Out of Options

Aniah was suddenly very aware of her dingy, exposing outfit. She tried to keep her eyes firmly ahead instead of glancing down at her too-short shorts and tight shirt.

“I don’t believe you,” she said disdainfully. She did, in fact, believe him, but she wasn’t going to admit it. That would make her appear trusting and gullible.

Jarshen Abicotta smiled, eyes too narrow and lips pulled back to expose too many teeth. “It doesn’t really matter what you believe.” He stood, revealing a tall, handsome figure. “But I’m willing to wager you’ll believe soon enough.”

“What would the King of Kritose want with me?” Aniah scoffed, trying to sound jeering.

“Let’s not mince words, child,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand. “I think we both know who the other is and what the other wants.”

“I think you want my mother not to kill you,” Aniah said, lifting her chin defiantly. “And if so, you should really send me back home. Alive and in one piece.” She added that last part just in case he was too dense to figure it out on his own.

He smiled coldly. “If her great Highness comes to me in person, she still could not free you. I have nothing to fear from her.”

Aniah snorted. This man was clearly a fool. How had he kept the throne for so long? Cocky bastard. She would show him.

“I could take you down. You really think she would have a problem with you?”

He chuckled slowly, spreading his hands out wide. “Oh? You could, could you? Well, show me.”

She hesitated. What kind of trick was this? Was she going to be attacked the second she tried to use Will? But why would he invite that? He would risk being killed before she was incapacitated. Of course, Kritons could use Will, they were just generally weaker than Manicoti.

She eyed him for a moment. He was just standing there, so arrogant, so exposed. She growled softly. How dare he toy with her like this?

With a massive blast of Will, she struck at his mind.

He just stood there, arms wide, self-satisfied smile on his face.

Aniah felt cold. That was the second time she had tried to use Will with no results. She felt something deep inside her stir, something she had only felt twice before. First, when Arellia had banished her from the palace, and second, when the Kritons had attacked.

Panic.

“Now that we are done with the formalities,” Abicotta said, lowering his arms to his sides, “we should discuss the arrangements of your stay. I would hate to be an unpleasant host for such an esteemed guest.”

***

Joree watched tensely, waiting. A couple soldiers started to shuffle or cast irritated glances around. One even yawned. That seemed promising.

One of them said something sharp to his companion, who grunted and nodded in agreement. Joree couldn’t understand them, but it sounded like a complaint. They were getting restless, impatient. Joree didn’t know how long they had been on duty, but it had been at least two hours, since that was how long Joree had been watching. They were clearly ready for a break.

As if on cue, another batch of soldiers, half a dozen total, rounded a corner. A couple of them gave what seemed to be good natured jibes to each other as they started to switch off.

All right, Joree thought nervously, it’s now or never. He found he was chewing on his bottom lip, heart racing. What if she hadn’t understood his directions? She hadn’t exactly been responsive…

Something small whizzed through the air and smacked into the back of one of the soldiers, digging in between the links of armor. It was so small that it was nearly invisible to anyone not looking for it. The man cried out, and his companions all turned to stare at him.

Another tiny projectile hit another soldier. Then another. Soon, the entire group was trying to simultaneously cower and examine themselves for the source of their pain.

Joree made his move. He sprinted from his cover behind an abandoned fruit stall as soon as none of the soldiers were looking directly his way. He moved immediately into the shadow of the nearest building and pressed close to the wall, heart thundering and breath coming out in shallow gasps. He watched the guards, waiting for someone to sound the alarm. They didn’t. They were no longer under attack, and were looking around warily with their weapons raised. Half of them broke off and started moving down one of the dirt paths, likely hoping to find the source of the ambush. If the Delani understood the plan properly, then they wouldn’t find her. Probably.

Joree didn’t wait a moment longer. He slipped away silently, staying in the shadows as much as possible. He watched carefully for Kritons. A few pairs of soldiers patrolled, but it seemed that most had been stationed to guard the entrances to the city.

The outer edge of Ranteel was nearly deserted. However, the deeper he walked, the more people he saw. Not soldiers, just regular citizens. Most were doing ordinary things, like shopping, running errands, or performing work duties. At a glance, this would not seem like a city under siege. Until you saw their eyes. Haunted, flitting from side to side with clear anxiety, dark circles indicating a lack of sleep. And it was too quiet. No one laughed, and conversation was muted and limited only to the most necessary exchanges. The few children he saw clung to their mother or father or shuffled close behind, heads down but eyes peeking up with fear.

Joree moved in amongst the crowd, slouching to hide his height. It always made him stand out, that and his unusual hair color. He looked for signs of anyone he knew. One of his mother’s friends perhaps, or even a customer. Anyone who might have a clue where she was.

Eventually, he spotted Gree, the old baker who always traded his mother milk for bread or the occasional sweet pastry. Joree quickly made his way over to the man, hissing his name to get his attention.

The man turned, his body thin but back still straight and eyes alert. Those eyes widened when he saw Joree. He quickly looked from side to side as if expecting a Kriton soldier to appear at any moment.

“Flames above, boy,” he whispered, stepping close to Joree and pulling him to the side. “Where have you been?”

“No time to explain,” Joree whispered. “Have you seen Narissa?”

Gree frowned. “The Kritons took her into the palace on that first day. Haven’t seen her since.”

Joree felt his brows crease. “What? Why would they do that?”

“How should I know?” Gree snapped, eyes dancing about furtively. “I don’t have a velching clue what’s going on in this city anymore.” He refocused on Joree, eying him. “Wherever you’ve been, you should’ve stayed away.”

“I have to find my mom,” Joree said. The words sounded childish, like he was a six-year old who’d gotten lost in the market.

“Good luck with that.” Gree shook his head. “She went into the palace, son. With the Captain of these velching brutes. You trying going in there, and you won’t last the length of time it takes you to walk up the steps.”

Joree held back a retort, merely shrugging. “Thanks for the information,” he said coolly. He turned to walk away. Gree grabbed his arm. His dry, wrinkled hands seemed frail, yet his grip was firm.

“Word of advice, son,” Gree whispered. “Keep your head low. We’ve had enough young hot-heads trying to be heroes. They’re all dead now.”

Joree felt a chill run down his spine. But he forced a smile. “I’ll take note.”

He made his way straight for the palace. His apprehension grew with every step. The closer he got, the more Kritons and fewer Manicoti he saw. He had no idea how was going to get inside without being discovered. Beyond that, he had no idea how he would find his mom once he was in. He had narrowed his search parameters to a single building, but that building was the size of two dozen houses, each with five floors. And that didn’t include the various sub-buildings attached via stone corridors.

He blew out a long, slow breath through puffed cheeks, watching the pair of soldiers standing at the front doors to the palace. They both had long swords hanging at their waists. They were relaxed, but clearly alert.

This is stupid, he thought. What was he going to do, break into the palace and start running through the halls, calling his mother’s name? He needed more information.

He considered. If Aniah were here, she would probably know about some secret entrance. But Aniah wasn’t here, and he wasn’t really too put off by that, regardless of how convenient her knowledge might be.

Could he search around some more? See if anyone else had more information? He had seen a couple of servants moving around the courtyard. Surely they left the palace grounds sometimes? Maybe he could follow one of them, ask them some questions?

He clenched his fists, grimacing. He hated the idea of more waiting. He had no idea why the Kritons had taken his mother, but he couldn’t imagine it was to care for a woman getting into her advanced years.

His decision was taken from him a moment later. He heard a strange snapping, whizzing noise, and suddenly one of the soldiers at the palace doors was falling backwards, an arrow shaft sticking out of his unarmored chest. Before his companion could cry out, another arrow took him straight through the eye.

Joree gaped, frozen in place. What in the Flames-

Someone stepped up next to him and he spun, reaching for his knife.

It was the Delani.

“What-how-I mean…” he spluttered, blinking rapidly as if that could clear away the nonsense his eyes were telling him. “You’re supposed to be hiding out!” he finally managed in a harsh whispered.

She stared back at him. And then, with that same blank look, she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible, shrug.

“You are very strange,” he muttered, turning back to the doors. He eyed her sideways, then jabbed a finger towards her pointedly. “No more shooting people. Understand?”

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t have time to wait. She had given him an opening, but it wouldn’t come again. After this fiasco, security would be so tight a mouse wouldn’t be able to sneak in.

“Stay here,” he said, although he guessed she probably wouldn’t listen. Then he sprinted for the doors.

***

Narissa sat with her hands in her lap, head bowed. A bowl of soup, long since gone cold, sat beside her on a small table. She couldn’t force herself to eat. Not with that monster out hunting her son and the Heir.

Alarm bells started to ring. Her head came up automatically, senses sharpening. An attack? Had Highness Arellia returned? She wished she had a window to look out, but this room was in the inner ring of the third floor. The only exit was the single door leading to the hallway, which led to a series of other rooms and then the single staircase going up and down. These were traditionally the servants’ quarters, although she knew that only about a third of them were currently occupied. Most of the servants had been ejected from the palace, presumably to prevent a mass uprising. A few of the most essential had been kept-just enough to keep Captain Manisutti and his comrades from having to cook their own meals or do their own laundry.

The door opened. Narissa turned anxiously, half expecting the Captain, here to whisk her away before the royal guard had a chance to free her. But it was just Beali, the servant who brought Narissa her meals. Narissa had known Beali since she was an infant. Her mother had died in childbirth, and Narissa had cared for the girl until she turned eight and was taken into custody of the city.

Narissa frowned. It wasn’t meal time, and the girl carried no tray. She clutched the fabric of her apron in two tight fists, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Child, what is it? What is happening?”

Beali finally looked up. She was trembling faintly. “I-I-” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “I was outside, and I heard screaming. I looked up and saw-well, the palace guards,” she shuddered visibly. “They were dead, bleeding out everywhere.”

“Is it the Highness’s guards?” Narissa asked hopefully.

Beali seemed distracted and she didn’t answer immediately. She finally shook her head. “No, not them. I saw-I saw a boy running across the courtyard with a knife. He ran straight up the steps and into the palace. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but…”

Narissa felt her heart plummet down to her feet. “Who was it?” she whispered.

“I think-I think it was Joree.”