In the Skin of a Nunqua (7 page)

“We’re surrounded by knives. Pick one. You wanted to see why I was promoted to commander, didn’t you?”

A deep voice behind her said, “That same question has come up in my mind—many times, actually.”

She stepped back from the cook, who scurried away like a ferret that has seen a hawk.

“Outside,” Commander Kyros ordered.

Although he was a soldier, Kyros didn’t wear a uniform. His elevated rank and proximity to the king afforded him certain privileges at the castle. His fine breeches and coat accentuated his muscular frame. Dark skinned, with a strong jaw, he cut a respectable figure.

They walked away from the kitchen and any prying ears. “I should have expected as much from you, Commander Shanti. Attacking an unarmed cook—it’s inexcusable. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m merely teaching him some manners, sir.”

“What Commander Gy sees in you, I’ll never know. Always trying to prove yourself, trying to make everyone think you’re so dangerous. Go ahead, pull your sword on me. Shoot me with a poisonous dart.” Kyros leaned toward her and whispered, “Go ahead.”

She knew better than to battle the high commander under such circumstances. It would land her in jail, exactly as he wanted. Or was he after something else? Kyros was popular with women, and many female admirers at the castle were trying to hook him into marriage.

“Scared?” he said.

“You flatter yourself.”

“Where’s your royal guard uniform?” An arrogant smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Still at the tailor’s? Failure to wear the proper attire is a demotable offense.”

Shanti did her best to keep a professional demeanor. She was a commander now, with some authority.

““A proper uniform would not hinder my ability to protect the princess, ride a horse, or fight with a sword. If I’m demoted for such an infraction, I’ll demand an inquiry to determine the adequacy of the uniform that, I believe,
you
“designed. I’ll also insist that the uniform be presented as evidence.”

“How very self-righteous for someone who threatens an unarmed man! You’re a bully, Shanti, not a soldier.” And with that, Kyros left and entered the castle.

She joined the two royal guards sitting on top of a wooden table. Succulent scraps of food left over from the feast were scattered about them, and wax from a single candle dripped onto the tabletop. She opened the bottle of wine and poured some into a cup made from staves of wood held together with tarnished metal bands.

“So,” one of the men said, “do we still have to call you ‘Commander,’ or have you been demoted?”

“Kyros has no real authority over me. He can’t take my rank away.”

“Why not? He outranks you and has charge of all the royal guards, does he not?”

She sipped the delicious wine from the brutish cup that matched her brutish mood. Kyros couldn’t take her rank away, because she worked for Commander Gy—a fact that she must conceal.

Red wine dripped from a loose seam in the side of the cup. Shanti placed her finger over the seam and took another drink, letting the dry, earthy flavor fall over her tongue. The princess would never use such a crude container. Why should she? Bayla had the best of everything without having to work for it.

“That was about to change.

7

Hexed

S
hanti crept into
the bedchamber where Rega Bayla slept soundly. The fire had gone out, making the room cold. “Wake up, Rega,” Shanti said.

Bayla rolled away and nestled deeper in fluffy, warm blankets.

Shanti snatched the covers off. “Wake up!”

Bayla sat bolt upright in her bed, hair obscuring her face. “You fool! The king will punish you for this.”

Shanti seized Bayla’s upper arm and dragged her out of bed. She opened the shutters of a window with a view of the water. The dark outlines of three ships could be seen. Smaller boats were rowing to shore on the moonlit sea. Enemy craft all. “We have to go now,” Shanti said.

Bayla moved away from the window and squatted in her nightgown, her back against the wall, arms around her knees. “You must take me to the king. I’ll seek refuge with my father.”

“If you and your father are found together, you both could be killed, and the royal bloodline would cease to exist. We must go to the Hedgelands and seek refuge there.” Shanti opened Bayla’s wardrobe and rifled through the fine garments. She threw riding clothes onto the bed.

“Only three ships threaten the castle,” Bayla said. “The royal guards will subdue the besiegers. I’ll stay here.”

“The guard is under half strength, and the monks warned the king of an attack already. No military would invade a city this large with only three ships. The ships are a diversion. We’ve received reports that more enemy troops are positioned along the coast and waiting to strike. The king ordered you to stay by me.”

Bayla remained crouched against the wall.

Not the time to act like a damsel in distress—not tonight, when they were so close to leaving the castle. “Either you get your clothes on,” Shanti said, “or I carry you out of here in your nightgown, kicking and screaming.”

Heavy footsteps and the clank of weapons came from the hallway. Royal guards were preparing for the castle’s defense. Distant bells rang in the city, alerting citizens to the bogus invasion.

“We don’t have time for this, Bayla.”

“You will address me as ‘Rega,’ guard.”

Shanti took two steps forward and stretched out her hand, ready to haul Bayla out of the comfort of her lavish room.

Bayla lurched away, and her feet caught in the nightgown, tumbling her unregally onto her side. “There’s no need for force,” she said. “I’ll follow my father’s wishes.” She changed into the riding clothes on the bed.

They hurried to the stables, passing men dressed in the same brown uniform as Shanti. They carried bows, spears, and battle-scarred shields without the Willovian crest. Helmets hid their faces, and heavy leather vests covered their torsos.

The stable, lit by a few lanterns, bustled with men saddling horses for combat. It was hard to see anything in the dim light. A man handed the reins of a horse to Shanti and gave her two crescent-shaped flasks of water. She gave one to Bayla.

“Where is Rega Bayla’s horse?” Shanti asked.

The soldier shook his head. “Sorry, Commander. The princess’s horse is too difficult to handle.”

“Looks like you have to saddle your own horse,
Rega
.”

At the far end of the stable, an animal snorted and kicked the gate of its enclosure. Soldiers flinched, keeping their distance from the unruly beast. The horse reared and whinnied, pawing the air with its forehooves. Bayla went to the stall, her back straight and head held high. She picked up her saddle and blanket, then entered the wild stallion’s stall.

Shanti listened. All was quiet in the stall. It took Bayla only a few moments to return, leading the stallion, saddled and ready to ride.

The two women rode away from the castle. Bayla paused only once to look back at her home, silhouetted against the sea. Pinpoints of light from the city under siege spread out in a semicircle from the base of the castle.

They continued on their way and traveled in silence until dawn, stopping on a hill that overlooked a farm. A thin line of smoke rose from the chimney of a two-story cottage of dark stone with a red roof. Freshly turned plots of soil surrounded the abode.

“Is
this
where my father wants me to stay?” Bayla said.

Shanti rode closer to the cottage and dismounted.

Bayla kicked her heels into the sides of her horse and trotted down the hill.

“Dismount, Rega,” Shanti said.

A woman emerged from the cottage with a basket. Upon seeing the two women, she retreated inside.

“It’s disrespectful not to dismount,” Shanti said. “We seek their help.”

“You have no cause to speak to me of disrespect,
guard.
”

A man came out of the cottage. Commander Gy held the hand of a girl about four or five years old—his daughter, Donora. The young girl’s hair was the color of corn silk. Gy shooed her back into the house, then came toward them.

Under her breath, Shanti again ordered, “Dismount.”

Bayla got down from her horse. “For his sake, not yours.”

“Hello, Shanti,” Gy said. The wool shirt on his broad shoulders looked warm enough to keep out the crisp morning air, and his sandy-brown hair seemed grayer around the temples than she had remembered. “What’s the reason for your visit today?” he asked.

“Commander Gy,” Shanti said, “the castle was attacked last night.”

His brow creased in concern. He was quite the actor. “King Magen has been expecting an invasion.” Gy bowed to Bayla, “This must be the princess, Rega Bayla.”

Bayla wore no royal insignia, no finery to signify her status. Her hair wasn’t even combed. Yet she curtsied to him in a proper royal greeting.

“You must be hungry. Please come in and have some breakfast.” Gy called out, and a freckle-faced boy rushed out of the cottage. “Jonas, take care of the horses, and don’t be slow about it.”

“No!” Shanti snatched the back of the boy’s shirt to stop him from taking the reins of the stallion. “My apologies, but Rega Bayla’s horse is hard to control. Only the princess can manage him.”

“Nonsense.” Bayla smiled shrewdly at Shanti while speaking to the boy. “You’ll find that my horse is no trouble at all.”

Shanti let go of his shirt, and Jonas led the horses to the pasture.

Gy ushered the women into the cottage, which was warm from the cook fire and filled with the smells of breakfast. Shanti took her sheathed sword off her back and handed it to Gy. She also removed the wristlet of darts so he could place the weapons on a shelf. She pushed up her sleeves, giving Bayla a chance to glimpse the long scars that marred the skin of her forearm.

Donora tugged on the hem of Shanti’s jacket, and Shanti pulled a length of hard candy from her pocket and broke off a piece for the girl. Gy’s wife was busy making breakfast. Shanti gave her a welcoming hug, then sat in a chair with her feet up on a stool, glad to be free of the strict rules that governed conduct at the castle.

“Rega Bayla,” Gy said, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Tova.”

“Rega Bayla . . . the princess?” Tova lowered her head in an appropriate gesture for greeting royalty, then continued to cook, banging bowls of food onto the table. “I guess this means I’ll have to do without my husband for a while. Royalty does not visit our home without a reason. What is it this time?”

Tova didn’t know?
“The castle was attacked last night,” Shanti said. “The princess and I were able to escape before any fighting began.”

Gy set plates and silverware on the table. “Did you see the attackers?”

“No,” Shanti said. “Three ships approached from the east. They were unmarked.”

Gy spoke to Bayla, “Commander Shanti and I will go to the village and send word to assemble your guard at the Hedgelands. I suggest you stay here and get some rest. We can’t risk your being seen until we know what’s happening at the castle. We leave tonight.”

Bayla pushed on the frayed cane seat of a chair with her hand before sitting down. The chair wobbled under her weight. She wiped her hand along the table and inspected it for crumbs. “My guard?”

“Of course,” Gy said. “You didn’t expect the only protection for the heiress to the Willovian throne to be an old man and one worn-out soldier.”

“Worn out?” Shanti said.

The old man chuckled.

“Jonas, come in and eat,” Tova called out a window. The boy came in. “Donora.” The quiet girl climbed onto a chair and sat on a block of wood that allowed her to see over the table.

Shanti mounded food on her plate while Bayla took only a ladylike portion of bread and fruit.

“Rega Bayla,” Tova said, “we’ve been blessed with much food here. Please feel free to eat all you like.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I do not eat meat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Bayla returned her attention to Gy, “Exactly how many guards will there be?”

“Sixty,” he answered between bites. “Did your father mention the plans for your protection?”

“No.” She pushed the food around her plate with a spoon.

“Understand that King Magen has provided for your safety ever since you were born.”

“Do you know my father?”

“Very well. Believe it or not, I commanded the entire Willovian forces at the Outer Boundaries until I returned home a few years ago to be closer to my family.”

Tova pounded a spoonful of potatoes onto her plate. “Not that it makes a difference. You’re hardly ever here—always off with the soldiers.”

“I thought you liked it that way. Why, just last night she wanted to kick me out of the house, and now she’s complaining that I’m leaving?”

Tova frowned at the jest. “Another invasion, another war. When will it end?”

Gy put his hand on top of hers and stroked the skin with his thumb while speaking to Bayla. “We’ll set up camp in the Hedgelands, a four-day journey from here. Messengers will be sent to collect news of the invasion. When it’s safe to return, your guards will escort you back to the castle. These are the king’s orders.”

Shanti filled up on ham, eggs, biscuits, jam, and potatoes, knowing it might be her last home-cooked meal for a long time.

*

Commander Shanti, Commander Gy, and six other Guardians of Willovia discussed the princess in a closed-off room at an inn. Sunlight filtered through shades the color of burnt umber. Cheap carpets, ripe with the odor of alcohol, hung on walls to muffle the noise within the room. Mugs and half-empty pitchers of cider sat on a table.

“Not once did Rega Bayla ask who was invading or why,” Shanti said. “Nor did she ask about the defenses of her people. For all she knew, the citizens of Willovia were in grave danger, yet Bayla seemed to care more about her horse.”

“Is it possible she knew the attack was fake?” said the village undertaker, a slim man smelling of strange spices. Two hoop earrings adorned each of his earlobes, and his fingers were long and graceful. “Someone might have informed her of our existence. Perhaps King Magen told her what to expect.”

“There was no indication she had any knowledge of the plan,” Shanti said.

Another man, a stout landowner dressed in finery, spoke. “I’ve been to the castle and have seen the princess on occasion, although I’ve never talked to her. Do you think she’ll want to join the soldiers? It’s such a different way of life from the one she’s used to.”

“Rega Bayla is very competitive,” Shanti said. “I believe it will be only a matter of days before she asks to train.”

A woman with a thick, white braided chignon asked, “What was she like at the castle while you were her guard? Was she happy?” An angora shawl, soft and pink like the petals of a rose, draped her shoulders.

Shanti covered her mouth and yawned. She hadn’t slept in over a day. The question was interesting—something she hadn’t thought about until now. “Rega Bayla always seemed depressed unless she was riding her horse.”

“In your opinion, is she intelligent enough to lead?” the woman said.

“Bayla is very intelligent, but manipulative and self-centered.” Shanti yawned again.

The white-haired woman stood up from her chair and motioned to Shanti. “Come with me. You must be tired. A bed is upstairs. You can rest before you leave tonight on your journey to the Hedgelands. You’ve told us all we need to know.”

Shanti followed the woman, grateful for the chance to sleep. “Thank you.”

They entered a clean room with dark quilts covering the bed. “By the way, my name is Madiza.”

“Do you own this inn?”

“No.” She took hold of Shanti’s hand.

Stunned by the unexpected contact, Shanti tried to jerk free of the woman’s touch but couldn’t. Indeed, she couldn’t move at all.

Madiza’s warm hands enclosed Shanti’s hand. On her wrist, a bracelet of dark opals shimmered in multicolored hues. “I’m a fortune-teller.”

She wanted to shout, but her voice was gone. Her vision faded, and her muscles relaxed.

“Let go, Shanti. Sleep.”

The room disintegrated into blackness, and Shanti melted into a pool of soothing heat. She tried to stop her body from falling, tried to stop the fortune-teller from casting the sleeping spell and looking into her future, but the quiet chanting overwhelmed her. She floated farther and farther downward. Beams of light broke the darkness. Shanti landed, soft as thistledown, in a forest next to a river.

She was only vaguely aware of being lifted onto a bed. Her body was so weary, all she wanted was sleep.