It wasn’t just one or two dozen, but hundreds filling the square. I felt the Komizar’s eyes on me from somewhere afar, waiting to corrupt my thoughts. I began with hesitation, trying to find that place of trust he couldn’t control. The words came out awkward and self-conscious, a basic childhood prayer.
I tried again, closing my eyes, reaching, breath slow and deep, waiting and waiting, despair creeping in, and then I heard something. Music. The distant faint pluck of a zitarae. My aunts’ zitaraes. And then my mother’s hum rose above them, with its haunting echo that floated through the citadelle. The music that made even my busy father pause from his duties. I turned my head, listening, letting it strum through me as if it were the first time, and the rote words disappeared.
My remembrances began as utterances, a wordless tune that followed the music of the zitaraes, each note plucking out the beats of creation, swirling in my belly, a song that belonged to no kingdom or man, only myself and the heavens. And then the words came, an acknowledgment of sacrifices and a girl’s long journey, and I kissed two fingers, lifting them to the heavens, one for the lost, and one for those yet to come.
The distant music still seemed to echo off the high stone walls that hemmed me in with the people below. Eventide. A time to be going home, but instead they stayed. A voice called out. “Tell us a story, Princess of Morrighan.”
Tell them a story, Jezelia.
There she was, only an arm’s length from me, an apparition sitting on the wall, but at the same time solid. Unwavering. Her long hair trailed along the stones, all the way back to another millennium. Tell them a story.
And so I did. I told them the story of two sisters.
Gather close, my brothers and sisters,
Listen well,
For there is one true history,
And one true future.
Once upon a time,
Long, long ago,
Seven stars were flung from the sky.
One to shake the mountains,
One to churn the seas,
One to choke the air,
And four to test the hearts of men.
I drew from the words of Morrighan, Gaudrel, and Venda. I drew from Dihara, the wind, and my own heart. I drew from the truth that shivered at my neck.
A thousand knives of light
Grew to an explosive rolling cloud,
Like a hungry monster.
A storm that made the ways of old meaningless.
A sharp knife, a careful aim, an iron will, and a listening heart,
Those were the only things that mattered.
Only a small remnant of the whole earth remained,
But two sisters found grace.…
I told the story of the worlds I had seen, whole cities mowed down, no matter how far and wide they spread, and of soaring cities of immense magic that could not withstand a furious storm. I told them of exalted temples that melted into the earth and valleys that wept with generations of blood. But through all this, two sisters remained side by side, strong and loyal, until a beast rose from the ashes and tore them from each other, because even stars thrown to earth could not destroy every last shadow of darkness.
“Where were the gods in this?” someone called.
The gods. I had no answer except, “The gods wept too.”
“What were the sisters’ names?” another called.
Though I wasn’t sure if he could hear me, I saw the Komizar’s shadow pass in his tower window.
“It grows dark,” I said. “Go home to your suppers. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”
* * *
The room shivered with emptiness. I set about straightening the meager contents, still scattered from the guards’ riotous search for hidden weapons. They gave no thought to where they threw things. I longed for the company of the people in the square again. There was more I had wanted to say, and the solitude of the room allowed my doubts to creep back in.
I refolded the rumpled blankets and propped the practice swords back up against the wall. Impaled heads … the Assassin’s handiwork. Rafe’s remark was intentional, a warning for me. What had Kaden done? I remembered on my first day here that he had an urgent duty regarding soldiers he had to attend to, and his sharp refusal when I asked to go along. Was that where he had gone? To execute boys? The difference between children and adults didn’t seem to exist in Venda. Had he swung a sword with as little remorse as the Komizar showed this afternoon? I simply couldn’t believe it. They might both be Vendan, but they were as different as fire and water. I wondered what the condemned soldiers had done. Stolen food like the butcher? Starving is barbaric, Princess. I sat down on the bed. That was why they had no prisoners in Venda. Prisoners had to be fed.
Yet the Council seemed to lack nothing.
I had risen to pour water in the basin and wash up when I heard footsteps in the hall. A single thump shook the door and then the lock rattled.
It was Ulrix. He cracked the door only a few inches, just wide enough to say, “The Komizar wants you. Wear your purple. I’ll wait out here.”
He shut the door so I could change. It was too early for the evening meal in Sanctum Hall, and Calantha was always sent to get me. Or the Komizar himself banged on the door. Never Ulrix. Wear the purple. Another dress that showed off the kavah, made of scraps of soft buckskin dyed with thannis.
I took the folded dress from the pile on top of the chest and rubbed the soft leather between my fingers. Something isn’t right. But nothing had been right for so long, I wasn’t sure how one more worry mattered.
Ulrix didn’t take me to the Komizar’s private meeting chamber as I expected, and when I asked where we were going, he didn’t answer. He led me to a remote part of the Sanctum, down narrow curving stairs in a wing where I had never been. The stairs emptied into a large, round foyer barely lit with a single torch. There was one small recessed door and hallways on either side that vanished into darkness.
Before we reached the door, it opened, and a handful of quarterlords, chievdars, governors, and Rahtan filed out. This wasn’t the Council. Malich was among them, and while I expected a smug grin on his face, they all wore self-assured expressions as they walked past me. When they had disappeared in different directions down the hallways, Ulrix nudged me toward the room. “Go in.”
Only a hint of light came through the open doorway, a subdued golden flicker. The gods help me. I kissed my shaking fingers, lifted them to the air, and moved forward.
A small candle lit a table in the center, leaving the rest of the room cast in black. I saw the faint outline of the Komizar sitting in a chair, his boots propped on the table, leisurely watching me as I entered.
The door slammed shut behind me.
“You wore the purple,” he said. “Good.”
“How can you tell in the dark?”
I heard the gentle inhale of his breath. “I can tell.”
“You hold secret meetings in dark chambers now?”
“Greater plans call for greater privacy.”
“But not with the whole Council?”
“I’m the Komizar. I meet with whom I choose, where I choose.”
“So I see.”
“Come closer.”
I stepped forward until I was standing near him. He casually reached out and touched one of the loose scraps cascading from my dress.
“I have some good news for you, Princess. Something that will give you many more freedoms here in Venda. Your status is changing. You’re no longer to be a prisoner.” He smiled. The candlelight danced along his cheekbone, and his lashes cast a sharp shadow around his eyes.
My dress suddenly felt far too tight and the room sickly warm. “And how did I come by this good news?” I asked.
“It seems that clan elders would like some proof of your intentions. More of a willingness on your part.”
“That might be hard to come by.”
“Not so hard. And it will serve the fervor.”
And then he explained.
His first words froze me; the next ones left me numb. Word by word. I watched his mouth move, admired the careful precision of each syllable, traveled the line of his lips, his facial hair so neatly trimmed across his jaw, the curl of his dark locks against the white of his shirt, his skin clear and warm. I traced the line of a small vein on his neck, listened to the careful pacing of his voice, magnetic, powerful, watched the flickering light play across his forehead. So much to draw my mind away as he laid out detail after detail, but it wasn’t enough to block it out completely. Word by word. It was the last thing I expected to roll from his tongue. A turn I hadn’t seen coming.
Masterful.
Genius.
Devastating.
You and I will wed.
He looked at me, his eyes hungry, not with lust but with something that ran much colder, gauging my every twitch and breath. I was certain he could see my blood drain to my feet.
“My advisers have seen how the clans have taken to you. You’ve charmed them. Quite a talent, since clans are tight-knit and can be hostile to newcomers. My advisers believe a marriage will come in useful during the harder times ahead. It will prove your commitment in the clans’ eyes.
“And there’s an undeniable sweetness for the rest of us if the enemy should find out their Royal First Daughter has not only run away from them but straight into the arms of their adversary. A marriage of her own making, so to speak.” He shook his head. “We had quite a laugh over the discord that will sow.”
“And you, of course, will make sure they know this.”
“The news is already on its way. That was the detail the chievdars liked best. It’s a victory for all of us. This will also put to rest any notions you may have entertained of ever returning home. If your kin scorned you for treason before, you’ll be the most wanted criminal in their kingdom now.”
“And what of Dalbreck when they find out about this?”
“What of it? The prince has already voiced his opinion of the thwarted marriage. His dealings are with us now. He won’t care if we behead or wed you.”
“And if I don’t go along?”
“That would be regrettable. My Assassin, it seems, has developed an affection for you. For the greater good of Venda, he’d overlook the new arrangement, but unless he perceives it to be your decision, I’m afraid he could become a problem. I would hate to lose him.”
“You’d kill Kaden?”
“A measure of passion at last,” he said, grinning, and then his eyes went dead. “Yes. As he would me if I did something so stupid as to hinder the greater good. It is our way.”
“You mean your way.”
He sighed. “If that’s not enough to convince you, I think I’ve glimpsed some lingering fondness in your eyes for the emissary. I’d hate to break my promise giving him a month for his prince to send a messenger. It would be unfortunate if he began losing fingers prematurely. I’m finding him useful, and I have to admit a certain admiration for his unabashed ambition, but he’d be expendable too, at least pieces of him would be, unless your performance rises to stellar proportions. It’s much more efficient to prevent problems than clean them up.” He stood and his hands slid up my arms. “Convince them. Convince me.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but his finger jumped to my lips to silence me. “Shh.” His eyes grew dusky. He pulled me close, his lips searing fire against mine, though he barely grazed them as he whispered, “Think, Princess. Choose your next words very carefully. You know I’m true to my word. Think about how you want to proceed from this moment on.”
My mind burned with the choice. He had played the winning card on my first day here. “There’s always more to take, isn’t there, sher Komizar?”
“Always, my pet.”
I closed my eyes.
Sometimes we’re all pushed to do things we thought we could never do. It wasn’t just gifts that came with great sacrifice. Sometimes love did too.
Convince him. I relaxed against his touch and didn’t turn away when his mouth met mine.