Fantasy of Flight (24 page)

“Hello,” I say stupidly. There is silence and then Sanjay laughs.

“If you could look sheepish with a veil on, I reckon you’re doing it.” His comment breaks the tension and I join in the laughter.

Fiona hugs me and Sadra hugs me again. Adnan, Malir and Roman greet me and Rhone raises his brow, which I ignore and pull him into a hug. I worry the raised eyebrow may be a challenge of sorts. I’m still uncertain if Rhone has connected me with Frost.

Jacquiline stands and walks off before I reach her. Roman apologizes and trails after her while I give Sanjay a punch on the arm.

“You’ve been gone for months! Where did you disappear to? We were all looking for you. And what are you wearing?” Sanjay blurts out.

“You shouldn’t hold all that in, Sanjay. It can’t be good for you,” I say and the others laugh. I successfully dodge his questions. Adnan is looking at my suit with interest. No doubt he’s is wondering what kind of material it is. He’s probably already thinking of all the things he could make with it. I hadn’t thought about my apparel sparking unwanted interest. In reality, I didn’t have anything to change into anyway.

“And I’m sincerely sorry for deceiving you all. It wasn’t my intent to be away for more than a few days. There were things I needed to do, but you don’t deserve the worry I’ve caused. I hope you will accept my apology in time,” I say with a bow.

Malir clears his throat. “About that. We’ll be having a long chat about how you managed to evade the Watch on your way out.” I duck my head.

As long as it’s not a long chat about how I saved his life in the dome. The King must have given Malir an earful when I disappeared. Sadra smiles at Malir and slips a hand into his.

“Sorry,” I repeat.

Sanjay snorts. “Whatever you guys say. I think it’s hilarious. A tiny slip of a girl, and she had us all running in circles for months.”

Fiona lays a hand on his arm. “Are you pretending you weren’t as worried as the rest of us?” she asks.

His neck reddens and the others laugh at his discomfort. My own laughter catches in my throat. I hadn’t realized how much I missed these people. Even after I tricked them all and ran away, they’re willing to put it behind them. Just like that. Well, except Jacquiline. I wonder why she is so angry. I suppose she’s taken the betrayal more personally than the rest.

“I’d like to talk more, but I must return to my brother. I don’t wish to leave him alone in case he wakes again,” I say.

“He woke up?” Sadra asks, standing. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I stand aside as she brushes past and I scramble to catch up - Malir’s deep chuckle ringing behind me.

Sadra reports Olandon’s heart is stronger and his skin a healthier color. She says he’ll be in bed for a few weeks to regain his strength. And even then he’ll need exercise to regain his muscle. She mentions there may be some permanent effects on his health. I’m just happy he’ll live.

“How do you know you aren’t just exhausting yourself more?” I ask Olandon. He’s eager to get out of the room and has decided to speed his recovery by doing exercises in bed.  He’s staying awake longer now. And can stand while I help him wash.

“It has to be done eventually,” he grunts, sliding a heel back and forward under the furs. Every day that his face fills out a little more is a good day for me.

“I want you to get so fat I can’t see any of your ribs and you have three chins,” I say. He laughs.

“You want me to look like Satum Ofrid,” he asks.

I grimace. I didn’t like the Satum of Treasury back on Osolis at all. “Maybe only two chins.”

“I’ll be needing breakfast then,” he says. I leave for the food hall, heart warm at hearing him laugh.

“Brother, we need to talk─”

His jaw sets and he glances away. I wait for the reply I know won’t come. It is not the first time I’ve asked.

I sigh and let it go for now. “I’ll go get you some food.”

I get the normal anxiety as I enter the crowded room. It’s been two weeks and Jovan still hasn’t spoken a word to me. He doesn’t even look at me. Well, I wouldn’t know if he
did
look at me because I’m determined to not look at him. Soon after my first appearance to get food, three sets of clothing were brought to the chamber. Fiona said it wasn’t her this time. I wonder if Jovan ordered it. At least I came back as the Tatuma and had the veil across my face. I don’t know if I could have come back as Frost. I couldn’t have trusted my expression around the King.

I wave to the delegates and get a few waves back. I’m glad things with them are slowly returning to normal. I go to the food tables, and walk down to the end to stare at the empty platter, which usually holds my pears. Who’s eaten them all? No one ever eats the pears! Is this some kind of revenge from Jovan?

I groan and roll my shoulders, moving my head back in a circle to work out some stiffness from caring for Olandon.

I don’t know what makes me look back. Perhaps it’s the twinkle as light hits the arrowhead.

It takes another second for my mind to believe what I’m seeing is real.

That there really is an archer high up in the rafters. His bow is drawn. I haven’t even had time to feel horrified as I follow his line of sight to arrow’s target.

I throw the solid platter at the same time I scream his name.

His intended target shies away from the platter hurling toward him and in some bizarre twist of luck the arrow glances off the platter and embeds in the wall behind him.

Ashawn clutches his head where the platter has struck him. The others at the Throne table are gaping at me in disbelief. Most don’t know what’s happened.

“Don’t let him escape!” Jovan roars, pointing up at the archer, who must be a little shocked because the tall, thin, unknown man hasn’t moved. I jump onto the Throne platform and wrench the arrow out of the wall.

Hands shaking, I pull Kedrick’s arrow from my boot and hold them side by side. I don’t really need to compare them. I have Kedrick’s arrow memorized.

The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Everything is in slow motion. But in the same instance my awareness is moving too rapidly for comfort. 

The arrows are the same. Finally, I’ve found its match.

A roaring builds in my ears. The rage I thought dried up and gone, billows up from somewhere deep within me, in a fury so hot it must blister my insides. The arrows fall from my grip as I launch off the platform after the assassin.

I always thought I would kill the person with Kedrick’s arrow. That it would serve as poetic justice. But the arrow will only slow me down. I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.

I’m lifted and slammed down onto my back.

Jovan hovers over me. “You’re not going after him,” he says, breathing hard.

“Jovan, you better get the fuck off me, right now. The arrow is the same! That man killed Kedrick,” I whisper harshly. I want to scream the words, but he’s crushing me. He can’t know, or he wouldn’t hold me back. Once he realizes, he’ll let me go.

He pins me down and grabs my chin with his other hand. His eyes don’t look like they should. There is no anger in them. There is…fear?

“No,” he says in soft voice. I struggle in his grasp in earnest. He barely manages to hold me down as I throw every move in my arsenal at him. I know too much time has passed now for me to find the archer. But I still thrash side to side to throw him off.

“Excuse me, my King?” someone says.

“What?” he snaps over his shoulder.

“I’ve gathered my initial report. None of the sentries saw the assassin enter or exit. I’ve doubled the Watch outside and placed guards on the rooftop.” Malir gives his curt report. “At this stage it looks like he has disappeared.” Gasps sound from the assembly.

A despairing cry leaves my mouth. The fight leaves me and useless tears fall down my cheeks as I slump, defeated. The dark-haired assassin has slipped between my fingers yet again. And it is Jovan’s fault.

“Is it possible he’s still in the castle?” he demands. “The man wasn’t one of ours. I didn’t recognize him.” I hear the man’s negative reply. I push against Jovan again and he sits back on his heels and finally lets me up. The Watchman runs off and the King finally turns toward me, still on his knees - the perfect height.

I punch him in the face as hard as I can. I hear several people coming up behind me as the hall explodes into angry shouting. Jovan holds up a hand, working his jaw back and forward.

My throat is torn, and when I do speak it’s a hoarse whisper. “You let your brother’s murderer get away. How could you do that?” He doesn’t answer. “How could you do that to
me?”
My voice is so raspy the words barely sound.

I look at him, kneeling in front of me, gazing steadily at where he judges my eyes to be, and I hate him.

I pace inside the room for the next couple of hours, thankful Olandon is asleep or he’d demand to know what happened. I long for the punching bag in the barracks. Jovan stopped me. Why? He knows
I can take care of myself.

Is that what his problem was? He didn’t want me to reveal my fighting abilities. For people to realize I was Frost. And he deserved that punch. I ignore the pangs of guilt. I wasn’t going to feel bad about it. And the man was a stranger! I didn’t recognize him at all. The sole blessing in this was the delegates were cleared of guilt.

I never want to go to the food hall again, but the four Watchmen who come to our door have other plans. Everyone is to sleep in the food hall until the castle has been swept properly. No one else even left the hall. I point out the assassination attempt happened where we’re intended to sleep. I’m assured Watchmen have been placed on the roof and the area is secure. They also inform me the King thought I might need some help with Olandon. I laugh bitterly as I collect a few things. Of course he wants to help now, when it’s too late.

The Watch wait outside while I help Olandon dress. The four men come in and two gather up our bedding while the others offer my brother aid. He brushes them off. Sighing, I pass the pitchers to one of the men, and slip an arm around him. He relaxes some of his weight onto me and I laugh quietly at his pride. He chuckles with me after a delay.

It takes a long time to get my brother down the stairs. When we get to the archway I make a questioning sound and he nods. I wait until he proves he can stand himself and then lead the way into the hall.

People avoid me with their best efforts. I haven’t felt this since I last walked through one of the villages on Osolis. But once again the people are treating me like I have some kind of disease they’ll catch. No one hits their King and gets away with it. This time I earned it.

The Watchmen direct us up to the Throne platform and set up our furs in one corner. I look at Olandon and see he’s sweating with the effort of remaining upright. Pride is an understandable thing. It has its place, as long as you can see past it. I’m about to help him down when someone brushes past me. Ashawn lowers my brother, ignoring Olandon’s protesting hands, and then stands, turning to face me.

He glances around us and behind him at my brother, who appears to have fainted. Then he kneels in front of me and takes my hand in his. “I am so incredibly sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I thought it was you who killed my brother.” His grip borders on painful. “But you saved me. After everything I’ve done, you save me. I don’t deserve it,” he says in a flustered rush.

“I forgive you,” I say and squeeze his fingers before trying to tug free.

“No, you don’t understand,” he says. “My grief blinded me. He was my best friend and my only excuse is that I just could not bear it. I paid some men—”

I slap a hand over his mouth, perhaps too firmly. “I know what you did.” I stare at him until his eyes widen and I see he understands. “And I forgive you. We all make mistakes and although yours was a bigger mistake than most, it seems you have learned your lesson.”

He sits back on the platform edge. “You are more compassionate than I would be,” he says finally. “How long have you known?”

I shrug. “Kedrick always said he thought we would be friends. I like to respect his memory when I can. But I have also spent enough time with young men,” I look down at my brother, “to recognize when one has lost their way. And I would imagine nothing I say now could make you feel as bad as you already do.” I ignore his second question. Ashawn blinks rapidly. Tears. He’s blinking back tears. It seems to be the theme of the evening.

“There is one thing I would ask,” I add quickly, eager to finish and leave him to lick his wounds.

I choose my words with care. “Keeping company with thugs, or even hiring them is a slippery slope. I need you to promise me you’ll get off this slippery slope immediately, and that you’ll never have anyone beaten again.” I look at Ashawn for the expected promise, but he’s looking over my shoulder, his expression horrified.

“What. Did you just say?” The soft, dangerous voice sounds behind me. I dart a look at Ashawn. How much did Jovan overhear? I open my mouth to speak, but Ashawn beats me to it.

“I hired thugs to have the Tatuma beaten when we were in the Third Sector,” he blurts. I turn around to assess how bad the fallout is going to be. And it’s bad. Jovan is trembling with suppressed rage. His jaw is bruising where I hit him earlier. I step in front of his brother.

Ashawn continues, speaking over my head. “Then I hired more thugs to silence the first thugs. But I didn’t know they were going to cut out their tongues,” he says. I look up at him and see genuine remorse in his eyes. How did he think the thugs would silence them?  I look between the two men. One ferocious and one frantic. This is going downhill, fast.

I step up to Jovan with both hands raised, casting aside my lingering anger towards him for now. “Ashawn made a mistake,” I start.

“A mistake?” he hisses. “He broke your ribs, had you kicked in the back over and over again. He gave you so many hits to the face, it’s a wonder you didn’t die.”

“It wasn’t him,” I say weakly.

“It might as well have been. I swore to bring the pig who did it to justice!” he yells, control gone. The room hushes. I watch as he struggles to regain control. I’ve never seen him this furious. He puts on some semblance of a blank face and glares around him until the bustle halfheartedly resumes.

“Ashawn is your brother. The only one you have left,” I say quietly.

“And yet he has not acted with human decency. He thinks himself immune to my laws.”

“I will accept my punishment, whatever it is,” Ashawn says quietly. Jovan closes the gap in an instant, his expression wild.

“Jovan. Stop!” I shout. He turns his livid gaze on me. I hold my ground.

“Why are you defending him?” he asks. “Do you not see how twisted that is? Or did your mother beat you so much you enjoy having the shit kicked out of you?”

I inhale sharply at his words, staggering back like he’s hit me. I look behind me at Ashawn who is looking at me with wide eyes. He heard. He knows now, too.

“Ashawn might have hurt me physically, but you’ve hurt me much more with your words,” I say. “You deserved that punch after all.”

His face drains of color. “I’m sorry. I was just—”

I turn away from him, both of them, and stride into the meeting room near the Throne platform. I close the door quietly behind me and burst into tears.

I return when everyone is sleeping and wake my brother to feed him before lying down to sleep with my back to the Throne platform.

I wake three more times during the night to feed Olandon. Greta, who has positioned herself nearby helps me to sit him up each time.

I’m woken by the bustle and murmur of people moving the next morning. I would like nothing more than to melt away and continue sleeping. I feel wrung out after the emotional overload yesterday. I can already tell it’s going to be one of those days when I feel like I’ve failed everyone. Kedrick first and foremost.

The castle help is setting up the food tables. I check my veil and freshly braid my hair beneath it. I leave my brother to sleep and fold up my furs, ignoring the Throne table. I can see Jovan’s boots next to me. I can feel him watching me.

“Landon,” I call, shaking him awake. His fist flies straight into the air and I barely move my head in time.

“Veni. Lina! I’m sorry,” he mutters, rubbing his hands over his face. There are dark rings under his eyes and I know this disruption in his sleep hasn’t been healthy for him.

“Starvation hasn’t dulled your reflexes, I see,” I say. He smiles and rolls to the side. I fold his blankets and two watchmen come and take our bedding from us.

“Does this happen often?” he asks, looking around with narrowed eyes as the assembly grows louder and louder. Tables are brought in from the main hallway for breakfast.

“It’s the first time I’ve slept in the hall since I got here. It’s the first assassination attempt since I got here, too. But if you’re asking if they’re always this loud, then no.”

Relief washes over his face. I let him keep it for a moment.

“They’re usually much louder,” I add, laughing as he jerks in horror.

The tables are brought in and I guide Olandon over to my friends. I worry about what the reception will be after my fight with Jovan. But they’re as friendly as ever. I guess they, more than anyone here, know how Kedrick’s death affected me. The hairs on the back of my neck let me know Jovan is still watching me. I sigh, wishing I could take back so many things. That everything between me and him could be as it was before. I’ll take an argument over this awkward mess any day.

“This is my brother, Olandon,” I say for the benefit of the females. The delegates murmur their hellos. Everyone, barring Rhone, is present. Sanjay has a sly grin on his face, which makes me a bit uneasy.

Olandon moves over to Sadra and bows to her. “You have helped bring me back to health. I thank you.” He moves back to sit beside me. Sadra blushes. In fact, many of the females are noting my brother with interest, now he was only a quarter starved. They should wait until he’s not hungry at all. I doubt they’d be able to restrain themselves, if this reaction was anything to go by.

Malir, reliable as ever, asks after his health.

“The Tatuma has looked after me very well,” Olandon replies. I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Everyone at this table calls me Olina,” I say. My brother’s mouth drops open. I almost laugh, but a twinge of embarrassment stops me.

“They…all do?” he stutters. I nod, my discomfort growing.  Letting so many people drop my title would be considered shocking on Osolis. It would show people I thought myself cheap and imply I had several lovers. Here it’s as normal as the cold weather.

“There is also a couple at that table,” I point to Tomi and a few of the other delegates. “And the King and the older man on his right,” I say, pointing to Roscoe. I scan the table while I have the excuse to look that way. Ashawn is nowhere to be seen. I wonder if Jovan’s bruise is worse. I can’t see with the veil on.