Allegiance (19 page)

Just as my bodyguard made the decision to flee, the knot of Cokyrians unraveled, and we could see enemy soldiers gripping a struggling London, dragging him back, ultimately, to the Overlord's empire. With an arm wrapped tightly about my waist, Destari gave our horse one swift kick, and we rode at a gallop in the opposite direction.

 

I stumbled through the palace doors, hair and clothing in disarray, much to the shock of the guards stationed in the Grand Entry Hall, with Destari not far behind. Others in our party followed, talking frenetically to one another,
trying to determine exactly what had happened and what should now be done.

Just as Steldor, Galen and several of the King's guards burst from the antechamber, lured by the commotion, Cannan pushed his way to the front of the troops, and his bloodied clothing drew the startled eyes of those who had stayed behind. Before Steldor could speak, Destari stepped up to confront his captain, his black eyes strangely crazed.

“We left London,” he growled. “We let the Cokyrians take him, after he saved your life!”

“What happened?” Steldor interjected, coming to his father's side.

“It was not my intention to lose London—” Cannan vehemently returned.

“Then why didn't you send men back for him?” Destari shouted.

Steldor frowned, frustrated at being in the dark. “Would somebody just tell me what—?”

“The Cokyrians attempted to assassinate the captain,” Destari informed the King, then he began to pace in a manner not in keeping with his character.

“I retrieved the scroll,” Cannan stated, ignoring Steldor's pallid complexion and bringing Destari to a standstill. I took a step forward, my mind shutting out the hum of conversation in the hall, as he took the parchment from the inside pocket of his military jerkin.

“Open it,” Destari prompted, earning a scowl from Cannan.

Though Steldor was confused, he did not speak as his father untied the leather band the enemy had fastened around the scroll and unrolled it. Without a word, the captain crushed the parchment in his hand.

“What?” Steldor demanded while Destari grimaced in understanding.

“Blank,” Cannan said simply, and the chatter of those who had been listening increased dramatically in volume as everyone began to argue and debate, frustration pulsing beneath the surface of each word.

The temperature of the crowded hall soared, and removing my cloak did nothing to alleviate the problem. In addition, my body and mind longed for silence so that I could rethink what had happened. The negotiation meeting had been nothing more than a ploy to allow for the attempt on Cannan's life, or perhaps on others among us as well, and possibly the recapture of London, the two military men most vital to our defense. The kidnapping itself might have been part of that ploy. It was entirely possible my sister had been killed the day she was snatched from us, since she had played no role in the Cokyrians' scheme save that of bait.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the heat, the noise and the smell of sweat and blood, I broke from the furor and hurried up the Grand Staircase, to no one's notice. I ran down the corridors to my quarters in a wholly unladylike manner, trying to hold back tears, for I did not want to deteriorate into a weeping mess until I had reached the safety of my bedroom.

I never quite made it to my sanctuary. After sending the parlor door flying open, I stumbled to the center of the room and sank to my knees on the woolen tapestry that covered the floor, tears dropping on my hands as I began to sob. I had thought this meeting would bring my sister home, I had thought I would see her and draw her to me, warm and very much alive. Instead my whole body was quivering, for it seemed ever more likely that she was gone from me forever.

While I struggled to check my emotions, I heard the creak of the door closing and knew I was no longer alone. Thinking that Destari, or perhaps even Steldor, had come to check on me, I took a shuddering breath, then rose slowly to my feet and turned around. I froze as I took in the face of the man who stood before me for, although I had long dreamt of being with him, I could not help but be afraid.

“Alera,” he said, taking a step toward me. Although he had been dressed all in black at the negotiation, he now wore the royal-blue tunic of the Palace Guards, and I wondered from whom he had taken it and in what condition he had left the man.

I backed away without conscious thought, knowing that if he continued to come toward me, I would not be able to run, would not be able to scream, for I was finding it difficult to breathe. He stopped, and his mesmerizing blue eyes somehow steadied me.

“You can listen to me, or you can call for your guards,” he stated calmly. “It is your decision.”

“Narian,” I whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“I don't have much time. Someone will soon look for you. But we need to talk.”

“Now?”
I said, struggling to focus, hastily wiping the evidence that I had been crying from my face.

“No. Tomorrow night, at Koranis's country estate. Come alone.”

I stared at him, no longer certain who he was, excruciatingly aware he had aligned himself with the enemy.

“Trust me once more, just as I trust you. Please, Alera.” His eyes captured mine, and there was only one answer I could give.

“I'll come,” I promised, not knowing how I would accomplish this, only that I must.

Without shifting his gaze, he approached, pushing up his left shirtsleeve to reveal a dagger strapped to his forearm. I did not give ground, perhaps foolishly, for I recalled all too well the weapons he carried on his person. He stopped before me and unstrapped the sheath.

“I want you to take this. There may come a time when you will need it.” His voice and demeanor were composed, as if he offered me a mere trinket.

I pondered the weapon, remembering how Steldor had rebuffed me when I had requested one from him. Narian knew better than anyone what danger was coming to Hytanica, what peril could befall me and my countrymen, for he would be the one executing it on the Overlord's behalf. Yet here he was, arming me for my own protection, and though there were still many things regarding his actions that I did not understand, I knew without doubt that his heart in all this time had not wavered.

He reached out to take my left arm, and I shook as a strong desire to touch him, to be in his embrace, to pretend nothing had changed between us, surged within me. I did not move, however, when he brushed my white blouse out of the way and strapped the dagger in place. After dropping my sleeve to conceal the weapon, he raised his eyes once more to mine.

“Wear this at all times,” he instructed, then he reached out to touch my hair, and without thought I moved forward to rest my head upon his chest.

“Miranna,” I choked as he folded his arms around me.

“She's alive.”

Relief flowed through me, and for the first time since this nightmare had begun, I felt a measure of peace. After a moment, Narian gently grasped my arms to move me away
from him, and an agonizing sense of shame and remorse took control of my tongue.

“I'm married now,” I blurted, even though it was clear he already knew the truth.

“Tomorrow, after nightfall,” he said as if I had not spoken. “Alone.”

“Yes, I will be there,” I repeated, not bothering to consider the danger in which I would be placing myself, for no matter how blind or unwise, I had complete faith in him.

Before he released me, he bent to softly touch his lips to mine. Turning, he strode toward the door, then glanced back at me, not quite able to stay his emotions. I took a step forward, irrationally wanting him to remain with me, but he cracked open the door to glance into the corridor, then slipped out to disappear from view.

I had given no thought to how he had entered the palace and did not worry now as to how he would make his escape. He possessed the ingenuity to come and go at his desire, for he had on several occasions during the winter months climbed across the roof to my balcony to sneak me away from the palace.

My eyes remained glued to the spot where he had last stood, and an aching weariness seeped into my bones at the renewed sorrow of being without the man I loved. Even though I felt some relief that I would soon learn more about how my sister and perhaps London were faring, the trauma of the day propelled me to my bedroom. I undressed without waiting for my maid, drew the heavy drapes over the fading light of early evening and crawled under the covers.

I heard Steldor come into the parlor minutes later and realized that had he been just a little earlier, he and Narian would have come face-to-face. My heart thudded with fear at the thought of what that encounter would have wrought.
Hearing my husband's approaching footsteps, I closed my eyes in feigned sleep, although my body felt bowstring taut. He rapped gently on my bedroom door, then opened it to step inside, and I could feel his eyes upon me.

“Alera,” he softly called.

I lay still, desperately hoping he would make no further attempt to wake me, for I was certain he would see in my eyes that I had dealt him another betrayal. After a moment, he departed, apparently satisfied that I was fine. Only I knew how far from fine I was.

THE NEXT MORNING, I WAS FACED WITH A problem. I needed to meet with Narian that night, to ask him about my sister, about London, about why he had disappeared the previous spring without a word to anyone, and why he had agreed to fight for the Cokyrians. I craved answers to these questions, and Narian was offering me the chance to know the truth. But in order to reach Koranis's estate at the appointed time, I would have to leave the palace grounds at dusk, on horseback, and with the ability to pass unchallenged through the city gates, all of which promised to be impossible given the high state of security in which I lived.

Afternoon arrived, and as the sun continued to slip from its position in the sky, I reluctantly admitted that there was only one solution. Gathering my resolve, I opened my parlor door and beckoned to Destari to come inside. He followed me toward the bay window where I sank into one of the armchairs my mother had always favored. I invited him to sit, but he refused, preferring to stand as was most proper.

I could see in his eyes that he was fatigued, though it did not show in his stance. I could not imagine what he was
feeling. He had been in the military seventeen years ago when London had made his escape after spending ten harrowing months in the enemy's dungeon, and had no doubt played an integral part in his friend's recovery. Now we were all faced with the prospect that, even if London were to miraculously survive this second time in Cokyrian hands, he might not come back as even a semblance of himself. That thought was enough to close my throat, but I swallowed hard and met my bodyguard's gaze.

“Destari, I need your help.”

“Of course, Your Highness. What can I do?” His reply was automatic, although a flicker of concern showed in his eyes.

“I will share what is on my mind only if you promise to take it in strictest confidence. This must remain between the two of us.”

Wary now, Destari at last took a seat in the chair I had proffered.

“Alera, if this is something I will be required by duty to disclose, it might be best if you do not tell me.”

I stared down at my hands while I chose my next words. I did not like what I was about to do but could conceive of no other option.

“Duty will not require you to reveal what I am about to say,” I informed him, and his understated but visible relief caused me a twinge of guilt. “Your loyalty belongs to me before it does to your captain, so duty will in fact require you to stay silent according to my bidding.”

I was not worried Destari would go to Steldor with the information I was about to divulge. My concern was that he would relay it to Cannan. If abusing my status were the only way to ensure that he would keep my secret, so be it.

I had expected him to look at me as would a man be
trayed, since I was in truth trapping him into a corner. Instead, his dark eyes were curious.

“What is it, Alera? Something is obviously upsetting you.”

“Narian was here, in the palace.”

“What?” he exclaimed, and I gestured for him to keep his voice down. In a near whisper, he added, “When?”

“Last night, when everyone was arguing in the Grand Entry. He wants to meet me tonight at his father's country estate, alone, but I need a horse in order to get there. You must help me to acquire a mount—and to leave the palace and the city without challenge. After that, I'll ride on alone.”

“I won't let you go by yourself,” he declared, his expression conveying his belief that I had gone mad.

“But I must. Narian will have information about both Miranna and London, information I need,
we
need. And he was adamant. I'm not to bring anyone.”

“Nor was Miranna, according to
Temerson's
note.”

Despite his brashness, I had to recognize the truth in his statement. Destari had never fully trusted Narian, and I could not expect him to do so now, nor to understand why I still did when the young man had stood with the High Priestess at the negotiation. I should have known that he would never leave me unguarded with someone he viewed as a threat, whether or not he reported it to his captain.

“Very well, then. You can come with me if you wish.”

While it seemed best to let Destari come along, worry nipped at me. I did not know whether Narian would be willing to speak openly in the presence of one of the men who had been most suspicious of him during his time in Hytanica.

Destari nodded, rising to his feet. “Wait for me here. I'll
secure the horses, then use Casimir to occupy Steldor elsewhere in the palace so that I can come for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, and he bowed and departed.

 

The time had come, and I threw a black cloak over the breeches and blouse into which I had changed, then went to answer Destari's knock, wrapping my plaited hair into a bun at the nape of my neck as I walked. I opened the door, and my bodyguard took me out of the palace through the servants' entrance so that we emerged just to the west of the garden wall. I did not spend much time pondering how Destari had cleared this area of Palace Guards but assumed that a deputy captain would have his ways.

“We can't be seen,” he offered, by way of explanation. “Or questions might be raised.”

The steadily setting sun cast hues of pink and orange across the horizon as Destari led me west from the palace and into the small apple orchard that stood between our estate and the Military Complex. Two horses, hidden by the trees, patiently awaited riders. We climbed upon our respective mounts, then rode south at an inconspicuous pace toward the Market District, and I understood that Destari intended to keep us off the main thoroughfare that divided the city in half for as long as possible.

Most of the shops along the streets we traveled were devoid of customers at this late hour, but I veiled my face with the hood of my cloak, not wanting to be recognized. For his part, Destari nodded genially to the few preoccupied people we passed.

Eventually, the route we traveled led us onto the still-crowded thoroughfare, but we stayed to the side and moved at a brisk trot until we reached the entrance to the city. The gates of the city had been dropped, and only those citizens
bearing a pass with the King's seal had the right to enter or depart this late in the day.

“We were dispatched by the Captain of the Guard,” Destari said crisply to the sentries who stood on either side of the barrier. To my great relief, they signaled their counterparts in the towers to raise the spiked iron bars, not daring to question a deputy captain or his companion, and I was suddenly thankful that Destari had refused to let me travel by myself. I was not certain the guards would have so readily obeyed their Queen. I was quite certain, at any rate, that they would have reported my activity to Cannan.

We traversed the countryside in the soft gray light of early evening, the chill of the air increasing with our speed, and I tugged my cloak tighter about me, nestling within my hood, trusting to the steady hoofbeats of Destari's horse for guidance. By the time we arrived at Koranis's estate, it was almost too dark to distinguish our surroundings. Apprehension stole over me for I did not see another horse on the property. Had we arrived before Narian? Or was he waiting beyond the line of trees to see if I had kept my promise to come alone? And if that were the case, was he even now on his way back to the Cokyrian encampment, disappointed by my inability to keep that promise? This last thought was enough to make me want to call out for him, but I stifled the urge and dismounted to walk to the house with Destari.

The front door was unlocked, and memories of London's actions when he had found me here a few months ago came rushing back. I almost smiled as I pictured the indignation that Koranis would display if he were to learn of his ostentatious home's vulnerability. My mood was quickly sobered by Destari, who had stepped ahead of me over the threshold with his sword drawn, wary of an attack. When none was forthcoming, some of the tension left his body.

“I expected someone to accompany you.”

Destari jumped slightly as Narian's voice cut through the dark interior, then he thrust out an arm to prevent me from advancing.

Narian's form was almost indiscernible until fire came to the lantern in his hand. He was dressed in black, with a hood pulled over his blond hair, enabling him to hide among the shadows. Without speaking further, he beckoned us through an archway leading to the home's dining room. I made to go forward, but my bodyguard again detained me with a hand upon my shoulder, quite unwilling to show the enemy our backs.

Narian gave a minute shrug and went ahead of us, demonstrative of his innocent intentions. He placed the lantern on top of the polished wood surface of the table, then sat down on the far side, Destari and I taking up seats across from him.

“I'm sure you have questions for me,” he said, pushing the hood back onto his shoulders.

“Miranna?” The name burst from me immediately.

“She's well,” he answered, with a subtle downward glance.

I let go of the last vestiges of fear that had clung to me, even in the wake of his assurance that my sister was alive, feeling as though I could at last release the breath I had been holding ever since she had disappeared. Then I saw the ache in Narian's eyes, and I knew there was more to be made known.

“What is it? What's wrong, where is she?”

“You need not fear for her safety. She is being housed in the Temple of the High Priestess and is treated in much the way I was during my time as a prisoner here in Hytanica.”

“But that doesn't make sense,” I responded, furrowing my
brow to recall what I knew of the enemy's tactics. “Why keep her so well? What purpose is she yet to serve?”

“She is already serving her purpose. It is because of me that she is receiving such good care.”

I frowned in confusion, becoming even more troubled when I looked to Destari and saw pained understanding on his face. Sensing that I was lost, Narian elaborated.

“I have agreed to do the Overlord's bidding in order to ensure that Miranna is not harmed. He will kill her if I don't obey him.”

My energy depleted as a sinking feeling pervaded my stomach. The Overlord would kill her. And the only way for Narian to save me the sorrow of losing a sister was to attack and destroy my kingdom. I was thankful Narian was not asking me what I wanted him to do—what answer could I have given? It would have been selfish and unreasonable to request that he spare Miranna at the cost of Hytanica, yet the thought of sacrificing her for any cause was intolerable.

Tears welled in my eyes, for there was nothing that could be done. Miranna would be kept alive as long as Narian obeyed orders. Yet ironically, were she returned to us at the end of it all, to what would she be returning? A fallen kingdom, a despoiled homeland; she would travel from the enemy's clutches to the enemy's clutches.

“Why did you leave us?” I lamented, though I knew it no longer mattered. “If you had stayed in Hytanica, both you and Miranna would be safe.”

“There was never any guarantee of my safety, anywhere,” Narian replied, his tone resigned as though he had accepted this fact long ago. “I left Hytanica because I thought the captain, knowing of the legend, would have me killed before he'd run the risk of my return to Cokyri. He understood better than I that the Overlord would never stop search
ing for me, that his reclamation of me was inevitable. But I thought at the time that I could escape my fate. So I fled into the mountains and hid there until the Cokyrians forced me back. I tried to placate them with information initially— Hytanica would be well able to defend itself as long as I kept my distance—but I did not know they already had someone inside the palace to make use of my discoveries. Now I know that there is no escape—I will never be free until I fulfill my purpose.”

You always have a choice,
Narian had once said to me, and he had made his choice—to protect my sister.

Seemingly still on high alert, Destari had not moved or spoken during my entire dialogue with Narian.

“And London,” I said, my voice subdued. “Is he now in your
master's
care?”

“No,” Narian said, showing no reaction to the inflection in my voice. I studied him, but his attention had shifted to Destari, who, as far as I could tell, had not even adjusted position. “London was taken by the High Priestess to her temple. The Overlord does not know of his presence in Cokyri.”

“Why?”

“I do not know. It was the High Priestess's orders that the Overlord be kept ignorant.”

Narian's steely eyes again flitted to Destari, prompting me to once more examine the deputy captain. In the strained silence that followed, a noise from outside, a rustle of branches, the crack of a twig, made me jump, and I scanned my surroundings, though there were no windows in the room in which we sat.

My breathing calmed, and I settled back into my chair, but Narian's and Destari's bodies had grown taut. The two
men were staring at each other, Narian calculating, Destari obscure, and I realized something was not right.

“How many did you bring with you?” Narian's controlled and knowing voice slashed the tension like a knife.

Destari did not answer, but his right hand tightened around the hilt of his dagger. In desperation, I responded for him, refusing to acknowledge the message in his body language.

“No one came with us,” I said, shooting a significant look at my bodyguard, urging him to confirm my words. Neither he nor Narian paid attention.

“We're alone,” I insisted. “Just as I promised we—”

But another small sound from outside, which could easily have been the snort of a horse, stemmed my words.

“Destari?” I asked in disbelief.

“If you come willingly, they may not hurt you,” the Elite Guard said bluntly to Narian, whose soft exhale might have been a sigh or a laugh. “The house is surrounded. If you try to run, the captain has given the men leave to stop you in whatever way necessary.”