The Daughter Of Lava (#3 Reclaimed Souls Series) (6 page)

“Motivation?” I yell at him, closing the small gap between us. “Or cowardice?” I whisper. I feel his heat and I can almost hear his heartbeat, the very thing I would normally want to cherish for the rest of my life. But now… I want to crush it. I want to crush
him
. I can tell he wants to say more. Maybe even try to tell me
everything will be okay
as everything burns around us. But his face chisels up into stone and one of his eyebrows arches as if he means to not only
not
explain, but he’s trying to challenge me. Challenging me how? If he thinks I’m the Sacred Soul, does he think I can do something about all of this?
 

“There is a thin line between motivation and cowardice,” Roland says, watching my face as I think things through, then shrugs before turning back in the direction of the Palace Skyscraper.

“You make me sick,” I spit at him and before I can even stop myself, I rear back and punch him in the side of the throat.

His head snaps back and then he goes down, gagging and gasping for air.

Off in the distance, near the Palace Skyscraper, a
boom!
goes off and almost instantly, the sky illuminates brightly all around. It nearly reaches our location, but not quite, much like the way dawn approaches gradually, only we need to head into it.

I’ve already wasted too much time standing here with Roland. But I don’t know what else to do. I only know that I have to reach the Palace Skyscraper. With or with
out
Roland. I’m not even sure it matters anymore. In this moment, right now, who am I going to be?

The solution or the problem?

I killed Lord Jaucey, but I was too late for it to be effective, though having one less brutal, dictator-like person around isn’t a bad thing.

It starts with a small step, an inadvertent step, and then I’m at the roof’s hatch.

Roland’s arm reaches out to stop me, but I’m too far from him to touch me.

“What are you doing?” he croaks, his other hand wrapped around his neck.

I say the first thing that comes to mind. “To fix what you started.”

Just before I jump down the hatch, I notice a small smile on Roland’s face.

Ten

I
JAM
EACH
FOOT
down as I descend the rickety staircase, each step one of frustration, anger, and confusion. And perhaps heartache. I’m not any more focused by the time I reach the narrow alley, but I don’t take any time to reflect upon it.

I crunch through the broken glass and run out into the main part of the street.
 

A familiar shadow moves.
 

“If you’re going to keep following me,” I yell at the shadow, “you could at least introduce yourself.”

Nothing answers me, not that I expected it to.

A certain stillness creeps into me, like everything has paused, and it occurs to me that I should hear war cries or the licking sizzling of fire, yet there is nothing.

I stop running once I enter the hover-flare-lit areas and look around. The Palace Skyscraper is still a ways away. I can see the topmost floor—Roland’s suites—as it disappears into the clouds and smoke above. I try not to think about how much I’d rather be there than here right now.

Off to my right, behind an array of buildings, apartments, and shoppes, the mountain glows with more fire torches moving steadily toward the inner city. Why aren’t they down in the streets yet?

“Right now, their goal is to cut off major escape routes,” a voice says behind me, as if reading my mind. I turn, though I already know it’s Roland. He’s caught up to me. “That’s why you don’t hear anything, either. No war cries. It’s the advanced guard, not soldiers, not warriors, just scary beasts with torches.”

I decide to put aside my feelings for the moment. I don’t want to fight with Roland
and
everyone else, too.

“To contain us in the valley?” After all, mountains rise all around us.

“Makes us easy pickings, doesn’t it?”

“Most of the continent left during the black water plague, right?”

“Right.”

Something dawns on me. “Dear Goddess, you’re brilliant, Roland,” I declare. “You made it up.”

“What did I make up?” he asks, his tone guarded, like maybe there are several things he’s made up and he’s not sure which one I’ve figured out.

“The black water plague. It never existed. You made it up to get the citizens
off
the continent. Which means you were correct, earlier.”

“Which part?”

“That you knew we’d be attacked tonight no matter what you did during the celebration. It takes longer than a few hours to assemble an army from Hades Rocks. So why, after so many years, did your uncle decide to attack tonight? You said so yourself that he gave you years of ultimatums.” Roland tilts his head at me as if he’s trying to decipher what I just said. “Am I wrong?” I ask.

“That’s not Jaucey’s army, Rahda.” His eyes apologize to me before the words come out of his mouth. “Ask yourself, who else is capable of doing this?”
 

The Grandfather
.

He sees that I understand him. Then he says, “Now ask yourself, how long does it take to march up an army of beasts from Hades Rocks?”

“Weeks,” I answer. “Months, even.”

“When did he send you to me?”

“Three days ago.” I no longer see the need to keep up the lie.
 

Then he asks me a question I’ve been asking myself for two days.

“Whose side are you on? Mine or his?”

Eleven

R
OLAND
’
S
GORGEOUSLY
SCARRED
FACE
searches my own for a reaction. It was only a couple of days ago that I came into his life under the pretense of freeing him from those scars. In the process, everything else became flawed. Seriously flawed. The way I saw him, the kingdom, and my own future.

“Neither side,” I answer, thinking about what Dev told me. “I don’t know how else to explain it, but there are no sides. In my heart—my soul—it feels bigger than two sides. Bigger than us.”

He smiles, liking my answer.

“So, what do we do?” he asks me.

My mouth drops open. “What
can
we possibly do? There are so
few
of us and so
many
of them.” I glance again at the marching torches. Way too many to count.

Roland clears his throat and gently puts his hands on my cheek. The newly injured, soon to be scarred, cheek. I wonder, at the end of all of this, if we are still alive, if we’ll be two damaged and flawed souls clinging to each other for survival.

“I think you underestimate your citizens, my Queen,” he says slowly as his fingers glide over the stitches. My entire body tingles at his touch. “Surely by now you’ve noticed the
shadows
. A Queen must have her monk warriors. We will fight to the death for you.”

Monk warriors?
 

“I don’t want anyone to die
for
me.”

“That’s exactly what it means. We fight for you. For what’s in here.” He places his hand over my heart. “Whether you like it or not, you are the heart and soul of this continent.”

“I will not be manipulated into leading a suicide mission.”

“You know what the Grandfather is capable of, Rahda. You know the level of devotion he inspires in his subjects. It’s a seriously flawed loyalty, but loyalty, nonetheless.”

I understand that cult-like mentality all too well. I still felt the pull toward the man who saved my life. Conflicted, even. But, then again, he didn’t necessarily save my life. He made a deal with Roland in return for…
 

What was the favor in return of?

“Yes, I know what he’s capable of, and I know he never makes a deal with someone unless it will greatly benefit him. I…” I hesitate, not sure what to say. How can you thank someone for saving your life, especially if you’ve been in love with them most of your life? “I have to ask,” I say. “What was the bargain you made with the Grandfather?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but in that moment, we’re no longer alone. Citizens scramble around us, some hitting us with their shoulders.
 

“Wot’cha still standin’ there for?” one yells at us.
 

“Are you afraid of a little fire?” I ask them loudly. Several stop running altogether. Not many, naturally, but some.

Roland snaps his head around and stares at me.
What are you doing?
his expression asks.

“They’ve got more’n fire, miss,” a boy of about fifteen says. “Crossbows and guns, too.”

“Is that so?” I say calmly. “I wonder what our new queen would say about you running away from a battle?”

“That’s who they want, miss,” the boy answers.

More and more citizens come through. Rather than passing around us, the group grows larger until at least one hundred men, women, and young adults stand around, wanting to hear what’s being said.

“I saw her earlier,” a heavyset man declares in the middle. “The queen, I mean,” he clarifies. I remember his name is Tomoko. “She came this way, I saw her, I did, and she wasn’t as beautiful as I thought she’d be. But she be kind. She got this large bloody gash on her cheek and all. I say if she came this way, I go this way, too.”

The group agrees.

“We go were the queen is,” a middle-aged woman shouts.

Roland leans into me. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says in my ear.

“I suppose I have you to thank for that, now don’t I?”
 

He smirks at me.

Then I speak up. “If the queen were here right now, what would you want her to say?”

“I’d want her to tell us what she be doing about the invaders,” the boy says.

“Bet she’d order us to fight to the death,” an elderly man answers.

“No, no!” Tomoko rejoins, moving more into the center and closer to me. “She wouldn’t order us to do anything. But she’d give us her plan.”

“What if she didn’t have a plan, Tomoko?” I ask him. “What if she were open to all suggestions?”

The man shakes his head just as Roland nudges me in the ribs. “How on earth do you know his name?” Roland asks.

Tomoko continues, “Queen Rahda would have a plan,” he adamantly answers, finally looking at me. His eyes go round and his beefy fingers raise up, pointing at me incredulously. “Oh my dearest goddess, it be her, everyone. It be her, the Queen!”

“What are you saying, man?” a woman asks, joined by many others. “Stop being so fussy. We need to get on with it.”

“The woman’s correct,” I say, loudly. “We need a plan. And other than heading into the city and becoming target practice, I wouldn’t mind hearing your ideas.”

“Tomoko,” someone says, “Did you say the queen had a gash on her face?”

Tomoko, still in shock and still in the same pointing position, nods. “It be her,” he declares. “She be the one talkin’ to us, too.”
 

The boy raises his hand, as if asking for permission to speak. The group is now silent and Tomoko has regained a normal stance and posture. I glance around once I realize Roland’s no longer by my side, but I don’t see him anymore.

“Yes,” I point to the tall, lanky boy with curly blonde hair.

“I’ve got an idea, ma’am.”

I smile for the first time in several hours.
 

“Let’s hear it, young man.”

Twelve

“M
E
GRANDDAD
USED
TO
talk about the royal revolution in his sleep,” the boy starts. “He said—”

“So?” Tomoko says. “Who cares what your granddad used to say?”

“I do,” I say kindly. Tomoko turns a bright shade of red. I have a feeling he wants to impress me by keeping the crowd in check. He’s moved closer to me, acting as sort of a bodyguard, as if
this
crowd is the threat to me and not the Grandfather’s army. I see a swarm of bodies, side to side, front to back, all around, and not one sight of Roland. I wonder what he’s up to and why he decided to leave me.

I spot Wren and Gilly Iddon, the grandmother and granddaughter duo I met earlier in the day, weaving in and around everyone and coming into the inner circle. I wave at Gilly, who also turns a bright spot of red, too, the shade clashing with her orange fabriskin robe.

“They’ve blocked of the northwest side of the mountain path,” Wren announces without an ounce of concern. In fact, she seems to have grown taller, her voice stronger, and she looked years younger. “Same with the southern roads.”

“Trapped,” Tomoko thunders loudly. “We’re all trapped!”

I touch his shoulder. “Calm down, friend.” I return my attention to the boy. “Please continue.”

“Granddad was a scholar. Said they all surrendered at the same time and overloaded the royals, who weren’t expecting it. During the confusion, they charged them damn royals, pardon the word, ma’am, no offense meant, and overtook ‘em.”

“Not a bad strategy and I know that it worked then,” Wren said, “but we are not dealing with royals here. It’s a mercenary army, from Hades Rocks no less, bent on destroying the palace and the city and—” she looks at me deliberately “—Queen Rahda at any cost. Best thing to do is escape the city, head south or north over the mountains and weather the storm until it’s over.”

“You’re free to leave the city,” I state clearly over the now-bickering crowd. Someone tugs on my elbow. I turn and spot Roland. I feel very relieved at seeing him. “You will not be forced to stay and fight.”

“What are
you
going to do?” someone shouts. I think it is Gilly, but I can’t see her.

“I will stay and fight, as I should.”

Roland leans into me. His arm is warm and familiar and I almost want to sink into it. But I don’t. Tomoko gives him the evil eye.
 

“Lead them to the building we went into,” Roland whispers rapidly and urgently. He sounds like he’s out of breath. “Go down, not up, and you’ll find me and Mr. Underwood at your service.”

I nod at him, he returns the nod, and then he quickly disappears.

Tomoko watches him go and then starts to commandeer the ever-growing crowd.

“Who will fight for the queen?” he questions everyone around him. A large roar erupts. The ground rumbles under my feet. “Who will fight for the queen?” he asks over and over.