Legacy (9 page)

Though neither spoke, I wished I could be alone. Even the dull sound of Tadark's fidgeting in the otherwise quiet room was a distraction to me. While I very much needed to think, I seemed to have lost the ability to do so.

The time I might have had for reflection was cut short by the creaking of the Throne Room doors as they were pulled open from the inside. London stepped between them and immediately took note of me. His reaction to my presence, however, was difficult to discern.

“Princess,” he greeted me, halting and tilting his head in respect.

“Please, let's not start where we left off,” I beseeched, wanting to avoid the pattern of our earlier quarrel.

An awkward pause followed, the only sound the breathing of the others in the antechamber, but I gratefully realized that the lack of a heated reply meant London's hurt had eased somewhat.

“You spoke with my father?” I chanced.

London's only answer was a nod.

“I hear you made a good catch,” I timidly continued. “Is he pleased?”

“He is.”

“And?”

“Your father is not a forgiving man.”

I cast my eyes to the stone floor. I knew it had been a fool's hope that London might be given his life back based on this one deed, but against my will, my heart had become set upon it. It was the only thing that could possibly heal the rift between us, but any such hope had now been shattered by my
father's obstinacy and mistrust. There was only one thing I could think to say.

“And you, London? Are you a forgiving man?”

“Some might say so.” He said this in a way that was very near lighthearted, as if he meant to make me feel better. Then his tone darkened almost imperceptibly. “But some things are not so easily forgiven.”

I managed to hold his gaze, though my head felt heavy with shame, and I searched his familiar face for something more.

“London…I'm sorry.” I did not elaborate, hoping my simple words would suffice.

“I know,” he said, and an uneasy silence fell between us.

His eyes flicked to Destari, who was no longer leaning against the wall, probably having straightened the moment my former bodyguard had come into the room.

“I must take my leave now,” London said, then he crossed to his friend to say a few words before stepping into the Grand Entry Hall.

London departed, and a sinking feeling of uncertainty as to when I would next see him overwhelmed me. I waited for a chance to talk to Destari, for he knew London better than anyone.

“Will he ever forgive me?” I moaned when Destari looked at me.

“I cannot say,” he said, black eyes murky and unrevealing. “London does not trust easily, and he does not forgive easily when his trust has been betrayed.”

I pondered Destari's words for a moment, convinced he was hiding something.

“You speak as though you know of some other betrayal. Help me to understand him so that I can learn how best to seek his pardon.”

Destari glanced warily at Tadark, clearly not wanting to discuss London in his presence.

“Tadark,” I said. “Remove yourself to the Grand Entry Hall. We will be but a minute.”

Tadark hobbled from the room without comment, shooting the deputy captain a sullen look on his way out.

Destari cautiously assessed me, trying to decide whether he should confide in me.

“I already know London was a prisoner of the Cokyrians during the war,” I disclosed, hoping to persuade him. “If this relates to that time, you needn't keep anything from me.”

Destari's heavy eyebrows rose, and I knew he had expected me to be ignorant of London's history. After another moment of deliberation, he capitulated.

“The incident of which I am about to speak is related to that period in his life.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“Before London was imprisoned by the Cokyrians, he was betrothed to a young woman of noble birth.”

Destari halted at my stunned expression. While I knew London had never married, I had always assumed the reason was that his devotion to the military had left little time for a personal life. Destari's revelation reconfirmed how paltry was my knowledge of the man, and a crushing sense of remorse hit me at the thought that I had always been too self-absorbed to even be curious. I took a deep, steadying breath, waiting for my bodyguard to elaborate. With a measure of concern, he stepped forward and gripped my elbow, directing me to an armchair. When I had seated myself, he resumed his tale, voice strangely hollow.

“A couple of months into his captivity, the parents of his betrothed determined to have her marry another, believing
London to be dead. She had already been pledged to him for a year and a half, and her parents worried that at age twenty-two, her marriage prospects were becoming limited. She at first refused, for she was very much in love with London, but in the end, acquiesced to her parents' wishes. She was married to a much older man about two months before London's escape.

“As I assume you know, London was deathly ill upon his return to Hytanica and did not immediately learn of any of this. When he had recovered enough to communicate, he began to ask for her, and it fell to me to tell him of her circumstances.

“He did not take the news well, and I feared he might not be strong enough to survive this second trial. He was withdrawn for a long time, and in truth never fully came back to himself. He is more guarded now than he once was.”

Destari sounded weary, as if just telling the story were exhausting.

“He has not, since that time, permitted himself to form deep attachments. Or at least, he has
tried
not to form strong attachments, but he did not count on the bond he would develop with you while being your lifelong bodyguard.” Destari paused, sighing heavily before he finished. “London never really forgave his betrothed for doubting his return, and I don't know that he will ever really forgive you for doubting his loyalty.”

I stared numbly at Destari, too overwhelmed by London's tragic past to respond. Finally regaining the ability to speak, I asked, “Who was she?”

Destari frowned, then shook his head. “That is not for me to say. Perhaps someday London will be inclined to tell you.”

I continued to stare at him, biting my lip while I debated
whether to ask him the question upon which I had unendingly dwelt since London's dismissal from the military. In the end I risked his anger.

“We both know London recognized the High Priestess. Do you think he released her?”

As I had expected, Destari glowered at me.

“I don't know whether he released her or not, nor do I care. London has always acted in Hytanica's best interests, and if he did release her, he had good cause. He is not and never has been a traitor, and I would follow him without hesitation, even to my death.”

I shrank under his glare, feeling pitiful, for I did not have the same ability to take things on faith.

Destari and I left the antechamber in weighty silence, to be rejoined by Tadark in the Grand Entry. I could tell by Tadark's expression that he was unhappy about having been excluded from our conversation, but he simply fell into step with us. I returned to my quarters to eat dinner, then prepared for bed, emotionally drained. I lay in the darkness, beginning to drift toward sleep while listening to Destari and Tadark's faint bickering. The only thing I could make out was Destari saying, “
My
sofa,
your
armchair.”

I AWOKE LATER THAN USUAL THE FOLLOWING morning and dressed with Sahdienne's assistance. When I entered the parlor, Tadark was standing near a serving tray that had been set on a small table, as though he had been ordered to guard the Princess's breakfast instead of the Princess herself. Destari's looming form, however, was absent. Upon Sahdienne's departure, I took the tray and went to sit in one of the gold velvet armchairs.

“Where is Destari?” I asked, removing the cloth that covered my food to keep it warm, the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and scrambled eggs wafting up to greet me.

“He was sent for by the Captain of the Guard early this morning,” Tadark responded, still lingering by the table.

“For what purpose was he summoned?” I pressed, concerned in light of recent happenings.

“I don't know—I wasn't told anything.” He tried to act nonchalant, but I could tell he was bothered by the fact that he had once again been left out of a meeting.

I shrugged and continued to eat my breakfast, hoping
to conceal my building and insatiable hunger for palace politics.

Just as I put my utensils down upon my empty plate, there was a knock and Tadark opened the door. Destari entered and I could contain my curiosity no more.

“The last time I woke to find one of my bodyguards missing, the outcome was disastrous,” I said, guilt over London's dismissal crushing the intended light tone of my voice. “I would like to know what's going on.”

I stood and walked toward him, placing my tray back upon the table it had originally occupied.

“I am to inform you that I will no longer be your bodyguard,” Destari rumbled, giving me a slight bow.

“And are you to inform me of the reason you have been removed?”

I had grown tired of Cannan and my father making decisions that directly affected me without bothering to offer explanation.

“I was not instructed to tell you anything further, but the explanation is straightforward. I have been given a new assignment.”

An involuntary shudder rippled through my body as it came to me that with London gone and Destari reassigned, I might end up with a single bodyguard by the name of Tadark. “Couldn't
someone else—
” I tipped my head toward Tadark “—be given this new task?”

Destari caught my meaning and shook his head. “I'm afraid this is much too important to be entrusted to
someone else.
”

I frowned in annoyance. “What is this new assignment?”

“Perhaps you should raise that question with the captain or the King.”

“I'm asking you,” I said pointedly. “I will learn what this is
about one way or another. Why don't you save me the trouble and tell me now.”

For a moment, he grappled with the decision, unwilling to relent yet knowing there was truth in my assertion. In the end, he acceded.

“Have you not wondered where we are holding the Cokyrian prisoner?”

I heard Tadark shuffling around by the door and saw his eyes shift to Destari's face, his interest also captured by the deputy captain's words.

“In the dungeon, I presume,” I said, already unsure of my statement based on Destari's expression.

“Do you see your father as the type of man who would imprison in such a place a boy of the same age as his daughters?”

“No,” I said, considering his words carefully. “Is it safe then to assume he is being housed in the palace proper?”

“That would be a fair assumption.”

“And can I also assume that he will be guarded by someone with great experience?”

“That also is a reasonable conclusion.”

I nodded gratefully. “One last thing, then.”

Destari scowled at me, wondering what else I could possibly demand of him.

“Will I be assigned a new secondary bodyguard?”

“I'm afraid not,” Destari responded with a knowing smile. “The captain has decided that the measure of security we've been maintaining within the palace is no longer necessary, as the traitor has been identified. The members of the royal family will once again have only one bodyguard and he will return to a normal daily routine. Tadark will be your permanent guard.”

I contained my groan of misery with great effort. The only positive aspect of the situation was that Tadark would no longer be protecting me twenty-four hours a day—he was a bit more tolerable when taken in smaller doses.

“I appreciate that you took the time to tell me of your change in duty,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted.

Destari inclined his head and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Tadark cried. “Aren't you going to tell us about your new assignment?”

Destari stared at him as though no expression he could form upon his face would quite convey what he was feeling and then walked out the door without another word.

 

I saw nothing of Destari or the Cokyrian prisoner over the next few days, which led me to believe the boy was being held in one of the guest rooms on the third floor, away from the areas the royal family frequented. My father and Cannan could often be seen in conversation, most likely about their young captive, though they never said anything in my presence about what they intended to do with him. If not for Destari, I would have believed him to be starving in the dungeon like our other prisoners, though it should have occurred to me that my father would not allow a child to be confined within those dank walls. The captive needed to be interrogated, but my father would not want him subjected to torture.

As I considered these things, I felt relieved that I, unlike my father, did not have to make judgments about the prisoner. He was young, yes, but also a Cokyrian, and though they would not treat him unkindly for the first reason, neither could they trust him. Hytanicans had only ever encountered Cokyrian adults and no one could imagine what this boy was doing here, if he had been sent as a spy or a messenger, or if he had for
some reason fled his homeland. I was, of course, also frustrated by the lack of information I had been able to gather, but I supposed this situation was held in stricter confidence than even the investigation of the Elite Guard. It was unlikely Steldor would know about this, I had been thankful to deduce, for it saved me from having to suffer through another afternoon with him.

On the morning of the fourth day after Destari had been assigned to be the young Cokyrian's guard, I headed to the library, desirous of a location to think, where Tadark might hold his tongue. I was brimming with questions, yet could not concentrate, for the lieutenant was still bent on talking about London's incompetence. He was in the middle of a tirade when I pushed the library door open.

“Once in a while I would see a glint in his eyes almost as though he were taunting me….”

I fought the urge to tell Tadark outright that London
had
been taunting him, when I saw my sister. She was sitting on the padded window seat across the room with her best friend, Semari, whom I had not known was visiting us. They were clearly gossiping about something, because their voices were low and occasionally one of them would clap a hand over her mouth, aghast at what the other had said. Aware that someone had entered, they stopped talking and looked in my direction.

“Come here, Alera!” Miranna said delightedly, springing to her feet. “We were just discussing the latest scandals!”

I smiled and moved toward the window, ready to contribute heartily to their conversation. When Tadark followed, I waved him off, and he instead joined Halias by the fireplace.

“Miranna has just been telling me about the Cokyrian pris
oner,” Semari said, her clear blue eyes glistening. “She says he is very handsome.”

She and Miranna giggled, and I readily concurred, sitting in a chair opposite them. The prisoner was undeniably attractive, though in a much different way than Steldor. The captain's son had a polished style, with classic good looks and sophisticated taste. The Cokyrian was unique, with eyes that entranced in a moment and a young but worldly face. While I had only seen him once, I sensed a deepness within him that Steldor would never possess. Not wanting to share any of these thoughts, I attempted to redirect the discussion to something of greater appeal to me.

“What do you think he's doing here?”

“I don't care much about that,” Semari scoffed, not sharing my interest in the least. “But I do so want to meet him and ask him about his homeland. I've never been into the desert lands of the east or into the mountains, and can't imagine what it must be like to live in such a forbidding place.”

“He can't be as dangerous as the adults of his kind, so it would be safe to talk with him, wouldn't it?” Miranna agreed. “He may well be our only chance to learn firsthand about the Cokyrians!”

Semari sat quietly, gnawing on a fingernail. Although she was almost a year and a half younger than my sister, her bubbly nature and love of all things feminine made them an ideal match.

“What are you thinking?” Miranna asked.

Semari sighed in frustration, having discovered a fault in whatever she had been working through in her mind.

“We could never get to him in the dungeon. With all the guards down there, it would be impossible!”

I laughed to myself, for I knew something they did not. I
leaned closer, motioning them to do the same, and whispered in their ears.

“Are you certain?” Miranna asked when I had finished.

I gave a self-assured nod.

Semari was gleeful. “This is perfect! I know exactly what to do.”

We huddled together so that our foreheads almost touched and began to plot our strategy.

Semari spent the night with Miranna in her quarters, and the next morning we put our scheme into action. In order to discover where the prisoner was being kept, I chanced a visit to the Guest Wing, which comprised the eastern half of the palace's third floor. I thought it probable that the Cokyrian was being housed in one of the rooms at the rear of the palace, and so avoided using my family's stairway, instead using the stairwell located just off the Grand Staircase to gain access to the upper floor. Although there were generally no guards posted on the third floor unless guests were occupying the rooms, I did not want to emerge into the corridor and blunder into Destari.

My mission was to lurk in the Guest Wing as long as it took to locate the prisoner's room, then return to the library, where Miranna and Semari would be passing the time. The only disquiet I felt about my task was Tadark's constant and clinging company, but as it turned out he became a potential obstacle only once.

“I don't understand what we're doing here,” he said, bored with my chosen activity, or more precisely, the lack of activity.

“You don't have to understand, Tadark. All that is required is that you leave me be.”

“Are you doing something you're not supposed to be doing? Destari said something about guest rooms—”

“I implore you to be quiet…Tad,” I needled, remembering how much he despised the moniker.

“Don't call me that.” Tadark's brown eyes narrowed.

“If you stop talking right now, I'll never call you Tad again.”

He nodded, then stood back from me, and no further sound escaped his lips.

The Guest Wing contained seven rooms, five of which were located along exterior walls, and two windowless interior rooms. A corridor led all the way through the wing so that I could start where I now stood and travel past all of the rooms, arriving back at my point of origin.

I walked to the west, then turned north into the corridor that divided the Guest Wing from the servants' quarters. Coming to the end of the hall, I leaned around the corner to the right to peer down its length, looking for Destari. His enormous frame was disappearing into the nearest of the two interior rooms. Though there was no sign of his charge, I had to assume I had discovered where the Cokyrian was being held. I considered the location, realizing that it made sense to house our captive in one of the windowless rooms.

I retreated to the stairwell and descended the steps to return to the second floor, Tadark trotting behind. I hastened past the King's Dining Hall, then continued toward the library at the rear of the palace, where I was to collect Miranna and Semari. They were seated together on the wide sill of the bay window when I entered, with Halias in front of them in an armchair, indulging their desire to braid pieces of his long, blond hair.

“Miranna, Semari, come with me,” I called. “I have some
thing to show you!” They knew by my words that I had located Destari and the prisoner.

Semari and Halias stood, but Miranna remained seated for a moment longer, the brightness of her smile fading.

“Are you all right?” Halias asked as he moved his chair off to the side of the window.

“Yes, I'm fine,” she murmured. “Just a bit dizzy.”

She got to her feet and began to cross the room with her friend.

“Now, what is it you have to show…”

Without further warning, Miranna collapsed, falling like a doll in the middle of the large rug on the library floor, her sentence left unfinished. I rushed to her, dropping to my knees beside her.

“Mira!” I cried, panic in my voice.

She lay on her side and her limbs began to quake, violent shivers soon consuming her whole body. Nonsense tumbled from her lips in the same way it had when she had suffered similar attacks as a little girl. Semari was standing with her back to the library wall, her face stricken. Halias was at Miranna's other side in an instant, his blue eyes darting between me and my sister, as this was not a danger from which he could provide protection. It had been twelve years since Miranna's last attack, and none of us were any more prepared to handle the situation today than we had been over a decade ago.

“Tadark!” I called to my horrified bodyguard, who was frozen by the door. “Fetch Bhadran! Tell him it's Miranna!”