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Authors: R. J. Pouritt

In the Skin of a Nunqua (24 page)

BOOK: In the Skin of a Nunqua
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Kyros walked around the trophy room. “Where are your sword and darts? Your room has been searched, but they’re not inside. I remember you had them when we brought you to the castle. My guess is, you used the ledge one night to come to this room, then hid your weapons in here to keep them safe.” He touched the head of a stuffed zebra. “But where? Where are your darts?” he asked.

“If I wanted to poison the queen,” Shanti said, “she’d be dead.”

“Tell me where the darts are.”

Shanti went over to the padded leather chair. She grasped the armrest and braced it with her feet, pulling the chair onto its side. “Knife.” She held out her hand, palm up.

Kyros reached into his boot and slid out a knife. He hesitated, then gave it to her.

Shanti cut the cloth covering the bottom of the chair, then returned the knife. She removed some of the stuffing, reached inside up to her elbow, pulled out a box, and gave it to Kyros.

Opening the box, he took out one of Shanti’s finely crafted darts with hollow points and compared it to the ordinary dart that had poisoned Baylova. He inspected the wristlet that was also in the box, along with a lock of hair tied with string.

“The hair is from a Nunqua warrior. It’s not Willovian.” She reached inside the chair again and pulled out her sword. “Am I to be beheaded?”

“I’m giving you your freedom.” He returned the box to her. “Jun’s missing. I have word that he’s being held as a prisoner of war inside Nunqua territory.” Kyros took the sword from her and unsheathed it. He read aloud the words engraved on it. “
Anaya say midea
—strength of will.”

“You know the Nunqua language?” she said. “It was
you.
You let the warriors into the castle.”

“I speak four languages, and I did not let them into the castle. Why were the warriors afraid of you? You were unarmed at the time.”

“It’s not me they’re afraid of. I have influential friends.”

He gave her the sword. “Baylova wants to make everyone think you tried to kill her.”

“Yes,” Shanti said. “Baylova hates me, Jun doesn’t love me, and you control me. Or so you said on the balcony.”

“And your big mouth gets you into trouble. I’m giving you a chance to leave the castle and convince your warrior friends to let Jun out of prison.”

“Right,” she said.

“Once a Guardian, always a Guardian, I believe. You took an oath to act in the best interests of Willovia.”

“You’re not a Guardian. How would you know?”

“It’s my job to know things.” Kyros moved uncomfortably close. “Baylova tried to kill herself and blame it on you. I don’t hate you—anymore, that is. I’m recruiting you. I will let you escape; then you will help Jun escape.”

“You want me to go back to the Nunqua and just ask them to release one of their prisoners?”

“Yes.”

He smelled like brandy and spice—a pleasing scent. “What about the inquiry and Commander Gy?” she said.

“Use your brain. I didn’t send the letter to Commander Gy, telling him to leave the battle to come here for a stupid inquiry.”

Shanti smiled, feeling empowered, energized. “You disobeyed a royal decree . . . for me.”

“Leave tonight.” He looked at her lips. “Use the ledge. Your horse will be saddled and waiting for you. As soon as you’re off castle grounds, conceal the scars on your arms. There is some risk. When Baylova realizes you’re gone, I’m sure she’ll issue an order to find you and kill you, no questions asked. I don’t control all the royal guards.”

Shanti went to the table and picked up the feather. “May I have this?”

“What for?”

“It’s important,” she said.

“Take it, then.”

“I have another favor to ask.” She put the feather into her pocket, then knelt by the overturned chair and shoved the stuffing back inside.

“I
am
doing you a favor by letting you leave the castle. If I’m caught, we both lose our heads.”

Shanti heaved the chair back upright. She took the wristlet out of the box and strapped it to her wrist. “Let me see the queen.”

“You’re as crazy as she is.”

She swung her sword onto her back. “I’m a Guardian, and I will finish the task given to me.”

“You’re going to kill her now? Act in the best interests of Willovia?”

“I’m not going to kill her.”

“Baylova’s still in bed,” Kyros said. “Sick from the poison.”

Shanti picked up the container of poison, smelled it, and gave a short laugh. “Doubtful.”

“I’ll never understand what Jun sees in you.”

“Also doubtful.” It was so good to have a purpose, a goal, again. She would have kissed Kyros, that master of mind games, if she weren’t in love with Jun. She knew that Kyros wouldn’t reject a soft, slow kiss from her. Neither would he reject a hard, passionate, full-body kiss. The thought filled her with a sense of a power mightier than the sword! How fast things had changed!

“At least you’re never boring,” he said.

*

Commander Kyros opened the door to the queen’s bedroom. Leanna sat in a chair next to Baylova, who lay in a massive four-poster bed overflowing with fluffy pillows and white blankets. “Leanna,” he said, “may I see you for a moment?”

Leanna rose and put her hand on Baylova’s forehead, smoothing the hair back from the pale face. Kyros led Leanna out of the room. They passed Shanti, who was armed and waiting. Shanti entered the room, and Kyros closed the door.

“Poor, pitiful princess.” Shanti strolled toward the bed.

“Guards,” Baylova’s weak voice croaked. Shanti jumped onto the wooden footboard and leaned against a post carved with clouds and stars. Baylova’s purple and blue hand lay on the white blanket, fingernails black from the poison. She sat up in the bed and bellowed, “Guards!”

“Yell all you want. They’re not coming.”

“You turned everyone against me,” Baylova sniffed.

“You did that to yourself. Such a big bed and no one to share it with—what a shame!” Her hand caressed the carved pole. “I can think of a lot of things I’d like to do in a bed like this. Has Aiden ever been in here with you? Any stories you’d like to share.”

“You really are sick.”


I’m
sick? I’m not the one in bed trying to make everyone feel sorry for me,
Princess.

“It’s ‘Queen Baylova.’”

“You want people to respect you as queen? Then prove you’re worthy to rule. Win the war. Stop caring so much about yourself. Do what you know is right. And, please, invite Aiden up here and put this bed to good use.”

Bayla’s purple and blue hand with blackened fingernails reached upward. Invisible power surged around her, and tendrils of her hair lifted. Shanti jumped onto the mattress, near Bayla’s feet, which were buried under the covers. “All I have to do is touch you to steal your power, Princess.” Shanti crawled on all fours toward Bayla. “Just like I stole your sword. You made it so easy. Nobody saw me take it while we were at the Hedgelands on the obstacle—”

Bayla seized a handful of Shanti’s hair and wrenched it hard. Shanti grabbed the arm and rolled out of the bed. She threw Bayla into a table, knocking a green pitcher of water over and soaking Bayla’s nightgown. Enraged, Bayla picked up the glazed pottery pitcher and hurled it at Shanti. It hit the wall and shattered. “You bitch! Where’s my sword?”

“Not so sick now, are you?” Shanti said.

Bayla threw a cup, glazed the same green color as the broken pitcher.

Shanti ducked, and it, too, smashed against the wall. She opened a window, and a gust of cold air blew in. “You want to be queen? Then find me, take back your sword, and win the war for Willovia.” Shanti disappeared out the window and onto the slippery ledge in the dark night.

Bayla slammed open the door and walked briskly out of her bedroom.

“You’re certainly feeling better, Baylova.” Kyros said. “Quite an amazing recovery, I must say.”

“Shut up.” She continued toward a window and looked outside. “Damn, it’s too dark. I can’t see her.”

Kyros moved beside her, watching out the window. “They say Nunqua can see in the dark.”

Leanna was with them. A black blur flew past the window. “Baylova, no!”

Another blur—a large bat—swooshed past.

“They also say Nunqua know powerful spells to protect themselves,” he said.

“Whose side are you on?” Baylova spat.

Kyros bowed to her. “I serve Willovia, as always.”

“Stop this, Baylova,” Leanna said. “Please. Leave her be.”

Baylova stepped away from the window in a trance, using the bats to search for Shanti.

*

Shanti focused straight ahead, never looking down. With her belly pressed against the wall, she crept along the ledge, maneuvering three stories above the hard ground. Something hit her in the head. Tiny squeaks and squeals hurt her ears. A bat swerved near her face, and Shanti flattened her cheek against the wall. Another black bat, with repulsive ears and glossy eyes, hooked itself onto her skirt and climbed upward. Unable to swat it with her hand for fear of falling, Shanti bent her knee and moved it back and forth to knock the flying vermin off her. The other bat grasped strands of her hair, pulling them from her scalp as it continued to fly in a dizzying pattern around her.

A window was nearby. Just a few more steps on the ledge, and she would reach it. Shanti moved slowly, ignoring the attacking bats as best she could. She must get to the window. The bat crawling on her skirt reached her waist.

Shanti tried to open the window. Locked. She unsheathed her sword. The bat squeaked as it climbed upward, nearing her shoulder. The creature flying about her head entwined itself in her hair. Shanti screamed and whacked the handle of her weapon against the window. The glass cracked but did not break. Once more, channeling all her emotion into the blow, she struck the window with the butt of her sword, this time breaking a hole in the glass. She reached inside and unlocked the window.

Shanti tumbled onto broken glass inside, aware of only two things: the bat in her hair and the one crawling up her dress.

“Get off. Get off!” She yanked the bat out of her hair, flinging it to the floor and cutting it in two with her sword. Long strands of her hair were still clenched in its claws. Two tiny fangs bit into the soft flesh just beneath her collarbone. She wrenched the creature off, its teeth and claws scratching her skin, and threw it down and stomped on it. Blood dripped down her chest.
Her
blood. The bite from a bat carried a disease that caused the most painful death known to Willovians or Nunqua, and it was untreatable. She had to clean the bite wound as soon as possible, but she was back inside the castle, in an empty room on the third floor. She sheathed the weapon and sprinted out of the room and down the hall.

“Shanti!” an otherworldly voice shrieked. Baylova, dressed in her nightgown, leaned on the wall for support and shuffled toward Shanti in a fury.

Killing the bats must have weakened Baylova. A crack split the floor, and dust rose out of the fissure.
Or perhaps not.
Shanti ran into the great hall, the crack following the same path as her feet. She descended stairs, two at a time, as people who had gathered for the feast watched in stunned silence. Shanti tripped and rolled down to the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you all right?” Two men, honored guests with graying hair and flawless manners, lifted her to a standing position. Seeing the sword, the wristlet of darts, and the blood on her neck, one said, “What’s going on?”

Baylova stood in the hall, white as a phantom in her nightgown. She did not shriek or dash into the room with the respectable royal guests, who believed her to be sick in bed from poisoning. Baylova moved backward into the shadows. Shanti ran out the massive front doors and into the night, bewildering everyone at the feast.

Her horse was saddled and waiting. “Thank you, Kyros,” she said. Several paths led away from the castle grounds. Shanti hitched her skirt up to her thighs and swung up onto her horse. She raced through open gates into the city. A wolf howled in the distance. Another wolf answered. Shanti kicked her heels into the horse’s sides as growling wolves emerged from behind buildings to chase her.

The city was empty, everyone inside their cozy houses enjoying warm fires. Her horse ran at a dangerous pace on the uneven cobblestone road. A wolf bit at its hind leg. The horse bucked, stopped. Shanti gripped the reins tight. The horse’s ears lay back as it snorted in anger.

“Not fair, princess!” She jumped off the beast—now under Baylova’s control—as it attempted to bite and kick her. Shanti tried to unbuckle the saddle and remove it, while staying clear of the horse’s hindquarters. A snarling wolf tore her skirt as the pack circled her there in the street. A door opened, and a man holding a lantern peered out. The wolves lowered their heads. Other doors opened, and men and women came out of their homes. They used torches to scatter the pack of wolves. Shanti’s horse foamed at the mouth and reared. Ropes were thrown around the animal’s neck.

Someone pulled her away from the wild horse and placed a dark cloak over her shoulders. “Come with me, Shanti,” a man said. A hood shaded his features so she could not see who it was. She lifted the hood of her cloak. Shanti followed the man down a deserted alley and away from the crowd, into a musty cellar.

A single lamp lit a space filled with old furniture and useless junk. He heaved a large desk aside and opened a secret door half as tall as she was. The hooded man picked up the lamp, pulled her inside the small opening, and closed the door. The walls were dirt with wooden shoring. Shanti took off her hood and stood up, banging her head on the ceiling timber. She looked under the man’s hood. “Aiden.”

He crouched in the tight space with her. “You certainly made her angry this time.”

“Your girlfriend has quite a temper.”

“She’s not my girlfr— Your hair . . . and your neck!” He gaped at the two deep scratches on her collarbone.

“A bat bit me.”

“No.” His brow furrowed with concern.

“There’s only a small chance it carried disease. Where are we?”

“Tunnel,” he said. “Used by the Guardians of Willovia. They’re waiting for you at my parents’ house. Let’s go.” Aiden crawled into a hole in the dirt wall. Shanti stayed in the small room. He crawled back out. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “The infamous Commander Shanti, trained by the Nunqua, a woman who wears poisonous darts as jewelry and cuts men’s arms in sword fights, who battles a witch . . . is afraid of a
tunnel
? You realize I’m going to tell everyone.”

BOOK: In the Skin of a Nunqua
8.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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