Under the Stars (24 page)

“I’m just not ready.” I cross my arms. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

I lied. I do know. When I closed my eyes, I pictured myself kissing Malik.

He exhales an annoyed sigh. “Let’s get ready for our trip, shall we?”

I follow him inside. He lays out bags so we can bundle our clothes and belongings. And through all this, he’s very quiet. I can’t say I blame him, though. I’m his wife. The wife who doesn’t want to kiss her own husband.

“How far away does your brother live?” I ask, hoping to slice the dead air.

“A day’s trip,” he replies, looking up briefly. “He’s the leader of Halgan.”

“That’s where my family would’ve been sent had they not received supplies.”

He grunts in acknowledgement. “It is where most are sent when they have no place to go. My brother is clever when it comes to matters such as harvesting food and materials. He rarely asks for anything.”

“Because he doesn’t want to beg?”

“Because he is stubborn.”

We resume our packing. It doesn’t take long since I have very few clothes and Zarek doesn’t plan on staying for long. I’m not sure what the purpose is for our visit, but I plan on asking Zarek about it later.

“Excuse me, Majesties,” Governor Hadi says. I hadn’t even noticed he entered. “Your horses are waiting.”

“Come, darling. No time to waste,” Zarek says, breezing past the Governor without a word.

“He seems to be in a bit of a rush, doesn’t he?” Governor Hadi asks.

“Yeah, he does.” I catch myself before mentioning Zarek’s brother. What if no one else knows? “I better go.”

Inside the main gate, Zarek has already picked his horse, our bags hanging from either side.

He extends his hand and pulls me up so I sit behind him. The Black Riders assemble in front, beside and behind us. Zarek gives them a signal and we’re galloping to the edge of Valyad, past the greenery and back into the world that has rested in the back of my mind. Now, it’s no longer dormant.

Sand buries itself inside my clothes. I’ve forgotten about the sun, too; how insufferable the heat can be. I’m dying for a sip of water within the first hour.

But I can’t ask for refreshment. Between the sound of the horses’ hooves and fear of opening our mouths with airborne sand, there isn’t much time for talking. If I know anything about Zarek, we won’t stop until we get there. He’s too afraid something will attack us after dark. As long as we reach the protective barrier surrounding Halgan, we’ll be safe.

The sun dips lower, lower, lower in the sky. It seems like the horses can’t move fast enough; we’re not winning this race.

“Almost there,” Zarek yells back at me.

Halgan is in sight—no more than a dot on the horizon. Or maybe I’m hallucinating. Maybe the heat is melting my mind. Though, there’s not much heat left. The sun will set soon, and we’ll be left to battle the freezing climate.

The horses pick up speed.

Then I realize I’m not hallucinating. Halgan really is there.

The guards don’t bother checking our marks. Perhaps it’s because they recognize Zarek. How often does he visit his brother?

Up close, Halgan is several sizes larger than Legora. The streets are made of stone, not sand. Streetlamps are lit since it’s close to darkness. Halgan’s people are in no hurry, like they have all the time in the world to get their matters in order. They lazily roll carts of food and textiles down the alleyways and the streets, the sound loudly echoing against the mortar buildings.

 
“This way,” says Zarek, waving his hand so I follow. The cobblestone road winds up, and the houses coil with it. The way is narrow—probably no more than a few people wide. But it’s enough for us to walk next to each other.

Ahead, at the peak of the hill, sits a sand-colored house much bigger than the houses we just passed. This one has four stone cylinders. Atop the cylinders are domed lights, illuminating the home and everything around it.

“Is this where your brother lives?” I ask.

“Yes.” Zarek motions for the guards to open the pearlescent front doors. He takes my hand as we step inside.
 

“—and we need to open trade with other cities. I don’t understand why this hasn’t happened yet,” says a man passing through the front room. He glances up. “Ah, brother, didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Kelin, this is Andrina, my wife,” Zarek says.

Kelin’s eyebrows rise. “Finally snagged one, huh? Congratulations. I always thought you’d die alone.”

I glimpse at Zarek. His mouth is set in a thin line, his lips white. “And where is your wife, Kelin?”

“Dead, hopefully,” he replies.

I can’t believe someone would think so little of their own wife. What’s going on with those two?

Kelin’s face is relaxed when he says it. He hardly has any features in common with Zarek, though. Their hair is the same brown color, and their cheekbones are set a little high. But Kelin’s face displays masculinity, hard lines. Zarek’s still exhibits youthfulness and a smidgen of naivety.

“Don’t stand there brooding,” says Kelin. “Come eat and drink. You must be exhausted.” He motions for us to follow through the double doors at the back of the room. They’re the same shiny, white color as the ones at the front.

In what appears to be the dining room, a long, wooden table stretches out in front of us. Nothing like what I’d pictured in a home such as this. It has bowls of fruits and breads piled high, and pitchers of wine.

I eye it. In some places there are deep crevices. Even the benches on either side are made of the same wood.

Zarek catches my funny looks. “It’s a family heirloom,” he says. “One that’s been passed from the Old World to the New, and very close to Kelin’s heart.”

“Not yours?”

He looks away. “It was in our father’s possession and his fathers and so on. If you knew my father, you would know he never cared much for me. Kelin was his favorite. So after the Age, Kelin took it with him.”

“You could take it now that you’re King, though. Right?” I whisper.

He only nods and takes a seat on the bench. “Kelin prefers a more cozy dining experience, as opposed to my open space.”

“So tell me, brother,” Kelin begins, “why is it you’ve come all this way?” He raises his wine glass and takes a sip, his eyes never leaving Zarek’s.

“There have been some problems in my court,” says Zarek. I cut him a glance. Problems? Sure, Valyad hates me, but he already knew that. What else could there be? “And I’ve come to you should anything happen to me.”

“You think I’ll take over your gold-pinching city once you die?” Kelin snickers. “You’ve outdone yourself. I think the sand has filled your ears; you’re not hearing clearly right now.”

“I am hearing myself.” Zarek’s tone is serious, and he obviously means for Kelin to know that, too.

The smile gradually evaporates from Kelin’s face. “Who is it this time?”

“Hadi.”

Kelin’s smile returns. “And how is it, my brother, you’re King of the New World, yet you come to me for aid? If you want him gone, then banish him to the Forgotten Sands. You’ll never see him again.”

“It’s not that easy,” Zarek admits. “Though I wish it were. He has sworn there will be an uprising, not just of Valyad’s people, but of others—armies—that will cover land as far as the eye can see.”

“And you want my men to ride into battle for you?” Kelin assumes. “I should’ve seen that one coming.”

Zarek says, “What other choice do I have? I could be killed, or worse—they’ll harm Andrina. I can’t let that happen. I’m defenseless, but I’m afraid it is the only way.”

Kelin bites off a piece of bread, chews, and swallows before giving Zarek an answer.

“No. I don’t want to throw my men into a battle without properly knowing what’s going on.”

“I just told you!” Zarek cries, and then stands. “What else do I need to do? Drag Hadi and every last one of my people in here so you can interrogate them?”

Kelin laughs.

Zarek continues. “I cannot sleep at night for fear someone may kill me. I feel as if I have to be on top of everything, so I know what their actions will be next.”

“That’s a delightful story, brother, but I’m not in the mood for such fairytales. Your people love you, as always. If Hadi is the one speaking these lies, then you should take care of him. He’s only threatening you with this babble so you
won’t
send him to the edge of this earth. I’m afraid you’ve been fooled by a man who only seeks what he can’t have.”

Zarek leans halfway across the table so he’s close to Kelin’s face. “He will have it should I die.” He points at me and says, “By law, the crown does not go to her; it goes to the next in line from a political stance since I do not have a child.”

“So much talk and not enough execution,” mocks Kelin. “If you would listen to me, you’d see that I’m correct on this.”

Zarek falls back. “If, however, something does happen—”

“You will have my army.”

Zarek’s face smoothes. “Thank you.”

“Now, let’s eat and drink and forget why you came here in the first place,” Kelin says.

As the night passes, Kelin turns out to be a jester. He seems calm about everything, even major issues such as Zarek’s. But why hadn’t Zarek told me any of this? Was he afraid I would lose sleep like him? No, I think he wants the best for me, and that includes keeping me happy. Had I known, I might’ve returned to Legora.

We say goodnight to Kelin, who has offered us a guestroom. In some ways, Halgan reminds me of Legora—the cozy dwellings, people willing to break their backs just to feed their families, and the sound of insects smacking into the dome.

I try to push all worries out of my mind, because tomorrow we’ll return to Valyad and face Hadi.

47.

I stir early the next morning. Zarek isn’t beside me, and voices carry from the hallway. I should dress before he comes back. We’ll be leaving soon, returning to Valyad by nightfall.

“Promise me,” says Zarek from outside the room.

Kelin replies, but I can only hear the sharp edge of his words.

Is the state of Valyad really in trouble? My stomach constricts when I think about Zarek confronting Hadi. What will be the result?

The door swings open.

“Ah, you’re up,” Zarek says. “Good. We need to leave right away. I’m afraid if we wait much longer, it will be after dark when we arrive home.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Kelin has promised his armies should anything happen to me. That’s all.” He seems shocked, at first, that I overhead their conversation, but then he shrugs.

I yawn, sliding off the bed and grabbing the few clothes I brought with me. I shove them into my bag and change into a new outfit—one that will be able to resist the sun and sand.

Within the hour, we’re riding under harsh light and, once again, eating grit. I keep my cheek planted against Zarek’s back so I won’t catch dust in my eyes. It’ll be hours before Valyad comes into view. And until then, there’s nothing I can do but watch miles and miles of endless wasteland pass by.

My thoughts begin to wander. What were Zarek and his brother talking about? Gut instinct tells me it was another conversation about aid from Kelin’s militia, but I won’t place money on it. Asking Zarek is out of the question since he’s frazzled about all of this.

So, I sleep. At least until we get there.

Zarek pulls me off the saddle ever so gently. “Wake up, my dear,” he says.
 

“Here already?” I mumble, unable to open my eyes yet.

“We are. Why don’t you get washed up and retire to bed? I will deal with Hadi.” He’s trying to be gentle, but there’s a blanket of hatred beneath his face.

“I thought we were going to confront him. You know, together. As King and Queen.”

“I think it is best if I do since I am the one he wants,” he says. “Come now. You need your rest. Especially after last night.” He grins and pushes me toward the front entrance. “Guards, see to it that she reaches our bedroom.” They nod and escort me through the hallways.

If I’ve learned anything so far, it’s that Zarek gets what he wants. And he should. After all, he’s King of the New World. But I don’t want him to face this alone.

“Take me to where the King is,” I demand. The guards eye one another.

“Majesty—”

“I want to be where he is. Please escort me there.”

One of them says, “We have direct orders from the King to make sure you reached your room safely.”

“And you both did a great job keeping me alive on the way here. Now you can return to your usual posts. Don’t worry—I’ll be fine.” I don’t give them a chance to protest. I scramble through the hallways, accidentally bumping into a few people. They give me their usual scowls. But tonight, I don’t care.

When I notice the doors to the dining hall are shut—and heavily guarded—I know they’re inside.

“Excuse me,” I say, but the footmen aren’t eager on letting me by.

“Sorry, Majesty. The King has ordered that no one, not even you, are to enter,” says one of the guards.