The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil (35 page)

“You did not appear to despise him when I found the two of you together.”

“Did you stop to think about that, Callum?” Exasperated, she threw her arms in the air, almost causing the chains to hit her in the head on their descent. “I was furious when I discovered you had returned to Tanispa. And without notice. No visit. Just wandering into the lists as if you belonged there. As if you’d never left. I hated you for leaving the way you did. I was tired of constantly being reminded of you every time I set foot in the courtyard. Lord Dacian was merely convenient. A means of forcing the image out of my head so I could finally be free of you!”

“If we ever return to Sivaeria, you will have successfully accomplished that goal.”

His words hit her like a heavy boot to the stomach. The annulment. Given the confessions Callum had revealed to her, she no longer believed he was content with the agreement they had come to while in Carpaen. If he loved her the way he claimed, why would he be so willing to relinquish his rights to her as his wife? “You wanted the marriage.”

“Of course I did,” he exhaled bitterly. “But even I – no.” Shaking his head, he retracted whatever thought had initially come to his mind. Changing it. Leaving Aiva curious what he was thinking. “I cannot say I have ever doubted it. Through my anger, I still can’t say I have any regrets.”

“Then why did you agree to the annulment?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of going the rest of my life with you hating me. I will do anything to at least return us to the state of friendship we once shared, instead of whatever this mess is that we have been locked in since my return.”

Her anger dissipated rapidly. She hated to see the misery in Callum’s expression. The hurt-filled tone of his voice. It ate away at her. Adding to the uncertainty she’d already experienced over her decision to end the marriage. Every excuse she had for hating him was gone. His lack of correspondence had to be the fault of Faustine. Dacian’s stories were nothing more than mere fabrications. Exaggerated renditions of the truth. All Aiva was left with was a yawning pit in her stomach. She owed Callum her life. He deserved better, but after her behavior, she feared the suggestion of accepting the union might only create more hostility. He would think her fickle. Incapable of making a decision and standing behind it. Or worse, he might not want to risk her changing her mind again and insist upon the separation for the sake of his own heart.

Idly she let her thumb move over the base of her ring finger where her wedding band had been placed the day of the ceremony. She wanted to feel it there. A reminder of what she might be giving up in going through with the annulment. To her surprise the skin was bare. Devoid of any adornment other than the mud still caked between her fingers. “My ring,” she breathed. “It’s gone!” Frantically she held out her left hand, staring at it in horrified disbelief, fearful that she had lost it in the murky depths of the scalding desert pit.

At her outburst she could see Callum shift out of the corner of her eye, extending his own hand to examine the fingers. “Mine is gone as well,” he frowned, letting his hand fall limply to the cool stone floor. “What have I done to make the gods hate me so?”

Rising to her feet, Aiva began an anxious pace across the floor. She didn’t care about the chains. She just wanted to move. If Callum was losing faith, what was she supposed to do? He’d been the support of the unit throughout the entire trip. She needed him to stay strong. If he didn’t, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle things herself. She wasn’t ready for that responsibility. Not yet. “You can’t give up now, Callum. I know it may not mean much to you, but I need you to stay focused. I – need you. We need each other. The men are counting on you.”

“You need me?” Callum raised his brow curiously in her direction. “What could you possibly need me for?”

It was a loaded question. One that she wasn’t prepared to answer. And she had no intention of trying. He was just going to have to trust her. If they worked together, they might be able to devise a plan of action. Callum was skilled in military tactics while Aiva had been well-trained in diplomacy. Between the two of them, there was no reason they couldn’t talk their way out of the Feh Noq’s clutches. Once that had been accomplished, they would have plenty of time to discuss their situation further. Maybe then it would be more appropriate for her to suggest giving the annulment more thought. To determine if it was truly the best choice. “You are the Captain of the Royal Army, Callum. What do you think your father would do in this situation? Do you think he would give up?”

“I can’t compare myself to my father. He is like a god. Nothing touches him. He wouldn’t be in a situation like this. I’ve already failed my men. Four of them are dead. The rest are now captives of the Feh Noq. I just can’t seem to figure out where I went wrong.” He tried to rest his face in his hands, flinching in pain, the injury to the side of his head now more prominent than it was before.

Aiva let her hand lightly brush her forehead. Her own injury felt less severe. A simple bump forming around the skin where she’d been struck by a fist, or some heavy object. Hesitantly, she took a step forward. She wanted to go to him. To tend the wound. But she couldn’t. The chains weren’t long enough to allow them so close. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” she comforted. Why couldn’t she get to him? It would be so much easier to console him if she could just get to his side. “There was nothing to be done about Phelan. It was an outright attack by the enemy. A captain can’t prevent the death of his soldiers during a war. The other three directly disobeyed your orders. How can you blame yourself for their demise? You made the proper calls. If this is a matter of who is failing, I would say it is your men. Not their Captain.”

“I should have done more.”

“You have done everything you could.”

With a shake of his head, Callum climbed to his feet, dusting at the sand covering his trousers. “Why are you suddenly trying to encourage me?”

“Because I’m your friend. That’s what friends do.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Callum’s mouth. Faint. Almost slipping past Aiva’s notice. “So we are still friends? Even though I wronged you so horribly by thinking such inappropriate things about you while in Ireni’s company? I have feared it was those thoughts which led to the punishment I have endured since then. It would be only right if you were angry.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Aiva tried to think of how to respond. She wasn’t offended. If he was guilty for having thought about kissing her, then she was equally so. It was her drifting mind which led to their mishap at camp upon first entering Palinon. “I cannot in good conscience hold that against you,” she stated, impressed by the calm of her voice. Inside her heart was fluttering. Embarrassed to admit what she was about to in Callum’s presence. “You’re not the only one in this cell who has pictured what it would be like if we kissed. You, however, are the only one innocent of having dared to act on those thoughts recently.”

Quizzically, Callum glanced at her. Seeming unsure of what she meant. “I don’t understand,” he shook his head. “Are you implying that you have thought about kissing me?”

“I’m admitting that it was my misconduct that night at camp when we did so. Not yours.”

“Why did you accuse me?”

“Because I panicked,” she frowned. “I didn’t know what I was doing. It just – happened. And when I realized what I did, my first instinct was to deny it. The accusations were reflexive. It seems I have difficulty accepting responsibility for my actions.”

“Thank you,” Callum nodded his head decisively.

Aiva stared at him, confused. “For what?”

“For admitting the truth. That alone is a big step,” he laughed softly to himself. “And to think I have been beating my head against a wall trying to figure out what happened that night. I knew I made no advances toward you. The only thing I could think which made any sense was that I had lost my senses. I have been doing everything to avoid you to make sure I didn’t risk it happening again.”

“But all those insults – I thought you were angry with me.”

“I was trying to be. I wanted to hate you. I thought if I pushed you away, it would make everything easier to deal with. Instead, all I have dreamt about since that night has been your lips. Inappropriate, I know. You can’t blame me for clinging to the memory. For that split second, I felt – something. It’s hard to describe. But that – that moment was real. And even if you deny it, I will continue to believe that you felt something as well. How could you not?”

“Maybe I did,” Aiva shrugged, turning away from him to avoid the hopefulness in his eyes. She couldn’t look at him any longer. They needed to change the subject or she was going to go mad trying to figure out the jumbled thoughts crashing around inside her head. Her lips parted to speak, intending to return the conversation to the possibility of escape, but the words that came out were far from what she knew was acceptable to say. “Did you think of her while I was in your arms?”

Callum looked as though someone had driven a knife into his back. Taking in a sharp breath he gave a vehement shake of his head, reaching his hand toward Aiva. “No. By Sarid, I swear that wretched woman never crossed my mind. But while we are discussing the others we have been with, I also must know, Aiva. Was Dacian enough to chase away the memory of me?”

She cringed at the thought. Dacian? Her heart had been racing so hard when alone with him, she couldn’t focus on enjoying anything. She’d been frightened. Lost. How could that compare to the gentleness of Callum’s touch? “I assure you, Callum. Your company is far more pleasant than Lord Dacian could ever hope to be. I never should have let him touch me.”

Staring down at her hands, she continued to let her thumb run over the bare skin of her finger. She hated the nakedness of it. Since she was a child, she’d proudly worn the Levadis family crest upon her hand. Without it, she felt stripped. The ring was a symbol of her family. Her status. Her identity. She was nobody without it in these unfamiliar lands.

Such an item would fetch a high price on the market if the Feh Noq chose to seek profit. Unlike the smaller band she’d worn when she was younger, the wedding ring was more intricate. Twisted gold and silver, accented by precious gemstones to add color to the crest. An easy way for a common thief to secure his fortune. “We need to get out of here,” she said quietly. It sounded foolish. Callum was well aware of the fact. He didn’t need to hear her say it again. “When we were younger, you and I always created plans to thwart Edric in our games. If we put our heads together, I believe we could think of a way to escape and save the others.”

Gently tugging on the manacles, Callum gave a short chuckle. “In the literal sense, I have already considered putting our heads together, but these chains will not allow it. If you meant figuratively, however, we might be able to come up with something.”

Aiva opened her mouth to respond, her voice failing. Warmth flooded her ears at the implications of Callum’s statement. A poor attempt, if he had intended to veil his innuendo. “I am going to assume you meant that in jest,” she cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“It was humorous to me, at least,” he shrugged. “Either way, a plan would certainly help. The trouble we face is that we know very little about our current enemy. My only comfort is their decision to keep us in a cell. They chose captivity over execution. They must be holding us for a reason. Possibly to be brought before their leader.”

“Do you know anything about the Feh Noq leaders?”

“Very little,” Callum said. “I believe they function under the rule of a king, though I don’t think they use the familiar title the way we do. Regardless, there are two very likely possibilities once they return to retrieve us. They will either present us to their leader, or to a military officer of some sort. If they take us to their king, then I would trust you to communicate with him and negotiate our freedom. In the event that they take us before their military, I will assume that responsibility.”

“But what if they separate us? I’m not comfortable facing an unknown government alone.”

“We cannot allow them to separate us,” he nodded, decisive. “Whatever the cost, stay close to me.”

It sounded too simple. Stick together. So far their captors had made that an easy task. And speaking with their king would be even easier. Royalty was one thing she understood. If she could just explain to the Feh Noq their reasons for trespassing, they would have to let them go. It was the most reasonable reaction she could hope for. “What do we do until then?”

“We wait.” Callum let out a deep breath, lowering himself to the floor once again. “I recommend sleep. In the event things turn violent, it would be best if we were refreshed and prepared to defend. I suspect they will be back to fetch us soon enough.”

.

Chapter Twelve

Aiva awoke to the sound of loud voices outside the door of their cell. She didn’t recognize the words being spoken. A foreign language. The Feh Noq. Judging by their distance, she assumed them to be in the hall, closer to where the other members of Callum’s unit were held. Fearfully, she listened. Not knowing what to expect. She knew nothing of the Feh Noq culture. While Callum believed they would be brought before the city leader, Aiva had her doubts. These creatures were said to be vicious. Capable of horrendous acts. When she closed her eyes, she was haunted by images of her and Callum being dragged from the cell and sacrificed to some strange deity. Tied to a stone slab and cut into pieces, or set aflame while still alive.

She shuddered. The image was too grotesque. It was best she not let her imagination run rampant. In some cases her creative mind was considered a merit, but this was one of those times where she felt it would be easier to calm her nerves if she was unable to conjure pictures in her head at all.

Curled upright in a fetal position, Aiva let her head lean against the wall for support. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting her face touch the disgusting surface of the floor. There was no way to know what was on it. What other prisoners had done while locked inside that cell, or worse; what had been done to them. The shouts were getting louder outside. Echoing through the walls. They were coming closer. Nervously she lifted her head to look at Callum, finding his eyes already set on the door. Waiting.

“Do you think they’re coming for us?” she whispered.

Callum was perfectly still. Listening intently. She didn’t know how he managed to look so composed when her own hands and knees trembled violently. When they discussed their plan the night before, it sounded simple. Stay together. It was easier said than done. If the creatures wanted to tear them apart, Aiva felt powerless to prevent it while in her shackled state.

Before Callum could respond, the latch outside the door lifted, metal scraping against metal, signaling the arrival of the guards. Hinges creaked and groaned from the heavy iron door frame, several of the odd Feh Noq beasts scurrying into the room. They continued to chatter amongst themselves, occasionally waving their paw-like hands toward the two prisoners in turn. Aiva cursed her inability to understand what they were saying. A somewhat larger Feh Noq near the front of the group gave an official looking gesture in Aiva’s direction. Instantly she felt their rough hands over her legs and arms, preventing her from moving while the larger beast stepped closer to look her over appraisingly.

He smiled, a row of small, sharp teeth visible under his thin lips. Up close Aiva could see the characteristics of a man mingled with those of something far different. In physical structure he appeared no different from the men in Carpaen, though proportionally disfigured. The length of his arms was unnatural. From a distance she’d been convinced that the Feh Noq had no distinction between their hands and feet, but she could see now that they did. Minimal, yet visible in slight variations of size. The man’s hands were shorter, almost stubby, each finger bearing only two knuckles that Aiva could count.

Chin held high, she let him scrutinize her every feature. She was a princess. It wasn’t in the nature of royalty to show fear at the hands of an enemy. She preferred him to think her unfazed by the dominance displayed by these creatures. Her attention was drawn to the man’s eyes, narrowed at her. An attempt at intimidation. The blue haze she’d seen over the eyes of the creatures at the time of their capture was no longer there, replaced by two large, rounded eyes, the irises wide, colored in a deep brown that circled nearly the entire surface. A thin layer of brown hair covered the man’s skin, leaving none of it visible from under the coat. She didn’t like being so close to him. The oddities of his appearance made him hard to look at without staring in awe.

He gave an order to the creatures holding Aiva’s arms and legs. She could feel their fingers tighten their grasp in response, giving no hesitation to heed his orders, forcing her down to her knees. Curious, Aiva let her eyes drift over the clothing worn by the man in front of her. A soft brown jacket with shortened sleeves, embroidered around the collar with multiple lines of yellow-gold thread. Military fashion. At seeing her steady gaze, the man brought his hand up, fist clenched, the furry, hardened surface of his knuckles striking solidly against the side of Aiva’s face. He was strong for his size; only half Aiva’s height, utilizing enough power to snap her neck painfully to one side, the impact causing her vision to swim.

The hand barely moved away from her face when she saw a flash of bright, reddish brown light erupt from behind the man, sending him stumbling forward. Callum. Even in his restraints, these creatures couldn’t escape the Vor’shai energy. “You will not touch her!” Callum commanded, on his feet in a fighting stance.

Summoned by the commotion, another wave of Feh Noq rushed through the door of the cell, immediately charging at Callum, raining blows upon him for the attack. Aiva could hear her voice screaming at them to stop. She wanted to run to him. To protect him from these monsters. Her arms and legs were held firm, pressed to the ground on her knees before the military leader. Something was being placed around her neck. Metal. Another cuff, snapped into place, the attached chain handed to the possession of the man that struck her. He gave a hard tug, snapping her body forward to force her face-down on the stone floor. Several feet stepped onto her back to pin her there while the manacles on her wrists were removed to detach her from the wall. She couldn’t see Callum. No matter how hard she tried, her head wouldn’t turn enough to grant her a view of what happened to him.
What if they kill him?
The thought was frantic. He’d directly assaulted them. They would have no reason to tolerate such an attack.

Harshly, Aiva’s arms were wrenched behind her back, a new set of shackles arranged to prevent her from lashing out. Two of the creatures were at her sides as the weight on her back lifted, gleaming tips of sharpened spears pointed directly at either side of her head.

“Stand up.”

The words were thickly accented, almost indiscernible as the leader issued the order. The spear-heads pushed in closer, forcing Aiva to do as instructed, climbing to her feet in a fluid motion. She swallowed hard. It was difficult to maintain her composure with the weapons so close to her skin. There was no longer any doubt in her mind why the Feh Noq were considered savages. She didn’t dare try to fight against the pull when the larger man started to lead her forward, the metal around her neck pinching hard. It was tight. Uncomfortable. Restricting her breath. Their difference in height forced Aiva to hunch as they walked, guided out of the cell and into the hallway.

From behind, she was vaguely aware of the others following. Aiva wanted to turn her head and see if they brought Callum, but the restraints wouldn’t allow it.
Keep calm. Don’t panic.

How could she not panic? This was nothing like they’d planned. After Callum’s assault, he would be no use if they were brought before any military faction. She feared he would be condemned to death for the insult.

They were leading her deeper into the prison. She was expecting to be paraded through the area by the other men, granting her at least a glimpse to know if they were safe. Kaemin. Gadiel. She worried what had become of them while she and Callum were locked away. But there would be no consolation on that yet.

Wherever they were taking her, it appeared to be outside of the main compound. Through the wide, twisting hallways, she became aware of the change in scenery. Metalwork statues lined the walls, depicting images of what Aiva could only assume were prominent people in the Feh Noq history. Some carried crafted swords in their hands while others merely stood, proud, keeping watch over those who passed through the halls. Eventually they turned to a more spacious corridor, a red carpet leading from the door to a large, gem-set gold throne with a high-backed crimson-cushioned surface. There sat a more regal looking man of Feh Noq descent, rising to his feet at the sight of Aiva’s entrance. His already wide-eyed gaze seemed to grow larger, motioning for the men to stop.

At her side she could see another group of soldiers hurry forward, pausing as directed. In their arms they carried the limp form of Callum, head bowed forward, eyes closed. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth under the swelling already beginning to form. Unconscious. It was up to her now. There was no one else to help her.

“Vor’shai?” The regal man stated, matter-of-fact in his tone, a similar accent to that of the man wielding the chain around her neck, though less pronounced. Clearly more versed in the common language of the humans. “You said you were bringing Ven’shal.”

“Is there a difference, Phaezut?”

Aiva recognized the thick words of the man leading the others. He sounded less confident than before. Taking a knee before the one addressed as Phaezut, he forced Aiva to bend further forward, nearly impaling her on the spears still pressed at her neck. “Indeed,” Phaezut nodded sharply. “What crimes have they committed?”

“The pirates said Ven’shal soldiers intended to attack our people. These two match the description of the leaders.”

“I might believe the story if the two before me now were Ven’shal. Are you sure the pirates were not misinformed?”

“Yes, Phaezut.” The man stood, stiff in his movements. It was a relief to Aiva, granting some reprieve to the harsh angle of her back, releasing a minimal amount of pressure in the cuff around her neck. He reached into his jacket, clutching something in his hands. The chain pulled Aiva forward another step as he placed the contents on Phaezut’s outstretched palm, nodding emphatically. “We were told the leaders bear matching rings of their vile clan. Those were removed from the fingers of the prisoners.”

Aiva drew in a sharp breath. Her ring! It was right there, so close to being within her grasp. Instinctively she tried to move toward it, her progress halted by tiny pin-pricks of pain as the spear-tips pressed into her neck just under her jaw. Phaezut glanced at her, tensed at her sudden movement, slowly relaxing once again at the sight of his men having her under control.

Phaezut pondered over the rings while making his way back to the throne, settling himself on it, a curious expression on his face. “Spearmen. At ease,” he commanded. At the directive, Aiva felt the pain in her neck subside, the two men retracting their weapons, stepping away to stand near the entrance of the room. “Tell me, Vor’shai,” Phaezut gazed at Aiva, stern. Calm. “Where did you get these rings?”

“The rings you hold in your hand belong to my husband and I,” Aiva stated, finding the title odd. Husband. Callum was her husband. Until they returned to Tanispa, she wasn’t lying in utilizing the term. “They were bestowed upon us by my mother and father for our wedding ceremony. The rightful symbol of my status.”

“I know little of the northern people, but I was taught of their royal houses. These rings bear the Levadis crest.” Phaezut pinched one of the rings between his wide fingers, holding it out for everyone in the room to see. “To claim ownership of a trinket such as this, you proclaim yourself to be of the Levadis line. It is a high offense to masquerade as royalty.”

“It is no masquerade.” Aiva was content with the steadiness of her tone. She sounded confident. If only she could get the rest of her to feel the same. This was no military leader she stood before. He appeared some type of king. Well-versed in the governments of other countries. If she could convince him of her heritage, he might be persuaded to let them go. “I am Aiva Levadis, eldest daughter of Queen Leyna Levadis and King Thade of the Vor’shai.”

“And what would the royal family of Tanispa require in our desert?”

“We seek the pirates,” she explained. “They are led by a woman known as Ireni Moura. She is in possession of my sister, Princess Shaelyn. She was kidnapped by the pirates who have brought her through Palinon in attempts to reach Luquarr where she will be sold into slavery, or ransomed. Our only business in your country is to find them and retrieve the Princess. We mean no harm to your people.”

“And the man here with you?”

“He is my husband.”

Phaezut’s brow rose inquisitively toward the man holding the chain leash at Aiva’s neck. “Why is he bleeding on my carpet?”

“He attacked me, Phaezut,” the man stammered. “We did what was necessary to protect ourselves. To protect the palace.”

Free of the spears hindering her motion, Aiva turned her head to stare directly at Phaezut. He seemed a reasonable man. Not incapable of understanding their plight. “If I may be so bold as to defend, Sir. My husband would not have attacked if your man had not struck me first. We intended to come willingly, but our people do not take kindly to having their Princess beaten.”

“Is this true?” Phaezut rose to his feet, a flash of anger visible in his large eyes. “Eshaoq. Did you raise your hand to this woman without cause?”

“I believed she would attempt to fight, Phaezut – ”

“Did she give you cause to strike?”

The man bowed forward once again, tugging Aiva off-balance, dropping her to her knees. Without the use of her hands she nearly toppled forward, barely maintaining her posture. “She did not, Sir,” he mumbled hesitantly. “But she caused injury to one of my men when we apprehended her. It was within my rights…”

“Release her bindings!” Phaezut shouted, his voice echoing through the spacious room. “Eshaoq, you are excused. We will discuss your behavior another time.”

“But Phaezut – ”

“You are excused!”

The other Feh Noq soldiers rushed to Aiva’s side, their hands quickly working at the cuff around her neck to free her of its restrictive hold, relief flooding her to feel the manacles on her wrists also slipping away. With the chains collected, the men hurried back to their positions, awaiting further command. Eshaoq was already gone by the time Aiva raised her eyes to look around, breathing in a deep swallow of air. Respectful of Phaezut’s obvious authority, she started to give a deep curtsy, finding the motion awkward without the usual garments of a lady. Proudly, she gave a proper bow, mimicking the mannerisms she’d witnessed Edric and her father use when greeting members of other courts.