King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One (24 page)

“Watch your tongue, Kells,” she said, “And remember who you address.”

“I’m not addressing a lady, if that’s what you mean,” Kells replied, sharply, “I am very certain of that. No decent woman would’ve done what you did. Your mother would hardly be proud of your actions. ” Kells let the words hang in the air, and Caliandra felt herself quieted. Her mother would have been shocked, for certain; disappointed, even. That was the worst thought - of disappointing her mother, when the pain of their losses was still so very fresh. Kells’ chest rose and fell, as he seethed with anger; Caliandra looked away.

“Forget all of this,” Kells said. “Forget about Royth. Forget about this silly fantasy of revenge. He’s gone from your life. You will never see him again. So forget about all of this, and go back upstairs. If you do that, I won’t tell your mother. Do we have an understanding?”

Caliandra looked back at Kells, as the embarrassment slightly faded from her face. He’d offered her a chance for forgiveness. But what had happened to Valric - it wasn’t right. She couldn’t ignore it. Especially after giving up the chance to kill Royth herself… Valric’s death would go un-punished, and she knew her brother’s spirit would be restless until it was.

“I know your brother’s death has been hard on you,” Kells said, his tone softer than before - his eyes kinder, more sympathetic. “He was a good man, at the end, like your father. They wouldn’t want you mourning them with anger, and recklessness.”
Two of Valric’s favorite traits,
Caliandra thought to herself, and with surprise, realized that she had veered far away from her normal, measured behavior; the events of the previous weeks had unsettled her, and she had not thought of the risks she’d taken, only the benefits. And yet, this behavior felt natural to her; being ladylike and mourning in private, like Hanne did for her brother, would have been unthinkable.

Valric’s blood was her blood. His traits were her traits, buried deep inside. He drew his strength from them, but he could not balance them as she might. Caliandra remembered playing chess with her father, and how he wanted her to teach Valric to play - because it could teach Valric patience, and tactics. It could teach him when something was too risky, and when the risk was worth the reward. That was the essence of what her father wanted her to show Valric - risk in moderation.

“Of course,” she said. “Thank you, Kells.”

“There’ll be no more trouble, then, Lady Caliandra?” He asked. Caliandra shook her head, eager to give him the answer he wanted.

“Not out of me,” she replied, knowing it wouldn’t be the truth. Meeting Darryn later would require caution; but if what he knew was useful, perhaps she could find out why Royth had escaped - and who had helped him.

“Good,” Kells replied. “And leave the sword. I’ll put it back with Valric’s things.” Caliandra hesitated at the thought, and felt a lurch in her stomach; she didn’t want it to be gone from her sight, but she needed Kells to trust her. She held her tongue.

“Thank you,” she said, again, and offered a smile. He nodded, satisfied; Caliandra watched as he bent down to pick up her brother’s blade, and left with it. She stayed behind, to pet her horse, and allow herself to calm down - the stink of the stables was a small price to pay for that - and walked back to the castle. There was little else she would be able to do. As she approached the north wing, she heard shouting from down the hall - coming from Eliya’s room. Out of concern, she decided to investigate.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Eliya had never seen Mas so heated, pacing back and forth in her room – his boots stomping a furious rhythm on the stone floor, only quieted by carpet. Mas’s anger was a stark contrast to her mother’s calm demeanor; the Duchess sat in her chair, with an even look upon her face, and simply…waited. Her mother, once again, approached the delicate matter with tact and grace – a skill Eliya admired. It was something she could not do, when it meant asking Mas to leave her, and to run away. The thought only made her want to grip him tighter.

“Those damned Sparrows!” Mas shouted. “I cannot believe they were in my retinue. My father’s chamberlain will answer for this. He hired them. He should have been more careful than to hire Sparrows, posing as maids,” he grumbled, fuming with anger. “And now they’ve both escaped. What incompetence!”

“Only one of them escaped, with our former Seer,” Sophine said, correcting him. “The other was killed. But before this grows any worse, you must leave while you can.”

“No,” Mas said. “If I run, I look more guilty than if I stay. Your Regent will think my kingdom did this.”

“Mas, please,” Eliya said, “Calm down. You are not on trial.”

“Yet,” Mas shot back. Eliya felt a small pang of hurt, and watched as he turned to her mother. “They will come for me first. And then what? War?”

At that moment, Eliya heard a knock. “Are you okay?” Caliandra asked, her voice muffled from behind the door.

“Let her in,” Sophine whispered to Eliya. “She must know, as it concerns all of us.”

“Yes,” Eliya replied, loudly. “Please, come in.” She opened the door for her sister, and shut it quickly once she’d come inside. Caliandra looked around the room, and saw Mas, on the brink of anger.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Mas is troubled by the association with the women who kidnapped you, and attempted to take Royth’s life,” Sophine said, in an even tone, from her chair. “As well as what it means him, and for both our kingdoms.”

“As well he should,” Eliya replied.

“They want me to leave,” Mas said, sour. “They want me to run away. Like a
dog
.”

“What?” Caliandra asked, confused. “You can’t! If he leaves, Marrol will use it as an excuse to march on Kersik.”

“If he stays, they’ll jail him, and start a war.” Sophine said. “He must leave.”

“And what about the wedding?” Eliya asked.

“If the Sparrows meant to kidnap Caliandra, in addition to killing Royth,” Sophine said, as she folded her hands neatly in her lap, “We should assume that all of us are at risk. If you and Mas are married the moment you arrive, then you’ll be a Princess of Kersik, and there will be less sympathy for Marrol’s war in the Council…”

Eliya was stunned. “You want me to leave with Mas?” she said.

“You can’t stay,” Sophine said. “And you meant to be married anyway, didn’t you?” She looked over to Mas, whose anger had subsided; instead, he was worried.

“When?” he asked.

“Tonight,” Sophine said. “At the soonest. It will be risky, but I can arrange it with Kells. You will have to travel light; many of the people who came with you will have to stay. Only a handful of your guards.”

Eliya’s breath caught in her throat; she didn’t want Mas to be shamed within her own halls, but she knew what her mother suggested – to forget about Barra, and to make their home elsewhere. Her very life would be uprooted, months ahead of schedule, in a most improper and unbecoming way, and she had no say in it. But Eliya trusted Mas – she knew he’d make the right choice, especially when it came to people he cared about. He had before; he’d told her about how he was the only man in his family to support his older brother’s marriage to an Ariaci merchant’s daughter, instead of the noblewoman his father had selected for him. It brought Mas no end of paternal ire, but when seeing his brother’s face, he knew it was worth it.

“Then we will leave tonight,” he said to Sophine. “I will send for the rest of my staff once we are safe at Wulfrag.”

“A wise choice,” Sophine said, standing up. She lifted her hand, which Mas kissed. “Thank you, Prince Mas,” she added.

“Of course, Duchess,” he replied.

Caliandra was crestfallen at the news. “I’m glad you’ll be safe, Ellie,” she said, to Eliya. “I just wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“So do I,” Eliya replied, saddened; the sun was setting outside, and there was precious little time. “You’ll visit when all of this is over, won’t you?”

“Of course, sister,” Caliandra replied, managing a weak smile. Eliya knew that her sister would be saddened by her departure under normal circumstances, but this – leaving at night, with barely any time for a proper goodbye – it was devastating. She barely knew what to bring, what to pack…

“I’m sure Hanne will be especially displeased,” Caliandra said.

“We haven’t talked since last week,” Eliya said, hesitant. Seeing her friend’s cruelty come to bear on Caliandra had been sobering, and she found it abhorrent. Enough that, for Caliandra’s sake, Eliya was willing to sever friendship’s ties. Caliandra caught her meaning. “I don’t think I’ll miss her company.”

“Oh,” Caliandra said, surprised. Eliya took a small pleasure in that; Caliandra wasn’t found off-guard often. “Thank you.”

“I will miss you, sister,” Eliya said; she felt herself getting choked up. “Please write often.”

“I will.” They embraced, tightly – more than they had in years. It was as if Caliandra wanted to make up for the distance between them, but hadn’t known how. And their mother was worse still; everything bottled up came gushing out, in a torrent of emotions. She knew her mother had been more rigid since Father had died, but it was her way of keeping a handle on everything. And when it was all but out of her hands, she felt free to let go.

Sophine wept a final tear, and had wished her daughter goodbye. “Be strong,” Sophine said, as she pulled her daughter close for a hug. Her voice cracked, ever so slightly, and Eliya could see a weakening in her mother’s expression. “You will make the journey, you will be safe, and within the month, I will arrive at Wulfrag for your wedding. That is a promise.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Eliya said, “Yom, I’ll miss you so much.”

“Write often,” Sophine said. “I will answer quickly.”

“As often as I can. “I’ll send word the moment I arrive.”

“Good,” Sophine said, I… you must give no hint of your path to Marrol’s men. Sending word any sooner than the Kersikki border, and you should put yourself at undue risk.” Sophine pulled away from their embrace, slightly. Her hand came up, and cupped the side of her daughter’s head. “You are so incredibly brave, and I could not be any prouder than I am, right now.”

“Thank you,” Eliya said. “Thank you.” Sophine kissed her on the head, and gave her a knowing glance.

“Perhaps you should like some time alone, to discuss your decision,” Sophine said, as she saw herself out; Caliandra quietly followed. “Mas, safe travels. Keep my daughter safe.”

“Of course, Duchess,” Mas replied. And with that, they were in Eliya’s room, alone. A rarity, given the properness of their relationship.

“I hope we have made the right choice,” he said. “I guess the question remains – what should we bring with us?”

She didn’t know. But with mere hours before she left her home, possibly forever, it was one she had to tackle quickly. She knew one thing, for certain – a quilt her mother had made for her, as a child. “This,” she said, holding it up. “If nothing else, then this.”

Mas chuckled, and held her close. “My dear,” he said, “You can bring more than just one quilt. Just know that I want you safe.”

“Your name will be mud here,” she said. “Worse, even.”

“Barra has the best mud for three continents, I am told,” he said, with a smirk. “It will be an honor.”

But Eliya hardly smiled. “You give up so much for me,” she said, stressed.

“You know why,” he replied, as he kissed her. She felt the fullness of his lips, and the strength of his hands on her arms. “I could give up everything, if I still had you.”

“Liar,” she teased, as she kissed him again. But she knew it was true; she only wondered if she could do the same.

CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN

It was on the cusp of evening as Eliya and Mas waited for their chance; they were prepared, and hidden on horseback, in the stables. The Kersikki guards who would accompany them were nearby, next to their horses; three stayed on foot, and the last one waited near the entrance of the stable, for the signal. Eliya’s heart pounded with anticipation, and they did their best to keep the horses quiet.

Kells had passed word that the plan would be simple; guards on the portcullis wall would arrange to take a break near the same time, while the portcullis was still open, and not closed for the night. That would be the opportunity for Mas and Eliya, and the guards, to make their escape. She’d packed light, on request: a quilt, a change of clothes, food snuck from the pantry, a good fur-lined cloak, and some water. Mas wore the clothes on his back, a coat of mail, and a sword he hoped he wouldn’t need. They rode separate horses, on deciding that would make for quickest travel; one would be safe, but the ride to Kersik was long, and they’d have to slow their pace to keep the horse from tiring.

After a small, nervous eternity, the guard at the entrance turned, and nodded to them. “Let us go,” Mas whispered, as he eased his horse out of the stables; Eliya and the guards were close behind, on their own horses. As a group, they slowly walked their steeds to the portcullis, drawing attention to themselves; it wasn’t a far distance to that front gate, but for all Eliya cared, it could be miles. Until they escaped from the Castle - the home she knew for so many years, with its proud stone walls and jutting towers - it would make no difference to her.