far away from the small stone cottage. She pictured a vast expanse of sapphire-blue sea, shimmering and rippling under the bright yellow sun.

As much as she didn’t like the thought of admitting it, Rillie knew her father was completely right. Their country, Nasenia, had never been rich or prosperous. The previous winter, a devastating plague had wiped out most of the available crops. Rillie shivered at the memory of waiting in line for handouts, clad in a thin cloak and shivering.

Then, before the famine had ended, a strange illness had taken hold of the population. Many had become ill and died – Rillie herself had nursed three of the neighbor’s daughters back to full health. Gwiven himself had taken ill, but fortunately, he had pulled through and recovered.

During the height of the plague, neighboring troops had invaded Nasenia. A mysterious battle had taken place at sea – no one had managed to learn all the details – and Rillie was still unsure as to what had actually happened. It intrigued her.

More specifically, life outside of Nasenia intrigued her.

“Father,” Rillie began, biting her lip and leaning on her broom. “Tell me about my mother.”

Gwiven gave her a strange look. “I should worry about your memory, child,” he replied. “I’ve told you the story time and time again.”

“I know,” Rillie said. She frowned. “I just…I want to feel like I know her.” She cleared her throat and flushed. “Sometimes I feel as if I’ve had no mother at all.”

Gwiven nodded. He looked pained, and for a moment, Rillie felt a pang of guilt as she stared into her father’s dark eyes. She knew that it had been hard on him when she was growing up. As a child, Rillie and Gwiven had been very close. But when she’d begun getting older, changing into a woman, Rillie had seen that it was very difficult for her father. Gwiven was a strong, circumspect man…and a rambunctious teenage daughter didn’t exactly fold into the fabric of his life.

“Your mother was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Gwiven said. He eased his body into a rickety wooden chair and closed his eyes, resting his palm on the table. “She was vivacious and charming – whenever she spoke, men would close their eyes, just to imagine being close to her.”

Rillie nodded. The tale was familiar to her – a constant refrain that had been repeated during her twenty-six short years in Nasenia.

“I was down by the docks – fishing, with some other young men – and that’s when I saw her for the first time. She was sitting on a rock by the edge of the sea, tracing her hand in the water and singing. Her voice was magnetic, beautiful…it was a perfect music.”

“Do I sound like her, father?”

Gwiven nodded. “Aye,” he said. “You do.”

Rillie propped the broom against the stone wall of the cottage and sat down on the freshly-swept floor, crossing her legs under her long skirts.

As Gwiven talked, Rillie’s mind began to wander. She saw a beautiful woman with pale skin, golden hair much like her own, and pale grey eyes. Even though Gwiven had more than once told Rillie he found her beautiful, she’d always dismissed his praise. There’s no way I could be as beautiful as my mother, Rillie thought as she listened to the husky sound of Gwiven’s voice.

When Gwiven had finished the tale, Rillie felt spellbound and strangely tired. She yawned, covering her mouth with both of her small, pale hands.

“Aye, there you have it,” Gwiven said gruffly. “Now how about getting up and starting supper?” He glanced out the window, shielding his eyes with one hand. “It’ll be dark before you know it.”

Rillie nodded. “Aye,” she said. She brushed past her father and into the small kitchen, where she picked up an empty water skin and slung it into a faded and shapeless cotton bag. Putting the strap of the bag over her shoulder, Rillie balanced an empty basket on her head and sashayed out the front door.

This time of day – early evening – was always Rillie’s favorite. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself as she walked carefully down to the shore. The air was warm and save for the sound of buzzing cicadas, rather quiet. As Rillie’s feet moved along the well-worn path, she took a deep breath. When she had been a child, Rillie had always loved being alone – it had given her a chance to imagine a different life for herself.

Why I feel like an old woman, Rillie thought, wrinkling her nose at the idea. And I am not yet twenty-seven!

A group of small boys by the waterfront, splashing, and playing, only made Rillie feel more elderly. She dropped down to her knees, splashed water over her face and hands, then began to fill the skin until it was bulging at the seams.

When the water skin was filled, Rillie left it and her bag at the edge of the water then wandered into the woods. She picked five large apples from a nearby tree, tossing them into the basket and then balancing the basket carefully atop her head once more.

By the time she returned home, the sun was sinking low in the sky. Gwiven was sitting at the table, carving a small wooden figurine.

“You were gone for so long I thought I’d have to come looking for you,” Gwiven said, raising his eyebrows at Rillie. “What happened?”

Rillie shrugged.

“Aye, day-dreaming again, I bet,” Gwiven replied. He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

Rillie shrugged again. “Well,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “You can’t marry me off – there are hardly any young men left in Nasenia, and all the old ones are married or widowed. And I don’t think you’d be able to ship me off, I’m not good for much.”

Gwiven laughed. “You are right,” he said, sighing good-naturedly. “I supposed I will just have to keep you here.”

Rillie laughed, too, but inside she felt a deep sadness that she couldn’t begin to explain.

Gwiven turned serious. “Raelina,” he said, reaching for Rillie’s hand. “I do have regrets.”

Rillie wrinkled her nose. “One of them should be that name,” she said, tossing her long hair. “You know how much I dislike it.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” Gwiven said. “For a beautiful girl.”

Rillie flushed and pulled her hand away.

“And yet,” Gwiven continued. “Rillie, my dear, perhaps I should not have…perhaps I should not have raised you as a companion, but as a child.”

Rillie stood there, feeling awkward. “It is all right, father,” she said.

“It’s not,” Gwiven said. He sighed and Rillie felt a melancholy wave pass through her body.

“Well, there is nothing you can do, now,” Rillie said softly. She took the basket from her head and set it down on the table. Grabbing one of the apples and a knife from her father’s hand, she began peeling it with a single deft motion.

Gwiven sighed. “I am not in good spirits tonight,” he said. “I apologize.”

Rillie shrugged again, feeling more awkward than ever. She leaned down and kissed her aging father on the head. “It is fine,” she said. “Tell me, father, do we have any fresh pork left?”

Gwiven nodded without meeting her eyes. “In the cold box,” he said.

Rillie finished peeling the apples, then diced them into small bits and lit a fire in the grate. She tossed the diced apples with a bit of onion and a pinch of salt. Soon, a delicious, savory smell filled the cottage. Rillie took the cold box from under the stones of the floor and found a small loin of pork. She sliced it open with the knife, stuffed the apple mixture inside, then placed it inside of a small pot over the fire.

When she was done, she wiped her hands on her apron and sank into one of the wooden chairs at the table. Gwiven was still silent, staring down at the crude wooden figure in his hands.

A strange mix of emotions flooded Rillie’s body. Boredom, anxiety, guilt, -- it was suddenly too much to bear. She swallowed and took a deep breath. How I wish I could leave, she thought, looking around the dingy cottage. But I cannot leave my father on his own – he could not care for himself, he is getting far too old and stiff. And where would I go? I have no skills!

A knock at the door jolted Rillie out of her thoughts. She got to her feet and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders before opening the door.

A uniformed man stood there. When he locked eyes with Rillie, she saw his face turn vacant and blank.

“Yes?” Rillie asked. “What is it?”

“A document, for you, ma’am,” the uniformed man said. He pressed a stiff card into Rillie’s hand, made a bow, then turned and walked crisply away from the door.

Rillie waited until the man was out of sight before breaking the wax seal on the card and unfolding it.

“Father, this just came,” Rillie said, frowning over the words written in elegant Common on the card. “It’s from the council.”

“Oh, give it here,” Gwiven replied.

Rillie passed over the card. “It reads like a bunch of nonsense,” she said, her nostrils flaring. “I’ll check on the pork.”

Her father remained silent as Rillie peered inside the clay pot. The pork was cooking nicely – Rillie turned it once, tossed in a handful of dried herbs, and replaced the pot.

“Hmph,” Gwiven said, narrowing his eyes and tossing the card into the fire.

Rillie frowned. “What is it?”

“Nothing of importance,” Gwiven replied.

“Tell me,” Rillie said crossly. “Even if it is nothing, I’d rather know.”

“The Council of Nasenia is concerned that the world is full of too much change,” Gwiven said. He shrugged. “Whatever that means.”

“Does it have to do with the famine? The plague?”

“More likely the attacks,” Gwiven said. “The card mentioned the importance of self-sufficiency.” He snorted derisively.

Rillie frowned. “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “What’s going to happen?”

Gwiven shrugged. “I don’t know, child,” he said. “But if I were you, I’d expect some changes.”

“Do you think it would be better if we had a king and queen?”

Gwiven burst out laughing.

Rillie looked offended. “What? It’s not that bad of an idea,” she said. “Lots of people say it would be better if we had just one ruler.”

Gwiven shook his head. “Child, you still have a lot to learn,” he replied. “The council knows what is best for us, trust me on that.”

Rillie nodded. She took the pot off the fire and carefully portioned out the pork on two plates. Now that it was cooked, the piece of meat looked smaller than ever – between them, Rillie and Gwiven would barely have a dozen bites of food.

“If the council is so wise, perhaps they could advise me how to obtain more food,” Rillie said, tossing her hair and cutting into her meat with a knife.”

Gwiven sighed. “You’ll understand, one day,” he said softly.

It struck Rillie as an odd comment, but she didn’t reply. Instead, she cut her meat into tiny pieces and ate slowly, savoring the taste of apple and onion.

When they had finished eating, Rillie rinsed the plates with a bit of water from the skin.

“I think I will go to bed,” Gwiven said. He rose and grunted sharply. “I am exhausted.”

Rillie hugged her father and watched as he slunk out of the room to the chamber where he and Rillie had small mattresses on the floor. Once her father was out of sight, Rillie sat down with some tangled knitting in her lap. But she found that her hands were clumsy, and her mind could not concentrate. She put down her work with a sigh, then got to her feet and peered out the window.

Stars were sprinkled brightly all over the sky, shining down with a gentle glow that Rillie found soothing. As always, she felt lured by the large sky and the ocean breeze in the air. She knew her father would be angry to find that she’d left home after dinner, but she also found that she no longer cared.

Wrapping a thin cloak around her shoulders, Rillie pushed open the cottage door and slipped noiselessly into the night.

Chapter Four

Baelan

“You, there! Covendane!”

Baelan’s head snapped up. Captain Perth stood right in front of him, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Do not speak,” Perth said brusquely. “Haven’t you learned anything?”

Baelan winced as he rubbed the yellowing bruises on his jaw and temple.

“Go down to the hold and check on the men,” Perth continued. “And then report back to me afterward.”

Baelan nodded. The ship rocked from side to side in the gentle waves, but Baelan still felt seasick. He’d been away at sea for just over two weeks, and he was starting to think that each day was worse than the last. In addition to the captain thinking of Baelan as an arrogant jerk, the other sailors didn’t respect him. Unlike Baelan, most of them didn’t come from royal blood. When they’d learned Baelan was a royal cousin, they’d laughed in his face.

Baelan hadn’t been too pleased. He’d puffed out his chest and narrowed his eyes at the men. Despite being larger than him, and much more muscular, he didn’t feel intimidated.

“Yes, I am royal,” Baelan had said with a smirk. “And what of you? Children of workers? Warriors?” He’d snorted. “I bet you’re going to be wonderful sailors.”

Baelan was still nursing the deep bruises from the confrontation that had followed that ill-fated first conversation with his fellow sailors.

“Are you stupid?” Captain Perth yelled. “I just gave you a command!”

Baelan groaned. He nodded, then turned and walked unsteadily across the slippery deck of the ship. That was another thing – the wood was always so slick and tricky when wet, and yet Perth insisted that Baelan wash the decks twice a day. I believe he knows nothing, Baelan thought crossly as he slipped and slid. Thankfully, his hands fumbled for the railing and he steadied himself before he could slip.

The other men were gathered in the hold of the ship. It smelled foul – like excrement and urine, and the sweat of twenty men – and Baelan resisted the urge to pinch his nose with two fingers. The men were laughing and talking boisterously, but as soon as Baelan entered the room, the conversation stopped.

“What?” Baelan asked crossly. “Do not stop your antics on my account.”

One of them snickered. “The royal thinks he can tell us what to do,” he said, tossing his head arrogantly in the air and mimicking Baelan’s grand way of speaking.

Baelan felt his skin grow hot and he narrowed his eyes. “The captain sent me,” he said. “I am to check on you.”

The men burst out laughing again. One of them spewed a foul stream of tobacco across the hold and Baelan wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I do not see what is so humorous,” Baelan said. He glared at the men. “Why are you laughing at me?”

This only made the men laugh all the harder. Baelan groaned.

“Men, level with me,” he said. “I know I don’t want to be here – and it’s likely true that none of you do, either!”

That was enough to kill the laughter.

One of the men – the man who had spat tobacco – stood up. Unlike Baelan, he was completely steady on his feet. He didn’t even need to hold onto the ship for balance as a sudden wave tossed the men sharply to the right. Baelan lurched, slamming against the wall of the ship with a dull thwack! that made the men erupt into laughter once again.

“Silence,” the tobacco man said. He glared at Baelan. “What, you have the nerve to disdain us and our motivations for being here?”

Baelan frowned. “I didn’t mean that,” he said uncertainly. “I only meant…”

“What? That we are miserable because we are away from our silks and our fair-smelling ladies and our kitchens, stocked with every kind of meat and game available in Zheka?”

“Yes,” Baelan said, relieved that someone had finally understood. “Exactly that.”

The tobacco man laughed cruelly, shaking his head. “You are a fool,” he said. “Did you know that before signing up for the Queen's navy, I never ate more than one meal a day? And usually, that meal consisted of a dried piece of fruit – maybe a bit of salt pork if I was lucky?”

Baelan didn’t reply.

“And did you know that as a child, I slept outside? Not because I felt a kind of affinity with nature, mind you, but because my family was too poor to afford a roof over our heads? When it rained, my mother took my brothers and sisters and myself to the woods, where we sheltered ourselves under the heavy leaves?”

Baelan frowned. He found that he could not imagine such a scenario.

“And once,” the man continued. “My mother went hungry for days, just so my younger brothers and sisters could have food.”

“If your family was so poor,” Baelan said. “Why did your mother continue to breed?”

The man looked as though Baelan had punched him. He balled his hands into fists and charged, pushing Baelan against the wall of the ship and grabbing him by the front of his uniform tunic.

“You’ll never understand,” the man growled. “You’ve been coddled and spoiled for your entire life!”

“That isn’t true,” Baelan said hotly. He pushed the man away. The other men began to cheer and boo, and soon they formed a circle around Baelan and the other soldier.

“You brat!” the other man said. “I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands!”

When he attacked, Baelan could barely fight back. The man pinned him to the ground and punched him, again and again, until blood was streaming from his nose and mouth and he felt two teeth loosen against his bottom lip.

“What a useless man,” the man said savagely, landing one more fierce punch at the side of Baelan’s head that left Baelan spinning

The other men retreated, leaving Baelan dazed and bleeding on the deck as the ship pitched back and forth.

“Men!”

Captain Perth’s loud, booming voice filled the hold.

“What is the meaning of this,” Perth yelled. “I do not want my soldiers attacking each other.”

Baelan groaned as he rose into a sitting position. Looking at the other men, he saw the vitriolic expressions on their faces.

“It was my fault,” Baelan said. He choked on blood, coughing and spitting until hands were splattered with red. “I provoked him.” Scrambling to his feet, Baelan didn’t see the look of admiration on Perth’s rugged face.

“I see,” Captain Perth replied. He narrowed his eyes. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again, Covendane, or you’ll be on latrine duty for the rest of your enlistment.”

Baelan raised a hand to his throbbing face and saluted.