Elevation of the Marked (The Marked Series Book 2) (51 page)

“You will not earn respect if you continue to mock the institution.”
 

He deflated and offered her a rueful smile. “I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It just feels as though they’re all play-acting, like soldiers in a story. They’ve maintained the clothes and the ranks and all of the pomp and ceremony, but nothing of actual value—no martial skills, no useful training. This military, it’s a great big joke, except no one’s laughing.”

“Give it time.” She set down the long, slim box she’d been holding in her arms. She wore the most ornate gown he had ever seen, the skirts impossibly wide, panels of embroidery and pearls running down the bodice. He thought it must have doubled her weight, wondered how she managed to clear the doorway.
 

“Hiding a family of five under those skirts?” She pursed her lips in response and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah…so, what’s in the box?”

Chae-Na unhooked the clasps and opened the lid, revealing a magnificent sword cradled in a velvet cushion. “Jo-Kwan wanted to give it to you himself, but he could not get away. He thought it was important you have it for the ceremony.”
 

Ko-Jin extended a hand reverently, tracing a finger over the design on the hilt—the silhouette of a tree. “This isn’t…”

“Treeblade. Yes, it is.”

Ko-Jin’s breath caught in his throat. He had never been more awestruck in his life. He felt like a little boy, suddenly—and yet, simultaneously, he felt older, serious, wishing to be even a fraction as wise as the blade’s previous owners.

He lifted the sword from its cushion. It was perfection, like a song in his hand. Amazing how untarnished it was, given its unfathomable age, forged in a time before modern history, passed down from great man to great man. A legend.

“They say, long ago, it came from the Chisanta,” Chae-Na said. “Fitting that it should be returned to one.”

Ko-Jin didn’t answer; he couldn’t. He though he must be dreaming. To have the Treeblade itself in his hand was far too surreal to be believed.
 

Chae-Na cocked her head to the side, the ringlets of her artfully arranged hairstyle bouncing. “I thought you would be pleased.”
 

“I’m just…” He cleared his throat and blinked, embarrassed. “Overwhelmed.”
 

He slid the blade into the sheath at his side and rested his hand on the hilt. “Thank you, truly. It nearly makes up for the tassels.”

She smiled, the first smile she’d given him that day. Something in him relaxed. “I always rather liked those, myself.” She ran a hand along the golden cords, setting them waving. “Something dashing about them.”

His mouth quirked to the side. “If you say so.”
 

“Your mother will no doubt be proud. She is attending?”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other silently for a long moment. It was strange—they’d grown comfortable with each other, or at least Ko-Jin had thought so, when they’d been in hiding. But now, with the reinstatement of their respective positions and all of the societal rules that went along with court life, there was an awkwardness between them. He had the distinct feeling that she wanted to avoid him—perhaps because he had seen her scrub a floor, tasted her terrible cooking, made her run laps until she collapsed. Things princesses did not do.

A clock chimed and Chae-Na started. “We should be going.”

“Right,” Ko-Jin agreed. He held out the crook of his elbow and she accepted it.

They walked along the hallway, through the royal living quarters. The horrid shoes he’s been given clicked loudly with every step.
 

“Have you heard from Bray or Yarrow?” she asked.

He sighed. “No, not yet.”
 

It grated on him, that he wasn’t out looking for Yarrow himself. But, somehow or other, he had entangled himself in responsibilities that prevented his leaving. If the city was not carefully secured, they could lose what little they had gained on the day of the execution. No one else had stepped forward to take the job.

“It is odd,” she said, “but I keep waking and expecting to be back in our cottage. I look up at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom and I think, ‘This isn’t right. Where am I?’”
 

“I’ve had similar thoughts, myself,” Ko-Jin said darkly.

She tugged on his arm so he would slow; likely her gown necessitated a more leisurely stride. “It was like a vacation from life, that time in Cagsglow. I think I shall always look back on it fondly.”

He smiled. “Even the leaky roof and the filthy sofa?”

“I was thinking more of the freedom—the campfires in the back yard, walks on the beach, shooting archery as much as I pleased…”

 
They reached the entryway to the throne room. A crowd of distinguished individuals had gathered, waiting for the doors to be thrown back. Jo-Kwan, looking terribly serious in his finery, was bent in close conversation with a steward. Lieutenant General Petterton, along with several other higher-ups in the military, were easily spotted for their red jackets. The Chancellor of Daland was brushing nonexistent lint from his lapels.
 

As a unit, the audience’s gaze swiveled to Ko-Jin as he led the princess into their midst. He tried not to think about how foolish he must look, or how ludicrous his presence was—he, the crippled son of a Chaskuan seamstress, who’d spent more nights sleeping in alleyways than on beds as a boy.
 

Stewards assisted them in lining up in their proper order and, after what felt a long wait, the doors were thrown wide and they processed into the throne room. Ko-Jin frowned to be back in that room once again. He eyed the steps where the late king had died.
 

The space was positively packed. It seemed half of Accord was present, dressed in their best clothing and standing toe to toe. Ko-Jin swept the crowd with his eyes, vigilant. The general atmosphere seemed somehow off to him—rather than excitement, the gathering exuded a certain shifty nervousness. He noticed a great deal of darting eyes and licking of dry lips. Perhaps they feared the penalty of having supported Quade.

His mother had been given a seat of honor. She wore a dress, he suspected, of her own design. He caught her eye and smiled, and she looked to be on the verge of tears. He cleared his throat and glanced away.

Jo-Kwan and Chae-Na sat upon the two center thrones, so lately belonging to their parents. The massive diamond atop Jo-Kwan’s seat refracted countless minute rainbows across the walls.
 

The ceremony began, an orchestra striking up a slow, solemn tune as the crown was brought forth, propped on a silken cushion.
 

Ko-Jin had anticipated the coronation would be a long, drawn-out ceremony, but it seemed actually to be rather to the point.
 

Jo-Kwan kneeled and the crown was placed gingerly atop his head.

“Long live King Jo-Kwan Bellra the first of Daland, King Jo-Kwan Bellra the first of Chasku, King Jo-Kwan Bellra the first of Adourra!”
 

The king rose and stepped forward into a shaft of sunlight streaming through a circular window in the ceiling. He looked spiritly in that moment, royal. The assembly, as a unit, knelt and pressed foreheads to fists, then stood again. A cheer went up and Ko-Jin joined in, clapping and hooting.

Jo-Kwan smiled with closed lips and inclined his head to the assembly. He then raised his hand and waited for silence. It came with unexpected quickness. “I thank you all for coming here today, and I doubly thank you for your cooperation in these trying times.” His voice sounded stronger and firmer than Ko-Jin had ever heard it before. There was none of the timidity that sometimes marked him in the past. “It is, perhaps, not customary for a king to make decrees at his coronation. But you can all, no doubt, appreciate that the threat we face necessitates immediate and decisive action.” He paused. “Many people in this room aided and abetted Mr. Quade Asher in my absence. There are even individuals here today who took part in the assassination of my father, the late king of Trinitas.”

The shiftiness increased, a quiet buzz of whispering in the crowd. But it was not just the commoners who exhibited discomfort; many of the distinguished individuals granted seats of prominence looked equally discomposed.

“Which is why my first act as King must be to extend a complete and universal royal pardon, to all individuals saving Mr. Quade Asher himself.”
 

The relief was palpable. Ko-Jin couldn’t help smiling in appreciation of Jo-Kwan’s newfound flair for the dramatic.

“To spend any time at all in the distribution of blame would be wasteful and, given the nature of our enemy, ultimately impossible to determine. We have all been victims, and even those who erred in action are, in my eyes, and now legally, innocent. So, I beg you, think not of pointing fingers, but rather of forging the unity we will need if we mean to stand firm against our opposition—and I mean that we shall. Which brings me to my second decree.”
 

He paused, waiting for the whispers to subside. “The military is once again to be active, helmed by the estimable General Sung Ko-Jin.” Here, Jo-Kwan gestured to Ko-Jin who, not knowing what else to do and feeling profoundly stupid, bowed to the assemblage. “Previously, military positions required certain qualifications, but in light of our need, of the importance of defending Accord, we will be recruiting any and all able-bodied men,” he breathed, dark eyes glittering, “and women.”

Shocked exclamations reverberated through the room, and this time they did not abate quickly. Ko-Jin could not help but lean forward to catch a glimpse of Chae-Na. She appeared to be working hard to keep a smile from her lips, but her cheeks were decidedly flushed.
 

Jo-Kwan, apparently at the end of his certain-to-be-remembered speech, turned back to the throne, and the procession made their way back through the doorway, into the royal living quarters.
 

Once the doors had been shut, only dimming the din of voices from the throne room, Jo-Kwan slung an arm around Chae-Na’s shoulder.

He grinned, looking giddy. “There you have it, sister. Give us a few decades, and we might have fodder for some fairytales more to your liking.”

She darted a quick kiss on his cheek and disengaged herself, turning to Ko-Jin with a brilliant smile. He answered with a grin of his own, and his hand strayed down to the hilt of Treeblade at his side.

They were living in remarkable times, it would seem. He had the sense that history was shaping itself right before his eyes. Even more uncanny, he was having a hand in its shaping.

He only hoped he was up to the challenge.
 

END NOTES

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Elevation of the Marked.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First, I would like to thank my husband, Dan, who worked so hard this past year so that I could focus on my writing, who is my invaluable alpha reader, and who helpfully talks through all of my plot problems over beers, even when football is on. Love you.
 

Thanks to my Dad, who began editing my writing long before it was worth reading, and who first put the likes of J.R.R. Tolkien and Robert Jordan in my hands. Thank you for your time, encouragement, and eagle-eye.
 

A huge thank-you to my helpful beta readers: Kelly Van Hull, Cheer Stephenson Papworth, and Lisa Hall; as well as all of my author friends over at the BRD, who have offered both advice and laughs in great quantities over this past year and a half.
 

Thanks to Steph, Jillian, Ron, and Barb for our Wednesday art dates, during which I painted my covers; most especially thanks to the lovely Steph, who drove me around in my carlessness and always shares her nachos.
 

Finally, and most importantly, thank you to all of my wonderful readers—especially those who left reviews and sent kind messages, giving me the (occasionally much needed) kick in the pants to continue writing. And a big shout out to the Wattpad community—thank you for all of the illuminating comments and support.
 

SUMMARY OF DIVISION

Part One:

Fourteen-year-old Yarrow Lamhart is marked as a Chisanta and must leave his home in Glans Heath, saying goodbye to his 10 siblings and parents. He meets Bray Marron, an orphaned girl who had been sexually abused by her uncle, and they bond immediately. They also meet Arlow Bowlerham, an aristocrat’s son, and Peer Gelson, an awkward boy who’d been living with a set of unloving foster parents. During their travels, the group is beset by highwaymen—a group who work for the Pauper’s King, famed outlaw of Trinitas.

When they arrive at the Chisanta Temple, the children must go through a brutal testing process. They learn that the Chisanta are split into two types: Cosanta and Chiona. The Cosanta are more meditative and the Chiona more aggressive. Yarrow passes the test on the first day and is named Cosanta; he receives the gift to know the feelings of those he loves. Bray bonds with a group of children with varied backgrounds: Ko-Jin, a handicapped boy; Adearre, a shy boy from the south; Rinny, a girl who had picked pockets for the Pauper's King; Roldon, a friendly boy who loves games.

During this time, Bray discovers the body of a murdered Chiona and learns that some of their class have gone missing. She passes the test, at last, as Chiona, and gains the ability to phase through solid objects. She bonds with her fellow Chiona—Peer, who can read texts in any language, and Adearre who is hyper-perceptive. Yarrow, in the mean time, becomes good friends with Arlow, who finds it amusing to keep his gift secret, and Ko-Jin, who is gifted physically with strength. Yarrow also meets Dedrre, an old inventor who serves as a mentor.