Kin of Kings (The Kin of Kings Book 1) (11 page)

“Yes, Mother.”

“I’m going to look like that one day,” Genoviva said. “And you as well, so long as we’re lucky enough to live that long. So you should heed what you say.”

Alabell tossed her hand. “Someone will discover an elixir that prevents aging long before
I’m
that old,” she joked.

“Someone already has. It’s called delusion. Unfortunately, it doesn’t run in our bloodline.”

Alabell chuckled with her mother as they left for their next task. Genoviva would be especially busy with the new year beginning at the Academy. She had many meetings with the king’s liaison to discuss what the chemist instructors at the school would be covering, and she would need to keep up with any new potions the instructors or students invented. Alabell was to be at every meeting.

Since the recent addition of the legendary caregelow plant to the Academy’s garden, many old recipes had to be tested. They were written lifetimes ago, long before the caregelow plant was thought to have become extinct. Now that it was being cultivated again, potions created from caregelow were of the highest value. But Alabell knew their value wouldn’t last as more plants grew, which was why she felt little guilt about giving one to Basen to sell.

Whenever her route took her near the front of the castle, as it did now while she followed her mother, she liked to see who was trying to get inside. There was almost always at least one person being denied entrance, and Alabell often found a way to help them if she thought their request to be reasonable.

Because of these constant visitors, the swordsmen and bowmen guarding the gate had always had more entertainment than the guards inside the castle. But after the recent war, most guards were content with any position that didn’t involve removing their sword from its sheath.

She saw the same man waiting outside who’d been there an hour earlier. He looked to be in his fifties or sixties, a poor man in clothing that might come apart during a desperately needed washing.

“I’ll join your meeting in a moment,” Alabell told her mother.

Genoviva peered out the open door of the castle to see what had taken Alabell’s interest. Her mouth took on a warm smile. “Just try not to make the guards feel too subordinate when you help this one. And remember that you—”

“I won’t have time to do this when I have your job,” Alabell broke in. “I know. I remember all lessons you give me, not just the ones about healing.”

Genoviva nodded and walked away while Alabell exited the castle. She knew the guards were displeased to see her, though they masked it well as they lowered their heads in humble greeting. She wished each of them a good morning, using their names in hopes of showing them she didn’t think she was any better than they were. Then she approached the impoverished man.

“Would you mind telling me what you seek by being here? I might be able to help.”

He bowed. “I’m looking for employment. I would like to speak with the king about serving him as an army strategist.” Although he looked as if he’d just stumbled off the street, his voice demanded respect as if he were a noble. “I could prove how qualified I am if I could just speak with King Kerr.”

Even being the king’s great-niece, Alabell couldn’t drag this vagrant in front of him on a whim. “I might be able to speak to him on your behalf and a meeting could be set up, but—and I don’t mean to be rude—can you tell me who you are and why it appears you’ve been wearing the same clothes for a while?”

His eyes took on a twinkle of hope. “My name is Henry Hiller, the brother of Tegry Hiller.” He raised a palm. “But I despised my brother before he died. I have no allegiance to him or Tenred.”

She showed him her warmest smile. “I met your son, Basen, two days ago.”

Shock struck his face. “You must be Alabell Kerr!” He bowed again but low this time, almost to the point of falling over. “You’ve already done so much for our family. I couldn’t possibly ask you for more.”

“There’s no need to speak of it when I’m happy to help. May I ask, however, if your experience as an army strategist comes from providing your counsel to Tegry Hiller during the recent war?”

“Yes, because I thought my first son was killed by your king, Welson Kimard. But when the truth came out about him being my brother’s child, and I was exiled with my second-born, my allegiance to my family and territory disappeared.”

“I may be able to set up a meeting between you and the king, but you will need to be questioned by psychics first.”

“That is no trouble to me, Miss Kerr.”

“You’ll also need fresh clothing. It’s nothing personal to you. We simply need to uphold certain standards for our guests.”

“It’s no insult. I didn’t want to spend the leftover money from your potion on anything but food and shelter until I was certain it was necessary. I will visit the tailor. Is there anything else?”

Fortunately, he’d already washed his hair and shaved. She wouldn’t have felt comfortable suggesting such a thing to anyone, no matter his status.

“That’s all,” she said happily. “When you return, give the guards your name and they’ll have someone fetch me. It might take a moment if I’m involved with something, and I may need some time before I can arrange the meeting with King Kerr. Do you have enough money for food and shelter after you buy clothes?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I can’t promise employment to you, though, just that I’ll do what I can. Now that your son has been accepted to the Academy, suspicions about your loyalty should be diminished. Make sure to mention that in the future and it might help.”

“I understand, and I wish I could do more to thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Alabell was beaming as she returned to the guards at the front of the castle. She was grateful she had enough sway to be able to help people like Basen and his father. Even if it did mean the guards sometimes glowered at her.

“What did you tell that man?” one asked.

She explained the situation in a way that showed very little would be required of them, and by the time she finished, they weren’t too displeased. She looked over her shoulder one last time before stepping inside, but what she saw stopped her.

A young woman with nearly white hair seemed to be charged with a crime. She was surrounded by a swarm of guardsmen and chained at the wrists as if she was dangerous. She seemed embarrassed by the stares of everyone around her, ducking down and looking without turning her head. It must’ve been a shameful walk through the capital to get to the center of the city where the castle stood.

Alabell moved out of their way and then followed behind the guards as they took this slight woman inside, up the stairs, and deeper into the castle.

A messenger must’ve been sent in advance, for the king was waiting to see her along with all four of the castle’s psychics. Alabell watched from the doorway of the throne room.

“Has she been checked for weapons?” Kerr asked.

“Yes, sire,” one man replied.

“There must’ve been a mistake,” the young woman said. “I would never do harm to Kyrro, you, or the Academy.”

“I’m told that our strongest psychic, Reela Worender, says otherwise.” Kerr’s tone was compassionate. “And you were questioned by another psychic who agreed with Reela’s assessment. If you don’t intend to do harm, then tell me, do you have feelings of anger that the psychics might’ve sensed?”

“I don’t. I have no reason to feel anything but pride about my territory and the Academy. From what I’ve heard about you, sire, I think you are a good king. I certainly have no intentions of doing harm to you or standing against you. The thought is absurd!”

Kerr looked to his psychics, two men and two women who had graduated from the Academy in the last five years. Alabell, like many others, didn’t feel too comfortable around psychics, so she’d befriended none of them, but she still knew much about them. They were only to speak when they’d detected the accused had lied, and none did.

Kerr looked to the swarm of guards next. “How can she be telling the truth now yet be sent here as a traitor?”

None offered an answer.

“Fetch me a transcript of the questions asked of her at Redfield,” demanded the king.

Alabell came forward. “I know them, sire. Would you like me to recite them?”

“Ah, I didn’t see you behind everyone, Alabell. Of course you would know them from your time at the Academy. Yes, come forward and ask them for Annah Varra to answer.”

Alabell actually wouldn’t have remembered the questions from her time at the Academy, but she had seen them listed in Liaison Wilfre’s notes during meetings between him and her mother. Alabell had been forced to answer them at the Academy with everyone else after spies were discovered, and then once more upon graduation to ensure she hadn’t changed loyalty. It was a relief when every student and instructor passed. The year had been especially difficult for her, and she wasn’t sure she could have handled any more betrayal.

So it saddened her now to see a possible traitor before her. Like many of her father’s councilmen, she feared rebellions were in the making. There was no evidence, not even a hint of turmoil to give her this idea, yet still she couldn’t rid it from her mind.

She gave the questions to Annah, who answered emotionally as if it pained her to have her loyalty questioned. Her eyes pleaded for her words to be believed, and Alabell dearly hoped it wasn’t an act. Information would be tortured out of the woman—anything they could get about a rebellion.

Fortunately, all psychics were in agreement that Annah told the truth with each answer, giving Alabell great relief.

“Remove her chains,” Kerr ordered, “and bring Reela Worender here. She will ask Annah the questions once again in front of my psychics so we can figure out what has happened for there to be a discrepancy. I’m sorry, Annah, but you’ll have to stay here under guard until this is resolved. Reela should be here by nightfall.”

Annah fell to her knees and wept with obvious relief. “I knew there was some mistake. Thank you, sire.”

CHAPTER NINE

When the first day of evaluation week came to an end, Cleve had won all of his duels without letting his opponents score once. Part of him was proud, but he felt angry as well. Sanya was in the opposite position—she hadn’t scored once, and how could she? She was forced to face the most skilled swordsmen in the school. The opponents chosen for her could stand against the best in the world. Terren would hear about Warrior Sneary’s unjust treatment toward the woman.

Cleve knocked on the door to his uncle’s house at the northwestern corner of the campus, where he had lived with Terren for years before he was old enough to apply to the Academy. Fond memories of training with Terren came back whenever Cleve visited, but he let them out of his mind at the moment to retain his anger.

“Cleve, good. Come in.”

He took one step inside and then stopped when he saw Sneary sitting at Terren’s circular dining table.

Sneary gestured at one of the two empty seats near him as if he’d been expecting Cleve.

“Sit.” Terren punctuated his one word with a gesture of his own and took the seat beside the last empty chair so Cleve would be between them.

He took his place and glared at Sneary.

“Say what’s on your mind,” Terren encouraged.

“It’s not fair to Sanya to make her duel men who’ve beaten Krepps. She’s still a first-year who is yet to be trained at the Academy. It doesn’t matter that she’s a woman.”

“It does matter that she’s a woman,” Terren answered, drawing Cleve’s gaze away from Sneary. “Her gender is the sole reason I told Sneary to pit her against the best.”

A sharp feeling of betrayal made Cleve stand. “You did this?”

Terren folded his arms and gave a look for Cleve to sit back down. He bundled his anger and buried it for the moment as he complied.

“Why treat her unfairly because of her gender?” This was so unlike his uncle that Cleve felt as if he were looking at a different man.

“She needs to be treated harshly during evaluation week, otherwise the rest of the year will be a terrible surprise…if she stays. She needs to see what her experience will be like as the one woman wielding a sword. Her acceptance hasn’t yet been granted, and it won’t be until she proves to be extraordinary.”

“Everyone else just needs to prove they’re capable of keeping up with the rest of the students here. Why make it different for her?”

“New precedents can’t be set by ordinary people, only the extraordinary. This isn’t a rule I created; it’s the way things are. Think about what Reela’s brother, Rek, did for psyche because of his extraordinary talent. If he had been of equal skill with the other psychics in Kyrro, psyche wouldn’t be at the level it is now. The novice psychics of today would still be considered master psychics as they were before Rek showed us the true capabilities of psyche.

“It needs to be the same with the first woman warrior to join the Academy. It would work against women if Sanya was placed into one of the middle groups after evaluation week. All this would do is prove what’s already widely believed, that men are superior in melee combat. The first woman needs to demonstrate that she can beat the most skilled opponent, man or woman. It’s the only way to show that women are truly capable of competing with the best—and the only way for them to earn respect. If Sanya is not this woman she’ll need to leave the Academy, and we’ll try again when the right woman comes along.”