The Offering
Page 6
I dropped my blade, ignoring the moisture that trickled down my spine. “What is it, Gabriel?”
He glanced at me, uncertain, and then he looked to Zafir, mutely assessing the unusual situation. “It’s just that . . . well, I was sent to tell you . . . there’s someone coming.” He clutched and unclutched his stubby fingers in front of him as he spoke.
I turned to Zafir. “Xander?” I breathed. And then to the boy. “Are they back? Are Xander and Niko here?”
This time I couldn’t subdue her, and Sabara’s hopes became my own. Niko, she whispered, his name filling every part of me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block her out. “I—I don’t know, Your Majesty.” My question made Gabriel shift even more, made him fidget and stammer. “I—I was only told to fetch you.”
I barely heard his last words as I was already running toward the palace. I’d dropped my sword—a cardinal sin, I knew—and left it lying in the grassy field, unsheathed, and I’d left myself unarmed. Something no real warrior would ever do.
For now at least I was not a real warrior. I was a queen, awaiting word of one of my chief advisers.
Waiting for my friend to come home.
I saw horses tied up in the courtyard and knew immediately by the banners that flapped in the breeze they were from Astonia. I’d have recognized Queen Elena’s red flag, with its crimson laurel border, anywhere. Sebastian had used that same emblem to wipe his brow one too many times, all while pretending to serve me. All while reporting back to his true queen and preparing to slit my throat.
Traitors sometimes presented themselves in the most trustworthy forms, and Sebastian had seemed about as honest and loyal as they came. Which was why I’d never suspected him. Why I’d let him get so close to me and my family.
And why I’d never trust anyone in that way again. “They must be inside already,” I called to Zafir, not waiting for a response as I raced past the horses, practically stumbling over my own feet in an effort to reach the entrance.
For two months we’d been waiting for word from Xander. It had been two months since he and Niko had taken a small party of soldiers and gone to try to reason with Elena, to try to get to the bottom of her betrayal and see if there was any way to forge a tentative peace between our two nations.
From where I stood, it seemed an impossible task, but I’d let him go because he’d been certain there had been some sort of mistake. That the Queen Elena who’d helped him when he’d fought against his grandmother would never betray him— would never betray us—in this manner. He’d been convinced she couldn’t possibly have been behind the plot to have me assassinated.
Despite all the evidence to the contrary.
I stopped short when I entered the main hall, the sound of my heavy boots still echoing off the walls around me. I slowed when I realized that everyone in the room had turned to watch me.
On my way back to the palace, I’d managed to strip out of my heaviest outerwear, leaving not just my sword unattended but also my breastplate and the bulk of my armor. But I hadn’t been able to wiggle out of everything, and now I stood before an audience of gaping stares, not just from the travelers who’d already been awaiting me, but also from those who knew me best, including Max and Claude, and Brook, Eden, and Avonlea. Even my parents were there, anxious for word of Xander and Niko.
I was suddenly aware of how I must have looked wearing a carapace of chain mail, even one so delicate that it was practically feather light. From their vantage point it looked as if I were wearing nothing more than long underwear and military-grade boots, the kind Brook’s soldiers wore.
I avoided making eye contact with any one of them, knowing I’d have to answer for my appearance—and my actions— eventually. But for now I leveled my stare on the visitors, noting that neither Xander nor Niko was among them.
My heart sank, even as my voice found purchase. “You’ve come from Astonia?” I inquired as firmly as I could manage after running all that way. “You have news from your queen?”
There were four of them—messengers, one and all. My only real thought was that it was an odd number, because messengers didn’t typically travel in packs.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the men answered, stepping forward. He bowed, as was customary in Ludania. The other three followed suit, but they were tense, bending stiffly at their waists. Then the man in front reached behind him, and one of the others carefully handed him a box the size of one of my father’s bread loaves. I vaguely wondered what kind of gift Elena thought might assuage me at this point. I had no intention of being bought into submission.
He held the package out to me in both hands, his eyes never leaving it, and never truly meeting mine.
My gaze slid over it. There was nothing remarkable about it, the box. A carton like any other. But there was something about the way the messenger held it that made my stomach tighten ever so slightly. Or maybe it was Eden, my sister’s guard, that I sensed, her curiosity charging the air around us.
I reached for the box, but I hesitated, my fingertips running over the coarse papery surface as I considered what might be inside. I tried to gain the messenger’s attention, to find his eyes, but they remained where they were, fixed on the package. The other three remained where they were too, still entirely too rigid, positioned behind him.
I scanned the room now, looking to Max, whose intense gaze was directed to Zafir, and I could practically hear Max willing the guard to move closer to me, even though I could already feel Zafir’s breath at the back of my neck. Brook’s scowl was equally severe, although she refused to meet my eyes for too long.
He glanced at me, uncertain, and then he looked to Zafir, mutely assessing the unusual situation. “It’s just that . . . well, I was sent to tell you . . . there’s someone coming.” He clutched and unclutched his stubby fingers in front of him as he spoke.
I turned to Zafir. “Xander?” I breathed. And then to the boy. “Are they back? Are Xander and Niko here?”
This time I couldn’t subdue her, and Sabara’s hopes became my own. Niko, she whispered, his name filling every part of me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block her out. “I—I don’t know, Your Majesty.” My question made Gabriel shift even more, made him fidget and stammer. “I—I was only told to fetch you.”
I barely heard his last words as I was already running toward the palace. I’d dropped my sword—a cardinal sin, I knew—and left it lying in the grassy field, unsheathed, and I’d left myself unarmed. Something no real warrior would ever do.
For now at least I was not a real warrior. I was a queen, awaiting word of one of my chief advisers.
Waiting for my friend to come home.
I saw horses tied up in the courtyard and knew immediately by the banners that flapped in the breeze they were from Astonia. I’d have recognized Queen Elena’s red flag, with its crimson laurel border, anywhere. Sebastian had used that same emblem to wipe his brow one too many times, all while pretending to serve me. All while reporting back to his true queen and preparing to slit my throat.
Traitors sometimes presented themselves in the most trustworthy forms, and Sebastian had seemed about as honest and loyal as they came. Which was why I’d never suspected him. Why I’d let him get so close to me and my family.
And why I’d never trust anyone in that way again. “They must be inside already,” I called to Zafir, not waiting for a response as I raced past the horses, practically stumbling over my own feet in an effort to reach the entrance.
For two months we’d been waiting for word from Xander. It had been two months since he and Niko had taken a small party of soldiers and gone to try to reason with Elena, to try to get to the bottom of her betrayal and see if there was any way to forge a tentative peace between our two nations.
From where I stood, it seemed an impossible task, but I’d let him go because he’d been certain there had been some sort of mistake. That the Queen Elena who’d helped him when he’d fought against his grandmother would never betray him— would never betray us—in this manner. He’d been convinced she couldn’t possibly have been behind the plot to have me assassinated.
Despite all the evidence to the contrary.
I stopped short when I entered the main hall, the sound of my heavy boots still echoing off the walls around me. I slowed when I realized that everyone in the room had turned to watch me.
On my way back to the palace, I’d managed to strip out of my heaviest outerwear, leaving not just my sword unattended but also my breastplate and the bulk of my armor. But I hadn’t been able to wiggle out of everything, and now I stood before an audience of gaping stares, not just from the travelers who’d already been awaiting me, but also from those who knew me best, including Max and Claude, and Brook, Eden, and Avonlea. Even my parents were there, anxious for word of Xander and Niko.
I was suddenly aware of how I must have looked wearing a carapace of chain mail, even one so delicate that it was practically feather light. From their vantage point it looked as if I were wearing nothing more than long underwear and military-grade boots, the kind Brook’s soldiers wore.
I avoided making eye contact with any one of them, knowing I’d have to answer for my appearance—and my actions— eventually. But for now I leveled my stare on the visitors, noting that neither Xander nor Niko was among them.
My heart sank, even as my voice found purchase. “You’ve come from Astonia?” I inquired as firmly as I could manage after running all that way. “You have news from your queen?”
There were four of them—messengers, one and all. My only real thought was that it was an odd number, because messengers didn’t typically travel in packs.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the men answered, stepping forward. He bowed, as was customary in Ludania. The other three followed suit, but they were tense, bending stiffly at their waists. Then the man in front reached behind him, and one of the others carefully handed him a box the size of one of my father’s bread loaves. I vaguely wondered what kind of gift Elena thought might assuage me at this point. I had no intention of being bought into submission.
He held the package out to me in both hands, his eyes never leaving it, and never truly meeting mine.
My gaze slid over it. There was nothing remarkable about it, the box. A carton like any other. But there was something about the way the messenger held it that made my stomach tighten ever so slightly. Or maybe it was Eden, my sister’s guard, that I sensed, her curiosity charging the air around us.
I reached for the box, but I hesitated, my fingertips running over the coarse papery surface as I considered what might be inside. I tried to gain the messenger’s attention, to find his eyes, but they remained where they were, fixed on the package. The other three remained where they were too, still entirely too rigid, positioned behind him.
I scanned the room now, looking to Max, whose intense gaze was directed to Zafir, and I could practically hear Max willing the guard to move closer to me, even though I could already feel Zafir’s breath at the back of my neck. Brook’s scowl was equally severe, although she refused to meet my eyes for too long.
