My eyelids crack open for at least the tenth time the next day. This time I’m able to keep them from closing. I sit up, trying to shake off the remnants of my deep sleep. There had been no nightmares of Kedrick’s murder. It may have been the best sleep I’d ever had.
I look around the room with blurry eyes and blink at the sight of a small pile of clothing on the long seat at the end of the bed.
“Oops,” I say into the empty room. Aquin would make me train all day if he knew someone had crept up on me.
The fire still burns and the room is a comfortable temperature, though the stone is still cold under my bare feet. Wrapped in the fur, I walk over to the window to gauge the time. A wall of swirling white snow is the answer to my inquiry. I cannot see anything.
Returning to the bed, I pick up the clothing and measure it against my chest. It must be children’s clothing because it is a close fit. There are also trousers and boots.
On the table next to the door is a bowl of water and a cloth, much like what we use on Osolis. It looks like my longing for a bath will go unsatisfied today, but clean clothes were more than I expected. I wonder how often Bruma wash. If I believed the court rumours back on Osolis, I would think never. The delegates had certainly not seemed bothered by their lack of cleanliness during our ascent. Though, in their defence, there had not been anything to wash with. We had all been covered in grime. The basin wash does not give anywhere near the clean feeling which submerging myself in water would do. However, I am able to get a layer or two of grime off and wash my broken wrist. I will have to ask someone to put the splint back on for me. The water is black when I’m done.
Afterwards I’m more optimistic about my situation, but this slowly fades when no one comes to collect me all day. Later attempts at opening the door are unsuccessful. Occasionally, the guards murmur and someone pushes food under the door twice. They wouldn’t lock me in here forever would they?
To take up time, I look around the room for ways to get out. I can think of only two ways to escape. Neither effective with my injuries. I run through various scenarios of what the King may ask and what I would like to say. Then, in danger of going out of my mind, I rifle through my pack. I shake my head at my useless robes, I might need them though if I’m able to escape after killing Kedrick’s assassin. I take the fletching out of the pocket of my robes, looking at it, remembering why I’m here. I push it down the side of my new boots. Despite being in Kedrick’s home, I have never felt more distant from his memory.
The bolt of the door slides back with a clang. I jump, whipping my hand up as I straighten. A guard stands in the doorway. He has a sword sheathed at his side and holds a spear in his right hand.
“The King wants you in the meeting chamber,” he says.
I’m almost excited as I leave the room.
Torches have been lit since last night and I see there are no other rooms up this stairway. The guards direct me down the staircase and back into the main hallway. I get my first real look at the palace and its occupants.
Bruma line the walls, staring at me with undisguised hostility. They don’t seem to be doing anything in particular in the hall, except waiting for me to pass so they can show how much they dislike the child-like Solati in their midst. I wonder if it was like this for the delegates when they first arrived on Osolis. It is a strange feeling to know you are disliked just for being born on another world.
One of the Bruma goes as far to spit at my boots. My nose scrunches in revulsion, but I make no outward acknowledgement of his action.
The Bruma are tall. I am able to tell the females and males apart here. The females all wear their hair loose down their backs. There are no fancy hair styles at all. The trousers and tunics the men and women wear are of better quality than the villagers we passed on our way in, which is to be expected of the people closest to the King. There is fur, leather and the same fur-lined cloth I am wearing, which I don’t know the name of.
The woman’s clothing is tighter than the males and the necklines of their tunics are lower. Some extremely so. One woman has trousers which lace up the side, but she has let skin show down each side. They all have one thing in common, though. The glares on their faces. I do not feel welcome for one moment, but I remember my vow not to appear weak and keep my head high. A guard swings a door open before me and I walk into the meeting chamber.
I look across the room and stumble in shock.
Kedrick is in the room.
A prod in the back pushes me forward. My heart drops as I see this version of Kedrick is too young. I shake my head. It must be Ashawn. He looks nearly identical to him. He has the same lighter brown hair and blue eyes, the same intelligent face and, if the situation were different, I imagine his smile would be the same.
I look at Kedrick’s younger brother, my heart breaking. He stares at me also, but with a different expression. I recognise his rage. It is like the fury simmering deep within my body. He makes to move over to me, but the King grabs his arm and talks quietly to him. The younger brother responds, gesturing wildly, before standing at Jovan’s reply and storming out of the room.
No one comments on his departure. King Jovan’s face does not change.
The air in here is colder than my room. The Bruma in attendance seem comfortable, most of them in short-sleeved tunics. I shiver and curse at forgetting my coat.
The room is stone, in keeping with the rest of the Glacium palace. A large table also made of stone, circles most of the room.
A single chair sits vacant in the middle of this stone ring.
I look around at the Bruma sitting around the outside of the table. My delegates are already here. They all look exhausted. I wonder if they had been in meetings ever since our arrival. I note, with envy, their hair is washed and their faces are free of grime.
The guard at my back pushes me into the middle, towards the vacant seat. I fix my jaw at his manhandling and decide to be defiant, stopping as we reach the area where most of the delegates sit.
“I hope the reunions with your families went well,” I say. The guard prods me in the back again.
Most of them just smile and nod back at me, darting looks at the King. Sanjay, of course, goes the extra step.
“I had several reunions with Fiona,” he says with a grin, resting back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. Rhone snorts and several of the other delegates muffle their laughter. The guard pushes more forcefully. I turn to look at him. He glares back. The delegates continue to joke behind me.
“It would’ve taken more than one reunion to make it worth her while, after a year of being without a woman,” Roman says from the other side of the ring.
“I take it poor Jacqueline was not satisfied the first time,” Sanjay returns. Several Bruma laugh. I wonder at how appropriate this subject is given the situation, but no one seems bothered.
The guard pushes me roughly. I stumble forward and grab my still un-splinted wrist. An angry murmur starts behind me and I hear a couple of the delegates push their chairs back. But I have reached the end of my patience. I spin around and point a finger in the guard’s face.
“Push me one more time, and you and I are going to have a problem,” I say in a dark voice. My threat is not satisfying in the slightest, but during my morning in isolation I had decided it best to continue keeping my ability to fight to myself. It would hardly count in my favour if I displayed the skill which would have been necessary to kill Kedrick. Ironically though, shooting arrows was the one thing I was unable to do with my veil on. But they didn’t need to know how impaired my sight was, either.
Most of the room snorts, laughing at my words and the sight of a ‘child’ standing up to a big guard. The guard himself laughs until Malir barks an order at him. He falls back, his laughter dying, leaving me to stroll to the judgement chair unmolested.
I ignore the still laughing men around the room. My gaze lifts to meet the King’s. My temper had just gotten the better of me. I hope its loss was seen as strength, not an angry disposition. His gaze is furious, though surprisingly, it’s not directed at me and instead is on the guard behind me. I hear the guard fidgeting under his attention. The King shifts his gaze to me and the guard lets out a small squeaking sound.
“This meeting has been called to collect the Tatuma’s account of what befell Prince Kedrick and then to decide her fate accordingly,” the King states, not raising his voice at all, though the room is large.
“I have spoken in length to all of the delegates and their accounts have been...interesting.”
I realise then the King Jovan I saw last night was uncontrolled. The distant interest he gives off now is terrifying and I have not missed the thinly veiled threat in his words just now. He would not hesitate to kill me if I am uncooperative.
“Why was my brother with you that night?” he starts, his eyes on my hands in my lap. He cannot see my face so he is watching for other signs.
I swallow and shift my eyes to look behind him, his eyes are too intense.
Should I tell the truth? I have a feeling lies are going to end with more of my bones broken. Kedrick had always spoken highly of his brother. I think he would want me to tell him, to reassure him in his grief. I could see this now, though I could not have a week prior. And who knew what information I could glean from this meeting by giving up some of my own.
A few people shift as I take my time answering.
I decide on the truth. “Kedrick and I met several times at night during his time on Osolis. This particular time was because he was due to leave the day after. We wished to be alone together,” I say.
Many of the gathered Bruma mutter, some shy back in disgust.
There is a moment where I wonder what was wrong with what I said, my brow clears as I remember. I keep forgetting how relationships between our races are viewed. Any qualms I had initially had about this myself, had disappeared almost a year ago.
The King looks a little amazed by my answer, though he was informed of our relationship last night. “There was nothing different about this night from the others?” he asks, leaning slightly forward for my answer, one large finger across his lips.
There is no way I’m going to tell him we had planned to remove my veil.
“We met in the forest instead of the meadow.”
“Why?” a blonde-haired man asks from my left. I do not like his watery blue eyes.
“We did not want to be caught. The forest is more private than the meadow.” A few men snort at this. I look down, realising what they thought Kedrick and I had been doing. One of my hand fists. There is a growling behind me from the delegates and the others shut up.
“What next?” the King asks, his hand moves in a jerky gesture. Kedrick used to do the same thing.
I have replayed what happened next over in my mind so many hundreds of times I do not need to think before I answer. “I was facing Kedrick.” I swallow as everyone leans closer. “He was looking at me, but must have seen or heard something in the forest behind me because he peered over my head. I saw his face change at the moment he must have realised there was an archer there.”
I swallow hard, taking a few moments to collect myself. I focus on the pain in my wrist. On the arrow in my boot. I had debated, while locked in in my room, over whether I should share the next information with the King. But not acknowledging Kedrick’s selfless action is too cowardly. I take a deep breath.
“The archer was behind me. Kedrick threw me aside. When I looked up the arrow had struck him here.” I bring a trembling hand to the area where he had been hit. “It is where my head had been. If he had not thrown me aside, the arrow would have gone through my head,” I say in a wooden tone.
The King makes as though he is going to stand, but stops himself.
A couple of the others in the room gasp at my words. The rest do not understand the implication of what I have just said.
“I believe I was the intended target,” I say, guilt drips off every word. Now everyone in the room knows it was my fault. Not for the first time, I wish the arrow had reached its intended destination.
My words leave the room empty. No one speaks, no one moves. Everyone takes a moment to digest what I have said. My chest starts to feel tight at being surrounded in the ring. I take rapid breaths.
“After he got hit?” the King asks, his voice angry.
This is the part I have dreaded retelling. I squeeze my eyes shut and talk quickly. “I helped him to the ground. I could hear footsteps crashing away. It must have been the assassin, but I did not think to give chase. And I don’t know why they ran. I was so focused on Kedrick, not thinking clearly. I only remembered the footsteps afterwards.”
I take a shuddering breath which catches on the rising lump on my throat. When my voice sounds, it is hoarse. “I did not know what to do to help him, we were so far from the palace. I don’t think he could have been-” my voice catches on the word ‘saved’.
I clear my throat and try again.
“I held his hand as-” I can’t bear it. I stand up and pace in jerky patterns, focusing on the feel of my boot striking the stone, the throbbing in my wrist. I grasp at the fury I know lies in wait. It rises up at my call and burns back the tears threatening to fall. I resume my seat, reverting back to my wooden voice. “It was many hours later before Malir and Rhone found us.”
There is silence again. For a long time. The King finally breaks it.
“Did he say anything? Before he died?” His voice is rough.
A single tear escapes my fury and trails down the side of my nose. I nod, but cannot talk.
“What?” he says, leaning forward once again.
“He said,” I try, but the words do not sound. I try once more. “He said, don’t cry.”
Tears pour down my face, I turn my face to the side, unable to respect Kedrick’s last wish. They drip underneath my veil into the front of my tunic. The King waves to the person next to him, an older, intelligent looking man.
“Had there been any prior indication you were in danger?” the man asks in a deep voice I instantly like.
I start to say no, but stop as a hidden memory surfaces. Frowning through my tears, I answer, “There had been a crack in the woods behind us in the days earlier. I had dismissed this as a fallen branch.”
I try to remember the positions we had been in that day. The memory has faded too much for me to be sure. I shake my head. “I do not know if this was the archer or not.”
The grey haired man nods. “Are there any on Osolis whom, you believe, may have been behind the attempt to kill you?” I do not answer, the time for the truth is over. Now I have to save my own skin.
I’m saved from lying and damned at the same time by Blaine.
“Her mother. You know I’m particularly good at perceiving relationships, King Jovan. The Tatum hates her,” he says in his nasal voice.
My teeth and fists clench at Blaine’s words. There goes my shot at convincing them to let me live so they can eventually ransom me back to Osolis.
All eyes are on me, waiting for a denial.
“Amongst others, yes,” I say in an even tone.
“You believe your mother would kill you?” the King finally speaks. He looks at me like a tree has sprouted from my face. Probably wondering what is so wrong with me my own mother would hate me.
“The Tatum’s a fucking bitch,” Sanjay says. I gasp at his language.
“Sanjay,” I admonish, twisting around to look at him.
“You know it is true,” he defends.
“Well...” I bite back a sudden bubble of laughter. “You still should not say so.” He just raises an eyebrow in response.
“How old are you child?” the older man speaks again. I turn back around to the front.
“I’m not a child. I am five revolutions and five rotations old. No, make that six revolutions now.” My birthday had occurred somewhere on the Oscala.
“Eighteen,” Malir translates.
“Yes,” I say. My shoulders hunch forward. It feels like we have been in here for hours. This talk of Kedrick is emotionally exhausting and I want it to be over. I don’t see what my age has to do with deciding if I should live or die.
The King is quiet, surveying the room, uninterested with our current topic. I wonder what he is thinking.
“I would like an explanation from the delegates as to why the Tatuma was taken hostage,” he says. I see Blaine stiffen to my left and I smile an evil smile, knowing better than to feel sorry for him by now.
“I thought the Prince had been t-targeted, my King,” Blaine stutters. I roll my eyes. “I thought it best for Glacium to have some leverage against Osolis in the case of war.”
I could not fault his reasoning. I may have done the same if in the same position.
“Did you not think by taking her, you would assure a reaction from Osolis? Considering you were sent on a peace mission, I would hope this thought had crossed your mind,” the King says in the dangerous soft voice I had heard him use last night. Hope flares within me.
“Yes, my King, it had. But because her mother hates her, I thought it unlikely to eventuate into anything more,” Blaine answers. Ouch.
“Even if the Tatum hates her, I’m sure there are others who would push for her return. Other family perhaps.”
Malir interjects. “Her brother Olandon will. And she is much loved by the people of Osolis.” I twirl to look at him. I am?
“To anger the people is worse than to anger the ruler,” the King says. Again, I hear the threat masked in his musing tone. I can tell Blaine does, too, by how he pales and begins to babble.
“I thought she could be used as ransom.”
The King stands, fists on the table. “Would a mother that hates her be likely to pay for her return?”
“We could torture her for information on their armies and supplies,” Blaine blurts.
There is a roar of outrage from my companions and some of the King’s party also. The King holds up a hand. Everyone quiets as he speaks.
“The purpose of the treaty delegation is to maintain a peace with Osolis and to forge a stronger relationship between our worlds. It is something my brother strongly believed in.” He stands. “During your training for Osolis you were all present and would often hear his passion on this subject, would you not?”
I applaud Blaine’s survival instincts when he does not answer. The King starts a slow stroll around the outside of the table towards him.
“It is why I’m amazed you happened to forget this in the wake of his death,” he says casually as he strolls. “Not only have you jeopardised the tenuous peace between our worlds, you have disrespected my brother’s memories with your rash decision.”
The King has almost completed the circle. He stops behind Blaine who is visibly shaking.
“On top of that, you further appear to have disrespected him by convincing the others to capture someone, who, by all accounts, he seemed to be…fond of. With your gift for noting relationships, as you mentioned earlier, I would think it an unlikely oversight to have missed his growing relationship with the Tatuma.” The King stands directly behind Blaine now. Blaine’s quivering has turned to full shaking.
“You are suddenly quiet,” the King says. Blaine squeaks in reply.
“I didn’t think so.” He picks Blaine up by the neck and throws him towards the closed door. Blaine crashes into the wood, bouncing off onto the ground. I gasp at the King’s strength. He had thrown him as I would throw an apple.
“You will spend a year in the sixth sector. I do not want to hear of you, or see you until the assembly is in the second. Your family will remain here.” The King walks back around the circle and settles into his seat. Blaine scrambles up to his feet and wrenches the door open. His last look is for me and I quake a little at the hatred I see there. Another enemy. The door slams shut.
“As for the rest of the delegates, I’m disgusted you were so easily persuaded. It seems most of you realised your error on the journey, however, and for that I will be merciful. Leave us now,” the King says.
I half rise with them, uncertain if his order included me.
“Sit down,” he says. I narrow my eyes at the order, but do so. Slowly.
He does not speak again until the shame-faced delegates have left.
I fix on the King’s face. His lips are pursed in some small amusement. “You have commandeered most of those men.” The amusement is gone the next moment. He sits forward.
“I don’t want you to think I want you here, when your world was the death of my brother. If I could swap your life for his, I would do it tenfold.”
I nod. I would do the same.
“I also don’t think you have told us the whole truth.” I keep still, thinking about the shaft in my boot.
“As I have just demonstrated with Blaine, I will not disrespect the honour and bravery of my brother’s sacrifice by killing you. If it as you and the others say, Kedrick was fond of you. You can be assured I will not torture or kill you unless it is necessary.” He sits back, sprawling out his left leg. “If I find you have been dishonest in any way or are here for reasons other than what they appear to be, I will kill you myself.” I crack my eyes open in disbelief. He is going to let me go?
He surveys me with his hand splayed over his bottom lip.
“That blasted veil is a pain in the arse,” he says. My heartbeat picks up, but my panic is quenched as he continues talking. “You will stay here as a guest, until I decide what I will do with you. Do you understand?” he asks.
I narrow my eyes at him, he is talking to me as though I’m stupid.
His lips purse in amusement again, as if he knows what I am thinking.
The meeting has worked perfectly. I will stay, giving me time to find Kedrick’s killer. And I will live. I give a short nod.
The same guard escorts me out, minus the poking in the shoulder. The door is nearly closed, but I hear the King’s words clearly.
“Send two messengers to Osolis to convey news of the Tatuma’s safety. Tell the messengers to set the hawks up at the midway cave.”
The hawks! They were only brought out during war negotiations.
I struggle to recall my lessons on them, but can remember nothing except they save time by taking messages to the edge of the smoky barrier on Oscala. Instead of waiting two months to receive a reply to your message, you would get a reply in a month.
Was King Jovan trying to maintain peace? Or declaring war?