Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
By the time Alethea reached Hyelea, the sun was rising again.
Her stomach was painfully empty, her hair full of twigs and her dress soiled with dirt from a few tumbles from her horse.
She had never ridden so fast for so long in her entire life.
Several times, she’d had to turn to her visions to guide her the right way, and each time, her head had throbbed, and she’d nearly lost her balance.
Now she approached the eastern gates of the capital city entirely alone.
The sight that greeted her made her stomach churn once more.
The white city walls stood imposing, heavily fortified with guards patrolling along the parapets.
More than a hundred civilians, among them some of Hyelea’s most vulnerable, were huddled near the gates.
They gathered around flickering fires, their faces etched with weariness and fear.
These people resided beyond the city walls and would be utterly defenseless if an attack occurred.
“We’ve been out here all night—let us in! We have families, children!” a dark-haired man called, attempting to shake the iron gates.
The gates hardly moved. They probably weighed ten times what he did and took four guards to open and close.
Alethea dismounted, tying her horse to a tree just off the road before slowly approaching the masses. Whispers rose around her as several people recognized her for who she was.
“Why does the queen not let you in?” Alethea asked the most vocal of the men attempting to convince the guards to let them back inside.
“Because she’s a fucking bitch,” an older woman spat, appearing at Alethea’s side. “Never gave a rat’s ass about us. Now she’s leaving us to be slaughtered. We hear there’s to be a siege on Hyelea.”
“Then why do you stay? What about Amylos?” The nearest city would accept them—she was sure of it.
“You think we have anywhere else to go? Amylos is a five-day walk, and we haven’t got enough food or gold to get us there. Our homes are here. Our families!”
A new panic rushed over her. She should have brought them food. That was what they really needed. Safety. Security. The truth was, she could offer them very little.
She had come empty-handed.
The crowds gathered around her, bodies pressing in closer. An older man approached from somewhere in the crowd, leaning on a cane, as thin as a rail.
“You think we don’t know who you are, princess?”
A hushed whisper rose up around them, her name echoing throughout the crowd.
“I can take you to safety,” Alethea pleaded. “Please, let me help you.”
“You want to help us? Like you helped Philip?” Just the man’s name was enough to bring tears to her eyes. The biggest regret of her life was being thrown in her face, and she deserved their hatred.
A sob rose up in her throat as the pain from her past sliced into her. “That wasn’t what I meant to happen.”
The elder man, his hair gray and thinning, was having none of it. She remembered his name: Yannis. He had petitioned the court on behalf of Philip’s imprisonment.
“My nephew is wasting away in a cell because of your help.”
Another voice cried out: “Is this a trick from the queen? Did she send you?”
“No, she didn’t send me here! I’m here to help. I’m... I’m working with Nakir Hasan.” If only they knew she couldn’t lie to them. If only they could trust her. “I can bring you to safety!”
Yannis stepped forward again, and Alethea tried to move back, only to find they were entirely surrounded by bodies.
“You expect us to believe you’re working with Nakir Hasan?
We’re just supposed to follow you to his army, are we?
Here you are again, stirring up hope among people who have nothing. What game do you think you’re playing?”
She deserved every ounce of malice in his words. It was her fault they were even out here in the cold, hungry, separated from their families because they’d been on the wrong side of the gates at the wrong time.
“It’s not a game,” Alethea promised, desperate to be heard and believed.
“It’s a trick!”
“She’s lying!”
The anger that had been previously directed toward the gates shifted. Voices rose up all around her, bodies pressing inward, shouting. Multiple sets of hands wrapped around her shoulders, yanking her by her cloak. “Tell the queen we have her daughter—she’ll let us in!”
“No!” Alethea pleaded. “Please, don’t! I can help you!”
The crowd fell eerily silent as the mob became aware of a presence. Alethea felt it, even as it loomed behind her and outside her vision. She felt him.
“It’s him.”
“Look at his horns.”
“He looks just like his father.”
“It’s Nakir Hasan.”
“She is telling the truth.” Nakir’s voice boomed over the crowds.
She heard him dismount from his horse; heard the crunch of his boots on the pavement behind her.
The hands holding her released their grip, and she sagged, the air leaving her lungs.
He caught her before she hit the ground, but Alethea couldn’t face him.
She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment, the anger, the betrayal she knew she would find.
“I have come to tell you there will be no siege on Hyelea. Not today, not tomorrow. Not anytime soon.”
The shouting died the moment he spoke. Even the children went still.
“Your queen has left you out here with little more than your hunger, while she sits in her castle waiting out whatever’s to come.
She stockpiles resources and leaves you with nothing.
Eventually, she will see that there is no threat, but until then, I have brought enough food for you all, for however long you may be out here.
Once the threat of siege has passed, I’m sure Queen Zenobia will open the gates again. ”
Murmurs rose up around the crowd, but the tone had gone from rage to calm.
“And finally... I offer anyone who desires it the safety and security of my encampment. It’s a full two day’s journey from here on foot, but there you will have access to food, water, and fires to keep you warm.”
Yannis spoke up, suspicion written on his tired expression. “You want us to join your rebellion?”
Nakir gave him a steady nod. “I do. Each one of you knows what it’s like to live under the rule of Zenobia Onasis.
But I know a few of you would remember what it was like before.
I invite anyone who desires it a place in my camp.
Anyone is welcome, regardless of age or ability.
But you must decide now. We depart immediately. ”
Nakir glanced over his shoulder at Balthasar.
Bal reached for Alethea, and she went to him, limp from the exertion of her travels and the vitriol of the crowd.
The moment she was finally in his grasp, she was calm again.
The anxiety melted away. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying until the tears stopped.
“There you are,” he soothed as Alethea melted into him, letting her face fall against his chest until she couldn’t breathe. “I’ve got you.”
She didn’t deserve his compassion, nor did she deserve his gift.
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested weakly.
“If you do not wish me to, say the word. But I am more than willing.” He led her away from the crowds, back toward where she’d tied her horse. The gray gelding was joined by several others; Nakir had brought a dozen of his soldiers, as well as several carts of supplies.
Balthasar set her down on a small crate, and she wiped her face, vaguely watching as the rations were passed around.
He kneeled beside her, his massive hand on her shoulder.
The crowds were still swarming Nakir, who had led them away from the city walls toward the cover of the wooded road.
Kerrigan stood behind him, her palms lit with flame as a threat for any guard on the parapet who dared to take a cheap shot at Nakir.
But none of the guards fired. They simply stood watch over the gate.
Nakir had put himself in serious danger coming here. Any one of her mother’s soldiers could take their chance at ending the rebellion with a single arrow if they chose.
Alethea sighed, her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Why is that?” Balthasar asked.
“Because this is my fault.” The fact she could speak it only confirmed the need for her shame.
“I would be surprised if that were true.”
She buried her face in her clammy hands, feeling every bit as pathetic as she was sure she looked. “I cast a Sending Ritual to my mother, warning her of the siege.”
Balthasar said nothing, which was almost worse than if he’d admonished her.
“I warned her we were coming. I just wanted her to help people... You, Nakir, Kerrigan—you all have every right to hate me.”
She stared at the dirt below her boots. Nakir was still working the crowd, and she wasn’t terribly shocked to see a large number of the mob breaking off to join them.
“I can’t speak for Nakir, but I know you weren’t expecting this to happen. Speak of the devil...”
The fearless leader approached their shady spot underneath the large oak tree. Alethea struggled to meet his eye, unwilling to confront exactly how angry he was with her. But he only spoke to Balthasar.
“We’re departing now. It looks like we’re bringing a little over fifty souls back with us. It’ll take us the better part of two days on foot, and we’re expecting to run into a few scouts along the way. Stay alert.”
Alethea stared at her lap, swallowing hard before she found the courage to ask, “Am I...” Bile rose in her throat, and she worked hard to swallow it. Her mother would kill her if they decided to leave her behind, now she had announced she was working with him. “Am I staying here?”
He froze in place. She couldn’t help but notice the whites of his knuckles showing. “Is that what you want?” The coldness in his tone hurt.
Her mouth fell open, heart thundering. Bal squeezed her hand.
“No,” she told him.
“Then we depart.”