Chapter Four #2
My cheeks flame, but deep down, I want him to hold me tighter, to be the gardener I remember, the one who didn’t care about propriety or royal etiquette.
Conscious of the many pairs of eyes fixed on us—some filled with delight at the king’s unusual whimsy, a few with evident, undisguised jealousy, and others with guarded wariness at the deadly weapon in their midst—I let our avid audience fade away until it’s just the two of us in the room.
If I close my eyes, it almost feels like our first time.
***
GODS, I WANT to punch Roshan in his supercilious, controlling, kingly face. How does one go from adoration to aggravation in the space of a handful of days?
“For the love of Saru, I don’t require a twelve-guard escort to go to my training with Aran!
” I insist, watching as the full dozen of his kingsguard settle in place behind me.
“We’re in the palace, and it’s your cousin.
” I point through the window to the second turret.
“His quarters are right over there. We’re supposed to meet in the arena to practice bladework and offensive runes. We aren’t even leaving the grounds.”
The king tilts his chin, impatience flashing in his eyes. “When I was with the Dahaka, our spies infiltrated the palace all the time. And change of plans, you’re not to go to the arena. He’ll meet you behind the south tower. You’ll work on something else today.”
His abrupt high-handedness is maddening—but I’m suddenly more curious about the arena. “Why?” I ask. “What’s happening?”
If I weren’t looking directly at him, I would have missed the clenching of his jaw and the dark flicker of annoyance at being questioned in his eyes. He shakes his head. “The azdaha has become increasingly violent and restless. Your magic might incite the beast.”
“The . . . the azdaha is still here?” I ask, completely taken aback that he even told me the truth for once instead of his usual prevarication.
Dazedly, I recall the poor, captured creature from the arena that Javed used as a macabre sorting tool for his bride trials, culling the weak from the strong in an effort to draw out the Starkeeper. Of course, I hadn’t known it was me then.
So many innocent women had died trying to escape the near-feral beast that had been starved and tortured to within an inch of its life. I remember the visceral connection I’d felt . . . when the ancient akasha flowing in its veins had sung to mine.
Pity curls within me at the thought of the poor creature that should be flying free in its own realm locked in a cell somewhere.
“I thought you had sent it back to the northern lands,” I say, frowning.
“It was not possible. The terms of peace have changed and our borders with Everlea are no longer secure.”
My frown deepens. This is news to me. “What does that mean? Since when?”
Stories about Everlea—the realm ruled by the purported nightmare king to the far north, the land with vast rolling plains occupied by fierce hordes, broad flowing rivers, and bottomless lakes, as well as its shining capital city of Verisia—are rampant in Oryndhr.
Our borders have always been protected, if not by natural barriers like the Barrin Mountains, then by strict laws forbidding trade or travel.
A muscle leaps to life in Roshan’s rigid cheek, and I wonder if he’ll refuse to answer this time.
But then his tight expression calms. “We are not only on the verge of a two-pronged civil war, with the nobles attacking from one side and the Scavs on the other, Suraya; we’re at risk of one with the Everlean king, a war my brother started by hunting these creatures in the first place.
Nightsong is adamant on the beast’s safe return. ”
“Nightsong?”
“Their sovereign. The reports about him are fearsome. His people live under tyranny and are punished for even speaking against his reign. I’m only trying to protect us so that Oryndhrians are safe from reprisal should our lands be breached.”
It’s more than I expected him to say, but I am eager to continue the first open conversation we’ve had in weeks on anything concerning the realm. “Can’t we just send the azdaha back and avoid war that way?”
“It’s too late for that because the creature is dying. In its current condition, war will be declared before we can blink.”
“What?” I ask. “How is it dying?”
He shakes his head. “We do not know.”
“Roshan, you have to return it and explain your position to the king. Surely he’ll listen before condemning an entire realm to death in retaliation.”
He scrubs a hand over his jaw as if I hadn’t spoken.
“The Barrin Mountains have always been neutral territory, but Javed wanted to claim it, for his own reasons. The Everlean king refused to cede, saying it was protected land.” Roshan glances at me, the lines around his eyes and mouth furrowed in thought.
“I believe my brother eventually hoped to use you to take the territory by force, which is why an army of Scavs is still stationed in the northern Dustlands, near Deadman’s Canyon. ”
“General Vogon’s army,” I murmur, remembering the leader of the Scavs who had been very lucid when he’d tried to take my power before Morvarid had killed him. “Why there, though? The gulch is bottomless and the mountains are impassable.”
“My brother had many secrets, least of which was that cursed canyon and whatever the god he served demanded.”
A shiver creeps up my spine. “God?”
“Fero.” The cavalier way he says it leaves me cold.
But abruptly, as if the impulsive explanation is over, Roshan turns away without another word, halting to glance over his shoulder.
“Which brings me back to my original point: setting foot in the arena is forbidden for everyone, including you, for your own safety, until we understand what that thing means to Everlea and its king. Do not defy me. I forbid it, Suraya.”
I forget my concerns, my anger rising at his implacable tone. He forbids it?
Balling my heating palms, I force my face to remain neutral as Roshan walks away, effectively ending any discussion—visible murderous thoughts might be seen as treason, after all—and count to ten in my head before peering at my silent armed contingent.
“Don’t crowd me. I don’t want to hurt any of you accidentally.”
They won’t listen. They’re all following the directives of the king to the letter, and even if it means getting singed by the Starkeeper, they’ll take the risk. Implicit obedience is a thing, and clearly the king expects the same from me.
Well, he can jump off the highest cliff in Oryndhr for all I care.
As we descend the staircase, I spot a familiar face marching toward us. My irritation dissipates as I wave Clem over with a smile. “Please tell me you’re part of the guard I’ve been favored with this morning, though this is grunt work for the great General Clem Jinn.”
She grins back, her face lighting up. “Hardly! And today I am.”
“Truly?” I ask with delighted surprise.
“I just got back from Xersten, and I needed some down time.”
My curiosity spikes, knowing that city’s proximity to the canyon Roshan was just speaking about. “What’s in Xersten?”
“You know I have to report to the king first,” she says, and I swallow a sigh at her unyielding loyalty.
As we enter the courtyard, I can’t even appreciate the lush scent of the blooming flowers or the sight of a clear blue sky or hear any birdsong.
In fact, all I can hear is the rhythmic stomping of a dozen pairs of feet in my wake.
I lean in toward Clem with a scowl. “Tell me you don’t think all of this is ridiculous. ”
She doesn’t even have to ask what I’m talking about, glancing at the stone-faced men and women on our heels. “He’s protective, and after what has happened, don’t you think he should be?”
My scowl deepens. “Obsessive is more like it. You’d think I was made of jādū or something.”
Clem belts out an amused laugh. “You kind of are. The only true magical source in all of Oryndhr, and you wonder why he safeguards you like the crown jewels.”
“You know what I mean.” I shake my head, feeling my irritation rise, if only because she’s hit the nail on the head.
“And I’m not a thing to be owned or guarded.
I’m someone who survived long before he came along without magic.
He treats me like I can’t make any decisions about my own bodily safety for myself.
” I wiggle my fingers in front of her face.
“As if I can’t take care of my enemies with a single thought.
He’s suffocating me, Clem. I’m not one of his soldiers, expected to obey his orders like gospel. ”
“You mean like me?” she jokes.
I falter. “No, that’s not what I . . .”
“I’m only teasing, Sura. I know my place, and yes, I do follow the king’s command.”
I frown at her. “Even if you don’t agree with it?”
“It’s not my place to question what’s best for the realm.”
“How can you say that, Clem?” I ask, keeping my voice low in spite of my disbelief at her blasé response.
“He’s not infallible. He’s a man who will make mistakes.
He made them as the leader of the Dahaka, remember?
” Grimacing, I shake my head. “And what’s best for the realm isn’t what’s best for me. ”
My friend eyes me thoughtfully, gaze flicking over my clenched jaw and balled fists, and then back up to my hair, where the iridescent strands are glowing slightly in between the darker ones.
“Perhaps I used the wrong words earlier. Put yourself in his shoes,” she says with a sympathetic shrug.
“He’s lost everyone he called family, not that his stepmother and his half brother could even be considered that, and he doesn’t want to lose you. You mean too much to him, Sura.”
“He’s going to lose me if he continues to be a controlling ass,” I mutter through my teeth as the guards direct our entourage toward the third tower instead of the second, where I usually train. “He forbade me from going to the arena, can you believe that?”