Kingdom's Vice Series: Journey to Alleria ( #1 2014) #Wattys2015

Chapter Twenty-Nine

‘You never told me,’ I say to Duhamas, who is slumped against the Tree.

‘Told you what?’ he replies in a casual voice, staring at one Sapphire gem.

I swallow, ‘That you could...could summon things.’

He chuckles, ‘You never asked before,’

I laugh a little, ‘So, Gweyntarr and Renarick can summon things too?’

He nods, ‘Most Allerians develop gifts when they are children, and they grow stronger once they pledge an oath. You for example, have a gift.’

I’m shocked at his words. ‘What?’

He nods again, ‘I knew since the moment I met you, you just didn’t know it yourself.’

I shake my head, ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You can hear things other people cannot.’ He tells me. ‘You heard the three of us speaking in secret when we were not even in proximity to you. Your heart can bear more than most would allow, Skaya. You have more compassion than any other Allerian I know. That in itself is a gift.’

I don’t believe him. ‘You’re talking riddles, Duhamas.’ I say. ‘I don’t have any special abilities or gifts, I’m not a pureblood Allerian.’

He laughs at me. I’m being naive again. ‘It doesn’t work that way,’ he says, ‘Pureblood or not, you’re still an Allerian.’

I smile. The thought of being an Allerian was like being told I was part Angel, or part mythical beast or something wonderful. It was something I had adored as a child and still adore today. Allerians were like fantasy characters I always wanted to be—am.

Duhamas sighs, ‘It is a pity that today marks your wedding ceremony and the groom isn’t even here to see the preparations,’ he says, ‘There was going to be a huge decorative sling of flowers draped over this Tree,’ he looks up at the branches and the grems that drop down, ‘It was going to be beautiful.’

I want to have the ceremony now, with Alec here and our sweet words. But, he’s not here. Inside my chest feels hollow again.

‘What did you summon?’ I ask Duhamas fraily, resting my head on his shoulder, a deep sigh in my throat.

He forces a little smile, ‘Three blue wolves,’ he says, ‘One from each of us. They will defend Kennah until they are spent. They are loyal and will not stop fighting until every last one of the Bardhelm forces is either dead or surrendered.’

His words are like promises to me. He speaks with firm certainty, like he’s done it before.

‘How many times have you done this?’ I ask, with curiosity and I’m not ashamed of it.

‘Summoned wolves? Never. This is the first time I have used my gift against the will of the King. I do not fear him the way the kingdom does. They fear him because he is their King. I do not fear the man, just what he can do to others who do not support his view.’

It is pitiful. People should not live in fear of their King. People should not live in fear at all; otherwise they may as well live in Kennah—which is now burning.

‘Then why are you doing it?’

It is a stupid question. I’m good at asking stupid questions, most of the time. For the rest of the time I’m doing stupid things.

Duhamas looks to me affectionately, ‘Because you are family now, and family stay together no matter what. Whether threatened by renouncement of immortality or by torture or anything in this world, family will not abandon their own.’ He tells me. ‘Alec is someone whom you love, and so, that makes him of equal blood and of equal family. My Father-in-law may not have any desire to help him in his defence of Kennah, but we shall help on his behalf.’

His words are like a set of wings that lift you up when everything seems to drag you down to the depths. His words save.

I kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper, ‘For everything.’

Gweyntarr breaks the mood with a ‘Oi, you two, let’s go before the King wakes up and gets suspicious!’

We break and split into our separate quarters, Renarick to the left, Gweyntarr to the right, and Duhamas and I in the centre, heading back towards the hall.

~.~.~.~

‘I didn’t know the Tree could talk,’ I say to Duhamas as he marches beside me quietly.

‘Neither did I,’ he says without looking at me, ‘Hence my point about your gift. The Tree doesn’t talk, Skaya, but to you, apparently it has much to say.’

Uncle is coming this way, dressing in his morning robe. His face is unreadable, not a good sign.

‘Ah,’ he greets us with open arms, ‘Duhamas, Skaya! May the Light shine gracefully upon you both this day. Skaya, the dress maker is awaiting your presence in the hall for the fitting. She does not like to be kept waiting.’

I struggle for words.

‘She will be there in a moment,’ Duhamas saves me.

The King’s eyes flicker to him, ‘Come now, Duhamas, Skaya does not need you to speak for her. She can make her own intentions clear to those whom they concern. You are not to speak on her behalf.’

Just like you are not to fight on Alec’s behalf? I hear him say in silence.

I flash him a look.

I know what you’re doing, I tell him.

He looks at me in confusion as the King’s glances travels over both of our faces.

‘What is it you two are exchanging in glances?’ he asks us, highly suspicious.

‘Nothing, Uncle.’ I tell him. ‘Duhamas knows his place. It will not happen again. I shall take my leave now.’ I bow and slip past him, giving Duhamas one last look.

Thank you, I say.

The dress maker (Eliadore, I hear her name is) is known for her impatience and dislike of lateness. She fits the finest dresses on the finest Allerian women, and yet she does not look overly vain herself. Her hair is in tight braids, looped around her head like a crown.

‘Come here,’ she orders me, gesturing towards a platform, ‘Stand up there.’

Every now and again she scolds me with a ‘I told you not to move!’ and a ‘This pin will prick your skin if you flinch one more time,’ or finally, a ‘This dress is going to be my worst piece if you don’t stand still! Suck in that belly of yours or I’ll never get the measurements right and you’ll end up looking like an inflated cloud.’

Her words have no kindness in them, nor any sense of humour. She is deadly serious. I start to dislike her quite quickly. But, when she ushers me over to a mirror, I find it almost impossible to keep my disdain swelled up inside me.

One word can describe the dress she has made for me.

Exquisite.

Dornair is the Allerian word for wonderful...and dornair it is.

‘It is beautiful, Eliadore.’ I breathe, smoothing my hands over the fabric in awe.

She flips her hair over her shoulder, ‘Of course it is,’ she says in a matter-of-factly tone, ‘I’m the finest dressmaker in the kingdom.’

~.~.~.~

Faeore gasps at the sight of the dress.

‘Skaya!’ she exclaims, ‘You look very donair in that dress. Nice work, Eliadore.’ She looks to the dressmaker with a tight smile. ‘You could’ve tried harder on my dress.’ She winks.

Eliadore scoffs and shoos me off of the platform. I step down, grabbing the hem of the dress with me. My head shoots up when Faeore looks to me with an intent expression.

What is it? I think, pushing my thoughts towards her.

She looks towards the door. Duhamas is standing there. The time has come. It is time for us to start our plan for Alec.

I nod and follow them out.