The Fallen Mender Page 8

  “She’ll return to face me.”

  “And we shall welcome her,” he said with a grin.

  “Look, suppose we spare my daughters?” Radovan proposed.

  Errol pondered this. “Has he not purged them fully from your heart?” he asked.

  “Certainly he has,” Radovan replied. “But, again I say that should we turn the twins into warriors for our cause, they could be useful. It seems like a waste of mind and flesh to return them to the ground.”

  “The tutor does not think they can be turned,” Errol said. “Not by his methods, at least. But your proposition is tempting me in another way. I know nothing of Elaina, but my granddaughter Eleonora is ambitious. I may just be able to win her over. It’s worth a try.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After updating Mascarin on the Arrans’ plans, Nastasha excused herself and returned to the bath chamber to think. She stood before the mirror, but had to step away. She couldn’t look herself in the eyes. The best course of action was painfully clear. She knew the longer she thought about it, the harder it would be to accept.

  So she returned to Mascarin’s side.

  Again, she would need to put others’ needs before her own.

  “I need to get to Destauria urgently,” she told him. “Please lay with me tonight. It’s the only way.”

  “Nastasha, I couldn’t,” he said. “I mean, it was never my intention to…”

  “I have a chance to get into the palace. It’s perfect. Don’t you see?”

  He looked on her with compassion, sympathetic to her mission but thinking there must be another way. “You still would have to escape your captors once you got to the palace,” he said.

  “If you can get my dagger…”

  “Which I can. I could hide it in your bag of traveling clothes. They already searched you, so they probably won’t search you again before your journey.”

  “Perfect,” she said.

  “But shouldn’t we find another way?” Mascarin proposed. “There must be a solution to this.”

  “I fail to conceive, another will arrive. A stranger.”

  “That’s true.”

  “And if I’m to have children, why shouldn’t they be yours?”

  He smiled shyly. “That’s incredibly sweet, but I’m just as much a stranger to you as anyone else.”

  “I love my country, and I’m fighting for peace,” Nastasha said. “You and I have that in common, and who knows what else?”

  He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

  “Are you married?” she asked. “Attached?”

  “Only to my ideals, and my children,” he said.

  “Afterward, I shall ask nothing of you,” Nastasha said.

  “Would that be fair? Surely you may ask anything of me.”

  She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. Pulling back slowly, she read the excitement in his green eyes. She did find him attractive, and if he felt anywhere near the same, which she suspected he did from the way he looked at her, it could make her chosen course of action easier.

  “Think on it,” she said to him. “I shall let you alone.”

  “I know you’re awake,” Alessa said to Jaimin. She knelt in the snow beside Jaimin and Elaina’s down-stuffed sleeping pouch. Elaina was sound asleep and breathing heavily. The group had made camp in the pass less than an hour’s ride from the Destaurian capital.

  “She’s vulnerable,” Jaimin said.

  “Nastasha?”

  “Yes. I don’t feel she’s in danger anymore, but she’s very uneasy. Alessa, is it always like this? Will I always be tied to those I love?” Jaimin asked.

  “It will be as if you’re living their lives. Sorrow, heartache, all of their worries…these will weigh on you constantly. Celmareans are hardened. We have to be.”

  “And we can’t even have a drink to escape it once in a while.”

  “No, we can’t.”

  “Is that why you lived apart from society? You didn’t want to care about too many people?”

  Alessa glared at him. “I lived apart to keep Elaina safe.”

  “What do you think Nastasha is worried about?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  But, soon enough, Jaimin did.

  Nastasha returned to the bathing room, stood before the mirror, and braved looking herself in the eyes. I’m sorry Jaimin, she said in her mind, and she truly was. Nothing was turning out as she’d expected.

  Soon she saw Mascarin approaching in the mirror. He touched her shoulders tenderly, and she knew he’d decided. Slowly, she turned, sliding her little finger into her robe’s sash to undo it. His breath, sweet and warm upon her face, activated in her deepest self a hunger. Her lips found his. His hands parted her robe and found her waist. As their kiss deepened, his hands slid gently up her bare sides and circled over her shoulders, until her robe slid off onto the floor.

  She dared herself to enjoy the experience, for all it was. After all, this only happened to people once. And it was her once.

  He led her to the bed, where she undressed him a bit at a time, taking the time to explore his body as she revealed it. It was not easy; she had to take the lead to get through this first part. But soon, he took over, leading at a perfect pace for her—and he read her well. He took everything slowly. He said nothing, but she could feel his pounding heart. Has he done this before? she wondered.

  She allowed him into her secret world, and once he was finally there she tried to relax. She alternated between closing her eyes and peering into his, reading his feelings and searching for something she couldn’t explain. She wanted to be with him in a place where the worry, and even the very real physical pain, had no right to be. And there was pleasure too—maybe not in its fullness this time, maybe not today, but it was there.

  Mascarin didn’t rush. He spent time, making her feel loved—as much as a stranger could. She appreciated that he wanted to leave her with a pleasant memory, and not just a way into the enemy palace.

  Afterward, she was lightheaded. She lay still on her back for a while, with her mass of hair pulled off to one side. He stayed close, up against her on the other side.

  “Not what you expected?” he asked.

  Tears chased each other down her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting any of this,” she said, “but thank you. You could not have made it any easier for me.”

  “You’re amazing,” he said.

  She laughed, nervously. “My heart’s still racing like a rabbit’s.”

  “Just take deep breaths.” He leaned over her and kissed her delicately.

  “I thought we were done,” she joked.

  “If that’s what you wish.”

  “It’s not,” she told him. “Stay.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Just before dawn, when it was still unlikely that anyone would be on the road, Jaimin and his group made their way down from the pass toward the sprawling, unwalled Destaurian capital city, which they could see from various lookout points as they descended. The snow coating the lowlands wasn’t thick, and patches of bare ground could be seen here and there.

  The city’s main roads shone like luminous veins, warm with what appeared to be electric lighting.

  Alessa rode far in front with a guard; she would be able to alert Elaina in her mind if she saw anyone coming up the road. No one spoke; the only noises were the jangle of the horses’ tack, the clop of their hooves, and the chirrip chirrip of birds going about their morning business.

  Most in the group were preparing their minds for what lay ahead. Eleonora was energized, set on taking back her home and showing her father that he had not bested her. Maya was pragmatic, pondering the different ways the Arrans could enter the city. Alessa, Elaina and Jaimin dwelt on yet another sacrifice Nastasha had made for her kingdom.

  Jaimin knew that Nastasha was going down a path he would have no part of. She would never be the same girl he grew up with, and to Jaimin this was a significant loss.

  You�
�ve changed too, Elaina told him, using her mind, even though her lips were practically touching his ear. Jaimin had the reins, and she was sitting just behind him. She’s already worked through the same feelings you’re having now. Elaina knew about Nastasha and Mascarin—she had figured it out in the morning upon waking up.

  Jaimin responded to Elaina in his mind: I want our love to remain strong—Nastasha, you, me, Alessa, my sister, my mother…no matter how much any one of us changes. And no matter what happens.

  “I want the same,” Elaina said aloud.

  Meanwhile, Eleonora had ridden up beside Maya. “I hear you are responsible for getting us this far safely,” Eleonora said to Maya.

  “Me? I mean: thank you, Your Highness. Others played a much larger role, of course…”

  “Yes, well, Prince Jaimin tells me you always believed in me, even with all that was going on,” Eleonora said. “That means a lot to me. I knew nothing of your little band of patriots, but I know now, and you have my appreciation.”

  “Th…thank you, Your Highness. I hope we can still be of service.”

  “I am sure you can,” said Eleonora.

  They turned off into the trees before they got too close to the city. They would leave the falconer Watnik and two soldiers in the forest to tend to Sacreah and the horses. While everyone had a snack, Maya made a solo ride to retrieve some Destaurian street clothes from a hidden cache in the city.

  As the sky brightened, Maya shuttled everyone in small groups to the abandoned steam works, the new headquarters of the Shadow Children.

  The vast steam works had been forsaken years earlier after a quake sealed off its thermal source deep underground. Now it was a lonely, rust-eaten place. Dirty skylights above glowed the color of the morning sky.

  The Shadow Children—eleven of them were present when the Arrans arrived—were overwhelmed when they learned the stature of their new guests. They rolled out some tall rolls of brown paper they had found, giving the newcomers a clean surface on which to sit or lay, and then many of them went back to their morning projects, allowing the newcomers space to unwind.

  Using discarded leather, linens, and other scraps they had gathered in the city, the children had been fashioning clothing to wear in this filthy place so they wouldn’t soil their street disguises. They were making a game of it, each attempting to outdo the others in the originality or utility of his or her “house uniform.” One girl had found a cute dress of black lace, to which she had attached ribbons, baubles and chains as embellishments. She was now helping the others to sew their creations. A boy had crafted a smart bodysuit out of linen sheets. Another was stitching a fine set of leather armor from pieces he had stolen from a tanner.

  In a room nearby, under watch, sat the Shadow Children’s prisoner: the king’s messenger, Yellen. The children were treating him well. He was actually growing fond of them and their cause, and understood why they couldn’t free him.

  “What’s the news, Cobie?” Maya asked a blonde boy of about sixteen.

  “The national army’s been pulled back to stay out of the Frakkers’ way. The Frakkers are staging at Whisper Ravine and points north. I reckon they will wait until closer to the new moon to attack.”

  “That’s what we thought. And Mascarin?”

  “Still no word,” Cobie said.

  “He’s at the baby mill,” Jaimin said.

  “What?” Maya said. “Tell me more.”

  “That’s all I know,” Jaimin fibbed.

  Jaimin headed out of the main chamber to distract himself. The younger children—lace girl, linen boy, and another boy in an unfinished black fur outfit—followed him, carrying a battery-powered lantern for extra light. The prince tried not to let the mention of Mascarin, who he knew occupied Nastasha’s thoughts, provoke him to jealousy, for Elaina’s sake.

  The annex Jaimin had entered had once been a workshop. Scratched up hammering horses, steam-powered lathes, and work tables that showed decades of wear probably could have lasted decades more had the steam not run out. Peg boards and dusty shelves were devoid of all but the broken tools, the useful ones having been removed to one of the operational plants. The place still smelled of grease and solvent.

  The younger kids figured that since they had a chaperone now they could explore the darkest recesses of the facility. As a result, Jaimin ended up chasing after them, keeping them away from sharp objects, rickety catwalks, and broken ladders. With so much else on his mind, Jaimin felt frustrated having to supervise these young ones. His patience would not last long.

  Back in the main chamber, Eleonora told Cobie: “I need to get a message to a captain in the third detachment.”

  “We excel at delivering messages,” he said. “And Jym has been there recently.”

  Although Cobie had been left in charge, Jym, at nineteen, was the oldest Shadow Child present. Jym stepped up. “I even have one of their uniforms,” he said.

  “Can you deliver the message immediately?”

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  Eleonora penned the message, and Jym was off. Holding Ia, Eleonora sat down beside Alessa and Elaina, who were reclining on the thick brown paper, resting.

  “What’s next?” Alessa asked.

  “Today, we plan,” Eleonora said. “Tomorrow, we confront my father.”

  Less than two hours later, six Destaurian officers and Eleonora’s personal guards arrived at a secret meeting point inside a nearby brewery, unsure of what to expect.

  Eleonora called to them as soon as they entered: “Up here.” They looked up to see their princess standing on a catwalk above an abyss of ale vats, holding a lantern. She waited for them all to ascend a metal ladder before speaking to them further.

  “Your Highness,” said one of her personal guards, “please say what has happened. We were all reassigned without explanation. We feared for you.”

  “My father is being coerced by a mind-turner and his minions,” Eleonora told them all. “They had me stolen away and taken to a prison in the desert.”

  “An Arran mind turner?” asked the guard.

  “No.” Eleonora said. “Listen closely. We have all been deceived. The Arrans are not our enemies. This purple army that has been menacing us is also directed by the mind-turner I speak of.”

  “But the raids…” said a Destaurian officer.

  “Were not the work of the Arrans. Why do you think you’ve been ordered to pull back to the cities? It’s so this purple army can operate in the north without your interference.”

  “What you are asking us to believe…”

  “Is the absolute truth,” snapped Eleonora. “I thought just as you did that our enemies were Arran. My whole life I did, so I know how hard it is to accept that it was all a lie. But now I know the truth. And I know where this purple army hides. I also know where your loved ones have been taken.”

  They looked at each other. Most had lost family members or friends to the raids, which made Eleonora’s message compelling. If there was indeed hope that some of their loved ones were alive…

  “I’ve summoned you all here,” she continued, “because I believed you would be loyal to me. Was I mistaken?”

  None spoke up, not even her personal guards, which worried her. She hoped their silence just meant they were still digesting the truth she had just fed them.

  “You fear my father, and rightly so,” Eleonora said. “I’ve told you the truth about your king, and now you fear I will send you against him. I will not. I don’t seek my father’s downfall—only his liberation. I simply ask that you do your duty and protect me. You will know by my father’s reaction to my return that what I speak is the truth.” She gave a signal to Maya, who had been waiting in the shadows of the catwalks with Ia. Maya approached, holding the sleeping infant.

  “Here is my daughter, Ia.” Eleonora said. “She was born to me in the dusty prison cell that my father had me thrown in. Behold, your future queen, born in the dust like a rat!” She took Ia from Maya and held
her close. “I ask you to trust your hearts. Who will stand with me?” She walked down the line of them, examining the face of each man carefully to judge his intent. Each found a reason in his heart to favor, and to fear, Eleonora above her father.

  “I will, Your Highness,” they all said in turn.

  “Did you bring the clothing I asked for? And the uniforms?”

  The first man in the line nodded.

  “There are Arran soldiers in the next room. Dress them in your uniforms and teach them your codes. They will accompany us to the palace tomorrow. And, please: bring us all something decent to eat.”

  Nastasha had been brought to an examination room in the late afternoon for tests. Some were invasive, and some even involved mending, but she put up with them. The medics performing the procedures were extremely polite.

  On returning to her room, she found clean bedding and a fine meal waiting. She ate it slowly as her mind wandered. So many thoughts…

  She slipped into her bedcovers to rest and had just fallen asleep when the knock came at the door. She donned her robe, stumbled over to the wall, and flicked a switch to activate the electric lighting. “Come,” she said loudly.

  Mascarin entered, carrying a sturdy leather bag. He handed it to her.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Your traveling clothes and your blade. You leave early in the morning.”

  “The tests are complete?”

  “We’re going to be parents,” Mascarin said.

  Her heart jumped, thumping again like that of a small creature. “Wow. I mean…wow. How can they tell that so soon?” She slid her hand into her robe and felt her lower abdomen. Had conception happened naturally, or did that mender have some hand in it? “And they let you tell me this?” she asked.

  “You’ll find them accommodating here,” he replied. “If you didn’t plan on escaping, I’m sure your next nine months would be enjoyable. Better for the health of the babies.”

  “I…suppose you have done for me all I asked,” she said, stepping close to him. “I shall never forget your sacrifice.”

  “Nastasha, I will never look back on our brief time together as a sacrifice,” he said.