“It’s no trouble at all,” Koel said, smiling serenely as she lifted the platter. “It was lovely to see you, Asta.”
“You too, Lady Koel,” Asta called as she made for the door.
“I didn’t know you were friends with her,” she heard Vera hiss.
“Oh, yes,” Koel’s reply floated over to her. “But that’s a story for another time, Vera. There’s something else I really need to talk to you about.”
Asta pushed through the door, grateful for the blast of fresh air. She shook her head in admiration. Where Asta had failed, she had no doubt whatsoever that Koel would succeed. Now that they were working together, Axel wouldn’t stand a chance.
The Captain of the Guard’s Office, the Palace, Archenfield
Axel’s eyes fell on the glass that rested in his hand. He swirled it about, creating a miniature maelstrom in the honey-colored liquid it contained. Then he steadied his hand and met the Beekeeper’s steely gaze.
She was perched on his desk, a little too close for comfort. Her piercing eyes met his once more. “I came to see you because I’ve heard about this daring vote, this unprecedented campaign of yours—”
Her words sent him reeling. “You know—? How do you know?”
“Don’t look so anxious,” Emelie said. “I’m not planning to tell anyone else about it. Not for the time being. I just wanted to come to lend you my—” She cut herself short. “To tell you how impressed I am.” She laid a hand on his chest. “Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but I honestly didn’t think you had it in you.”
Axel frowned. “Emelie, I need you to tell me how you know about this. For reasons I’m sure you understand, the very few who do know are sworn to secrecy.”
Emelie nodded. She lifted her hand and stroked the front of his shirt, as if she was smoothing out a crease, brushing away a speck of dust. “Now, don’t get flustered—”
“I’m not flustered,” he said, reaching for her hand and lifting it away. “I’d just like you to answer my question.”
Emelie made a cradle of her hands and glanced down at them. “Jonas told me.”
“Of course, it would be bloody Jonas!”
“Now, don’t be cross with him, Axel. He didn’t mean to spill the beans. I think he thought he was doing you a favor.” She looked up at Axel again, eyes wide. “By trying to recruit me to your team, you see?”
Axel sighed, shook his head and sat back down in his chair. Suddenly, the very air in his office felt suffocating.
Emelie seemed to be contemplating taking a seat beside him. Instead, she moved around and perched on the edge of the desk again, her leg stretching out the fabric of her tight skirt to brush against Axel’s outer thigh.
“I feel bad,” she said.
“Give it a rest!” Axel said, immediately irritated at his own irritation.
She drew back. “Leave it to me to completely ruin the mood, like rain at a summer picnic.” She leaned toward him again, one finger lightly tracing the scar on his brow. “We never were very good for each other, were we?”
Axel shrugged. The last thing he cared to dwell upon at this juncture was how and why his budding relationship with the Beekeeper had taken a wrong turn.
“We’re both solitary bees, you and I, Axel. We’re not like the others. We might pretend to be part of the colony—to play the game—but we each know that, in truth, we can best accomplish what we must accomplish on our own. I suppose when you think of it, we are just too similar. Yes, I think that’s why things didn’t work out as they might have.” She smiled. “You need a little playmate! It’s only fair. Even Prince Jared has the jaunty Asta.”
He shook his head.
“But I didn’t come here to gossip about the new Poet,” she said, her tone becoming more circumspect.
“All right,” he said, leaning back, knowing there was no way out of this. “Tell me, what did you come here for?”
“First, to tell you that I am genuinely impressed that you have decided to make this move. As I said before—”
“You didn’t think I had it in me.” Axel had decided he’d rather speak the words himself than hear them from her again.
“Sorry, that was wantonly brutal of me.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve grown accustomed to your sting.”
Emelie laughed. “Touché, sweetheart. The second reason I came is to ask whether this maneuver is indeed your own idea, or if your father is operating your strings? This game has Lord Viggo written all over it.” She rose to her feet. “I actually do care about you, Axel. And, you see, I care about Archenfield too. So if you are asking for my vote—when you come asking for my vote—you need to bring me two answers. First, that you are acting on your own instincts and driving ambition and not merely that of your slavering father, and second, that you really feel that the Princedom will be better served by having your derriere on the throne than Jared Wynyard’s.” She smiled. “Not that young Jared has much of a derriere. Whereas yours, my sweet, is—as I fondly remember—plump and firm as an August peach.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The Council Chamber, the Palace, Archenfield
“WORD HAS COME FROM THE SOUTHERN BORDER.” Axel’s resonant voice filled the Council Chamber. “Paddenburg has already started to amass a worryingly large number of troops just shy of the border.” He paused, allowing this news to settle with his fellows. “They are holding true to their threat of invasion.”
Glancing at the faces of her colleagues at the Prince’s Table, Asta saw worry and bitterness etched upon each and every one. They had done nothing to incite this attack from Paddenburg. Up on the royal dais, Queen Elin and Prince Edvin looked equally somber. Until now, the actions of the aggressor had been the subject of speculation; now no one there could deny that war was coming. She closed her eyes, just for a moment. There were many things in which Asta lacked experience; war, regrettably, was not one of them.
“Camps have already been set up at Inderwick and Grenofen,” Axel resumed, “with reserve troops based at Dalhoen. Armor and weaponry have been dispatched to Dalhoen and will be distributed to the two southern camps there.”
Although his tone was grave, Axel still sounded calm, confident and in charge. Asta was keenly aware that since the arrival of the Paddenburg Ultimatum, Axel had asserted that there was only one logical conclusion. Now he had been vindicated. And clearly he was on top of the preparations.
“Troops are being recalled from the northern fortress settlements of Teragon and Miryfyd, where they have been stationed since the war with Eronesia.” Asta felt a renewed chill as she heard Axel speak the name of her home settlement, Teragon, in the same breath as its nemesis, Eronesia. She fought to control the feelings of panic that were threatening to seize hold of her. She reminded herself of what Axel had said before—that Paddenburg was building up its forces in the south. In the coming conflict, Teragon was as far away from the line of fire as was conceivable. Still, she could not dispel her fear. Teragon had borne the brunt of the war with Eronesia; the settlement had been all but devastated in the conflict. It had been little more than a miracle that she and her parents had made it through alive. So many others had not been so fortunate. Now, even if Teragon did not face the same level of danger, those living in the many southern settlements would be bracing themselves for equal devastation. And Teragon and its close neighbor Miryfyd would not luxuriate in their northerly positions for long. If Paddenburg succeeded in taking the southern settlements, it was only a matter of time before the invaders began the journey north.
Axel’s next words only confirmed Asta’s darkest fears. “Even with the redeployment of troops from the north to the south, we must face facts. The forces of Archenfield are small compared with the military might of Paddenburg.”
He paused to take a drink of water.
As he did so, Father Simeon took the opportunity to pose a question. “Can you tell us,” he inquired, “about the mood in the southern settlements?”
Axel nodded.
“I’m afraid it’s an all-too-familiar picture. Fear and panic have taken hold.” He shrugged. “There was no way of keeping either the fact of the Paddenburg Ultimatum or the massing of enemy troops a secret from the people. The fact is, they have nowhere to run. To the south is Paddenburg. Since the breaking of our alliance with Woodlark, they will no longer be granted sanctuary in the east—”
“Unless,” Emelie interjected, “Prince Jared has been successful in rebuilding that alliance.”
Axel did not turn to meet Emelie’s face, but kept his eyes on Father Simeon. His lack of response to the Beekeeper’s interruption spoke volumes. Asta felt a heated flush of anger. How did Axel know that Prince Jared had not concluded a fresh alliance with Queen Francesca? She wanted to add her voice to Emelie’s, but Axel was already in full flow once more. “In the north, we are bordered by our old enemies, Eronesia and Schloss. Tanaka, on our western border, would be a close refuge but remains a neutral territory. They would never open their borders up to refugees from Archenfield, out of fear of repercussions from Paddenburg.” He lifted his eyes from Father Simeon and addressed the whole of the gathering. “Every man, woman and—dare I say it—child who dwells in one of the southern settlements has no choice but to fight.” Asta felt a fresh heat, compounded by nausea and a pounding in her head. Axel continued, mercilessly. “Recruitment is being stepped up in each of the settlements—”
She could take no more of this. She had to say something. Pushing back her chair with a scrape, Asta rose to her feet.
“You look a little sickly,” Axel observed. “Do you need to take some air?”
She shook her head. “I have something to say.”
Axel smiled softly at her. “I know you are fairly new to these proceedings, Asta. But if you wish to make a contribution, you have only to raise your hand.” Extending his own hand, he gave her the floor.
“I do feel sick,” she told him and the others. “I think you all know that I come from Teragon. That, until six months ago, I lived there, though in truth there has not been much life to live since the war came.” She felt a strange wave of energy coursing through her and did her best to steady herself. “I mean no disrespect to my fellows, but how many of you have been to Teragon since the conclusion of the war?” She cast her eyes around the chamber, watching as face upon face dropped to the surface of the Prince’s Table. “How many of you have visited Miryfyd?” she continued. Her voice was husky. She could feel tears welling but she did everything in her power to swallow them down. This was too important. “Because if you had been to see those two northern settlements—seen what is left of them—you would see the legacy of death and destruction. You sent troops to the northern fortresses and yes, perhaps, they prevented the enemy from crossing the borders again—”
“There’s no perhaps about it,” Axel countered her, displaying for the first time a flash of anger. “Our troops have protected those settlements from further devastation.”
Now Asta felt hot tears coursing down her cheeks. “There is nothing more to devastate,” she said. “And now you are taking those troops away! Are you really serious when you say that children should be taught to bear arms?”
Before Axel could answer her, Vera spoke up. Her voice was not unkind. “Asta, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say how much we sympathize with what you and your family and your neighbors endured. You have spoken with great passion and eloquence about that. Your hurt is palpable; we see that. But I don’t know what you are arguing for or against here. We are discussing the threat from the south now, not the north. Surely there is no question that we should move troops down toward the southern settlements, in the hope that we can prevent the terrible things that happened to you and your family happening to those who live in Vollerim and Grenofen and Inderwick and the rest?”
Asta nodded. “You’re right,” she said, drawing herself together. She turned toward Axel. “I apologize for my outburst. It was… inappropriate.” She sat back down. Nova reached across and squeezed her hand.
Axel shook his head. “There is no need to apologize, Asta,” he said smoothly. “We have always depended on our Poets to speak with eloquence. You have honored that tradition. It is clear to me—to all of us, I am sure—that we have someone sitting at the Prince’s Table who understands the settlements. This will be of great value to us.” He glanced from Asta across the table to Elias. “Elias, I think we owe you a considerable debt in bringing your spirited niece into our ranks.”
Elias glanced up at Axel but did not respond.
“And now,” Axel continued, “Elias, perhaps you could update us on your own preparations for engagement?”
Asta saw her uncle’s face grow purposeful. “The main field hospital will be stationed at Kirana,” he informed his fellows. “This location served Archenfield well during the last war. Vital supplies have already been dispatched…”
Uncle Elias continued, in his soft voice, to outline his plans. Asta tuned out his report. Her thoughts were far away—with her parents on the northern border. Her head was crowded with dark images of the previous conflict: the sounds of her friends and neighbors fighting—and failing—to cling to life; limbs lying like broken toys on the ground; newly orphaned children stumbling around as if they were in some strange game of hide-and-seek. She thought of a particular child—a young boy whom her mother had found, playing happily enough in the rubble. She had brought him to their own barely standing home and shared what food they had with him. Asta remembered watching as her mother had cleaned the boy’s mud- and blood-streaked face and rocked him gently to sleep. She remembered later that night waking to his screams as he realized that this was neither a game nor a bad dream. There could be no pleasant waking from the horror of his young life. That was the reality of war in the settlements.
“Then we are resolved,” she heard Axel say. “And this meeting is concluded.” He sounded as sure and confident as ever.
Asta watched as the others began rising to their feet. Nova brushed her hand once more.
“I need to talk to my uncle,” Asta told her.
Nova went on her way. As she did so, Asta noticed Jonas fall into step with the Falconer. So the Woodsman had decided that now was as good a time as any to recruit Nova to Axel’s conspiracy? Asta drew comfort from the fact that they had been one step ahead of the rival faction. She watched as Nova nodded pleasantly at Jonas, perhaps agreeing to a more private rendezvous. She turned her attention away, scanning the crowd for Uncle Elias. He was almost level with her, on his way out of the chamber, embroiled in discussion with Father Simeon.
“Uncle Elias,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.
He paused and turned toward her. There was something of a resemblance between him and Asta’s father, but Elias’s face was colder, hardened perhaps by the politics of court—politics she was only just beginning to grasp the extent of.
“You spoke very movingly, Asta. I think we all needed to hear that perspective.” It was Father Simeon who addressed her. “You must be very proud of your niece, Elias.”
Asta shook her head. “I don’t think he is at all proud of me,” she said sadly. “I suspect he rather regrets his decision to transport me here into the heart of court.”
Elias looked coldly at her, saying nothing, then turned toward the Priest. “If you will excuse me, I have further preparations to expedite.” Without glancing back at Asta, he continued on his way out into the corridor.
Father Simeon gave her a sympathetic look. “I have a good idea of what you are thinking, Asta. But, trust me, he cares about you more than you could ever know.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Baltiska
KAI AND BRAM HAD SPENT THE BETTER PART OF the morning traveling northwest along an old trade route. The farther they rode, the more dramatic the landscape became: columns of silver rock rose out of the ground, and deep crevices and vertiginous cliffside trails opened up toward the snowcapped mountaintops to the far north.
As they r
ode through a wide, verdant valley that was flanked by rocky outcrops, Kai felt the butterflies fluttering beneath his taut abdomen. Not far now; not far until he made his ascent once more—not long until he gazed into her eyes.
They rode on into the low-lying settlements of Baltiska, where the landscape became more and more densely inhabited. The majority of the homes were of the most humble kind, built in the shadows cast by the vast cliffs, at the top of which stood the ornate, tripartite palace of Prince Ciprian and his three wives, with their interconnecting “sky bridges” stretching out high over the valley floor.
“That is some citadel!” Bram exclaimed.
Kai nodded. Even from this far down, he could glimpse the different colored banners adorning each of the palaces. His eyes were drawn—how could they not be?—toward the scarlet banners tumbling down from the heights of Queen Nina’s royal residence.
The two riders were forced to slow their pace as the road brought them to a bustling market square, crowded with stalls and people, and the tempting aromas floating from the food and drink merchants.
Kai watched Bram drink in the color, noise and revelry of the bazaar. “Think there’s enough of interest here to keep you entertained for a few hours?” he inquired, with a grin, as he dismounted from his horse.
“Oh, yes!” Bram confirmed, watching two attractive young women busily negotiating in front of a stall laden with bolts of richly colored silks. He jumped down from his horse, his face suddenly solemn as he stood eye to eye with his companion. “Good luck to you, up there. I hope you succeed in your mission.”
Kai strode off in the direction of the stone archway that marked the entrance to the cliff path. He reached in his pocket for coins to pay the gatekeeper. No one made it up to the palace or the sky bridges without the exchange of funds—such was Ciprian’s way.