ELEVEN
Alaia was so exhausted that she didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep on Zorion’s shoulder until his thumb caressed her cheek. “We’re home,” he said quietly, and she blinked, stretching her arms above her head. The rest of the Gala had been mostly boring.
Just as she’d predicted, the nobles already allied with Zorion found their little stunt hilarious, some of the unaffiliated thought it was terribly romantic, and the ones who had always been with Imanol were outraged. The king himself had unfortunately not been present, as he had retired very shortly after her distressing dance with him.
Now, they were home, and the Gala was over. It was like casting off a heavy cloak. Itzal opened the carriage door, but as soon as she saw his expression, she knew something was wrong.
“The house is dark,” Itzal said in a low voice. Zorion sat straight up. “Let’s not rush into anything. I’ve got weapons under the seat.” A moment later, Zorion had a sword in his hands and Itzal was wearing a brace of daggers. “When this is all over, remind me to teach you how to fight,” Itzal said as he handed Alaia a lantern. She felt like telling him she had no desire to fight, but now was hardly the time to argue. Her heart was hammering, and her only thought was were the children safe?
Itzal went first, sinking into a crouch and creeping to the front door, which opened at a touch of his hand. A chill went down her spine. Maude would have never left the door unlatched. The parlor was dark, and the only sound was the creak and groan of the house settling in the wind. It was all Alaia could do not to push past the two men and run up the stairs.
Her muscles were vibrating with tension as they made it to the second floor and rounded the corner. Zorion cried out and ran ahead before Alaia could even see what was going on, but it only took a moment for her to realize. The door to the children’s bedroom was open, and the guards that should’ve been there were gone. She ran into the room to find Zorion crouched on the floor next to a body.
“Markel! What happened?” he shouted as Alaia held up the lantern. The head guard was badly wounded, and his face was drawn with pain. The air was heavy with the scent of blood. A wave of dizziness swept over her.
“I’m sorry. The King’s men… took the little ones,” he groaned out. “We fought as hard as we could.” Panic started crawling up Alaia’s throat; she barely heard Zorion’s next words.
“What about Lorea and the others?”
“She and the nursemaids… convinced the men to take them too, to keep the babies happy and fed. They… didn’t recognize her…” Markel replied, his voice growing more and more faint. Alaia’s knees felt weak, and she grabbed onto the wall for support.
“He’s gone,” Zorion said, getting to his feet. His face was ablaze with anger and he strode purposefully to the door, only to be stopped in his tracks by Itzal, who placed his hand on the prince’s chest and shoved him firmly backwards.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his tone deceptively cool.
“To get my children back, obviously,” Zorion growled. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Don’t be an idiot. If the King’s lackeys brought a bunch of nursemaids with them, they’re obviously planning on keeping the children alive. They are a bargaining chip, and as far as Imanol is concerned, you are expendable now that he has three new potential heirs who are at a much more malleable stage of life.”
“Are you saying we should just let him have them?” Zorion asked, with a note of desperation in his voice. A little cry of despair escaped Alaia’s mouth.
“Of course not. But we’re not going to let him goad us into rash action. I will use my contacts in the palace to check on the triplets and find out where they’re being kept. Tomorrow we’ll make a plan to get them back. Tonight, you’re going to stay here and comfort your wife.” Zorion looked to her suddenly, shaking his head like he was coming out of a daze.
“Alaia,” he said, enfolding her in his arms. “I’m sorry. The thought that he would dare… They’re only children, innocent in all of this.” She clung to his chest, and the sob she’d been holding in exploded from her mouth.
“I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that… If I’d only thought to trick him instead of making him angry,” she choked out past her tears. Surely, she could have pretended to like him long enough for Zorion or Itzal to take care of him once and for all. Now her babies were gone, taken by that monster.
“No, no, this isn’t your fault,” he said, gathering her up in his arms. “He had to have planned this from the start. That’s probably why we were invited. We’ll get them back, I swear.” His tears were falling on her face, mingling with her own, and she couldn’t even think past her sorrow.
Maude burst in through the door. “Oh, I’m so glad you two are all right at least,” she said, tears running down her face. “When the King’s men came, I feared the worst.” She embraced them both like long-lost children, and Alaia could do nothing but weep. Maude wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Alaia, come on and I’ll help you get out of these clothes and make you some tea. Let Zorion and Alain take care of the dead.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” he said, setting her on her feet with a kiss on her cheek, and Maude led her shaking up to the third floor.
**********************************
Zorion watched Maude lead Alaia upstairs, fists clenched. The anger he had felt when the king had danced with Alaia was nothing compared to the rage boiling within him now. He could barely think straight, and he knew this was a side effect of awakening the dragon blood. Osane had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t known what she meant. He kicked the nearest object out of frustration, which turned out to be the bedpost. “Damn it all!” He wasn’t sure if he was cursing the king, the bed, or himself.
A hand landed heavily on his shoulder. Alain was standing next to him, fierce and weary. “Come on, my prince. Let’s take these men into the crypts for now. At least they can rest there without being disturbed, and we can make this room fit for when the children return.”
Of course, he couldn’t lose his temper now. He had a job to do. It was ugly, tiring work, and the beautiful clothes the seamstress had made for him were completely ruined, but all Zorion could think about was the waste of it all.
These were good men who died doing their best to protect his children. He couldn’t let their sacrifice be in vain. The past few months he’d been trying to make things perfect, to depose Imanol as bloodlessly as possible. Now he felt he’d waited too long.
When all the men were laid on the cold ground of crypt, their arms crossed over their chests, Zorion closed each of their eyes, haltingly murmuring what prayers he could remember. He threw his bloody clothes into the fire, and scrubbed himself with cold water from the basin, declining Alain’s offer of a real bath. It was late, and more than anything, he wanted to be back with Alaia.
The room was dark when he entered, save for a bright circle of moonlight on the floor from glass dome above. He slipped under the covers as quietly as he could, but she wasn’t asleep. She turned to him, and he put his arms around her, pulling her close. She buried her face in his chest, and it was wet with tears. “All I can think about is how frightened they must be. What if he hurts them?”
He was at a loss. Somehow, he felt telling her that they might not even realize anything was wrong would not be helpful. After the coup, it had taken Lorea days to realize that their new life was not a fun vacation, that their father was gone forever.
Children were resilient. “They have Lorea, Galena, and Maite to protect them. We’re going to get them back,” he said, kissing her forehead. There was nothing else to be said. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep. He was still angry, and his mind was swirling with a thousand different scenarios for rescuing the children, but it had been a long night. He was too exhausted to even dream.
***********************************
Alaia woke with a start, heart pounding, immediately aware of one fact: her children were missing. Someone was knocking on the door. Zorion sat up next to her. “What is it?”
“The others are here,” Itzal’s voice called. “It’s time to make our plan.” They dressed in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but when Zorion was ready, he came to stand behind her as she braided her hair before the mirror, his arms snaking around her waist.
“We could leave,” he murmured against her shoulder. Her fingers stilled. She couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. “Itzal and I could get the children back, and then we could all run somewhere far away. Somewhere we’d be safe.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Is that what you want, Zorion? To be a farmer somewhere with a little cottage while Imanol lives in your parents’ castle and runs the city into the ground?”
“No,” he said sharply. “But I would, because you and the children are more important to me than anything. Even if I’m the king, if I don’t have you… my life would be meaningless to me.”
“I don’t like this, all the intrigue and fighting,” she said. “But we can’t let Imanol win. At least our children are alive. How many more will die before the city rises up against him or collapses? You have a power possessed by no one else. If we don’t do something, we’re complicit in everyone else’s suffering.
“My brother died in the war that Imanol started five years ago, and my parents have never quit fighting. I’m certainly not going to be less than they are.” They had never really talked about her brother before, though Zorion knew about Danel. She thought she’d let go of her grief long ago, but now the wound felt fresh, and more personal. Zorion let out a long breath against her neck.
“As long as you’re sure, I won’t give up,” he said, and she squeezed his hands. She finished braiding her hair, and they went downstairs. Itzal was waiting for them in the great hall, sitting at a long table with several other nobles and Osane too. The old priestess hobbled over and hugged Zorion and her both.
“I know you both must be beside yourselves with worry, but the children are safe for the moment. I’m sorry it had to come to this, but now is the time for us all to act,” she said before taking her seat. Itzal looked dead on his feet, and Alaia could smell coffee coming from the mug in his hand. Her silent wish for her own mug was granted almost immediately as Maude came by with a cart of pastries and fruit and drinks for everyone.
“All right. Let’s get this started. I went to the palace last night. As expected, the children are being cared for, in the same nursery that the late King and Queen used for their children. None of the secret passages are, as far as I can tell, watched or barricaded. I have to assume that Imanol either doesn’t know about them or doesn’t care.
“The children’s room is guarded of course, but only on the outside. For the most part, Lorea and the other two nursemaids are left alone to care for them, with a guarded chambermaid bringing them supplies every hour or so. My plan is for Alaia and I to enter the palace by means of the secret passages, subdue the chambermaid and her guard, and pose as them to get into the room.
“Then Alaia, Lorea, and one of the others will take the children through the secret passages out of the castle, leaving me and whoever is left to leave as normal. With any luck, no one will realize the children are gone for an hour or so. But to make sure, Zorion should lead the rest of you in a distraction.”
“I have some ideas about this,” Zorion said. “Now that he has the children, Imanol has little reason to keep me alive, except that I have one thing he doesn’t have, that he’s always been obsessed with: the blood of dragons. I plan to show up at the palace as a dragon, maybe with some troops to look like a real show of force. I’ll threaten to burn the castle to the ground unless he faces me in single combat.”
“You plan to let him believe that if he defeats you, the power will pass to him,” Osane surmised, and Zorion nodded. “He will be ruthless in getting what he wants. You cannot let your guard down because he’s a fat old man.”
“I’ll be careful,” he said. “Does anyone have anything to add? Alaia?” He met her eyes, and she was grateful he hadn’t tried to argue against her going. To save their children, she wouldn’t be left behind.
“I’m ready,” she said, clenching her fists. He nodded. The conversation turned to the troops that would accompany him, which meant little to her. The meeting ended a few minutes later, and Itzal came to her chair.
“We have to go first, as soon as possible, but first you’ll need to change clothes,” he said. “I think I have some things that will fit you.” He gave her tight-fitting breeches and a shirt with a hood, all black, and soft boots to match. It was strange not to feel skirts swirling around her legs when she walked, and even stranger when he gave her a dagger to wear.
“I know you aren’t trained, but in the worst-case scenario… I think you can figure out which end goes in the bad guy.” Just a few hours ago, she had been horrified by the idea of fighting herself, now she accepted the blade with grim finality.
Zorion met them at the entrance to the crypts in his office, nearly crushing Alaia against his chest in a fierce embrace. “Please be careful. I wish I could go with you.”
“We all have to do our part if this is going to work,” she said, but she held him close, taking in every bit of him she could sense, the clean scent of his skin, the beat of his heart, the honey-gold of his eyes. “You’d better be careful too.”
“I will. We’ll be together again soon,” he promised, and he kissed her hard. Itzal clucked his tongue behind them. It was time to go. She followed the spymaster down the stairs, and darkness enveloped them as the passageway closed above. They went swiftly, Itzal guiding the way in silence, but finally there was a question Alaia felt she had to ask.
“These passages go all the way from our house into the palace?” It seemed like a huge risk, but also like an opportunity that could have been taken long ago.
“Not originally. They went far out into the city, but we expanded them. There’s one tunnel that goes into the root cellar of the palace. From there, the castle has a network of secret passageways. We could get right into the King’s bedroom if we wanted to.”
Her eyebrows flicked upward. “Why haven’t you? Assassinating Imanol seems much easier than this.”
“Exactly what I said,” Itzal exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “But Zorion didn’t want to take the throne that way. He wants a fair fight.” They let out identical sighs of exasperation.
“Well, it’s not a fair fight anymore. If I ran into Imanol now, I’d kill him with my bare hands,” Alaia said, with the fierceness that only a mother defending her children can know.
Itzal laughed. “You know, I wanted to hate you, at first.” She turned to him in the guttering torchlight, and his expression was strange. For a moment she felt a flicker of unease. “I always knew he would marry… but I hoped. Well, as you know, he’s an easy man to love. He never showed more than a cursory interest in women until he met you.”
“Oh god,” she said as she realized what he meant. “I’m so sorry, Itzal. I never realized,” she said, patting him on the shoulder and then embracing him when he didn’t pull away. He shuddered.
“I don’t think he does either, thank every god,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “That would make everything awkward. I just felt… I had to tell someone. If he dies now, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“He won’t die,” she said, gulping back her own fears. “But I suppose that means Lorea is barking up the wrong tree,” she added with a huff of laughter. “This family is a magnet for heartbreak.”
He laughed weakly “I’m flexible. I mean, I’m not opposed to women, but I could never… with Lorea.” He shivered. “She’s like my younger sister. It’s not her fault she hasn’t been around anyone her age since she was a little girl. It’s mostly been the three of us since the coup.” He sighed. “I’m hoping when all this is over, Zorion will set her up with some nice young lord, and she’ll forget all about me.”
“Maybe he’ll let her attend Heartfire with the village girls. She’ll get a kick out of that.” Itzal let out long breath, but when he spoke again, his voice was lighter. Alaia thought he must’ve been carrying that burden a long time, and her heart contracted in sympathy.
“We’re nearly to the palace,” he said. “We should be quiet. The kitchen staff is in on the plan, but we should avoid being seen by anyone else until we find the chambermaid and her guard. Follow my lead.” The next passage they turned into was dark, with rough earthen walls, and ended in a wooden ladder she could hardly see.
Itzal went first, slowly lifting a door in the ceiling and peering around. He scrambled through it after a moment and beckoned her, pulling her up through the hole as she was a bit too short to do it herself. They were in a cellar, just as he’d said. The air was rank with the smell of old potatoes and dirt, and she held her breath to stifle a cough that threatened.
They passed into the kitchen amidst a clamor of clanging pots and pans and billowing steam. The servants were cleaning up from breakfast and getting ready for lunch; they hardly paid any mind to the interlopers, but the head cook saw them at once.
He jerked his head to the far corner of the room, and they made themselves as small and out of the way as they could. The wait seemed interminable. But then the cook came over, holding a young woman, a girl really, by the shoulder. “Tara is the maid for the nursery,” the cook said. “She’ll help you.”
“Are you… the children’s mother? The princess… I mean?” she asked, shaking. Itzal frowned, but Alaia nodded. She was sure that this poor maid was terrified but also just as sure that she was a good person.
“I’ve come to take my children back,” she said, as fierce as she had ever been. Tara gulped and nodded.
“I’m s-sorry. I’m j-just so fright-t-ened of the King. B-but they’re j-just babies. I heard them crying for their mother, and I want to help. You c-can have my clothes. The g-guard, B-Brom isn’t too b-bright, but he’s one of the k-king’s favorites. You’ll have to knock him out. We m-meet just outside the k-kitchen in a few m-minutes.”
Itzal patted her shoulder. “If everything goes well, you won’t have to worry about the king anymore. You can hide in the cellar until this all blows over.” She nodded, and pulled off her overdress and smock, trading it for Alaia’s shirt and hood.
“Thank you,” Alaia said, and that was all they had time for. The cook pointed her to the maid’s cart and she pushed it out into the corridor.
“Where you been? I was waiting…” Brom said in a slow voice. Alaia made herself small and trembling.
“The cook was just asking me a question about the children,” she said in a quiet voice. He had to lean closer to hear her.
“He better learn to mind his own business,” said Brom, and a dark shape leaped from the darkness, grabbing him from behind and snapping his neck before he could speak his surprise at the situation. Alaia jumped back with a gasp as the body slumped to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Itzal said. “I know we didn’t plan on killing anyone, but he was just too big to knock out without causing a ruckus. It was unavoidable.” Alaia could only shake her head, her heart racing. As worried as she was about her children, she wasn’t quite as ready to see death as she thought she was.
“I’ll be back in a second,” he said, dragging the dead man back into the kitchen. He reappeared a moment later wearing the dead man’s helmet and tabard. They were obviously much too big for Itzal’s lithe frame.
“Don’t you think they’re going to notice the size difference?” she hissed as they walked down the hall.
“I’ll think of something,” he muttered. They traveled down the corridor, up a slanting hallway, and then up another. There were tapestries on these walls and portraits of rulers from ages past. The thick carpets made the cart harder to push. In the distance, she could see two guards standing at attention beside a door. They’d already passed a few guard outposts who barely paid them a second glance, but these men were different, more alert.
“That’s it,” Itzal said. “Let me do the talking.”
Alaia took a deep breath and bowed her head as they moved forward “You ain’t Brom,” said one of the men at the door. Apparently, Imanol’s guards were all related.
“No, I’m not. Very clever of you,” Itzal said with a winning smile. “The king called Brom to assist in some important business. Something strange is going on outside, and the king needed someone he could trust to look into it. I’m no one important, as you can see, but there’s hardly a reason to send a skilled guard like Brom to guard against babies, am I right?”
“The King said we were to let nobody but Brom into the room,” the guard said stubbornly, though she could see he was already a bit confused. A lot had been happening the past few days, and his orders must have changed so often that he hardly knew the right thing to do at any given moment.
“Well, if you want to go ask him, that's your affair,” Itzal said. “The king doesn't seem like he wants to be bothered by such a trivial matter. I hardly know what would happen to someone who questioned his orders, and he won't be happy if the children start crying because they don't have clean nappies. But it's your decision.”
The two guards glanced at each other. Alaia would have laughed, except her heart was in her throat. “Go on in then. But no funny business.”
“We wouldn't dream of it,” Itzal said. The door was opened, and Alaia couldn't stop trembling. Her children were inside. She kept her head down and pushed the cart through, and the door shut behind them.