'Til Kingdom Come
Chapter Ten
Azkadellia
Azkadellia loved to see her sister smile. It was one of the few things that made her – dare she say? – happy.
Such a small thing, but especially in these dawning days after the war, when everything was still new and uncertain, DG's calm and capable demeanour was a welcome change from the darkness of the annuals before. Her sister was one of the few bright spots opposed to all the cloud and shadow colouring her dismal days.
Standing on the high balconies of the tower, staring out, locked up and powerless, from behind her own eyes, she could never have hoped, or dreamed –
There were times when Azkadellia was fully aware of how lucky she was, and then there were the times when it took her wholly by surprise, like a rush of cold air had stolen her breath, sudden and cruel, and it was only once she'd fought to regain it that she realized how precious some things truly were.
Silly, really, but...
She was not in denial of her situation. She had no intention of squandering the second chance she'd been given. The world wasn't ending, after all. There was still time.
And so she sat on a dusty old settee in DG's sitting room, watching as a seamstress measured and poked and prodded her baby sister. DG, ever lost in her own thoughts, took the directions obliviously, turning to the left when the poor woman gestured right, slouching all the while.
"You're still a fidgety thing, aren't you?" the elderly seamstress said with a gentle smile. The stool wobbled dangerously beneath DG's feet as she tried to turn to face her detractor. "Be still, dear girl. I've almost finished."
"I still don't see what's wrong with the clothes I already have," said DG, wrinkling her nose while the sweet-faced old woman took a measure of the width of her waist.
"There's nothing wrong with the clothes you already have," Azkadellia said, "but you need more of them, and far finer, I'm afraid. Remember that Evonny has suffered no war. There will be a great number of expectations of you while you visit their court." As the words left her mouth, she cringed. It was if she had heard her mother come out of her own mouth – she very much wanted to be done with losing herself to another.
"I know," DG said in a small voice, and fell silent. She seemed to be chewing on thoughts much too big for her, and her fidgeting came to an abrupt end.
From across the room, Azkadellia felt guilty for taking on such a disdainful overbearance with her sister, who, by all accounts, was far braver and more selfless than she could ever hope to be again. While she would remain and hide behind the walls of the city and play the reformed sinner as her mother courted the generals for their support, DG would be gone from the O.Z. to the beautiful, prosperous kingdom of Evonny, far-removed from the home she'd only just regained and the family she'd moved earth and sky to reunite.
Their silence continued until the seamstress had finished her work. She left with a promise to return in the morning, no doubt toting an armload of fabric samples and fashion magazines a decade old. When she had gone, DG tucked the stool away and gave her sister another timid smile.
"Have you ever been to Evonny?" she asked, and it was a weak attempt at best, but oh, how Azkadellia loved her little sister then.
"No, I've never travelled over the desert," she said. "The most moving we did as children was between homes."
"So, not even when – well, not then, I suppose –"
Azkadellia managed to maintain her fragile smile as she responded, though she felt as though she'd been doused in water once more, all words gone and her breath with them. "No, until recently I was bound to the O.Z. by magic." When her sister's brow furrowed in confusion, she reluctantly clarified, dragging all dark to light. "The witch's hold over me – whatever it was, spell or curse or something even darker, it was ancient and it was powerful. Passing over the desert away from the source of her magic would have killed her, maybe even both of us."
DG sat down carefully beside her. "Why?" she asked, and though the concern was clear on her face, she did not apologize for her curiosity. Nor should she, Azkadellia realized, and reached out to take her sister's hands.
"Magic is rare outside of the Zone," she said, "and the witch's magic was as tied to the land as she was. A bit like a cage within a cage, she could never cross the sands."
Those pale eyes of her sister's widened, so hopeful it hurt to see. "But now you can," she said, brightening. "Come with me, Az."
At the very thought, Azkadellia shuddered and felt her face grow hot. "No," she said, far too fast to cover her cowardice.
Crestfallen, DG said, "I thought it would help."
"I wish it could," Az said. "I wish to the gods that it could, but Mother needs me more."
"Maybe if I just explained to her –"
Azkadellia laughed then, surprising herself. "No," she said again, a little easier, a little softer. "I need to prove myself as no threat to queen or crown, and I can only do that here," she said, and oh, but they were sour words to say. "It's General Andrus I need to worry about, it's Bowen Reid, and Bluesire. The King of Evonny made a good deal of coin trading with the Longcoats. I'm not going to convince him of anything."
"And what about the generals?" asked her little sister, doubt written plain on her face.
"I try my hardest to show them I was not myself," Az said, very demurely as she'd practised so often, but one look at her sweet sister and those eyes of sky and sea, she found her voice breaking as she said what she never thought she'd say aloud. "And I do my very best to show them they have no reason to execute me."
Her sister looked to be trying her best to remain impassive at Azkadellia's blunt statement, but the shimmer in her eyes betrayed her horror and her sorrow. She knew she should be doing something to soothe DG, but she found she had no words left, and all she could do was reach out to take her sister's hand again, and find what comfort she could in the soft glow of familiar magic that danced between them.
DG opened her mouth, then shut it again, and sighed. She swiped quickly at her eyes with her free hand, and gave a gentle little laugh. "Az," she began, and her hand squeezed Azkadellia's own, but whatever else she had to say would never be said, for there was a sharp rap at the door before it burst open without invitation.
Entirely unexpected, Jeb Cain strode into DG's sitting room, Vysor right on his heels, disapproval writ clear in everything from the twist of his mouth to the set of his shoulders. Behind them came Ambrose – Glitch – hands stuffed in his pockets and a skip to his step.
"We have a problem," the young Cain announced.
"My ladies, please forgive the intrusion," was Vysor's more proper greeting. "There's been a messenger from the tower –"
"Sent by the southern guild," Jeb Cain interrupted rudely. "He's not one of our men."
"Be that as it may," Vysor began, but Azkadellia had already begun to put the pieces together in her own mind, and let go of her sister, the loss of connection felt far deeper than it should have. She stood on legs that seemed far stronger than they had any right to be for all the dread in her heart. She held up a hand, and her advisor pursed his lips together and bowed his head.
"What has happened?" Azkadellia asked – not to Vysor, but to the young Cain.
DG, too, had risen to her feet. "And why are you here, Glitch?"
"I just wanted to see where they were going," he said, bashful. He closed the door behind him in an act of contrition. His face seemed unnaturally pale when he asked, "What's going on? Is Cain okay?"
Azkadellia was momentarily speechless; it seemed that her plan was known farther and wider than she'd ever intended. She glanced back at her sister, who gave her an encouraging smile. It was all she needed.
She turned back to the men who'd rushed in so dramatically. "Tell me what has happened," she asked, attempting to keep her voice level and calm, wanting so desperately then to emulate her mother's serenity. She feared it was a lost cause.
"Bowen Reid, my lady," said Vysor. "He intercepted the group just north of Finaqua. He has them imprisoned in the tower."
"When?"
"Two nights ago," said Jeb Cain, "just after they'd pulled Zero out of the suit, by the sound of it." His was a dark tone, cutting and not without arrogance. It was a glimpse, a flicker of the hotter fire that burned beneath all he did not say, the passion of resistance fanned ever still by a fight that seemed to have no true end.
"The message came from the tower? Why would Reid take them there?"
"Reid is still leader of the southern guild, and half of the force stationed at the tower is resistance," Vysor reminded her. "He commands more authority and respect than is necessarily due to – a man of his reputation. He has requested your presence, my lady. He will not release the prisoners until –"
"'Requested'?" Jeb snorted. "It was a demand."
"It makes no matter," Azkadellia said dismissively, "I see no other option but to go." She turned to Vysor. "Make the arrangements for a car to take me to the tower."
"Yes, my lady," said Vysor, and he left so quietly that she did not hear the door open or close. Or perhaps her mind was just too preoccupied with the unravelling of her hope to notice.
However, she was not too distracted to be lenient when another voice spoke up before her own.
"I'm going with you," said Jeb Cain.
"Captain Cain," she said evenly, taken aback by his brash insistence, "you will remember –"
"Az," said DG softly, and reached out to touch her fingers, and the warmth of her skin only served to show how cold her own had grown in the passing moments. "Let him go. Those are his men, too, and –" Her sister swallowed hard, but Azkadellia did not miss the skipped beat.
"You will inform Vysor, then," she said, barely wasting another glance at the young soldier. He left to catch up to her advisor, all but slamming the door behind him in his hurry.
"Thank you," DG said after he'd gone.
"Don't thank me yet," Azkadellia said, and shook her head. "It seems I've made a terrible mess of things. You and Ambrose must go to Mother immediately, and explain to her what has happened."
"Not Ambrose," Glitch muttered, standing half-hidden near the windows, where a dusty old trinket had found its way into his deft hands. He put it down on the sill and offered up a crooked smile. "The name's Glitch now, if it's all the same. Proper names are much too much too much," he said.
"I agree," DG said easily, smiling at her friend. "But I still don't understand what's going on."
"You and me both, doll," said Glitch.
"If Bowen Reid has taken over the tower, he'll be in Central City within the fortnight," Azkadellia said unhappily. "Which means you're going to have to leave sooner than expected, as soon as everything can be arranged."
DG's eyes widened as Glitch shooed her toward the door. "Will someone please explain to me why everyone is so afraid of this Reid guy?"
Glitch gave a tense, high laugh, and the last, frightened look he gave Azkadellia as he left the room haunted her for days to come.
...
The silhouette of the tower began to grow against the sky as the car sped along the western route.
It was difficult to admit, even to herself, how much the sight of the foreboding structure comforted her in moments such as this. There had been many a time since arriving in the city, after council or especially after an unpleasant run-in with an opinionated noble or sneering citizen, when she would seek out western-facing windows just to catch a glimpse of the spindled tower in the distance.
There was strength in those walls, fortified by magic and power and pure energy, and no matter how fragile she ever felt in her body, all papery skin and breakable bones, the tower was a symbol of a time when she'd been protected, and alive, and had all the world under her control.
The young soldier sitting across from her shifted uncomfortably, and maintained his cold, stony silence.
Well, perhaps not all the world.
It was long into the midnight hour when they finally reached their destination. A number of resistance fighters of both uniformed guild and Jeb's red-scarfed faction awaited them on the grand, sweeping steps of the main entrance.
General Reid, however, was nowhere to be seen.
In short order, they were welcomed and whisked inside, where the oppressive opulence was quick to settle down upon them, and Azkadellia felt her heart flutter.
It was, of course, her first return to the place she'd, until only recently, called home, and she could not understand the utter disconnection she felt as she walked the black marble halls, but it wasn't until they'd reached an unfamiliar reception room that she came to realize that something truly dark and evil still lingered in the air, a trace of the witch and all her beautiful wickedness.
Jeb Cain, oblivious to the cruel memories that crept like mist around her ankles, did not stay long, and indeed, made no pretence of waiting for Reid.
"If you'll excuse me, my lady," he said, far more careful with his tone in such a volatile place. It was the first time he'd spoken to her since they'd left the city. "I'd like to check on the prisoners – and my father."
"Of course," she said absently, standing before a great glass-fronted cabinet and watching herself very carefully in the reflection. The shelves held books, so many books, but those did not concern her in the least. She didn't quite know what she was looking for in that dusty, dreary glass, but it kept her transfixed all the same, and she held her breath, and waited –
Nothing happened.
She frowned, and touched her cheek, oh so lightly. What was she waiting for?
Echoing footsteps from the hall broke into her concentration, and she turned around, only to realize that Jeb Cain had left her. She vaguely recalled giving him the permission, but it struck her then as it hadn't before, that she was alone, only one and one alone.
Bowen Reid cast an intimidating shadow. He was tall and dark, with eyes as sharp as a hawk's. Many, many annuals had passed since she'd last seen him, before Lonot had turned traitor and the war broke out in earnest, before Central City fell and the resistance was barely a whisper in the wind. Time had changed him little, though there was a touch of silver at his temples now. His jaw was hidden beneath a shadow of black stubble – two days worth, were she any judge.
"Good evening, my lady," he said, his courtesies perfect as he bowed his head, but never did his eyes leave her, and the smirk he took no pains to hide unnerved her deeply.
"General Reid," she replied stiffly, raising her chin. Once, she'd known how to manage brutes like Reid, how to manipulate them, and unman them. Once, she'd held men in thrall with eyes and voice alone. Did he see her as a threat? Enemy, or ally? Or just as a mere curiosity?
"I'm honoured you chose to come so quickly," he said, taking off his gloves as he walked toward the sideboard where an elegant silver decanter stood on a ornate handled tray. "There's little enough to offer here, but I suppose you already know that." He gave her another smirk. "Drink?"
"No, thank you," she said. "I came to ask what reason you have to detain these men. Their orders carry the seal of the House of Gale."
"Didn't get around to looking at those just yet," he said, pouring himself a generous glass, which he then raised toward her before drinking. "As it stands, the guilds answer to the crown and council, not the noble houses, so your seal is of no consequence to me. The name Gale doesn't pull the weight it used to, my lady."
"These men are neither spies nor loyalists, General," she said, still miraculously maintaining her composure. Cool, and collected, and never, ever did she raise her voice. "Two of them are members of the very council you claim to answer to."
"And the other two are a deserter and a wanted war criminal," Reid said, and laughed. He took another drink. "Are they destined for the Silver Council, too? What a rabble you're gathering around yourself."
"I notice your seat has remained empty since my mother reinstated the council," she said.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh, there must be more empty seats than just mine."
She had nothing to say to that.
"My scouts report that Andrus is still huddled in that frozen estate of his," said Reid, stalking around the edge of the room, an iron grip on his glass. "Bluesire's up a tree somewhere, and no one's seen Harris for an annual. Word was that the Sorceress finally caught up with him."
That Reid was moving slowly closer toward her did not escape her notice, and by the gods, if she could only summon the steel of the Sorceress, but she was not the witch and she was not her mother, either. Instead, she could do little more than take a deep, steadying breath and watch him warily as he approached.
"Did you?" he asked.
"I was a prisoner, and a slave of the Sorceress myself, General," she said. "I can tell you that she never caught Harris. Whatever happened to him was not done by her, or any of her Longcoats."
He smiled then, almost cruelly. "Prisoner and slave. If you say that enough times, do you start to believe it?"
"I do not have to believe it," she said, and she felt herself growing hard and cold, "I know it as truth. There is proof for those who require it – in Central City."
He stopped, close enough to reach out and take her by the arm – or the throat. "Is that an invitation, my lady?" he asked, softer than anything he'd said to her since arriving.
She looked up at him, almost towering over her, a dark, looming shadow of a life that was long gone, and defiance surged through her. She tipped her chin up to look him square in the eye, and she smiled. "It is – once you release my men," she said.
Bowen Reid smirked once more, and the glint of his eyes was so very troublesome. "I will release the three men who carried your orders," he agreed, and his smirk turned sinister. "But the prisoner Zero will remain in my custody. He will be transported to the gallows prison in Central City Square. I'm going to hang him for all the city to see. It will show them that the guilds do not forget the crimes of war, even if the Gales already have."
Author's Note: Many of you have been making predictions as to where I'm taking this story. I love predictions. Some of them will even be answered in the next chapter. Thanks for reading!