Allegiance (33 page)

“She has powers, then,” I said, unease and awe sending a shiver through me as questions chased round and round in my mind. I hesitated, then asked the one that had come to the forefront. “But…how did you know?”

“Just accept it, Alera.”

There was suddenly a sharper edge to London's words, and I wondered if I were delving into those pieces of his life he himself had not explored for years—those pieces about which he had never spoken. I dropped the subject and went to join Miranna. Taking advantage of the lull, I lay down at her side to get some sleep, my eyes on the High Priestess's
still form, aware that the Cokyrian ruler possessed knowledge of London's past that I never would.

When I woke the next morning, London and Halias were in serious discussion near the fire pit; Temerson was back inside the cave, lying down a few feet from Miranna; Galen, nowhere to be seen, was apparently on watch; and Cannan, still at Steldor's side, was monitoring the High Priestess as she once more laid hands upon his son. I did not know how she felt about the captain, but had I been in her position, I would have found his mistrustful dark eyes highly unsettling.

I began to fuss with breakfast, all the while listening to the exchange between the two Elite Guards.

“One of us will have to find a Cokyrian soldier and send her back to the Overlord with our message,” London was saying.

“And what exactly will the message say?” Halias asked.

“I think it should be written, to avoid any miscommunication. We tell him we have his sister and are willing to negotiate terms of her release. We designate a meeting spot far from here, and make it clear that if there is any foul play, if any of our men are attacked, tracked or even sneered at, the High Priestess will be executed.”

“And what do you think we'll be able to get in exchange for her?”

“I don't think we can expect the return of our lands, but I believe we can secure the release of our people. Their only worth to him is as slaves. I think he will trade their freedom for the safe return of his sister.” Halias gave a short nod, then brought up the next issue.

“If the note is delivered as we desire, who will meet him?”

“I will,” London said without hesitation. “I know what to expect.”

Halias's brows had pulled together. “You can't go alone.”

There was a pause as Halias waited for London's response, but my former bodyguard's eyes flashed to mine before he continued.

“With so many to protect, the necessity of guard duty and now the High Priestess to watch, I can only afford to bring one of you with me. Galen's skill with a bow makes him the logical choice—he can scout from above. You need the remaining numbers here.”

“You'll be walking to the slaughter.”

“Only if he's willing to sacrifice his kingdom's true ruler. Without Nantilam, Cokyri falls into disarray and their clean takeover is lost. He's their weapon, she's their ruler. He needs her. I don't think I'll be in danger—nor would Alera—if she would decide to come.”

The goblet of water I had been holding clattered to the floor as I reeled in shock.

“You don't have to, of course. But it would be better to have you with me to impress upon him our seriousness, and to prove to him that we still have a sovereign. It won't matter to him that you're the Queen and not the King.”

I sat, slack-jawed, considering London's request. My first instinct was to be terrified. Could I face this person, this monster, who had done so much evil? Who had ordered the kidnapping of my sister, coerced the man I loved to destroy my home, murdered the soldiers who had struggled so hard to defend us, tortured Casimir, and possibly Destari, to death? Could I stand before him and not cower? But now that I had the option of seeing for myself this warlord whom I hated, passionately, unconditionally, how could I refuse?

“Alera?” London prompted, reminding me that I had not responded.

“I'll go,” I said, coming to my feet, images of how the Overlord would look, how he would speak, what could happen, spinning in my head.

“It is not a necessity,” London repeated, aware of my unfocused expression.

“I'm not afraid.” My voice was more emphatic than I expected it to be, but I knew the rush of anger and anticipation inside me was feeding my confidence. “I want him to know that.”

A gasp from across the cave interrupted us, and our heads snapped to Steldor at an exclamation from Cannan.

“Steldor, it's all right! Steldor!”

The gasp had not come from the young King in question, but from the High Priestess, around whose throat Steldor's fingers had closed. She was clawing at his wrist, tugging in vain against his grip, and it wasn't until Cannan reached out to pry his fingers away that Steldor relaxed his stranglehold.

“Steldor, stop, she's not hurting you,” the captain repeated.

London, Halias and I drew near, stunned but relieved that Steldor was actually awake. Cannan extended a hand, advising us to give them some space, while the High Priestess coughed and rubbed her throat. She was staring incredulously at our King, who, despite his weakened body and disoriented mind, had been aware enough to recognize her as an enemy. Pride rose within me as Cannan tried to bring his son out of his agitated state. It was as though Steldor had been under water for days and was just coming up for air. He seemed lost and confused, and the rush to his senses was overwhelming. I could not imagine what it would be like
to have accepted death, to have sunk into its embrace, then to awaken yet in this world.

It was not long before Steldor slipped again into unconsciousness, but Cannan and London shared a look of understated triumph.

“He's coming back.” London smirked.

 

It was Halias who bore the message to the Cokyrians. London had composed it and entrusted it to his fellow deputy captain after allowing the other men, and me, to read and approve of its contents. The High Priestess had dryly offered to give her input as well, but London had only glowered in her direction.

I was worried, of course, that something would go wrong, but Halias returned four hours later, having doubled back to conceal his trail. Skipping the details, he assured us that he had convinced a lone, wandering Cokyrian soldier to deliver the note. It was easy, for the most part, to fight down anxiety over the role I would play, for London and I would not set off until the following morning. But every time I let my mind drift to the foggy image of the Overlord it had conjured—a petrifying, hulking figure—dread unhinged me. Half of me harbored the same murderous thoughts I'd had earlier, and the same desire to show him he could not conquer me; and the other half wanted to hide, to let him think I was dead so he could never come after me. I didn't know which half was dominant.

The night grew late, but sleep would not come, and I rose from my bed to sit by the fire. To my surprise, Cannan left Steldor for the first time in days to sit beside me, his expression telling me he had something on his mind. The High Priestess was once more bound and lay a fair distance from his son, giving the captain cause for some respite, but
still I knew he would not want to risk Steldor waking alone and disoriented. Whatever he had come to say had to be important.

“I knew your uncle,” he revealed, voice hushed as if he did not want to disturb the sleep of the others who lay around us, though I suspected he would have viewed this as a private conversation regardless. “Andrius was my best friend, Hytanica's Crown Prince. He was treasured, and would have been a great king, one history would never have forgotten. Strong, stubborn, intelligent and not afraid to challenge anyone, not even his own father.” He smiled, remembering tales I would never be told. “He was compassionate, Alera, and bold—traits that ultimately led to his death on the battlefield, but without which he would have been half the man he was.”

As he pondered the flames, I began to wonder why he was telling me this, then his eyes found mine and he spoke once more.

“I see him in you, Alera. You have his spirit, which your own father, for all his goodness, lacks. But that is why I know you can do this. You won't cower before the Overlord—you'll show him the strength that lies in our kingdom, in the blood of our royal family. You'll cause him that second of uncertainty that will open the door to our victory.”

His eyes held mine a moment longer, then he rose and returned to Steldor's side. The doubts that had been plaguing me dissipated, and I knew I would face the Overlord with dignity at the meeting in the morning. For the second time I had been compared with this distant man of strength and valor, whose death had left a kingdom in mourning. Whoever he was, I would not let him down. And I would not let down my courageous comrades.

 

Cannan's words and his confidence were with me when London and I left at dawn for a clearing in the woods just west of the Hytanican city. London had chosen the location carefully, wanting it to be close enough for ease of travel, yet far enough to prevent the discovery of our cave. He also wanted there to be a vantage point from which we could monitor the clearing, not trusting the Overlord in the least. Galen, known for his prowess with a bow, was even now taking up position to give us added protection.

The negotiation had been set for noon, and London was certain of two things: that the Overlord would attend, and that it would be unwise to be late. Like London, I wore breeches and a leather jerkin, with a cloak covering all; with my short hair and oversized clothing, I probably looked more like a boy than a queen.

We traveled on horseback about half the distance, hiking the remainder, London not even wanting our mode of transportation to give clues as to the whereabouts of our hiding place. The Elite Guard scanned the clearing where we would meet, which was about a hundred feet across, leaf-strewn and patchy with snow. It was surrounded by thick trees, mostly oak and elm, with relatively few pines, and the undergrowth was so dense it was grueling to push through. Then we settled in to wait, the clearing within view but our position difficult to detect.

We waited about an hour, with the hoods of our cloaks over our heads, slowly becoming stiff with the cold, before the sound of horses' hooves moving through the brush became distinct. My heart threatened to explode, but I tried to breathe steadily. I was determined to show the Overlord the strength of our kingdom.

Though I could not yet see our adversaries, I knew more than one mount had broken through the underbrush.

“I thought he would come alone!” I seethed.

London pressed a finger to his lips, silencing me as a forceful voice echoed through the trees.

“You conceal yourself from me like a coward! Step out where I can see you, London. I know this is your game.”

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat as London rose from his crouch to saunter into the open. I wanted to cling to the ground like the frost beneath my feet, but I followed his example to the best of my ability, pulling back my hood at the same time he did his.

Across from us, two Cokyrians, cloaked and dressed in black, were dismounting. My heart beat erratically as I realized one was Narian. The other was a tall man wearing a black tunic over silver chain mail with metallic bracers on his forearms, his shoulders broad enough to block out the sun. He was not hulking as I'd pictured him; his movements were fluid, eerily graceful, as he stood by his thickly built black warhorse. His hair was red like his sister's, but longer, pulled back at the nape of his neck. His green eyes were also identical to hers, though they were made striking not by their depth but by their harshness and cruelty. The foliage itself seemed to quake in fear as he walked, and the cold that came from him was different from that of the weather—it was a cold that weakened everything it touched. He was the first person I had ever met who felt utterly devoid of humanity.

Narian had likewise dismounted from his slightly smaller dark bay horse and was trailing his master by a few steps. Given his growth and increased bulk, he had a powerful look about him as well, but was not as imposing in stature or demeanor as the Overlord. There was something about
the warlord that made everything around him shrink and tremble.

“It is you,” the Overlord sneered, scowling at my companion.

“Yes,” London replied, voice steely. “And that is why you can rest assured none of this is a bluff.”

The warlord snarled and abruptly thrust his arm out toward London. At once, the deputy captain screamed, collapsing to his hands and knees, but I stood rooted in place, too horrified to react or go to him. He fell to his side, writhing in agony, and only then did our enemy relent.

“I should have killed you long ago,” he spat as his victim panted, unmoving in the aftermath of the attack.

I had a strong desire to run, to save myself, not even caring if I left London behind, and probably would have if I had not caught the flicker of emotion that played in Narian's blue eyes. Whether it was pride or love or admiration, I did not know, but it was enough to root me in place. I gazed at him, absorbing some of his spirit, and I felt my confidence return.

The Overlord began to pace, stalking back and forth in front of us, but he did not come closer, and this small detail told me we still held the upper hand. The warlord was furious, but he would not risk his sister any more than he already had.

I stepped in front of London to address our foe, suddenly defiant.

“And who are you, little one?” he asked.

“I am Queen of Hytanica,” I responded, voice firm, head high. “The High Priestess's life is in my hands. Will you negotiate to save her?”

He stopped pacing, scanning me perhaps for signs of
weakness, but I made sure that all he could read was my antagonism.

“Be careful what you demand. Only so far will I negotiate.”

He was trying to intimidate me, and thereby maintain control of the situation. But I could see the boast in his statement, and I did not vacillate over my next words.