Descent (21 page)

Towards the end of the procession a tall and very lovely dark-skinned woman walked calmly towards her and bowed gracefully all the way to the floor. Her long black hair and black eyes contrasted strikingly with her white gown, and she would have been very beautiful if her face had not been etched with fury.

Mia shivered, wondering what she could have done to deserve such hatred.

There were two people in front of the woman, and Mia was alarmed to realise she had not even noticed
them, so commanding was the presence of the woman. The couple was older and were clearly family, as they each shared the same facial features.

‘You may rise,’ Mia said with a sudden feeling of apprehension.

The young woman stood and smiled coldly. The man said, ‘Greetings, majesty, my name is Marius, son of Melius, and this is my wife Opharia, and my daughter Odette. I am your Army General, highness, in charge of the royal guard, and the army itself. I am pleased to serve you again, majesty.’ The man stood tall and proud, with a clear aura of arrogance. His hair was greying at the temples and there were lines around his eyes, but his body was still strong despite his age, and he held at his waist a curved sabre.

‘Greetings, Marius. I’m sure I will have a chance to speak to you properly in the days ahead,’ Mia said warmly. Odette was staring at her and Mia tried to meet the woman’s eyes, but she had never been good at conflict.

‘Do I have permission to speak, your highness?’ Odette asked crisply.

‘Of course, go ahead,’ Mia replied uncertainly.

‘I would personally like to welcome the queen back from her long ... holiday. It seems fortunate enough that she was spared the same torture as us, despite the fact that it was her actions that sent us there in the first place. A stroke of luck, indeed.’

There was a quick intake of breath around the hall. Mia stared at Odette, her heart thumping. What was the proper code of conduct for that sort of rudeness? Tempted to flee, Mia clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. But then she remembered something. The mosaic in the entrance hall. Mia’s own face staring back at her. Queen Nayana had gazed out of that picture with
a look of absolute power. She had been loving, but so too had she been deadly.

And Mia realised that this was her city. She could do whatever she pleased.

‘Thank you, Odette,’ Mia replied softly, not knowing where her next words came from. ‘But next time you wish to personally welcome me, do so without the insult or I will have your tongue from your mouth.’

Oh my god,
Mia thought, did I just say that? Do they even take people’s tongues out here? Or was that utterly barbaric?

The silence deepened. She could see some people smiling in relief.

Odette lowered her head, but there was no fear in her eyes, Mia noticed with begrudging admiration. Feeling a sudden power, Mia stood from her throne and said in a voice deadly soft, which nevertheless carried out over the entire hall, ‘Do not mistake me, people of Samaraq. I am sorry that I was not included in our banishment. But I will go through my own trials—I have done so already in order to bring you back. I
am
queen here. There is no question—obey me, or suffer the penalties.’

And this, finally, was the queen they knew and loved, and for such a long time had been waiting for. Hard and fierce, with complete faith in her convictions.

This was Nayana.

Altor turned a corner and found that he’d come across the armoury. Breathing a sigh of relief, he entered and looked around.

Prince Fern was sitting at the far end of the room, sharpening his sword. He looked up, his face breaking into an easy smile.

‘Greetings, Prince Altor. How goes it?’

‘Until now, very poorly. I was lost. Rooms full of paintings and tapestries and musical instruments. And so many women.’

Fern grinned. ‘Elvish people love the arts. And they
love
women.’

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Altor said, moving further into the room. ‘I will never find fault with a race that prides itself on its beauty. Occasionally though, one needs the sound of steel against his ears.’

Fern laughed. ‘True, my young friend. True.’

Altor felt a juvenile urge to smile, but quelled it.

‘If I was ... overly protective, the other day, then I apologise—’

‘No need,’ Fern interrupted. ‘You did the right thing. If only I had more men like you, so sure of their actions, I could do wonders. It should be me apologising for behaving so badly.’

Altor sat on the edge of a bench and watched. He was shocked, as he’d been on their first meeting, to realise
how young Fern was. Every story ever told to him had made the prince seem like a man, seasoned in his years. But sitting here with Altor, Fern was little more than a boy. They almost looked the same age.

‘How old are you?’ Altor asked abruptly.

Fern looked up, his smile wide. ‘Twenty. At least I think I’m still twenty. Why? Am I younger than you expected?’

Altor nodded.

Fern shrugged. ‘Stories get warped. I’d say most people would be as disappointed as you when faced with the real thing.’

‘I’m not disappointed,’ Altor said firmly. ‘Quite the opposite.’

‘Come now. You’ve not seen me do anything but harass a woman outside her door!’

‘I’ve done the same more than a few times.’

Fern burst into amused laughter. Still smiling as he worked on his steel, he said, ‘Would I be correct in assuming your—advanced age—has something to do with the battle, and your father?’

Altor blinked, startled by his sharpness. ‘You would.’

Fern nodded. ‘The burden of power is a heavy one, in ways we don’t always realise or predict. I fought against the man, but there is no doubt in my mind that had he known of the implications of using you as he did, he would never have done so—not even to win the war.’

Altor stared at Fern in confusion. It was a thought, a question, that was never far from his own mind. How had this prince managed to strike so deeply upon the one thing that Altor cared about? But it was too difficult a question to dwell on.

Just then there was a noise from the door and Altor turned to see Jane. She smiled at him, but faltered upon seeing the other man.

‘Hi,’ she said uncertainly. Both men stood and bowed, and she laughed at their formality. ‘I was just...’ She stopped and shrugged. ‘I’m bored. I came to ask Altor to amuse me.’

If they’d been alone, the answer would have been easy. Instead, he couldn’t help but glance at Fern, who was staring at the girl as if bruised. But then Fern smiled again—he was always smiling, Altor realised—and went back to sharpening his sword.

Altor wanted to continue his conversation with Fern—simply conversing with this man was what he’d been longing to do for years. But his pulse quickened unfamiliarly when he was around Jane, and he wanted to see what she was hiding from him.

He hesitated for too long.

‘Never mind,’ Jane said quickly. ‘You’re busy, I’ll catch you another time. I’m sure I can find some way to amuse myself.’

Jane swept from the room. He might have called out for her, but he was the Black Prince, and the Black Prince did not run after women, no matter who they were.

Fern was staring at him, and he quickly erased all emotion from his face. ‘You could have gone, you know.’

‘Had I wanted to I would have.’

Fern’s eyebrows rose as he went back to his work. His smile was conspiratorial. ‘Sure.’

‘Speaking of Jane,’ Altor continued, ‘that desperation of yours seems to have lessened since the first time we met.’ He’d realised soon after meeting Fern that the prince was just as thoroughly in love with Jane as she was with him. And Altor found himself surprisingly intrigued by the whole affair.

Fern snorted. ‘A merciless description of me,’ he grinned, and then shrugged. ‘We had a conversation.’

‘A conversation?’

‘To say the least. I am no longer allowed to worry about Jane in any facility. I won’t be trying to break through doors to see her. We’re
friends,
apparently.’

‘I see. I don’t suppose that will have any effect whatsoever on how you actually feel about her?’

The smile that never seemed to disappear was gentler now, and sadder. ‘No,’ Fern agreed. ‘It won’t. You’re sharp for a nine year old.’

‘I’m not nine. I should be, but I’m not.’

Fern met his eyes. Nodding slightly, he turned back to his sword.

Altor noticed that the shaft of sunlight through the window was already diminishing. Another day nearly finished. Holding his hands out in front of him, he tried to see if there were any extra lines on them. A few more years and they’d be truly wrinkled. A random thought occurred to him.

‘Jane wouldn’t go outside the city, would she?’

Fern looked up. ‘What?’

‘Yesterday she was talking about wanting to explore the countryside. She wouldn’t go out there on her own, would she?’

Fern looked to the window, noting the light of the late afternoon sun.

‘I mean, she knows about the dangers of night—’

‘If she’s distracted, she might have forgotten,’ Fern said. ‘She has yet to experience a Valkyrie for herself—it won’t be real for her yet. We’d best go check.’

Jane shifted awkwardly in her saddle, trying to loosen the clasp of her cloak around her throat. She hated horse riding with a passion, but had been sure that if she just practiced, it wouldn’t be so bad. Apparently practice didn’t make a difference if your horse despised you.
Sighing, she turned back towards the sparkling city.

‘Come on, Bridie,’ she muttered through clenched teeth, ‘Just walk.’ The fat mare had decided it didn’t want to go any further. Jane kicked it and willed it but the beast wouldn’t move. She had specifically asked for a horse that was slow and gentle, and the stable hand had grinned upon handing over the reins of Bridie. It was ridiculous, but riding a flying horse was a million times easier than riding a normal one. The unicorns were hers, and they loved her, whereas this stupid horse was intent on torturing her.

It was all Altor’s fault. If he wasn’t so in love with bloody Fern, then he would have kept her company and she wouldn’t be in this mess.

Suddenly she spotted two dark smudges on the horizon. Straining her eyes, she realised it was two people riding towards her. Embarrassment slammed into her—she knew exactly who they would be.

‘Come on baby,’ she whispered to her horse. ‘I need you to move now. Please, please don’t let them see me sitting here like this—just walk. I’ll hand-feed you a hundred carrots if you just walk.’

Bridie snorted and tossed her head, but otherwise didn’t move.

‘Gee, thanks a lot, Bri,’ Jane hissed as the boys arrived next to her, their own mounts beautifully well behaved and responsive to their rider’s every command.

‘What are you doing?’ Fern asked.

‘Going for a ride—what does it look like I’m doing?’ she snapped.

‘You look like you’re stuck,’ Fern said with a grin. ‘Need a hand?’

‘Absolutely not. Bridie and I were just taking a break, weren’t we girl?’ Bridie chose that moment to jump into a trot, and Jane squealed and nearly fell off.

Altor sniggered. Jane cast him her most withering glare, wincing as her backside slammed down again and again with each step the stupid animal took.

‘Jane—I’ve told you a million times—tighten your knees and sit forward,’ Fern called. She chose to ignore him and as a result cracked her neck as the horse jumped forward suddenly.

‘Tighten the reins! Don’t give her any room to misbehave. Take charge!’

‘Shut up, Fern!’ she hissed, wrenching the reins until the horse came to a rebellious halt. ‘Jesus,’ she muttered. ‘That’s it. I’m not riding any further.’

‘And how do you propose to get home?’ Altor asked, eyes gleaming with mirth.

‘I’ll use my legs, wise guy,’ Jane snapped, sliding from the horse with a grunt.

There was a trickle of laughter from the boys and she refused to look at either of them. She couldn’t believe it—they were actually ganging up on her!

‘I know it’s a hard concept for the two of you and your snooty, royal, spoilt little butts to grasp, but it is possible to walk some of the time,’ she said sweetly.

Both of them grinned and she found herself reluctantly smiling along with them.

‘Lead the way, oh mighty explorer,’ Fern intoned.

‘I would if my horse would move!’ Jane pulled on the reins as hard as she could, but Bridie was digging her hooves in stubbornly. It didn’t seem to be making a difference that Jane was no longer riding her.

Fern slid smoothly to the ground and walked over to Bridie, rubbing her nose gently. Jane watched, mesmerised, as he whispered something beautiful and Elvish into the horse’s ear, stroking her mane tenderly. The mare stared into his eyes, and, with a whinny of approval, began to walk forward.

‘You just need to show her she’s appreciated,’ Fern said.

Jane stared at the animal. ‘Traitor,’ she murmered with a resigned sigh, and began plodding along behind them.

Altor led his own horse forward to walk beside Jane. ‘Is there anything he isn’t good at?’ he asked with a wink.

‘I really, really hope so,’ she said fervently and then laughed at the expression on Fern’s face. Their eyes met and she quickly looked away—it was way too easy to fall back into old rhythms with Fern. They had to be friends without the flirting this time.

It was cold out on the plain with nothing to shelter them from the wind. Fern saw Jane shiver and shrugged off his cloak, placing it around her shoulders. Jane was about to protest but Fern got in first.

‘I don’t feel the cold, remember?’

She hesitated, but enjoyed the warmth too much to put up any real fight. Was it inappropriate for her to be wearing his cloak? She didn’t know anymore. It was all too confusing. She did know that it smelt like him, making her shiver with sudden longing. Did he realise what she was thinking? Surely he must be able to tell. The effect for her was too big for him not to notice. And yet he walked on as if nothing had happened, and Jane realised how stupid she was being.

She quickened her pace. Here, with endless space stretching out in every direction, she felt trapped next to him, and needed the freedom of walls to hide behind.

A moment later this was the last thing on her mind.

The light changed and their shadows grew longer.

‘Oh no,’ Jane whispered as she looked behind them and saw the setting sun throw a brilliant red glow over the plain. They were still miles from the city. How could
she have been so stupid? She’d completely lost track of time while she’d been trying to convince her dumb horse to move.

‘Time to pick up the pace,’ Fern said calmly. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. All three of them began to walk faster. ‘Can you ride, Jane?’ he asked.

She nodded quickly. ‘Of course, yes, I can try.’

‘Then mount your horse.’ Fern’s voice had suddenly become low and deadly, and the urgency of it made Jane turn and fumble with the reins of her bridle.

Was it normal for the sun to sink below the horizon so quickly? The last light faded and then disappeared completely.

Fern seemed to see them before the others, for he sucked in a sharp breath a moment before Jane saw the shadows. Mighty wings swooped soundlessly through the air, and Jane gasped as she saw their numbers. At least twenty horrifying beasts descended from the sky. It was her first glimpse of the creatures, and even with everything she’d been told about the Valkyries, nothing could have prepared her for the feeling that crept inside her upon their arrival.

They kicked their horses into a gallop, urging them forward, ducking their heads against the dives of the beasts. But even with Bridie doing as she was told, Jane was too inexperienced to be able to achieve any sort of speed. She lagged behind, and the Valkyries began to close in on her. Fern and Altor circled back to flank her, their arrows firing into the fray even as they controlled their horses without their hands.

‘Keep going, Jane!’ Fern cried, and she gritted her teeth, trying to urge her horse faster. Foolishly she hadn’t even brought a sword. Just then, breaking through the cover of arrows that the men had created, one of the Valkyries swooped down, so close that she actually felt
the wind of its talons sweep through her hair. Bridie, startled, and sensing the incapability of her rider, started bucking. Jane held on, her back aching with the effort of withstanding the mount’s jumps, but at the third buck she went flying to the ground.

Jane grunted as her left side scraped against the dirt, but there wasn’t time to lose. Dragging herself to her feet, she looked around frantically. Fern and Altor had already dismounted beside her. Altor shielded her as Fern moved to stand on her other side. Together, the two men drew their bows once more, continuing to fire into the darkness.

One of the beasts swooped down on Altor’s side and Jane watched, heart in her mouth, as the boy leapt into the air, drawing his sword in one fluid motion and cleaving it through the Valkyrie’s neck.

As he stepped back, Fern stepped forward, surprising one of the beasts by moving into its attack. He dealt it a killing blow and then moved to stand by Jane once more. She understood, belatedly, that the two of them had moved into a strategy. They were taking turns—one of them, at all times, was standing above Jane, leaving the other to take down a Valkyrie.

The creatures always tried to attack the weakest.

A flash of something passed through her and Jane wrenched herself to her feet. She was
not
going to be the weakest. She was not going to be the reason either of these boys got hurt.