Castle of Lies Page 2

  We need the Klissen, and they need us.

  I don’t realize I’m drunk until I reach the courtyard and the night sky swims overhead. Demons, it’s chilly. The dreaded snow is soon to appear. I pull the cuffed sleeves of my coat tighter around me and scowl. I don’t want to face Dad back at the mansion—he’ll be in a foul mood when he learns I left the banquet early. Maybe if he weren’t so bitter at the King and came himself, the Bellisare fortune wouldn’t depend solely on me. Every time I see our estate out the carriage window, I’m reminded it’s all we have left of Dad’s once vast riches. If only I could live here in Four Halls like Thelia does, in my own suite. She has no idea how good she’s got it.

  Though I don’t have an older brother who’s so far rung up the parapets that he’s gone over the other side and driven her out of her own house. There’s that.

  But the sun could be coming out with Corene getting married off. Now Thelia has the chance to scoop up Bayled and become queen, like my dear horrible aunt always wanted for her. Now I only worry that her resentment of Corene has consumed her. If she’s too careless, if she botches this, then I’m done here. I’ve pinned my hopes on Thelia winning over Bayled. I can’t take another decade of living under stupid Hindermarks.

  I whirl around and run back into the castle. Maybe I can make amends for my tasteless elf joke and keep her focused on the real end game.

  As I’m heading toward her suite in South Hall, I notice red ringlets whip around a corner. Only one person here has hair like that. I thought Corene would be in her quarters now, sobbing on her gossamer curtains. Following the flourish of her skirt down the halls, I think I’ve only seen her move this quickly once before—when she heard the white flu had come for her mother.

  Corene stops on the bottom step of the small, winding staircase that leads to North Hall. “It’s you,” she says in a breathy voice.

  Behind her, I duck out of sight and peer around a pillar. I can’t see who stands above her.

  “How feel you, Princess?” Nul se Lan’s accent gives him away. “You look . . . pale. Announcement a surprise?”

  Nul se Lan reaches down to Corene’s face, but the pillar blocks my view. All I can make out is a disembodied hand cupping the Princess’s rosy cheek. Their touch is familiar, almost casual. I lean out as far as I dare.

  Corene smiles at him—a real smile that crinkles her eyes. “I’m fine.” Her hand goes to his, their fingers intertwining. “I knew my father had already accepted the proposal. I just wasn’t prepared for him to tell everyone about it.”

  Especially Bayled, I bet.

  “I know.” Nul se Lan steps down to the bottom step, so I can finally see all six feet of him. A curl of blond hair drops over his eyes, and a delectable diamond of carved chest peeks out from his loose collar. He tips up Corene’s chin so their gazes lock. “Now, I hope you are prepared,” Nul se Lan says. “Soon, my most beautiful star, we be wed.”

  My most beautiful star? Demons, strike me dead before I vomit on the floor.

  “I’ve never been more prepared.” Corene rises onto the balls of her feet, and their lips touch.

  Oh, this is much more complicated than I thought. I turn and stumble back the way I came, clutching the hem of my shirt so I don’t laugh aloud. Corene, that wily squork—what’s her game? I never thought I’d feel bad for that tourist Bayled, but even I didn’t see this coming. Time to ponder over what I’ll tell Thelia.

  Bayled

  I was nearly nine when I was brought to the Holy Kingdom, but it still feels like Corene’s always been a fixture in my life. Every moment that matters—whispering during our tutors’ boring lessons, practicing my swordplay in the courtyard while she watched, exploring the castle’s many hidden tunnels, staying up late at night to share secrets—Corene is part of them all.

  I was so lost and out of place when the Prime Minister sent my family here. We came to hold the King to the terms of his surrender, but the Holy Kingdom became so much more for me. From the moment I arrived, Corene helped me understand the customs, the way people think. Well, mostly. I’ve never understood the hatred they have for simple Magic. In the Republic, we let brooms and mops do all the cleaning. Doing it oneself was an enormous waste.

  But Corene never seemed to care where I was from. She’s the only one who’s ever accepted me, loved me, just as I am. When my parents died, it was her arms I fell into. And now I’m going to lose her.

  My perch on the stairs behind the kitchen is the only thing that feels familiar. My stomach grumbles—I couldn’t eat much of my dinner after the announcement. The moment it was over, Corene was gone. She must have needed the time alone, so I didn’t follow. Instead I stumbled out here, where no one would bother me.

  When I asked Corene to marry me, I should’ve gone straight to the King. Told him my intentions while he kept me working late one evening and he was spilling his soul over a full goblet of wine. One of those nights, silver with camaraderie, would’ve been the perfect chance to ask for his blessing. He would’ve said yes.

  “No, he wouldn’t,” I say aloud. I know the King pities me because my parents died, but I’m under no illusions about why he made me his ward—and heir to the throne. He wanted access to the Northern Republic’s trade routes and riches, and thought he’d get it by making me the next ruler.

  As everyone loved to remind me growing up, I wasn’t born here, and I have no claim to this land. I certainly don’t deserve to marry a Princess. Every extra fencing lesson I took in view of the King’s window, every meal I brought him in the middle of the night, was to try to earn that place by her side.

  With someone else in my place, where will I end up?

  The kitchen door opens, and I glance up to find Corene standing over me. She knew right where to look.

  “How’s your night going?” I regret it as it leaves my lips. What an infantile way to start this conversation.

  She pulls up her skirts and sits down next to me. “I’m so sorry, Bayled. My heart is breaking.”

  I’m enveloped by relief. Naturally, this wasn’t some premeditated plan to escape our engagement. Corene has no feelings for this blond stranger.

  “So you didn’t say yes?”

  “My father did. It was his idea.”

  Right. It’s not like a princess here has any say in who she marries. I put an arm around her shoulders and squeeze. She crumples, burying her head in the crook of my neck. We’re stuck like that.

  “You never did answer my proposal,” I say. “You didn’t say yes or no.”

  “I didn’t think I had to.”

  I smile against her hair. The answer’s been yes since we were thirteen cycles into this life and I first told her in whispers that I loved her. “So what are you going to say to your father?”

  Corene pulls away. “Bayled. I have to marry Nul se Lan.”

  “No you don’t. You love me, don’t you?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “But nothing!” I’m on my feet before a star can flicker. Corene’s eyes fly wide. I’ve never raised my voice to her before and I wish I could take it back. I kneel so our eyes are level and grasp her hands. “Just . . . please, Corene. If you tell your father about us—about our engagement—he may change his mind.”

  Corene rises to her feet and clasps her hands demurely at her waist, with all the poise that comes from high breeding. “I can’t,” she says, sure and steady. “If I do, he will change his mind. And we can’t afford that. We need the Klissen. This marriage is my duty, Bayled. It’s what’s right.” She goes to the kitchen door and opens it. “This will save the Kingdom.”

  Sapphire

  I am starting to forget what battle smells like.

  I pull my chest plate off the wall hook and hold it to my face, inhaling the fragrance of metal striking metal, remembering animals roaring and giants screaming. The tang of my enemies’ blood clings to it. Grooves run through the metal from blades, claws, teeth. How many blows has it absorbed to keep the flaming he
art of Magic safe inside me? I sigh, my breath fogging up the smooth silver. I brush it away quickly with my sleeve.

  The hiss of my front door opening startles me. Returning the armor to the hook, I find Ellze standing in the glass entryway, dressed in a dark spidersilk traveling tunic with white stitching, a cheetah fur cloak, and a gold mask sitting on his green hair. His angular frame is bathed in the pink light of the wisp dozing in my lamp.

  We are not leaving until tomorrow. If he is already dressed to travel, he must be excited, too. “Mahove!” he says. “I am glad to find you here, friend Sapphire.”

  “Mahove.” I pull the drawstring of my robe tight. “Where else would I be?”

  “I thought you would be saying farewell to Laian.”

  “We dissolved our relationship two moons ago,” I tell him.

  Ever since I decided to remain a soldier after my required time was served, she had been pushing me to return to civilian life. After a decade of this, I terminated it—we simply are not compatible.

  Ellze’s eyes flicker. “I did not know.”

  “I did not tell anyone.” My private life is private for a reason. And Ellze has been so involved in his work since he was promoted to Jaguar that we rarely speak anymore. “What did you need?” I want to return to meditating.

  “The Commander has reassigned you,” Ellze says.

  A reassignment on the eve of deployment? I have been with my unit since I joined at the mandatory age of fifty. All I can imagine is that Commander Valya is punishing me for something. Surely Ellze, his nephew, will tell me what I have done to upset him.

  Keeping my voice steady, I ask, “What is the new assignment?”

  “You will be joining the Jaguars. At the Commander’s right side.” A sheepish smile creeps onto his face. “With me.”

  I search for words but find none. How have I been granted this honor? Once upon a time, my mother had to toss my belongings out the front door so I would leave for my tenure in the armed forces. Now I will be one of Commander Valya’s ten elite warriors. How many times have I watched as a Jaguar sails in to rescue another soldier from certain death? They are the ghosts that only appear when you find yourself standing in the shadow of doom.

  Ellze slides his gold mask down over his face. “The Commander has called a meeting. We should go right now.” I nod, and my wisp floats down from the lamp, drifting into my hip pocket. It once guided another soldier through the darkness of Arrow Mountain; I found it hovering over his speared body, all alone, and it’s refused to leave my side since.

  My pocket flap closes, and the pink light winks out.

  The barracks are alive tonight. The blue-green glass spires of Viteos transform into prisms, scattering the sunset across our tents. Red and orange wisps in the lamps awaken, glowing brighter as they stretch and yawn. Soldiers congregate around fire pits, hauling out vegetables, hawgrain, and protein patties to cook for dinner.

  “I still don’t understand it,” I say. “I’ve done nothing to earn this honor. Why would Commander Valya choose me?”

  “Perhaps he saw something in you, and he wants to give you the chance to shine.”

  “Or he is attracted to me,” I joke.

  “You are quite good-looking.”

  We fall into a stiff silence. When we were children Ellze would always ask, “When will you declare?” Pressuring me, pushing me. I know he wanted me to declare myself female—he loves them. But only pieces of that felt right to me, even when I was decades past when most of The People declare. And neither did the idea of male sit entirely well.

  In the end, I declared something else—some of this, some of that, and some of neither. I asked my chest plates be made flat with only a hint of pectoral muscle carved in. All my tunics hang loose. I cut my pants tight because I have a fantastic rear. I thought that would finally be the end of whatever fantasy Ellze had about me. But nothing changed.

  At last, we reach the Commander’s quarters—a reflective blue pyramid, its gold point spearing the sky. Seeing it, I remember this is bigger than me. The force is only assembled to contain the new threat on the other side of the continent. We must all focus on the goal if we are to protect Helyanda.

  The other Jaguars already sit on the floor inside, ears poking up from their gold masks, fur capes trailing across the stone. “Mahove, Ellze!” The Commander rises from his pillow, unbound hair dripping down his shoulders like molten silver. “You have brought my new recruit.”

  He pads barefoot toward us. I am frozen in place as he brings a hand to my cheek, stilling a hair’s breadth from contact. I will admit that I have fantasized more than once about how his touch would feel.

  “Mahove, Sapphire,” the Commander says, withdrawing. “I have watched you fight in the practice hall and on the battlefield. I am elated to bring young talent like yours into our ranks.”

  I fall to one knee. “Thank you for the privilege of serving under you, Commander Valya.”

  He laughs and pulls me to my feet. “No need for all that.” He ushers me onto the dais. My hands tingle where he touched me. A black fur, dappled with faint leopard spots, hangs from the back of a chair. The Commander picks it up, caressing the fur with his long, perfect fingers. “Turn around.”

  I obey, and Commander Valya drapes the fur over my shoulders. I stare out at the Jaguars who sit on the floor, watching. The deep sockets of their gold masks obscure their eyes in shadow. When I turn back around to thank him, the Commander hands me my own mask.

  The gold is cold and soft as I settle it on my face. The powerful Magic imbued in it tickles my cheeks.

  “My companions, please welcome Sapphire to our ranks,” says Commander Valya as I step off the dais into the circle of Jaguars. They pat my shoulders and back, like we have been comrades forever. I cannot tell which one is Ellze; in our masks, we have all become part of a single faceless being.

  The Commander gestures to a big blue wisp snoozing in the brazier, and it rises from its ashy bed. Stretching its tiny arms, its glow surges outward, casting us in blue light and deep shadow.

  “Tomorrow,” the Commander says, donning his own horned gold mask, “for the first time in centuries . . . we travel east to go to war.”

  Chapter 2

  Bayled

  I inhale the sharp, cool morning air, hoping it will calm me. After waking up this morning to the servants already bustling about and preparing for the wedding, I’m relieved to have escaped the castle. The sound of Halrendar’s gentle hoofbeats fills the otherwise silent forest.

  To watch Corene marry someone else . . . I can’t imagine a worse punishment. I’ve labored at the King’s side since I was twelve cycles into this life, helping him strategize, decide fates, dispense justice. I’ve watched his love of wine grow as the Kingdom’s debts pile higher and I desperately try to find coin that isn’t there. Ruling is grueling, thankless work, even when you have men like me refilling the goblet whenever it runs low. I knew that this was my future; it was believing I’d marry Corene someday that made it bearable.

  Without her at my side, all that becomes meaningless torture. I wish she wasn’t so good, so dutiful. If she were more selfish, we’d have a chance together.

  I hear someone coming down the path behind me, so I rein Halrendar around to get a look.

  “Bayled!” Thelia rides up in a pine-colored cloak that makes the specks of green in her dark eyes glow. Her white palfrey, Parlor Trick, looks grumpy.

  “I didn’t know you ever got up this early,” I say. She must have some reason for leaving her suite before noon.

  Thelia arches an eyebrow. “That’s rude. I get up early as often as I can. Morning is my favorite time of day for a ride.”

  I almost laugh. Lies come so easily to Thelia Finegarden, it’s as if she breathes them. When we were kids still chasing each other around the courtyard, she always had some lie prepped when we asked, “What’s that bruise? How did you manage to pick up two whole hay bales?” She had stronger, firmer arms than even me,
which she’d blame on “a natural disposition.” The scrapes? She slipped in some gravel. The calluses on her palms? Working hard on a tapestry, or some horsefish like that. But it was an open secret that before she ran off, wild-eyed old Delia was training her daughter in the arts people here consider inappropriate for ladies.

  “I go riding almost every morning and I’ve never seen you,” I say, even though it’s like approaching a mother biylar bear, hoping you won’t get attacked by both heads.

  “Maybe I was anxious this morning,” she says. “Maybe I’m worried about my friends after that disaster of a banquet last night.”

  I didn’t expect that, and flounder for a response.

  “What’s going to happen with your engagement now?” she asks.

  My spine goes frigid. How does she—? Never mind. Corene and Thelia tell each other everything.

  “It’s over,” I say.

  “And you’re not upset?”

  “Of course I’m upset! Corene’s the love of my life.”

  “Then why are you letting the King marry her off to that hillman? After all the ledgers you’ve stayed up until dawn filling out for him?” Thelia’s stopped Parlor Trick right in the middle of the road. Halrendar halts and sniffs the white palfrey. “Put up a fight for once.”

  There’s no fight to fight. It’s already done. “Corene doesn’t want that. She wants what’s best for the Kingdom.”

  “My cousin has no idea what’s good for anyone,” Thelia snaps. “She never has. Remember when she brought that mouse inside because she felt bad for it out in the cold, and it got loose and chewed Queen Laine’s favorite gown to bits?”

  I bite the inside of my lip. “Yeah.”

  “She made a commitment to you. She promised to marry you before the King gave her away to someone else.” As if a secret engagement means anything in the face of the Kingdom’s most valuable alliance. As if she had any choice in the matter.