Allegiance (20 page)

“No!” I shouted, jumping to my feet and rounding on my bodyguard. “You swore fealty to me! You promised not to tell Cannan or anyone else, you were under orders from me to—”

“I never swore to anything. And your orders? You weren't thinking straight, Alera—”

“Do not address me informally! I am your Queen, and you are my betrayer.”

Destari's only response was to come to his feet, and though I felt justified in my anger, I could not meet the burning indignation in his eyes.

“It would be best for your men if you let me go peacefully.”

This time Destari glowered at Narian rather than at me, unamused by his assertion.

“You're outnumbered, Narian. You'll never make it out of here alive if you attempt anything rash.”

“The blood of Hytanicans will be shed,” Narian warned. “If not now, then in the future. It is your choice whether it flow at my hands or the Overlord's. He will enjoy it, prolong it, kill as many as he can. And not only soldiers, but anyone in his path. If I'm in command of the troops, I'll do everything in my power to keep the deaths to a minimum.”

“Surrender your weapons to me and I'll take you outside,” Destari said, ignoring the younger man's words.

After a moment, Narian shrugged and came to his feet, raising his hands.

“Disarm me then.”

“Lay your weapons down,” Destari instructed, drawing his sword and pointing it, sharp and glistening in the lantern light, at his enemy.

Narian did as he was told, removing both sword and dagger from their sheaths and laying them on the table.

“Now your belt.”

Again, Narian obeyed, unfastening his belt and likewise placing it on the wooden surface, thereby surrendering the poisoned darts disguised as stitching and the pouch full of explosive powder. He watched Destari, who had not lowered his weapon.

“And your boots,” the deputy captain grumbled impatiently.

“With respect, I won't walk back to Hytanica without my boots, sir.”

“The boots or the blades,” Destari shot back.

With a sigh that could very well have been accompanied by a roll of his eyes, Narian pulled two thin, jagged-edged
daggers from the hidden sheaths in the heels and soles of his boots and dropped them among those already on the table. At a flick of Destari's sword, he followed with a dagger that had been secured within one of his boot shafts.

“Now push up your shirtsleeves.”

Again Narian complied, revealing a sheathed dagger strapped to his right forearm. Destari seemed satisfied after the young man had removed it, for he held his sword down, motioning his captive toward the doorway with his left hand.

“I'll warn you again,” Narian stated as he came around the table. “Your men are in danger if you try to detain me.”

“Don't talk,” Destari snapped. “Alera—
Your Highness
—go before us and open the front door slowly, then stand back and keep out of the line of fire.”

I nodded, but my brain was working fast. I couldn't let my stupidity be the cause of Narian's death—and he would be killed, of that I was certain. And allowing Narian to leave was the only way to ensure Miranna's well-being. Had Destari forgotten that?

I pulled open the door but deliberately stepped out first into the garish light of a half-dozen torches. As my eyes took in the scene, I saw thirty or forty men on horseback with bows and arrows aimed at me. I was not their intended target, but nonetheless the sight gave me chills, knowing that those sharpened points were meant to pierce Narian's flesh if he so much as twitched.

“Please,” I choked out, focusing on Cannan at the forefront. The captain had no bow in his hands but was, regardless, an imposing figure upon his large and mighty steed, his face stern, one hand raised to keep his men from shooting.

“Stand down,” he shouted when he saw me, for I had
placed myself in a very dangerous position, and his men complied.

“Please,” I repeated. “Let him go.”

“Your Majesty, over here,” Cannan directed, as Destari and Narian appeared, my bodyguard standing on my right, his hand firmly gripping Narian's left arm, but I stubbornly shook my head. While I did not know what my action would accomplish, I had a feeble hope that Cannan would hesitate to override the Queen, or that the consternation I was causing would provide Narian with an opportunity to escape.

“He's unarmed,” Destari called.

Cannan nodded once. “Alera, you need to walk to me.”

When I did not move, he motioned to Halias, who sat upon his horse across from where I stood. Halias dismounted, intent on collecting me, but I ducked behind Destari, moving to stand next to Narian and taking a firm grip on his right arm.

“There are things you don't know,” I called to Cannan, the pitch of my voice rising along with my distress. I looked at Destari for assistance, but he emphatically shook his head.

“Alera, stop.”

It was Narian's steady voice that finally penetrated my obstinacy, and I stilled, wanting to hear him. He gazed calmly at me, disentangling my arm from his. As he pulled back, I felt him slide the dagger strapped to my left forearm from its sheath and, in one fluid motion, tuck it into the waistband of his breeches.

“Cannan's right,” he continued matter-of-factly, his voice low, for he intended his words only for my ears. “You must go with Halias.”

I stared at him and saw Destari, the only other person close enough to hear, cast him a grateful glance.

“I won't forget anything that's happened between us, Alera, but you need to forget it. Don't defend me, don't try to help me. I'm not who I used to be. I'm your enemy now.”

Horror no doubt registered on my face, then blackness closed in on me. My eyes saw nothing, my ears heard nothing. I could not catch my breath, finding no air for my lungs. I felt utterly alone and stranded. When Halias reached me and put an arm around my waist, I did not resist him. He led me back toward Cannan, who swam before my eyes as he raised his arm, the signal for his men to once more raise their bows. As my dizzy spell passed, the house came back into focus, and I saw Destari shove Narian on the shoulder to urge him forward, but he did not budge. I could feel the men on either side of me tense, itching to loose their arrows.

The captain, however, did not give them leave to shoot, instead posing a basic question to the seventeen-year-old who stood defiantly before him.

“Will you surrender willingly into my custody, boy?”

“Will you release me, Captain, for the sake of your troops?”

Cannan examined Narian, then gave the answer everyone knew would be forthcoming.

“You will not be released.”

“I'm sorry for that.”

“Come forward of your own accord—”

“And I'm sorry for this.”

Flames exploded out of nowhere, roaring ten feet high as they rapidly formed a wide barricade, blocking the house from view and separating us from Destari and Narian. Horses shrieked and bolted, taking their riders with them and, in some cases, leaving them behind. Halias pulled me back to avoid the fire as Cannan's mount reared in alarm, ultimately obeying its master, circling but staying on the
premises. Men were yelling, removing their cloaks to beat at the flames, and I buried my head against Halias's chest to block out the din.

“Where is he?” Cannan, fierce and terrifying, demanded of the milling soldiers. “Find him! Search the woods, he can't have gotten far.”

The men hurried to comply, and I lifted my head to see that the wall of fire was gone, replaced by grayed darkness and the smell of smoke. But as Cannan scanned the front of the house, I saw a different emotion play upon his face—concern. Where was Destari?

Cannan dismounted and grabbed a torch from one of his men, then strode toward the front door of Koranis's home in search of his deputy captain. I broke away from Halias to pursue him, likewise worried, my exasperated escort having no choice but to follow.

It did not take the captain long to spot Destari where he lay crumpled on the ground a few feet away, his back against the wall of the house. From a distance, he looked like a puppet propped into a sitting position, but I shook the notion from my head and went to my bodyguard's side.

Cannan was already kneeling next to him, and Destari had peeled his blood-covered hand away from his stomach. Even in the dim light I could see the dark stain that was spreading across his jerkin.

“How badly are you injured?” the captain asked.

“Could be worse,” Destari replied, wincing. He tipped his head back against the wall, his face pale and coated with sweat, and again applied pressure to his wound with his hand. “I tried to keep him from getting away. I thought he was…but he always has a weapon.”

My heart thudded because I knew whose weapon Narian had used, and I struggled to suppress the guilt that urged me
to speak, for despite Destari's injury, I was glad Narian had escaped.

“I'll have one of the men tend to you.”

“Sir—how did he do it? Did you see?”

Grimly Cannan shook his head. “We searched the perimeter before we approached. There was nothing. No reason for a fire to ignite.”

Cannan stood and motioned to a nearby soldier. When the man approached, the captain sent him to bring the medical supplies before again focusing on Destari.

“Can you ride?”

“I can make it to the city.”

“Good.”

“To give Narian credit, sir, he could have killed me.”

Cannan contemplated his Elite Guard for a moment but gave no response. Instead, he went to his horse to remount. He called out orders to a few soldiers, directing them to ride to the bridge and alert the border patrols to keep their eyes open for Narian, though there was not much optimism behind his commands.

Halias and I stayed with Destari until someone brought the medical supplies, then we followed after Cannan, and I was close enough to hear the words of the soldier who approached to report.

“Sir, there isn't a trace of him. We searched the woods to the best of our ability, but we can't pick up a trail in the darkness. We might be able to track him if we return in the morning—”

“Morning will be too late,” the captain said shortly. “Round up the others. Tell them we're returning to the city.”

As soon as Destari was bandaged for the journey and had been helped into his saddle, we set off. I rode in front of
Halias on his horse without raising an argument. I was exhausted, and my head ached from trying to process all that had happened. But the ache in my heart from the wound Narian had inflicted with his final words to me was much worse.

THE CITY WAS PEACEFUL AS WE PASSED UNDER the spiked iron gates that secured its entrance, and the thoroughfare was deserted. Just before we reached the palace, Cannan dismissed his troops so they could return to the military base, issuing an order to one of the men to take Destari to the infirmary. Two other Elite Guards continued on with us, and it seemed to me that the captain wanted to avoid drawing attention. For the first time since leaving the palace that evening, I thought of Steldor and realized that he likely knew nothing of this military action. Destari certainly would not have told him, knowing the position in which he would have been placing me, and I assumed the same was true of Cannan. Trouble would certainly brew if Steldor found out.

Unfortunately, trouble was well under way, for Steldor, Galen, Casimir and two Palace Guards were in the entrance hall at the time of our return. Steldor's eyes fixed on me the moment the doors opened, within them a combination of annoyance and worry. I recognized the guards as among those who frequently stood sentry at the palace entrances
and deduced that Cannan must have called them from their posts so Destari could take me out undetected. With the five men together, it was easy to guess what they had been discussing and potentially unraveling.

Steldor, trailed by Galen, advanced on his father, his worry now banished.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

The Elite Guards who had started toward their quarters in the East Wing slowed their steps.

“This isn't the place,” Cannan replied curtly. “In my office.”

Steldor glowered, showing no willingness to comply, but Galen clapped a hand on his upper arm to give him a subtle shove in the right direction. Before Cannan followed, he issued an order to Halias.

“Take Alera to her quarters.”

Steldor stopped in his tracks and turned on his father. “No, take her to the office.”

Cannan met his son's seething eyes with a solid, stern expression, but Steldor was adamant.

“She's obviously involved in whatever this is, so if we're going to talk,
everyone
is coming.”

After a tense moment, Cannan nodded to Halias and motioned Steldor and Galen forward, though I noted with some trepidation that he indicated to Casimir and the departing pair of Elite Guards to come, as well.

Once we all were in the office, the captain moved behind his desk but remained on his feet. Steldor stood across from him, and the rest of us drew back against the perimeter of the room, yielding a radius to father and son.

“Well?” Steldor inquired.

“We had an opportunity to ambush Narian. Obviously, it did not go as planned.”

“Because Narian wasn't caught? Or because I found out about it?”

The captain let out his breath in what seemed like resignation. “You won't understand or accept this, but it was important that you—”

“Oh, I understand it well enough. It would be essential to keep from the King that you're going to use the Queen as bait. That was her role in this, wasn't it?”

For the first time since I'd known him, Cannan vacillated over an answer, caught between lying outright to his son or telling the truth and condemning me. His split second of indecision was enough to alert Steldor. He stared at his father, and I prayed that he would not put the pieces together.

Steldor remained fixated on Cannan as the seconds passed.

“She was going to meet him,” he finally declared, voice flat. “She was going to meet him of her own accord, and you took advantage of her idiocy.”

I could only hope that Steldor's attention would stay focused on Cannan, on the fact that his father had kept things from him. My mouth was dry, and I tried not to breathe, wanting to fade into the wall. My only security was that Halias was at my side, sturdy and reassuring, able to shield me from harm if my husband lost control.

Steldor closed his eyes in an actual attempt to keep his temper in check. He put his hands palms down on the captain's desk and bowed his head, although his body was rigid. The silence was dense, but breakable, fragile, terrifying.

“How?” he asked at length. “How was the meeting arranged? When did you talk to him—at the negotiation?”

Only at the word “you” did I realize he was speaking to me. I was too frightened to answer, lest I fracture his resolve; still, with every second that passed, his anger grew.

“N-Narian…” I took a deep breath, wanting to eliminate
the shake in my voice, and in my hesitation, Cannan spoke in my place.

“Narian somehow gained entry to the palace in the aftermath of the negotiation while the rest of us were arguing in the Grand Entry. He and Alera spoke in your quarters.”

Cannan's answer startled me, for I would not have expected him to be so frank in light of his son's state of mind.

Steldor did not look up or change his posture, but his body was practically shaking. He was dangerously close to the breaking point, and I feared what would lie beyond.

“In
my
quarters. He was in my quarters, and she didn't raise the alarm. He was here,
in the palace,
and she didn't call for a guard, didn't so much as make a sound.”

Steldor seemed to be addressing no one in particular, simply trying to come to grips with what he had learned. He let out a snarl of laughter that contained no mirth, then at last turned to me. I inched closer to Halias, finding the malevolence in his dark eyes more than a little unsettling.

“Did you kiss him?” he demanded, any trace of laughter gone.

I stuttered out a few sounds, not knowing what conclusions he would draw if I left this query open.

“Did you kiss him?”
he thundered, and I cringed.

There was something missing from his gaze, the something that told me deep down he remembered that he cared for me, and I abruptly understood why Cannan had brought so many guards with him. I knew that I was endangering myself further by not speaking, but also that Steldor would be able to detect a lie. I prayed that Halias and the others would be able to restrain him if it came to that.

“No…and yes. That is, he kissed me,” I said, no longer able to suppress the quaver in my voice.

“And you fought him off, did you?”

“Well, no, I mean…I—I…” My voice trailed off as my cheeks turned scarlet. “Steldor, it doesn't matter anymore—”

“It'll matter every day until you go to hell for being an adulteress, you—”

“Steldor!” Cannan barked, catching his son before his mouth got away from him completely.

But Steldor wasn't listening. With a sweep of his arm, he knocked the few things atop the captain's desk to the floor, then grabbed the nearest of the wooden chairs and smashed it against the stone beneath our feet with such strength that the wood splintered and flew apart. Picking up part of a broken leg, he hurled it at one of the cases protecting his father's weapons, shattering the glass. I gasped and cowered against the wall, Halias shielding me with his body, Casimir and the other Elite Guards on full alert. Cannan, however, merely crossed his arms and took a step back, stoically watching his son demolish his office. I doubted Steldor was even aware of what he was doing as he crashed the bookshelves to the floor, sending a few books flying to again strike glass, finally kicking what remained of the weapons cases to shards.

The tumult ended, and the room throbbed with silence. I peered out from my hiding place to see Steldor standing before Cannan's desk. He was breathing heavily, wildness still evident in his posture, as though the only reason he had stopped was that he had run out of things to destroy. The captain scrutinized him, hardly ruffled and definitely not afraid.

“Are you finished?” he asked, still in charge of the situation despite the havoc that had just ensued. “If not,
your
study awaits.”

Father and son locked eyes, and though Steldor was still tense, physical and emotional exhaustion was setting in. To my great relief, the exertion seemed to have taken some of
the fight out of him, although I wasn't confident it was safe for me to be around him.

Very subtly, Cannan motioned with his head for Halias to take me out of the office. Without a word, the Elite Guard grabbed my upper arm and tugged me through the door, and I let him guide me up the stairs and to my quarters. As soon as he left me, I hurried into my room to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

I was petrified by the side of my husband I had just seen. What was to prevent a similar explosion the next time I saw him? He had not hurt me in Cannan's office, but if we were alone? What then might he do? Despite my weariness, I could not lie down, too agitated and afraid to attempt to sleep.

And what of Narian? How had the fire at Koranis's estate erupted? Had Narian
conjured
it? As ludicrous as the idea seemed, it was the only explanation I could fathom. Pushing my sluggish brain to work harder, I began to weave together an alternative. Perhaps he had used the explosive powder, marked a line of it on the ground before we'd arrived, in anticipation of a need to make an escape. But this was almost more implausible. Who anticipated needing to make a wall of flame? If anyone, it would be Narian, but that didn't solve the question of how he had caused it to light at the correct moment, and so my theory floundered. Then I recalled my first conversation with London concerning Cokyri, in which he had said our soldiers believed the Overlord could kill people with a wave of his hand. Was it possible that Narian had similar powers? If so, why hadn't he ever told me?

My head swam with all the information I was trying to process. Narian was saving my sister's life with every order he obeyed; his failure to follow his master's commands
would result in her death, but not prevent an assault on Hytanica. He had implied that the Overlord would attack with or without his aid, and that the fighting would be brutal. He had appeared to believe that it would be best for us if he led the offensive against our kingdom; that he could best protect the Hytanican people by becoming our conqueror. In some twisted way, it made sense—that is, if we were willing to concede defeat before the war had even begun.

Nothing had gone right this evening. Destari had betrayed me; Narian had told me to forget all that had happened between us and to live as though we'd never met; and the man to whom I was married was ready to throttle me.

I heard the parlor door open, and the subsequent slam left no question that it was Steldor who had entered. I hardly dared breathe, afraid he might come after me or call for me, but he did neither. Instead, the next sound I heard was the aggressive closing of his bedroom door. I exhaled, finally allowing myself to sink into my pillows.

 

The weather the next day was bent on contradicting my mood. Bright sunlight filtered through my bedroom window, and I could hear birds chirping in the most idyllic manner from just beyond the pane. Following on the heels of the night's events, such cheeriness was grating. I was still tired as I dragged myself from bed to dress with Sadhienne's assistance, and my mind was sluggish, not yet having digested everything.

What I wanted most was for all of this to be
over.
I wanted Miranna and London back, along with the peace that had existed but two scarce years ago. I wanted to be unmarried and thereby rid of Steldor's jealousy and anger, and I wanted Narian to… There the thought halted, for I knew not how to finish it. To make things simple, I could wish that I
had never met him, as seemed to be his desire. But when I thought of him, I could not wish that, could not wish anything but that we could be together in the absence of all the troubles that had descended on us like a plague. I wanted to run from this devastating life, but I had no choice but to endure, with the meager hope that somehow all would turn out well.

I went into the parlor and sat on the sofa, waving Sahdienne on her way. The absolute quiet from behind Steldor's closed bedroom door meant that he had already departed, a situation with which I was pleased. I sank onto the sofa, not wanting to leave and worried about what this day might bring, only to be disturbed by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called, thinking Sahdienne had forgotten something. I rose stiffly, for my muscles ached from yesterday's activity, and sleep had provided no real respite.

I was taken aback when Cannan crossed the threshold. He gave me a scant bow, then his eyes flicked around the parlor.

“Is Steldor in his room?” he inquired.

“I thought he'd left, although I suppose he could be. If he's here, he hasn't made a sound.”

I could not meet Cannan's eyes, certain that I would find condemnation there. A few months ago, when he had first learned of my relationship with Narian, I had been besieged by worry as to what his opinion of me might be; now I didn't think I could bear it.

Cannan went to his son's door and loudly rapped his knuckles against it three times.

“Steldor!” he called, to no reply.

“I assumed he'd be in the Throne Room, or with you.”

The captain glanced at me, then opened the door and stepped inside to stop dead in his tracks.

“What's wrong?” I asked, suddenly frightened.

Without acknowledging me, Cannan turned on his heel and marched back across the parlor.

“Halias, Casimir!” he shouted, summoning the two guards who were posted in the corridor.

The door swung open, and I read alarm on the faces of both men.

“The window is open,” Cannan said, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for an instant. “He's gone.”

“Signs of a struggle, Captain?” Casimir inquired. “Surely the Queen or the Palace Guards on patrol would have heard—”

“There was no struggle,” Cannan replied wearily. “The room is in order except that some of his weapons are gone. He left of his own accord. What did he do after we talked in my office last night?”