Elyon's Blades, page 10
part #1 of The Daughters of Elyon Series
Ailith hadn’t noticed Guardian Prime Geller standing at attention to the right of the entry doors when she and Emlyn had marched to their places. The only sound in the room was Sábria’s muted footsteps on the tile floor as she strode toward the doors. When she was halfway to them, Geller’s voice echoed off the walls as she ordered, “Guardians of Honor. Stand to arms!”
As one, forty fists pounded forty chests. As soon as Sábria and Shirin were out the door, Geller gave the command for the two lines to face the back doors and file out after them.
Marching with the others, Ailith exited the throne room. They didn’t stop in the atrium but instead marched straight out into the bright sunshine of a warm, Greenmere day. As they exited the gate in the outer bailey, she was shocked to see two lines of fully-armed warriors on either side of the boulevard stretching from the palace steps all the way to the Temple gates.
As Sábria strode past with her entourage of fifty-two warriors following in her wake, Geller shouted from the top step for the Guardians lining the boulevard to stand to arms. There was no doubt the Emperor heard the booming thud of two hundred fists hitting the chests of Sábria’s warriors, and the shouted “Hai!” that accompanied the gesture.
Ten
Where Ailith was impressed by the Blades’ show of force, Emlyn was simply numb. Seeing Brita standing on the dais behind Tomisa, the place Emlyn had stood her entire life, had shoved a knife between her ribs and twisted until her intestines were wound around the blade like eels swarming a bind of salmon.
She’d tried not to look. Goddess knows she’d tried, but her eyes had betrayed her. She’d chanced a glance at Tomisa, just a glance, to see if her best friend and lover would even look her way. The shattered pain in the Crown Princess’ eyes so closely mirrored the torment roiling in her own that, despite a lifetime of stepping to the courtly dance of protocol, she’d very nearly bolted from the throne room.
Bile had filled her mouth, and only Aloric’s petulant display of childish posturing, accompanied by the resounding slap, had jolted her out of her misery. She’d very nearly taken her blade and run him through, except the Arch Priestess had taken even that act of defiance away from her.
Now, as she marched through the Temple with the other Blades, she mentally shook her head. It wouldn’t have been defiance. It would have been a way to achieve what she’d wanted since the day Tomisa had walked out of the Arch Priestess’ office. Death. She’d wanted death, and Sábria had saved her from suicide by mere moments.
Thank the Goddess. She intended to wait until Tomisa was far, far away before she took her own life. Once inside the inner courtyard, Emlyn hoped Geller would give the order to disperse. She didn’t. Instead, here they were, standing in formation, waiting for Sábria to speak.
The Arch Priestess slowly started up the five black marble steps leading to the doors of the eight-story watch tower. The semi-circular stoop was the highest point in the bailey and, therefore, the logical place for her to hold an outdoor audience with her Blades.
Sábria looked over their heads at the women guarding the opening between the inner and outer bailey. “Close the gates.”
Emlyn heard the order repeated to the guards at the outer gate, and within moments, the chain on the portcullis whined and clanked as the massive metal behemoth scraped its way down the vertical grooves in the block walls. When the noise cleared, she heard the two heavy oaken doors slamming shut. A clang reverberated throughout the courtyard as the iron bar was levered into place.
No one moved. Even the servants, who’d been witness to the earlier military display of might, stood motionless against the walls.
Sábria remained silent, and Emlyn guessed she was fighting down the rage she’d felt at Aloric’s boorish, insulting behavior.
Shirin stood at parade rest behind and to the right of the Priestess. Emlyn knew only too well what a comfort it was to Sábria that Shirin was standing by her side. How many times had Tomisa told her exactly that? That without Emlyn’s solid, physical presence, she’d be unable to perform her duties.
Sábria rested her hand on her sword’s hilt, which tilted forward slightly from the added weight. Even though there were over two hundred warriors and an additional number of civilians crowding the central courtyard, it was as silent as a tomb. An insult such as the one Aloric had just given at the top of his lungs had been felt by every single warrior, and people were livid.
Sábria studied her people, gauging the extent of the anger she saw reflected in their faces. Her gaze came to rest on Ailith standing ramrod straight with blood still seeping down her cheek. Seeing it drip onto her new tunic ramped up Sábria’s anger again, and she had to look away before her face betrayed her. “I don’t need to tell you what happened today will go no further. I will not be gentle with any of you who feel the need to protect my honor, or the honor of this Temple, with your fists. As you’re aware, the palace guards did nothing when my forty took over the throne room. That in and of itself tells me they were ashamed of their Emperor and of the way he insulted my Goddess, my Blades, and, more particularly, you, Ailith.”
Now she let her gaze rest on Ailith’s face. “Your strength and fortitude in the face of his abusive attempt to mock your word and your former kingdom were a testament to who we are.” She looked out over the formations of warriors standing straight and tall before her. “We are the sharpened steel, the ones who protect the women he scorns and mocks and holds in contempt.” She drew her sword, held it high, and shouted. “Elyon’s Blades!”
All two hundred-plus warriors held their swords high and shouted, “Elyon’s Blades!” The swords lowered and raised twice more, each time accompanied by the shouted oath, “Elyon’s Blades!”
There was no doubt that, even though the gates were shut and barred, both the castle and the city heard their roar. Sábria nodded to Prime Geller before descending the steps and striding to the Citadel where her offices were housed.
Geller waited until she and Shirin walked through the door before shouting. “Open the gates. Deadnight shift, report to me. The rest of you are dismissed.”
The portcullis once again scraped its way up the wall. Ailith wiped her cheek on the back of her sleeve as Emlyn fell into step beside her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
They overheard Geller giving orders to deadnight as they walked past. “All deadnight Blades. Fan out over th’ city. Dawning shift is still out there, and they need to know from us what really happened before any rumors get started. Keep track of who ya speak to and then report to Prime Osstendler at th’ outstation with th’ names. Then yer free to do what ya want until yer shift begins.”
Ailith detoured into the dining hall for some water to clear the blood from her mouth. A fresh container of water was always kept on a high table at the far side of the hall. As she strode to it, she realized Emlyn was walking by her side. The other shiv took a glass from a rack behind the ceramic water container, dipped a ladle into the water, and poured it into the glass. “Here. Let’s go outside because you’ll need to take some and then spit.”
Emlyn led Ailith into the sunshine, where she handed her the glass. The water felt cool in her mouth as she swished it back and forth and over her teeth. The once clear liquid came out pink as she spat it out onto the cobblestones. She repeated the process several times and then returned the glass to a tub inside the hall reserved for dirty dishes.
When she reemerged, most of the warriors on deadnight shift had left the bailey. Geller was giving last-minute instructions to three of the senior Blades. The three women saluted and strode toward the gate.
By that time, Emlyn and Ailith were walking through the doors into the main atrium of the dormitories. Emlyn’s room was on the third floor, and Ailith’s the fourth. As they climbed the stairs to their rooms, Ailith put her hand on Emlyn’s shoulder. “What about you? That couldn’t ‘a been easy seein’ th’ Princess again.”
Emlyn shrugged off Ailith’s hand. “That’s none of your business. Keep yourself to yourself, Ailith. I don’t need your pity.”
Ailith lowered her hand and shrugged a shoulder, “Ain’t pity. Just thought ya might need a friend, that’s all. Nothin’ more’n that.”
“I don’t.” They’d reached the third-floor landing where Emlyn left Ailith on the stairs watching her back.
“Well, if ya change yer mind—”
“I won’t.” Emlyn let herself into her room, where she undressed and crawled beneath her covers to try to hide from her grief.
Ailith climbed the stairs to her floor and was surprised to see a woman in healer blues standing near her door. When the woman turned to face her, Ailith smiled and shook her head. “No, Kara, I don’t need yer services. It’s no but a few scratches from th’ asshole’s rings. I’ll be fine soon enough.”
“Right. And all that blood on your shirt is from the cuts on his hands that your cheeks gave him when he hit you.”
Opening her door, Ailith turned to block Kara from following her. “How’d ya hear what happened, anyway?”
Kara shouldered her healer’s bag, put both palms on Ailith’s chest, and shoved her into the room. “It’s not exactly a secret down in the bailey. Besides, I saw the blood on your face and asked someone.”
“So, how’d ya beat me up here? I left when th’ Prime said we could go and came right up. Well, after I rinsed me mouth.” Giving up on keeping the healer out, Ailith went to her side table and poured some water into the basin on top of her dresser. She grabbed an old shirt and dunked it, but before she could clean her face, Kara grabbed her arm and pulled it down.
“Don’t you dare clean those cuts with that filthy rag.”
“Filthy rag? They come an’ took it when I got here an’ washed it up proper. That were only a couple days ago.”
Jerking the rag out of Ailith’s hand, Kara threw it down next to the door. “And how many times have you worn it since then?”
“Well, every day, but—”
Pointing to the bed, Kara growled, “Sit.”
“Well, ain’t you bein’ pushy.” Ailith sat and glowered at the plump little healer.
She didn’t see Sábria open the door and let herself in. “Kara. Good. I went to the infirmary to find you, and they told me you’d grabbed your bag and headed this way.” She walked over and put her fingers beneath Ailith’s chin. “How bad are they?”
Kara held a small bottle in one hand while she dabbed at the cuts. Since her hands were occupied, she lifted an elbow indicating the tunic on the floor near the door. “They would have been a whole lot worse if I hadn’t stopped her from cleaning her face with that.”
Sábria glanced behind her and then turned an incredulous stare on Ailith. “With that? You were going to put a filthy rag up to fresh cuts so you could, what? Make sure those cuts become infected, so you’re assured of having scars on your cheek for the rest of your life?” The Priestess sounded exasperated when she rubbed her eyes and sighed, “Ailith.” The way she said the name left no doubt about what she thought of that idea.
Ailith winced when Kara dabbed the wound with something she’d poured onto her clean cloth. “Ow! What’s that stuff?” She knocked Kara’s hand away, but Sábria grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm down.
“Be still. She needs to put the aidledown on to kill any germs that might be in there. Goddess only knows where Aloric’s hands have been.”
Ailith recoiled at the thought. “Oh, yuck. Yer kiddin’ me. That’s…” She couldn’t come up with a disgusting enough word to describe the pictures flying through her head. She grabbed the cloth out of Kara’s hands. “Gimme that thing.”
Before she could scrub the skin off, Sábria grabbed her wrist again. “Ailith. Stop that. Either you let Kara do her job, or I’m going to confine you to the healer’s hall until those heal.”
Ailith growled at the two women. “Look. I’m fine. I’ve had worse than this breakin’ and trainin’ horses.”
Sábria put her hands on her hips and raised her brows. “Here and now, Ailith, or at the healer’s hall. Your choice.”
“Fowk.” Ailith sighed and handed the cloth back to the healer. “Fine. Do what ya want, and then I just want to sleep a bit.”
Kara took the cloth and dripped some more aidledown onto it. As she dabbed the cuts, she looked first into one eye and then the other. “Does your head hurt?”
“Me head’s fine.”
Sábria cocked her head. “Did she ask you whether your head was fine?”
Glaring at the Arch Priestess, Ailith shook her head and remained silent.
Pronouncing each word slowly to get her point across, Sábria asked, “Does…your…head…hurt?”
Remembering their conversation in the forest, Ailith put her thumb and forefinger in her eyes. “Aye, a bit. I just need to lie down and sleep fer a little while. I’ll be fine.”
Sábria leaned in to get a closer look at the cuts. “Will you need to sew her up?”
“I don’t think so. She’s right. Once I get them cleaned, I’ll give her something to help her sleep and check back later tonight.” Kara glanced over her shoulder at the bed. “I’ll give you a clean towel to put on your pillow. Try to keep your cheek on the cloth. I’m also going to put a cleansing cloth over the cuts and hold it there until it adheres.”
“Until it whats?”
“Sticks. Otherwise, you’ll wake up in the morning with the towel stuck to your face.”
“Yer gonna stick somethin’ on me face so somethin’ else don’t stick to it?” Ailith pulled her brows down low and shook her head. “Look. Do ya think after a battle, th’ healers even look at somethin’ like this? We take care of ourselves. Do I look dead to ya? I don’t need all this…messin’ about.”
Sábria smiled affectionately at her newest Blade. “Well, you’re my shiv now, and I take care of my people.” She put her hand on Ailith’s undamaged cheek. “I meant what I said earlier, Ailith. I was so proud of you today. And…I’m sorry. I saw you shift to brace yourself, and I didn’t react quickly enough to stop Aloric from hitting you. I almost wish I could have killed him for what he did and said, but that would have put someone far worse and much more dangerous on the throne.”
“Ach, I’ve had worse an’ I lived, didn’t I? Don’t be feelin’ sorry fer me. And…well, I gave ya me word, didn’t I? Told ya I weren’t gonna react. Ya didn’t need to worry. I’ll always keep me word to ya.”
Sábria patted Ailith’s cheek. “I never doubted it. Now, you do what Kara says, or I’ll know why. Understand?”
“Aye, Lady.”
Kara stayed a good while after Sábria left, tending the wounds and adhering the promised square of sheer cloth to Ailith’s cheek. Ailith felt like a fool with the damn thing sticking to her like it was, but she kept it on even after Kara gave her the sleeping draught and took her leave. Sighing at how different this new life was, she pulled off her dress uniform and sighed again at the blood staining the front. She didn’t think she’d get another uniform like that one any time soon. Still, she carefully laid it over the wooden chair she kept in the corner before climbing into bed and pulling the sheets over her naked body.
Her mind was churning, going over and over what she could have done differently to keep the Emperor from getting so mad he backhanded her. What if Sábria had killed the man? Would it have been her fault for not saying or doing something differently?
It wasn’t long before the drink Kara had given her turned her racing thoughts into slow-moving eddies that eventually dragged her down into a deep, untroubled sleep.
Eleven
Sábria left Ailith’s room and went immediately downstairs to check on Emlyn. If Aloric hadn’t slapped Ailith so hard, she would have checked on the Kibrunian first, but quite a lot of blood had seeped onto Ailith’s cheek and tunic, and she wanted to make sure Kara was seeing to her wounds.
When she didn’t immediately receive an answer to her knock, she called out, “Emlyn. It’s Sábria. Could I come in, please?”
Bed springs creaked, and before long, Emlyn pulled open the door. She wore an elegant silk dressing gown and robe, which Sábria studied a moment. It was a night dress suitable for a princess, and certainly not something she’d ever seen at the Temple before. An expert embroiderer had taken a great deal of time on the meticulous yet understated designs sewn into the fabric.
A delicate, floral scent wafted out to her, and she recognized it as one she often used when people were in need of relief from stress and anxiety. When Emlyn bowed her head and stepped back, Sábria entered and gently pushed the door shut behind her. “We haven’t had the final meal of the day, Emlyn. You’re going to bed so soon?”
“Yes, My Lady. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Nor have you been eating. At least, that’s what the dining hall matron tells me.”
“No, My Lady. I haven’t been very hungry.”
The words were said so quietly that Sábria wouldn’t have heard them if there had been other people in the room. The Priestess held out her hand, indicating the bed. “May I sit with you on your bed?”
Emlyn hesitated and didn’t answer right away.
“That bothers you?”
“No, My Lady. I was hoping to be alone for a while.”
“And that’s precisely why we need to talk. Come.” She gently took Emlyn’s arm and led her to the bed. “You sit here, and perhaps you’d be more comfortable with me in this chair, yes?” From what she’d read, physical contact with anyone but your lover was rare in Kibrun. Apparently, even parents shied away from touching or hugging their children, and the sudden change here at the Temple had to be terrifying to a young woman taught the strictures of court protocol and decorum from her earliest time in the cradle.
Emlyn hurried to the chair before Sábria could pull it over herself. “Let me, My Lady.” She half-lifted, half-dragged the overstuffed wing chair next to the bed. “I was surprised to find such a comfortable chair in my room. I thank you for your kindness in providing it for me.”
