Wardens of Archos Page 3

  An uneasy thought crept into Rachael’s mind. “What if they are the ones who have sent the assassins?”

  Kiana gave her a brief shake of the head. “Not here. You could start a war if you discuss things like that where everyone can hear you.”

  A woman so beautiful and exotic she took Rachael’s breath away stepped into their view. Her skin was a deep bronze, her eyes glittered with gold. “My Queen Rachael of Rifarne.” She curtsied and smiled. Her dress looked like pure gold and silver, the top half adorned by a golden chest plate. She looked like a warrior goddess. “May I offer you my warmest congratulations? Krymistis is overjoyed to see you rise to power.”

  Kiana stepped in before Rachael could mutter a response. “Your highness, allow me to introduce you. This is Lady Nerine of Krymistis. They rule by a different system than we do, but Lady Nerine is their queen. She’s given many Sparrows refuge over the years.”

  Lady Nerine gave Kiana a courteous nod, and took her hands into her own. “Kiana. It’s good to see you well. We were worried when we heard about that terrible infighting late King Aeric allowed. I’m relieved to see our worries were unfounded.”

  Kiana returned the same nod. “I was lucky.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Lady Nerine smiled, and turned her bronze gaze back to Rachael. “My congratulations again. There’s much I’d like to discuss, but I will leave you to it. We can converse later.”

  “It was my pleasure, Lady Nerine.” Rachael attempted the same courteous nod, and was grateful when no one laughed at her failure.

  She wished Cale was with them. He knew how to navigate a crowd like this to his advantage. She would have welcomed his knowledge, but Kiana knew just where to step, just what to say, too. At least she wasn’t alone.

  “Careful, now.” Kiana’s voice was low and dangerous, and Rachael looked up.

  “What do you—”

  “Queen Rachael. It’s a pleasure. Arnost Lis.” The Tramuran Ambassador had a look in his eyes to freeze fire. His voice was thick with the hard, untamed Tramuran accent, and froze her to her core. Rachael hoped Kiana would be as skilled at handling him as she’d been with Lady Nerine. This wasn’t a conversation Rachael wanted to hold for long.

  Kiana straightened her back, a tell Rachael had come to recognise during their training sessions. She was ready to strike. “Her full title is Queen Rachael of Rifarne. It would be respectful for a guest in her majesty’s home to use it.”

  Rachael steeled herself, expecting him to reprimand Kiana for her insolence, but instead he smiled. “Forgive me, prze wro. Things are different in Tramura. I’m not used to your rites.” He spoke slowly. Venom dripped off every word, and Rachael hadn’t missed that his wife had flinched. Kiana glared at him, all pretence of civility gone.

  Rachael had to remind herself to breathe. This wasn’t a man who was questioned often. He was a man who punished those who spoke out against him. There was something so cruel playing behind his eyes that Rachael’s thick gown wasn’t enough to keep her warm.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her voice sounded foreign through the ringing in her ears. Every instinct screamed at her to walk the other way and never cross his path again, but she was no longer in that position.

  “Indeed.”

  Rachael couldn’t stand his eyes on her. She nodded to his wife instead. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well.” Where his demeanour was calculating and defensive, her eyes were warm and sad. She looked like a woman who’d once been defiant, but who’d been beaten into submission. A diamond choker adorned her neck like a fine leather collar on a dog. She stood too close to him, like she was scared to leave his personal space for any length of time. Arnost Lis had effectively leashed her.

  The difference between the two people was so stark Rachael struggled to think how they’d ever fallen in love. Or perhaps love had had nothing to do with it. The other night she’d overheard the kitchen staff muse about who she would marry, how soon she would ensure the future of her name beneath the crown. Perhaps Arnost Lis had married his wife for power, or influence, or simply to have a target for his rage.

  She met Rachael’s eyes for a second before lowering her head. “You do me honour to speak with me, my Queen Rachael of Rifarne.” Rachael’s heart skipped a beat at hearing her full title used, when the ambassador hadn’t done so. Maybe a little bit of defiance remained, after all.

  Arnost Lis nodded once more, and left with his wife right behind him.

  “What did he call me?”

  “Prze wro. It means 'traitorous sparrow.' I'd have gutted him for it if there weren't so many witnesses. If you’re lucky you won’t have to talk to him often. Arnost Lis isn’t known for his patience, or his mercy.” Kiana’s eyes followed the couple. “I expect Erimentha will pay for using your full name later, when they’re alone. She disobeyed him in public. He won’t stand for it.”

  Rachael’s legs shook. Arnost Lis wasn’t a man she wanted to cross, but against all odds she was curious, too. There was something familiar about them. Erimentha acted like she was his loyal servant, but was she? How much of the fire that had let her disobey him still burnt? She reminded Rachael of a predator who watched until it was time to strike, appearing innocent until she pounced. Rachael didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she hoped it could wait until they’d returned to Tramura.

  Kiana searched the masses. “Lon.” She waved him to her, and lowered her voice. “Find Cale. Tell him to keep an eye on Arnost Lis. I want more Sparrows watching him.”

  “Can do.” Lon nodded, and disappeared in the crowd.

  Rachael doubted the ambassador would try anything when so many witnesses were present, but she felt better nonetheless. Arnost Lis wasn’t stupid, but she didn’t want to know how he acted if he felt cornered.

  She held her head high and smiled. She wouldn’t let them see how nervous she was.

  People made room for her, and congratulated her. A few Rifarnee who weren’t nobles extended their hands to her, and grinned when Rachael accepted them. A lot of people eyed her with suspicion, but many were happy to see someone gifted on the throne. Each time Rachael spotted Lady Nerine in the crowd they exchanged smiles. In this crowd of schemers and gift-opposed, the Krymistian lady made her feel less awkward. Rachael could be pleased with herself if she looked half as confident. Lady Nerine was a powerful woman. Rachael wanted to be on her side rather than stand against her. She remembered what Cale and Ailis had told her: in Krymistis and Midoka, the gift was a part of life. People from Rifarne had fled there to start over under their protection. If there were any chance for peace, Rachael wanted to take it. The refugees were her people now; she wanted them to know it was safe to return home if they wanted to.

  A stunning woman unlike any Rachael had seen stepped in her way. Her hair was long and fiery like Kiana’s, her glance both cold as steel and warm like a hearth. The look in her eyes was amused, curious, and respectful all at once. She was danger. She was a paradox. She reminded Rachael of Aeron—this woman was dangerous beyond belief, but unlike with Aeron Rachael didn’t feel threatened.

  Kiana took a step ahead between Rachael and the woman, without cutting her off.

  “Queen Rachael of Rifarne.” The woman’s voice was smooth as nightshade berries. “I have been hoping to meet you. Midoka extends its well wishes, and its congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  The woman smiled, both demon and divine spirit. “Allow me. My name is Kaida. I am one of Midoka's Mist Women, and royal advisor to the Krymistian court. My sisters send their best.” If Rachael hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought the air around Kaida to crackle with power. With life. It was unnerving and comforting, and Rachael wanted to run as much as she wanted to embrace her. She’d never felt so torn about anyone.

  “It’s a pleasure, Kaida.” Rachael knew nothing about Midoka, but she’d met a Mist Woman before. Could she trust Kaida? She’d believed Aeron to be kind once, too.

  “You are u
neasy around me.”

  “Suspicion of strangers is wise, especially for a queen.” Kiana sounded calm, but Rachael hadn’t missed the twitch of her finger toward her dagger.

  “I haven’t met many Mist Women,” said Rachael. “I don’t know what’s appropriate.”

  Kaida’s smile turned apologetic, the underlying sharpness behind her eyes softened. “I have heard of your unfortunate meetings with Aeron. I hope I can change your mind about us. My sisters and I are powerful, but we are not the sadistic witch Aeron was. We wish you no harm.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” There were too many unknowns about this woman. Rachael hoped Cale had time to watch more than one person.

  “I hope we can talk again, but perhaps later. This is your day, is it not? We can discuss politics another time.”

  Rachael wanted to nod and say something, anything, but Kaida was already gone, invisible in the thick crowd around her.

  “Troubling,” said Kiana, “but you have bigger problems right now.”

  “How so?”

  “Cale signalled me. It’s time for a speech. Are you up for it?”

  Rachael had been told a speech was a possibility, but she’d hoped to get around it.

  Her stomach churned. She had no idea what to say.

  “Does it matter? Let’s go.”

  Kiana led her back to her throne, where Cale and Commander Dryden were already waiting. Cale’s eyes were trained on something in the crowd. She suspected he was watching the ambassador, but she still wished he’d take his eyes of them for one second to look at her. He’d strengthened her once. Now he was the reason for her uncertainty.

  The priest stepped beside her. “Ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests. Our Queen Rachael of Rifarne!”

  Everyone fell silent. Rachael cleared her throat, but it didn’t help the dryness as she struggled to remember what Kiana had taught her.

  “Cherished people of Rifarne, treasured guests, it’s my honour to stand before you today as your new queen.” Was she blushing? She was sure she was blushing.

  The eyes of every person in her crowded throne room were on her. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt.

  She’d forgotten her lines.

  “It’s my hope we’ll establish a renewed friendship with the South, and—”

  “Death to the gifted!”

  Her heart stopped. She couldn’t see who’d spoken, but movement at the back of the room caught her eye. Her guests hurried to separate themselves from a man who now glared unhindered at her. The pure hatred in his eyes choked her. He was wearing a noble’s clothes, rich blues and softer fabrics than the poorer folk would ever be able to afford.

  “Death to the gifted! Death to the abominations! You’re a—”

  He was tackled by Oren—one of Cale’s Sparrows—and a blonde man she didn’t recognise, and fell to the floor. Oren quickly tied the man’s hand behind his back, while the other Sparrow stuffed something into his mouth. The man was screaming as he was escorted out, but thanks to whatever the blonde Sparrow had gagged him with no one could understand a word. He struggled, but the Sparrows walked him out of the throne room in mere moments.

  The heat had drained from her face. Her knees nearly buckled.

  Slowly, the crowd turned back to her.

  If she didn’t speak now—if she didn’t speak well—she’d prove him right.

  She had an idea. They hadn’t rehearsed it, but the interruption hadn’t been part of the plan, either. She’d trust her instincts, as she’d always done.

  “I apologise for the intrusion. As you’ve seen, my Sparrows are everywhere, and won’t allow this hatred for my people to continue. It doesn’t matter if you have the gift or not. If you live in Rifarne, under my rule, you will not be wronged.”

  A few people stepped forward to get a better look. Some of them nodded, some of them were close enough for Rachael to see their eyes brimmed red. Were they crying out of dislike for her, or because they’d needed to hear these words for too long? Rachael smiled at them, regardless of their reason. They were her subjects now. If they didn’t trust magic they were allowed their opinion, but the mistreatment of the gifted stopped now, today, with her coronation.

  “It’s my hope we’ll establish new friendships with Krymistis and Midoka. Over the years, many of our own have fled to the South for refuge. They’re welcome to return if they wish. I won’t turn them away and neither will you. They’re your neighbours. They’re Rifarnee, just like you. I refuse to make them feel like escape is their only option because they were born with the gift.

  “Rifarne has held longstanding trade relationships as well as friendship with the North.” She spotted Arnost Lis in the crowd then, and met his eyes. His loathing for her was evident on his face, and it terrified her. She refused to look away. “I trust said relationships will continue.

  “Rifarne has oppressed the gifted for too long. From this day forth, we’ll embrace them and give them the home they deserve. You’ve seen how fast my Sparrows act. Continued mistreatment of the gifted won’t be tolerated, and judged for what it is: a crime like any other.

  “Let today be a new start, people of Rifarne and treasured guests. Rifarne is home to many people with magic, and we’ll no longer shut them out. Together we’ll build a stronger future, for everyone.”

  The throne room burst into deafening applause. There was no going back now; her intentions were clear. Rachael couldn’t help feeling like she’d walked further into the wolf’s lair, and she’d just cut off her own escape route.

  Chapter Four

  It was near to silent inside the prison of the White City. The only sounds came from Rachael's feet on the hard stone floor, echoing in the cold, damp air around them. It wasn’t what Rachael had expected. She’d been prepared for demons to be watching her from every shadow, for sadistic guards to be escorting beaten prisoners to their cells and torture rooms, and for desperate screams to fill the dark corridors. While Rachael felt watched, there was no sign of the demons. They had to be here. Rachael figured they knew how to conceal themselves; they could appear in front of her at any moment. The demons knew Rachael was coming—they’d sent a shadow to kill her, after all.

  Rachael focused on Kiana, Cale, and the four armed guards following her. If the demons attacked now, maybe they wouldn't stand a chance. She’d also hoped Cale would speak to her while they liberated the prisoners, but he was as reserved as ever. If only she could get him alone… She just wanted a chance to talk honestly, and for him to do the same. They weren’t children. Why couldn’t they be more mature about this? Would asking him for a moment in private change anything, or would the silence simply seem a little louder?

  They reached the end of the corridor, and one of the guards opened the door for her.

  “Queen Rachael of Rifarne!”

  She swallowed past her awkwardness. Respect wasn’t something she’d ever dreamed of receiving, and she wasn’t convinced she’d get used to it.

  The room was sparse, but held all necessities for a prison office. There was a table and a chair as well as some books filled with laws and rules stacked on the table, but the room was too small to hold much else. Rachael took one look at the books and frowned. She doubted Commander Videl had ever bothered to go through these, or follow just procedures.

  Commander Dryden rose when Rachael entered, and clasped one fist to his heart.

  “My queen. Thank you for visiting the prison. I fear it’s long overdue an inspection. I apologise for the mess. I’ve only recently begun to make use of this room myself. My predecessor and I have…” he scowled, “different tastes.”

  Rachael smiled. A man who disagreed on any matter with the previous commander was a good man in her opinion.

  “You don't spend much time here?” She’d assumed the commander would spend a lot of his time in the prison. That she was wrong went to show how little she knew of the people who placed their faith in her. It wasn't a good start, but she wanted to learn. She wanted to
prove their faith in her was well placed.

  “No, my queen. I spend most of my time in the barracks with the other soldiers, or discussing strategy with Cale Spurling.”

  She didn't have to see his face to know Cale was frowning behind her. He was as used to hearing his full name as she was to hearing her royal title.

  “How many prisoners are here right now?”

  “One hundred and five, my queen.”

  One hundred and five. It was going to be a long day.

  “All of them will receive the hearing they are entitled to. I want all form of torture stopped, any continuation will be against the law from today on. And I want all—” What was she supposed to call those demons? Were they guards? Torturers? Or did they hold a different position altogether? “I want to speak to the staff, regardless of their position.”

  Commander Dryden bowed. “Of course, my queen. It will be arranged. Would you like me to take the staff to the throne room?”

  She shivered at the thought of those creatures entering her new home, and shook her head. It was difficult enough to get used to her new surroundings. She already felt watched at night—it would only get harder if she allowed them inside.

  “That won’t be necessary. I will speak to them here.”

  “Here? I'm afraid my office won't be large enough for proper meetings, my queen.”

  Rachael swallowed. “Yes. If it’s all right I will speak to them here.” She didn’t need permission, but it wasn’t their disobedience she feared. It was sounding as uncaring as the last commander.

  “Of course. Give me a moment and I will assemble everyone.”

  She sat in Commander Dryden’s chair, and sighed as his footsteps faded.

  “You’re doing well,” said Kiana as she came to stand next to Rachael.

  “Should I have asked to see them in the throne room?”

  Commander Dryden was right; this room was too small for much of anything, never mind interrogating the staff. The throne room did make more sense. Rachael doubted the large hall had been built solely for celebrations and ceremonies, but she couldn’t bring herself to allow the demons anywhere near the palace. It was troubling enough that one had found a way inside and past the guards.