2. TWO
TWO
Mina
Islide the lock into place and listen for any footsteps, but the hallway outside is blessedly silent. My relief is short-lived as I turn around and take in my room for the next few days.
A small bed is tucked against the narrow wall with a thin gray blanket that’s as tattered as my nerves. The nightstand next to it holds a small basin of water, a sliver of soap, and a gray towel I suspect used to be white.
No mirror, no windows, no light other than a single candelabra on the wall, and the privy is a communal room down the hall that reeks like a dead boar was left to rot.
No one will look for a princess in a place like this.
The rickety inn doubles as a tavern, tucked into the narrow space between two larger stone buildings near the outskirts of the city. Thankfully the crude, stout woman who runs the place asked few questions and cared only for the extra coins I provided for her discretion and a lukewarm meal.
I breathe through my mouth, avoiding the stench bleeding in from the hallway as I strip off my dirt-caked trousers and blouse, leaving them in a pile on the floor.
I wince at a fresh bruise on my hip. At least my arms and legs are mostly healed, my tawny-brown complexion no longer dotted with dark blues and reds.
I doubt the soap will last for an entire wash if I use it on my bare skin, so I dunk the towel in water, soaking it completely before I work the soap shard into suds on the fabric. The sad rag almost makes me long for the forest streams I bathed in for the past few weeks as I walked the continent.
Both dull in comparison to the mineral springs back home. A long dip at the end of the day cured any aching muscles. I am sure my training schedule would have been far rougher without it.
The more I scrub away sweat and dirt, the murkier the water turns. If only I could wash my soul with such vigor.
My chest grows tight and hot, like a swarm of wasps settled inside. I force air into my lungs slowly, over and over, until the feeling abates. The prickling numbness that remains isn’t much better.
I left my heart on those steps and without it, my body doesn’t know how to function. Breathing and time seem to be the only medicine.
I’m too exhausted to remove the water from my body, so I sit naked on the corner of the bed to air-dry, finger-combing my dark locks. Summer on the northern continent is as stifling as back home. The beads of water on my skin quickly evaporate, while I study my palms.
The bruises from the dagger have faded completely. The only scars remaining are the ones within my mind and heart.
I trace the creases of my palms and wince at phantom pain. Even though the assassin had been young and thin, the difficulty with which her bones gave way to my blade surprised me. I am used to woven practice dummies, filled with straw. Blood and tissue and bone are real. Heavier.
I refuse to regret my actions, though. Whether the girl acted willingly or at the threat of another, she took my sister from me…from Kalisham. Fareena’s bright future was robbed, so I robbed back.
For my family, I will take as many lives as atonement calls for.
Even at the cost of my own.
Burly laughter filters through the thin walls as patrons file in for the evening.
The carefree sound carves at my patience.
The north continent is nothing like I expected.
I was taught that seven kingdoms share the land from the Draconos Pass to the Petrovos Mountains, with one island nation just off the southwest coast, each with a king and defined territories to squabble over.
When I first made landfall, I walked for nearly half a day before finding a small fishing town in what should have been the Sherwood Kingdom.
Farms and agricultural villages dot the expansive nation, with little in between.
I traded a few amethysts from my dress for coin, clothes, and a hot meal.
The tiny hamlet didn’t have much else, so I saved the rest of my crystals to trade in a larger town.
When I asked for directions to the palace in Sherwood’s capital, the woman at the tailor shop laughed at first. Suspicion clouded her stare as she informed me that the Sherwood Kingdom hadn't existed for two years.
The emperor united every last kingdom and territory under one banner, the Empire of Veloria.
The continent was steeped in bloody war for nearly four years and has only known peace for a few short months.
City names remained and most capitals retained their old kingdom names, but the border lines have been stricken from every map.
I thanked the woman, not bothering with an excuse. I had none to give and my appearance had drawn too much attention already. The wrong kind of attention. Men watched from the shadows, no doubt waiting to take my possessions or worse.
I paid for a night in a small room above the stables but instead made my way into the forest. I spent my first night hidden high in the massive trees, my cloak wrapped tightly around me for warmth.
I stole sleep in fits as torches searched the forest below me at odd intervals.
None of the would-be thieves thought to look up luckily, eventually giving up their search.
I’ve had plenty of time since then to dissect the woman’s information. Veloria is a fresh empire, four years in the making. Which means at least four years of misinformation given to the queen and our scholars. Four years of deceit and betrayal.
A shadow’s job is to infiltrate other societies and bring back their knowledge. It’s how Kalisham advances along with and ahead of other nations. I’m sure my education holds some truths, but for every shadow to report such falsehoods about an entire continent…
Loyalty for Zala runs far deeper than I originally thought, his plan a product of years of work. How many of my guards, mentors, or attendants were part of his insurrection? How many smiled and encouraged my family while dreaming of our deaths? How many had I so foolishly trusted?
I was so naive, unaware due to our legacy of peace.
Thick bands of fury weave through my chest, threatening to consume me whole. The ghost of Zala’s slimy lips lingers on my hand. I wipe at the spot, hot tears rinsing the memory away.
One day this hand will drive a blade through his heart; I will gut him the way he did my family.
My fingers shake as I trace where the dagger bruises once were. I’ve been terrified of the day the reminder disappears. Terrified that this molten anger will give way to more grief and eventually fade away.
I don’t want to heal, body or soul. I don’t want to forget.
Estere. Ramin. Fareena. Astrella. Garsif. I whisper their names in my heart like a song of vengeance. They fuel me, driving me to take one more step, one more breath. To survive.
I will kill Zala and take back my home.
I won’t rest until his plans and pride lay shattered at my feet, along with his mangled body. My hands tremble at the thought, bloodlust suffusing with every nerve.
My fantasies are interrupted by a loud crash from the bar below.
I’m up in an instant, grabbing the small dagger from my pants on the ground.
Laughter and shouts follow, but I wait a moment before lowering my blade.
The thin silver knife I stole from a merchant a few towns back steadies with each calming breath.
No one will look for a princess here, I reassure myself. Still, it’s no small thing to hide myself from an entire network of treasonous shadows. I’ve been incredibly lucky so far.
I pull on the secondhand clothes I bought from the tavern owner. Her white blouse swallows my curves, long despite her short stature. I leave the worn black trousers folded next to the bed. They belong to another patron who left in a hurry, but at least they are clean.
Women here don’t wear pants for some reason, but the owner’s judgmental sneer disappeared the moment I handed over an extra coin.
Proper dresses and skirts are too expensive right now.
I traded the last of my amethysts in the town just south of here, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention with such a rare item.
Well, all but one. I kept a single amethyst as a token of home. A reminder of courage.
I place it under my pillow, along with my dagger, and try to make myself comfortable on the lumpy mattress. The blanket itches at my bare legs, but it’s better than the rough ground. A locked door safer than the forest.
Though a bear might be safer than the drunk patrons shouting downstairs.
The creaking floorboards outside my door will be a sufficient warning should one of them try my room. I close my eyes and summon a small gust of wind, stirring the air just enough to blow out the candles on the wall.
I need to find a way to meet with the emperor, and soon. He united eight kingdoms in four short years. The severed heads stuck to the gates at the entrance to the city only confirm the rumors of his violence.
He will be the perfect tool to take back my home.
I just have to figure out how my vengeance will benefit him. Offer a deal he would be a fool to refuse. Kalisham is a prize, but I won’t kill Zala only to hand my home over to the violent greed of another man. The deal will need to benefit my people as much as it will Veloria.
The darkness in the room grows heavier as I run through different scenarios, each one costing time my people don’t have. My pulse ticks away the seconds, reminding me of the price of my absence.
I kick off the covers and force a deep breath into my lungs. I slide a hand under my pillow and clutch the small purple stone. Please, give me the wisdom to succeed.
I am the Crown Princess of Kalisham now. I cannot fail.
The street market is packed with busy patrons shuffling from one shop to the next. A warm breeze carries the aroma of freshly baked goods and a ripeness only a large crowd can muster.