Silent Kingdom (8 page)

~ ~ ~

Back in the classroom, Ara continued with a general history lesson addressed to all ages, before giving different writing assignments to each group to turn in the next day. Finally, she brought me a small stack of books.

“These are for you to read—history, mathematics, writing lessons, literature. I’ll occasionally review what you have learned from them. I do not know what you have or haven’t learned before this, so we’ll start with basic information and go on from there.”

I ran my fingers over the titles of the books, taking them in, certain I already knew most of the lessons they had to offer, but grateful for a distraction from my troubled thoughts. I missed the palace’s vast libraries and was eager to read again.

After school, Shilam, Bren, Jaren, and I accompanied Avrik back toward his home. We stopped briefly to tell Lyanna where I would be.

“Elena is coming home with us for a bit, if that is all right with you,” Avrik said.

Lyanna brushed flour onto her dress and looked at me in surprise. “Elena…?”

Avrik turned red and glanced down at the floor. “It—it’s what I have decided to call her.”

Lyanna’s face softened into a look of understanding and she said no more on the subject. “Do you plan to be gone long?”

Avrik cracked a smile. “Trust me, none of us would want to be late for dinner! We only plan to shoot for a short while.”

She blinked in surprise before sighing and waving us on. “As long as you make sure Elena doesn’t overtire herself.” She shook her head, but I saw a smile nudge the corner of her mouth. My urge to roll my eyes at her concern melted away at the sight.

As we trudged toward Kyrin and Avrik’s cabin on the edge of the forest, my nerves tensed up and knots curled in my stomach and I imagined the sedwa’s eyes watching me once more.
It can’t reach you here.

I tried to focus on the boys’ conversation and push the images of the sedwa from my mind.

“Let’s see if you can hit the target at fifty yards now,” Jaren teased, nudging Shilam in the stomach with his elbow.

“You were the one complaining about the ‘breeze’ last time!” Shilam protested.

“Well, I am glad you’ve all realized there’s no contest with me,” Avrik said. His eyes were alight with mischief. “I’ll outshoot everyone.”

Bren rolled his eyes. “As usual.”

Avrik laughed. “As usual!” He flung out his arms with a flourish, then spun around to offer us all a quick salute and bow of his head. “You’re welcome in advance for the fine performance you are about to witness,” he said with a smirk.

The boys shook their heads, not even deigning to respond.

We stopped before the small shed beside Kyrin’s stable. A horse whinnied from within and Avrik glanced at the boys. “I’m going to check on Billa. Set up the targets and I’ll be right back.”

~ ~ ~

Despite my attempts at reassuring myself, I watched the woods nervously as the boys retrieved targets out of the shed and set them up. They had stowed their bows and quivers in Avrik’s shed, apparently because they most often shot here, so I was the only one without a weapon.

As Avrik returned from the stable, brushing dust off his trousers, he smiled at me. “I have an extra bow for you,” he said. He entered the shed and a moment later approached me with a bow and quiver full of arrows and handed them to me. “They are yours to keep.”

I studied the bow: it wasn’t like the gaudy, ornately carved one I had left behind at the palace, but it was just as well-made, with no unnecessary decorations or frills. It felt lightweight and strong in my hands, familiar yet new. If weapons could have personalities, this one was warmer and homier than the showy pieces at the palace. As much as I had once appreciated my old bow, this one felt…right.

I felt a soft smile play across my lips. Moments of archery practice with Gillen returned to me, happy memories forever etched in my mind. Although many reminders of my past life were painful, it did feel good to be doing something familiar. I held up the bow and tested the string, pulling it to my cheek and taking a practice aim at the nearest target.

That was when I realized the boys were all looking at me. Shilam’s eyes were wide. “You’ve shot a bow before?”

I lowered the bow and smirked.
I’m a girl, not a donkey. Of course I’ve shot a bow before.

Bren rolled his eyes at his friend. “You say it like no girl has ever used a weapon before.”

“Sorry, I—I don’t see—my sister does not care about—I’m sorry,” Shilam stammered.

Lifting the bow once more, I shot at the target, my arrow easily finding its mark on the bullseye. I turned back to the boys and quirked an eyebrow expectantly.

Avrik chuckled and turned to Shilam. “Well?”

Shilam crossed his arms. “I’d like to see you compete with her.”

Bren and Jaren exchanged looks and nodded. “Yes, let’s see the master archer go up against Elena,” Bren said with a playful grin.

Avrik lifted his chin and cracked his knuckles. “Very well.” He tossed a glance in my direction. “Those three never prove to be much competition. Let’s see how you measure up.”

Smiling softly, I offered him a casual shrug and watched as he strung an arrow to his bow and tugged on the string in one swift motion. I blinked and his arrow struck the target directly next to mine. Beaming, he turned to me to salute again, and his friends began laughing, cheering, and applauding in delight.

“I’m taking a seat for the performance,” Jaren said, plopping down in the grass, and Bren and Shilam joined him.

Without responding to Avrik’s impish look, I stepped forward and raised my bow again.
Thud
. My arrow found its mark, leaving three perfectly aligned arrows to fill the small red space painted on the target. I stepped back and coolly gestured toward the spot I had just vacated, watching Avrik expectantly.

“It looks like you have met your match, Avrik!” Bren cried.

Avrik laughed and rose to my silent challenge, this time slicing one of the arrows on the target in half. “I could do this all day!” he said.

My eyes met his and I broke into a smile.
So could I.

We shot long into the evening, the other boys eventually joining in but leaving most of the competition to Avrik and me, each of us never besting the other for long and continuously seeking new ways to heighten the challenge. Sometimes we shot from a greater distance; other times we aimed at smaller targets or fired at boards Shilam or Bren tossed into the air for us.

At last, Shilam, Bren, and Jaren left for their homes and Avrik escorted me back to Lyanna and Rev’s cottage. We paused at the door, my hand on the knob.

“Thank you for the competition,” he said, his eyes dancing with a playful light. “As I said, the other boys haven’t been much competition lately, and do not have as much time to devote to practice, so I was in danger of growing bored with our shooting matches. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He backed away and I nodded, watching my new friend as he dashed through the grass toward home before I slipped into the welcoming warmth of my own.

CHAPTER 5

M
y blue silk dress fell in a long, heavy curtain to the floor. I gathered the folds up from about my feet, but still tripped as I walked down the hallway.

“Careful, Halia,” my mother murmured, reaching out to steady me. I grasped her arm, her velvet sleeve smooth and cool beneath my fingers.

The guards opened the double doors before my family and me, revealing the great sanctum. Its high ceilings arced above us, their polished wood accents glimmering in the light of the torches lining the walls. Standing like a row of sentinels along each side of the room were wood columns stretching toward the ceiling. As we walked along the marble floor, our footsteps echoed in the vast space. Compared to the rest of the castle, the sanctuary was almost stark. There were no intricate paintings adorning the ceilings or artwork hanging from the walls, no statues depicting past royals, no plush carpets, no gleaming gold or silver chandeliers—not even windows to allow daylight or a view of the wind-tossed Alrenian far below. The high royal priest often explained that beauty was a distraction from worship.

As I walked, head held high despite how uncomfortably close-fitting the waist of my dress was, I wished the priests’ belief about beauty extended to clothing. Instead, we were to wear our best attire as a display of respect.
Perhaps breathing also shows disrespect, and that is why my dress discourages it.

We slipped into one of the several wood benches set in rows along the far end of the room and looked up at the altar. Its sides were engraved with tangled vines and flowers, the only aesthetic touch in the sanctuary, while its surface was piled high with logs soaked in oil, prepared today only in symbolism, but on holier days for sacrifices of incense and fresh game.

Once we settled into our seats, the visiting Leaders of Argelon and Emrell and their families entered the sanctuary, followed by some of Misroth’s nobility, and last of all, the castle staff. Always close, always wary, the Royal Guard stood at attention in the far corners. Narek, my uncle’s youthful new Captain of the Guard, remained near the front, closest to King Reylon.

The high royal priest, dressed in the customary red trousers, tunic, and cloak, removed one of the torches from the wall and lit the logs resting on the altar. Flames blazed to life and began a furious dance, sending hot air rushing against my face until sweat gathered along my forehead. My dress was so heavy, so hot, and my necklace, bracelets, and the circlet in my hair weighed me down like anchors cast into the sea.

“Let us offer our service to the Giver of Life,” the priest intoned.

As one, everyone in the sanctum rose to their feet and repeated after the priest. Suppressing a groan, I fanned my face with my hand and cast a sidelong glance at my cousin. He forced a smile, as if trying to remind me through his expression that we would be free soon.

Father noticed our exchange and frowned at me, the line of his mouth rigid. His eyes flashed in the firelight, silently bidding me to remain obedient and to follow rules.
Live like a royal. Make your people proud
—his usual refrain played through my mind as clearly as if he were speaking it again.

“Do not forget that the Giver of Life is also the Giver of Death,” the priest was saying as we all sank gratefully back into our seats. “To disobey him is to invite death…”

~ ~ ~

I opened my eyes and I was back in my bed in Evren, the morning sunlight streaming into my room with a friendly glow. My throbbing heart slowed and my constricting chest relaxed.
It was only a dream, a memory
. I sighed and wiped the sweat on my forehead away. It was strange how memories of my life at the palace were sometimes injected with as much fear as if they were nightmares; they all carried the weight of the truth about my father, always hovering somewhere in my mind, always tugging at my heart. The ominous feeling hanging around me felt as heavy as a physical presence, and I found myself scanning my room for several moments before, finding it unoccupied, I sighed with relief.

“Good morning,” Rev’s soothing voice drifted toward me. I looked up to see him standing in the doorway. “Did you sleep well?”

Stretching, I grinned back at him. No need for him to know about my troubled sleep. Other than occasional strange dreams, which were already growing less and less frequent over the past several days, I slept peacefully under his and Lyanna’s roof.

The sunlight sparkled in his brown eyes, making the green flecks in his irises stand out. “We will leave soon.”

I rolled out of bed and approached the washbasin to freshen up and prepare for the day. Once I was dressed in a comfortable, loose-fitting brown dress Lyanna had made for me, I stepped into the kitchen to find Lyanna setting the table for breakfast and Rev stoking the fire. We settled around the table and Rev thanked the Life-Giver for the meal. It was strange enough to hear Rev and Lyanna speak to him as if he were a friend; it was even stranger to prepare to go before him without having to smother myself in layers of heavy, elaborate attire.

Once the meal ended, we cleared the table together and left the dishes for when we returned. Gathering our cloaks, we bundled up against the chilly autumn air and stepped outside. The morning sun was shrouded in pink clouds hanging low on the eastern horizon, and fog swirled in the air and drifted in patches over the rolling fields as far as I could see, which was not far. We waded through cold mist that coated us in water droplets and made bumps sprout along my arms.

Winding through the grass, we turned away from the rising sun and joined the dirt road that led into the heart of Evren. As we walked through farm and pastureland, others joined us out on the road, until we were all clustering together in one large band of townspeople. When I noticed Avrik and Kyrin, I waved to my friend until he trotted toward me.

I shot him a curious look, wishing someone would explain this day to me.

“We celebrate and pay reverence to the Giver of Blessings in the Evren Leader’s garden,” he whispered.

When my eyes widened with shock, it was Avrik’s turn to look surprised.

“Do you…did you not do it that way?” His forehead scrunched in confusion.

I shook my head.

“You’ll have to tell me about it later.” He shrugged. “I mean, write to me later.”

With a smile, I rolled my eyes at him to mock his overreaction to his mistake.
I’m not offended,
I thought, as if he could hear what was in my mind.

We trod into town and down the main road, passing the rows of businesses and homes, now all silent and still, until once again the street began to cut through farm fields and over hills. Soon the ground began to steepen as we approached the largest hill yet. Sprawling across its top lay a large home of faded grey stone, its walls climbing with ivy and its grounds composed of one great, lush garden that took my breath away.

Although I knew there were flowers that grew year-round, even in Misroth’s harshest winters, I had never seen so many vibrant flowers blooming at this time of year—or any time of year—in one place. The rich scent of countless flowers and herbs traveled toward us on the wind. Despite the cold, even flowers I had only ever known to grow in spring or summer were blossoming, from blood-red lamirae with spiraling petals extending toward the sky, to sparkling blue embyth sprinkling the earth like fallen stars. Somehow, the grass within the space was lush and green and every tree was covered in leaves. At the far end of the garden, beyond the shrubbery and trees, I could make out a stream splashing along the edge of the grounds, dividing this strange feat of nature with the withered brown grass of the rest of the winter world. The palace grounds could never rival the beauty of this place.

“The stories say that a long time ago, one of our first Leaders dedicated this land to the Life-Giver,” Rev whispered to me, “and the Life-Giver sanctified the land in return, as long as the Leader residing here follows him. These grounds are always a beautiful garden, one set aside as holy, so most of the townspeople only enter it on our holiest of days once a week, along with special celebrations recognized in Evren throughout the year.”

We stepped into the garden and again I was overcome with wonder. As if we’d passed through an invisible barrier that brought us into a different world, the weather around us immediately changed. The air became warm and soft, the mist melted away, and the clouds above vanished to reveal an orange dawn bursting across the sky. All around, I only saw grass and plants, flowers and trees—the wintery hills and the mist from the world beyond the barrier was hazy, as if only this garden truly existed and all else was an indistinct memory.

Everyone around me began to shed their cloaks, dropping them in a pile beneath a wide old oak tree and laughing as if they were experiencing this garden for the first time too. I turned to Avrik to see what he would say, but surprisingly, he was silent. Instead, he threw himself onto the grass and began to roll in it like a child. Grinning, I dropped down and joined him, relishing the way the warm earth felt beneath me. It was as soft as a feather mattress and smelled sweet, like the world always did after a warm, springtime rain.

It took me a minute to realize that even the adults around us were frolicking like children, dancing and twirling under the trees or rolling in the grass as well. Drawing a deep breath, I lay still on the earth and stared up at the sky as the sun climbed higher.

It felt like I could have been in that beautiful place for mere moments or an entire age of the earth when an elderly man from somewhere deeper in the garden approached us. His long, white hair and beard were streaked with silver-grey and his soft brown eyes shone in the early morning light.

“The Leader,” Avrik murmured to me, scrambling to his feet and pressing his fist over his heart in a respectful greeting. I quickly followed his example.

“Welcome back, my friends,” the Evren Leader said. His eyes seemed to pick me out immediately from the crowd. “Who is this? A guest or a newcomer?”

I felt my face turning red as others glanced toward me. Although not every resident of Evren was present, most were, and their attention made me uncomfortable. Even during royal events, I had never been the focus of much attention, since Gillen had always been the one meant for the throne. I shuffled my feet uncomfortably and studied my boots.

“A newcomer, Corin,” Rev said. “She—well, she was ill and traumatized by unknown events she doesn’t seem to quite remember. She cannot speak and has no family left, so we have taken her in as part of our family.” He smiled down at me like he was proud to present me. “She goes by Elena.”

Corin smiled at me, the wrinkles in his tanned face creasing even deeper. “Welcome to Evren, Elena.”

Without a spoken cue, everyone began to sit on the grass in a circle, with Corin joining as if he were merely another member of the town and not its Leader. I sat between Rev and Avrik as a woman somewhere further along the circle began to sing softly. Her dark hair shimmered in the dawn, catching the orange, pink, and yellow hues of the sky, while her voice rose stronger and sweeter.

I recognized the sounds of her words, although I could not translate them. She was singing in Alrenian, the past language of Misroth before the New Language had been formed to separate us as a people from Alrenor. No one in Misroth studied Alrenian or understood the words to the old songs, but we remembered many of the songs’ meanings.

The breeze swayed the tree branches and the flowers around us as the woman sang of walking alongside the Life-Giver and speaking to him like he was a friend. Then her tone changed, dipping low and soft, and her song compared the Giver to a father, comforting and gentle, and appearing to his people in order to offer love and guidance. The song described him as he healed his sick and broken children. Finally, the woman’s voice swelled with power—and when I didn’t think she could sing out louder or hit a sweeter note, she sang about him giving life and ending death.

When her song ended, I was left breathless, as if I’d been the one singing. No one had walked with the Life-Giver on Earth in hundreds of years. Yet this citizen of Evren had sung with audacity in her voice, like she herself had met with him, and not like she was simply singing the words to an old song.

And…this woman was not dressed in the attire of a priest. How was she allowed to sing to the Life-Giver if she had not committed her life to service?

This is no morning in the royal sanctum
, I thought. These people lived so differently, yet their ways were already endearing to me, and somehow I could not think of these actions as sacrilege, despite all I’d been taught growing up.

Together, the citizens’ voices rose in another song. I listened in awe.
Everyone here is permitted to speak with the Giver of Blessings.

If he’d cared enough to listen to my prayers when my father had nearly killed me, maybe he could tell me what had happened to me—where my visions and knowledge of the truth had come from and why they’d disappeared. Why I had suddenly become mute. Maybe he would forgive me for being a coward and abandoning my cousin and aunt, and protect them from the king.

I could hope.

~ ~ ~

The months passed and I adjusted to my new life, growing more confident with each day that the danger was gone. The king didn’t know I was still alive, or didn’t know where I was. And he wasn’t searching here.

Lyanna purchased clothes for me to wear at a local dress shop, as well as material to fashion clothes for me herself, though she always requested my help in an attempt to sharpen my almost nonexistent skills. Even with my new clothes, the girls at school all but ignored me, the strange, silent girl, but with Avrik and the other boys to call friends, I didn’t mind.

I fell into an easy schedule of schoolwork and reading, helping Lyanna with chores around the house, and spending time with Avrik and his friends, Shilam and Jaren and Bren. When Rev returned home from his work keeping the books at the bank, he would sit by the fire and tell Lyanna and me all the news he’d gathered, either from clients or from local merchants after they returned from trips to nearby cities.