For King and Corruption, page 13
They walked down the halls in a comfortable silence, from a comfortable distance. While she didn’t despise the young lord as she did most men, she still struggled with interaction in all ways. The ebb and flow of conversations were odd to her. Forced. She didn’t understand small talk, as Quinn had called it. She had no desire to be pretty and smile. If anything she wanted to be . . . well, she didn’t know. A lady of this court, however, was not it.
As they crossed the courtyard, the guards kept their distance, but anytime she made eye contact, one of them would nod as if she were one of their own. It was silly, and though she had no desire to be a guard or part of anything, the notion made her feel better, if only marginally. It gave her the illusion of safety, like she was above these men’s notice as a woman and that her horns mattered not. She knew that wasn’t true, but it made it easier to leave her room and go to these lessons. The anxiety she felt around any but Quinn was slowly beginning to fade, or perhaps—if not fade—then at least not control her so wholly.
They slipped through the palm fronds, coming to stand in the garden. In the center, sitting on the same flat stone she saw him on each day, was her mentor, Haspati. The old man didn’t open his clouded eyes, but he stopped humming as the baboon turned its head.
“Hello, Risk,” he said in that deep booming voice. It might have scared her, had it not come out of such a small man. “Draeven,” he nodded as a show of respect, and the young lord did the same. Lifting his gnarled walking staff, he tapped the rock across from him, motioning for her to sit.
As Risk settled in and began to close her eyes to get in touch with the world around her, a stick cracked. Her eyes snapped open, and she whipped her head around to look behind her. A guard lifted his hands in surrender. In one was a piece of stationary folded over and sealed with the symbol she’d seen on Quinn’s brass knuckles. It was Lazarus’ seal, which meant a letter from the King. Draeven waved him over and the soldier tried to stealthily walk by, casting an apologetic glance at Risk. She waited until he’d handed the letter off and left entirely to turn back around.
Her eyes slipped closed. Tilting her head back, she inhaled deeply, focusing on the actual feel of the magic in her veins and how it connected to the living creatures around her. She tried to empty her mind of the thoughts and anxieties and worries that plagued her day and night. Here she was a beast tamer learning to control her magic. Quinn had arranged for her to have a trainer, and she wasn’t going to let her sister down, or herself for that matter. Not when she wanted so desperately to get it—to understand it—and ultimately, to control it.
A soft wind blew and the trees rustled, allowing her to sink further into the trance. She again inhaled deeply, opening herself to th—heavy footsteps tromping through the undergrowth were like an arrow through her glass heart. Her concentration snapped, and she let loose a frustrated growl, more animal than human. Risk turned around to level a guard with a glare.
The new guard looked between her and Draeven, who was seated on the other side of the clearing, letters scattered about him. He gave her a halfhearted smile that she thought was supposed to be a silent apology as he continued walking toward the lord and handed him a letter. Draeven didn’t even look up as he took it and muttered his thanks. The guard turned and walked away as if it never happened.
Risk turned back around, glowering at the puffs of fur that had broken out across her arms. Her nails had sharpened, but not fully distended. Risk clenched her jaw as she settled in once more. With a heavy exhale, she worked to calm the magic as she would an animal. It wasn’t the easiest thing, given the magic itself seemed to be sentient in a way but also connected to her own emotions. She practiced her breathing before letting her eyes fall closed once more.
She didn’t even have time to slip into the blissful peace of nature before another set of boots set her already frayed nerves aflame. Her claws fully extended, and she felt a heaviness in her back as the skin stretched over her spine and shoulder blades, warning her that wings were attempting to form even as she turned back once more. Her mouth opened to tell him to leave when the rough brush of wood against her knee made her pause.
Risk glanced back at Haspati, who was grinning like a fool.
“Calm yourself, child,” he told her. “You’ve learned quickly how to feel the world around you, but you’ve yet to curb your animalistic instincts to run or fight when you feel intruded upon. The young lord has things he needs to attend to. Let’s use this distraction as a learning point in patience and focus.” He smiled, withdrawing his staff and setting it over his lap. Neiss slipped from her shoulders and settled over the heated surface beside her, his head inclined lazily as he basked in the sun.
“Traitor,” she thought toward him. If the serpent could smile, he would have.
“There is wisdom in the old man’s words,” he replied with an incline of his head before promptly falling asleep. Risk lifted an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t speak to her any further. With a huff, she settled in once more, but found it impossible to close her eyes when there was movement behind her.
Teeth clenched and pressing together, her muscles tensed under every motion she couldn’t see, but still heard. Haspati chuckled. “You won’t get in touch with much more than the ache you’ll cause in your own head if you continue tensing so much.”
Risk wiped away a damp lock of silver hair, careful not to snag it on her horns. She cast him a nonplussed glance. “I cannot focus with them moving behind me.”
“And why is that?”
Her eyebrows drew together, as if it were obvious. “I don’t know them. I don’t trust them. I can’t see them. How am I to know what they’re going to do?” she asked, ignoring the way Draeven looked up from across the garden.
Haspati smiled. “You feel them,” he said simply. “They are animals, just as you or I or the basilisk. Sense them with your magic, and you will know where they come and go, and then you need not worry about what the eyes can’t see.” He grinned widely and motioned for her try it.
Risk narrowed her eyes at him, which only served to make the old man laugh.
“You enjoy this far too much,” she muttered.
She pretended not to hear when he said, “You’re right; I do.”
Risk focused on releasing the tension in her shoulders as she loosened her jaw. Her hands came to rest on both her knees in an effort to keep from fisting them as the continued movements hacked at her senses. For every deep breath she took, an unnatural sound that interrupted her thoughts made Risk tense once more.
She tried to open her mind to the world beyond, but that wasn’t near so easy when it wasn’t just nature she was opening it to, but also the sounds disjointing it. She gnashed her teeth with every footstep and muttered conversation someone had with Draeven, but at a certain point, she grew to expect it. Instead of sinking into the deep nothingness of her magic where they were one and the world felt whole, Risk kept herself grounded to this plane and instead sought them out. While she couldn’t see the guards, she could still feel their souls—at least she assumed that’s what it was that allowed her to get in touch with animals and men alike.
They entered and exited the garden every few moments, and Risk pushed herself to feel them past the expected. Unlike how she sank into the magic by simply lowering her conscious mind into it. Here, she hunted them. She pursued them. She tracked them out of the gardens and into the courtyard. She felt them climb the steps of the palace as if she herself were doing so, and sensed every roll in emotion as they went about their business. She opened up the mental network of her mind, and it wasn’t the peaceful bliss of nature and silence, but the feeling of power in watching them as a hunter did prey. The forced concentration was all-consuming in that not sound nor sight could pull her from it because she’d homed in on their movements so thoroughly that it was almost as if she were outside herself.
The movements slowed until the guards stopped coming altogether, and only when the courtyard had largely cleared did she come back to herself.
Risk opened her eyes, and it was dark outside.
The moon shined down on them, casting the garden in a silver glow. Risk blinked twice, wondering if she’d somehow drifted off and imagined it all when the white of Haspati’s teeth flashed. Even in the night they stood out; a smile in the shadows of nothing.
“You did well, child,” he said in praise. Risk stared, not sure how to respond.
“I . . . I don’t know what exactly I did,” she said softly. “I started to follow them instead of sinking into the magic.”
“What you did is called a field of vision,” Haspati said. “Every Maji has one, and it is different for each person, regardless of their gift.” She leaned forward and winced. After sitting so long in the same position, her muscles had stiffened and grown tense. She twisted around, extending both arms behind her in a series of cracks.
“It was harder to get into, but once I did, I fell into it,” she said.
He nodded. “You got in touch with the magic that exists in the world around you instead of relying on your own reserves. Breaking away from your own will be difficult at first, but the power at your disposal when you do is greater than any one soul could hope to harness.” Her stomach grumbled, and Risk looked down. Her cheeks heated, not that the old man would be able to see in the dark, even with his familiars. “We’ll end your lesson on that today.”
Risk nodded, hopping up from the rock she sat on. She leaned over and extended one hand for Neiss to wind his way around her. “That would be good,” she said. “Draeven?”
“I’m here.” Risk glanced over at the young lord who was now standing and off to the side, watching her completely. “Let’s get you back to your rooms. I’ll send Lorraine up with dinner if she hasn’t brought it already.”
They turned and made their way back through the garden in silence, and as she’d seen, the courtyard was near empty when they reached it. Save for the few guards on patrol and the bats she knew to be hanging from beneath the third-floor window, there was no one.
“I’m sorry the messengers were distracting you earlier. I’ll try to be better about handling my business around your lessons,” Draeven said as they climbed the steps to the palace.
Risk shrugged. “Them being there ended up helping me in the end. Besides, judging by how many of them there were, I doubt it could have waited.”
He nodded grimly and ran a hand over his jaw, through the slight growth. “The blood heirs will be here soon. I don’t know how I’m going to manage keeping track of them and your sister at the same time.” He sighed, shaking his head.
“Well, good luck with that. She’s rather clever at making herself scarce when she wants to be,” Risk said with a smile. Her lesson today made her wonder about Quinn’s own field of vision. She’d have to ask her about that when she saw her next.
“Don’t I know it,” Draeven said with a chuckle. Risk couldn’t help noticing how strained the sound was in her ears as they strolled to a stop outside her door.
“You know,” she started. “I can walk myself to my lessons now. I don’t want my training to be a burden on you when you’ve already got so much going on.”
His face blanched as his lips parted. The hesitation was only for a moment before he stepped forward. She tensed, and he noticed immediately, stepping back once more with an apologetic smile. “I don’t mind taking you to your lessons, Risk. I actually enjoy it. It’s a nice reprieve in an otherwise very long day of tasks and appointments.”
“You look tired,” she said.
“I am,” he agreed. “But I still enjoy it. If you’ll allow me to continue going despite the intrusions, that is . . .” He lifted a brow, asking permission. Risk swallowed and blinked.
“I . . .” She trailed off. “I think that would be alright.”
He smiled, and for some reason she liked the look of it. When men usually smiled, Risk wanted to hide. When Quinn smiled, she feared what her sister was thinking. But when Draeven smiled, it was different.
Good different.
She didn’t know what it meant. She couldn’t understand for the life of her why she found it nice to look at it, but she did.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow for your lesson.”
The young lord walked away, and Risk watched him go, not understanding why for the first time she didn’t feel the need to flee in the presence of a man.
Rumors and Riots
“Take care with assumptions, for they can be the greatest of weapons.”
— Quinn Darkova, fear twister, right-hand to the King of Norcasta
* * *
“Lorraine!” Quinn cracked one eye open. The shout sounded from the hallway. She growled under her breath and shoved a pillow over her head to mute out the sound of Axe’s voice, but it did little good when she continued to shout. “Lorraine! Look what I just got! It’s a letter!”
“I see that, dear,” Lorraine’s voice infiltrated from just outside Quinn’s door and a moment later, a knock sounded.
“I think they’re here for you,” Risk said from somewhere across the room. Out of sight.
Quinn lifted her head, noting the brightness filtering in from the windows. She’d barely gotten any sleep. An hour or two at most. Quinn flung back the coverings before stomping toward the door, bypassing her sister seated in one of the chairs with a book in hand.
“—comin’ for my birthday. Can you believe it? She must be almost here because Madara said—Quinn! Good, you’re up. Let’s go, then.” Quinn blinked down at Axe as the girl cut herself off from the tirade of chattering to shove her way into the room. “Risk, you’re comin’ too, right?”
“Coming? Where are we going?” Risk’s tone suggested hesitation, but not outright refusal. Quinn turned, glaring at the red-headed spitfire before straightening and giving an apologetic turn of her lips to Lorraine.
“I know you probably haven’t gotten any sleep since returning, but Axe’s celebration of birth is coming up and I wanted to go into the city to put in a few orders for the palace. I thought you and your sister might like to join us?”
Quinn grit her teeth as something crashed behind her. “If we’re going, I’ll have to get dressed,” she finally said.
“Take your time. I’ve sent Vaughn to get the horses ready. He’ll be waiting out in the courtyard,” Lorraine replied.
“What?” Axe’s head popped up on the other side of the bed as Risk was attempting to put a candle holder back on one of the nightstands along with the book she’d been reading. “No! He can’t come.”
Quinn’s lips twisted as she headed for the wardrobe and removed a new pair of leather trousers. Donning them under the long white bed shirt, she tied the laces as Lorraine tsked at her charge. “Vaughn’s coming to keep you from getting into trouble. Unless you’d rather stay here . . . ”
“He’s an idiot,” Axe snapped. “He’ll stick to my side like a barnacle, the giant, dull-brained—” Axe flipped to Ilvan and began to curse violently as she got to her feet and began to stomp about the room.
“Yes . . . well, that’s the point,” Lorraine replied. “For him to stick to your side, that is.”
Quinn whipped off her shirt and attached a leather band back around her breasts before sliding a vest of fur over that as well. Buckling her dagger around her waist, Quinn reached for her staff and nodded for Risk to follow as the four of them made their way out into the hall.
Axe growled when she realized that no one was really paying her any mind, and she snatched up Risk’s arm to tug her along. “If he’s really gonna be there, you’ll have to stay with me,” the young girl decided. “Better to have someone that ain’t a brainless boulder or,” she paused and gave Quinn a sneaky grin over her shoulder, “a hussy.”
Quinn glared, but that seemed to only spur the annoying girl on. Axe threw her head back and cackled as she pulled Risk along behind her, leaving them to follow at a much slower pace.
Outside, in the courtyard, Vaughn awaited with four horses. He blinked when he saw the women approach. “Little pirate, who is this?” he asked, nodding to Risk, who stiffened at seeing the broad man. While gentle as a flower to most, Vaughn was tall and sturdily built. His fair complexion wouldn’t endear him to her, not when her abusers had also been fair built men with pale skin and eyes.
Moving forward, Quinn extracted Risk’s arm from Axe as the girl jerked forward and smashed her finger into Vaughn’s chest. “She’s my friend, ya ox. Don’t look at her.”
Quinn shook her head as she steered Risk toward one of the horses. Together, they began mounting. Axe, Lorraine, and Vaughn on each of their own horses and Quinn and Risk together on the last.
“Shall we be going, then?” Lorraine asked, lifting the reins of her beast and leading it toward the gated exit.
Quinn looked up as guards hurried to open the palace gates, her eyes narrowing as several avoided looking her way. The men were quick about their jobs, turning the cranks that lifted the heavy iron wall, holding until they were all clear before turning it once more until the iron gate fell behind them with a thump. A plume of dust billowed in the stagnant heat.
At their backs was a wall of palm trees and thick underbrush that Quinn knew from her ride to the Callis estate stretched far beyond the palace. The route they took into Leone was different; more barren in essence. Along one side of the pathway was a collection of rock and sand, broken chunks of adobe bricks, and stale, yellowed weeds jutting out from cracks in the ground. On the other side ran a single stream of water that flowed from the oasis upon which the palace and several estates had been built— and it led them to the edge of the city.
The sun beat down, unforgiving on their faces, and soon, sweat began to slick Quinn’s back. The leather around her chest tightened under the onslaught of heat, and she cursed her stupidity, stripping the fur from her shoulders and shoving it into one of the bags attached to the horse’s side.
