The Queen and the Dagger

The Queen and the Dagger - Chapter Three

With the word that there would be no initiates this night, an already nervous queendom was forced to cancel the Run Feast. Families gathered in their own warrens, discussing the day's news, their tables and larders overflowing with food that would now have to be hastily preserved if it was not to go to waste.

Indigo had met with Kuno and Borla to discuss how and where they would look for the Blackmoons. They decided Kuno would travel to meet with the other queendoms and try to convince them to support the Order. Once they'd hammered out their plan, Indigo retired to her warren to arrange her traveling supplies. But also to think.

How many times had Borla hinted at this? That Kalmara wouldn't relinquish the regency easily. But Indigo had refused to believe that her aunt—the same aunt who'd always coddled her when she was young—would deliberately keep her from the throne. They'd certainly disagreed about policy, a rift that had widened with the years, but Indigo had never imagined her aunt would actually oppose her. Not only oppose her, but prevent her from gaining her tattoos, a rite every rabbit looked forward to. The thought of not attaining her tattoos was almost more fearful than Pacification. To come of age without one's markings was like having no name, no status. For once she was glad that her mother was not here, so that she wouldn't have to witness her daughter being denied not just her throne, but her very identity.

Her father had tried to reassure her that Kalmara was simply following law and looking out for her best interests. Better that Kalmara objected to the succession, her father argued, and made sure it was iron clad, than for one of the other queendoms to question it and force her from the throne. Though every queendom had the right to name their own ruler, the other queens had veto power in extreme circumstances. Not to mention they could also use their intricate political alliances with each other to make Indigo's rule difficult: barring or taxing trade, refusing to accept Alvareth's royal sons as bridegrooms. And her aunt had grown used to control in the ten seasons since Indigo's mother, the former queen, had died.

Thoughts of her mother and the canceled feast made Indigo think of the last time—the only other time—a Run Feast had been canceled. Another night when her world had changed irrevocably.

* * *

The knick caught her on the chin.

"Ow!"

"Your mind is at the ink master's tent, yes?" Kalmara pointed her blade at Indigo. "The sword is a jealous mistress—she demands utter concentration."

Indigo rubbed at the scratch. The sparring quadrangle was deserted, as everyone was at the Run feast or waiting to see the initiates come out of the ink master's with their new markings. "Do you think Azel's tattoos are finished?"

Kalmara attacked, forcing Indigo to raise her sword and parry several thrusts. "Focus, Indigo. A good fighter must always have a plan. The best ones plan at least five moves in advance." She lunged, landing a slap against Indigo's thigh. "If I come at you from the left, what am I trying to do?"

Indigo fended the upcoming blows, and panted, "Drive me to the right?"

Kalmara nodded. "Good. There's hope for you yet, Bobo."

Indigo grinned. Her aunt immediately swooped in, and with a deft flick of the wrist sent Indigo's sword flying to the grass.

"But remember: never let your guard down." Kalmara picked up the fallen weapon and held it out.

"Why do you only teach me?" Indigo asked. "Didn't Borla or Dorju want to learn?" She was proud that her aunt would train her at the sword, for everyone knew the Bird's reputation. She had no other students except Indigo, whose constant appeals for lessons had finally worn the Bird down. But Indigo suddenly wondered whether others hadn't pleaded just as hard.

Kalmara sheathed her blade. "I'm allowed to have a favorite niece, aren't I?"

"Borla says you don't teach them because you look down on them," Indigo said, frowning. "For what the fever did."

Kalmara sighed. "Aktu is cruel, Indigo. Cripples and mutes don't make rulers or sword wielders. Those two are better off learning other skills."

"But what about the story of the West Wind and the Sun? Strength isn't everything."

Her aunt laughed. "Your mother still tells you that fable?" She shook her head. "In this world, power comes from either a strong paw or a crown. Nothing else."

From the quadrangle markers, a cough cut into the conversation.

It was Borla. One look at her expression, and her self-consciously tucked arm, and Indigo knew her sister had heard everything. There was an awkward silence.

"Azel's nearly done," Borla said, quiet. "You coming, Indigo?"

Indigo nodded, confused and suddenly eager to get away from Kalmara. She hung up her practice sword on its customary rack, and hurried after Borla.

Her sister said nothing as they walked, and Indigo couldn't think of the right words to defend Kalmara or herself. They joined the milling throng outside the ink master's warren, finding their queen mother, Delamar, waiting with Dorju. Indigo's discomfort regarding Borla gave way to excitement. She had been imagining Azel's new markings with envy, wondering what her favorite sister would look like with the rich blue swirls covering her ears.

"Don't fidget, Bobo." Her mother's quiet voice forced her to stay still, even though she wanted to run into the ink master's warren and see the process for herself.

"Sorry, mama."

"It'll be your turn soon enough."

Indigo pouted. She and Azel had ten seasons between them—an eternity, as far as Indigo was concerned. But her mother always seemed able to read her mind, a trait that both awed and exasperated Indigo. Delamar was the longest ruling queen in living memory, and Indigo knew her own existence had been a small miracle—her mother having birthed her when most thought her well beyond her prime. Indigo forced away thoughts of the day her mother would go to Aktu. Her clan, her world, was safe as long as her mother was in it.

The flap to the ink master's abode parted, and Azel appeared, ears still wet and swollen. Indigo and her sisters swarmed her in an instant, jostling past the other initiates eagerly waiting their turn for the inking. All were full of words of praise, except Dorju, who hugged Azel in silent congratulations.

"They're beautiful!"

"Look at the detail!"

"Can I touch them?"

Queen Delamar waded in, admonishing her daughters. "The blood hasn't dried. You don't want to give your crown princess ill luck, do you?"

Azel smiled at their mother, proud yet shy at the same time, before catching Indigo's eye and winking. Despite the age difference, Indigo felt closest to her eldest sibling. Indigo's mother doted on her, but she didn't always have time for her children. Azel had brought Indigo under her wing, recognizing a kindred spirit. They both took after their mother: thick, unruly fur that looked like churned milk when brushed and oiled; the queen's graceful nose and majestic, wide ears. The similarities didn't stop at the physical, either: they both had stubborn wills, a fiery appetite for fighting, and an inflexible sense of justice.

They made their way, chattering and laughing, to the royal warren where Azel's patterning feast was already waiting. Indigo and her sisters rarely had a chance to dine with their mother and immediate family, but it was not every day the crown princess came of age. The mood had been joyous, festive.

It was the last time she had ever felt that way.