The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil Read online

  “What is it?” Shaelyn wrinkled her nose, confused by Aiva’s gesture.

  Lost in their own amusement, Calie and Aiva started to laugh. “The wager, silly,” Aiva smirked. “Are you in? Our father against Calie’s?”

  “General Cadell is more practiced. I prefer not to bet on something that isn’t a guarantee.”

  “You doubt our father? Traitorous,” Aiva gasped, playful in her manner. Her mother’s laughter mingled with theirs at Shaelyn’s expense, the three women ignoring the unpleasant pout they received in return. Shaelyn disliked being the focus of any jokes. Her reaction to it, however, only made the others enjoy taunting her more.

  “Your father will be crushed, Shae. Not a single coin in his honor,” Leyna shook her head, feigning disdain. She only managed to maintain her straight face for a few moments before Aiva and Calie burst into a fit of giggling. Seeing her daughter’s quivering lip, Leyna clasped her hand gently, squeezing it in her own. “Do not weep, child. What would your dear Lord Herryk think?”

  Shaelyn inhaled, appalled by the thought. Desperately she patted at her eyes. “You laugh now, Aiva. Just you wait. I will win your money when Herryk rides.”

  “I have no reason to bet on Kaemin. That wager will be for you and Calie.”

  A new wave of acclamations burst through the air at the General’s arrival, the hooves of his massive horse prancing in a display of control across the arena. He made his way toward them, giving a smile in Calie’s direction. At the end of the row Aiva took notice of Cadell’s wife. It was uncommon for her to be seen at the social events of court. Ever since Aiva could remember, she had detested public occasions, avoiding them under any circumstance. She was always a frail woman, which struck Aiva as odd, given the strength and stature of her husband. Her hair was a deep auburn, worn up tight in an elegant twist, a slight hint of grey at the roots. She clapped encouragingly for her husband, rising to her feet at his approach.

  Cadell was positively glowing as he brought his horse to a halt in front of them, lance extended to his wife. “My dear Valeska, I hope you are keeping watch on our young Calie. You know how she gets at these events. Try not to let her lose our entire savings on a single tournament.”

  “I have little control over what our daughter does,” Valeska smiled, the lines around her face deepening from the gesture. “She is a woman after your own heart. I am content to see her simply seated in the stands rather than trying to ride in the competition.”

  “Maybe next year,” Cadell grinned at Calie. His wife looked disconcerted for a moment before seeming to realize he spoke in jest. Hesitant, she joined in with the laughter, her slender fingers working to tie the ends of her lace handkerchief to the tip of Cadell’s lance. With a quick curtsy she sat down, anxious to divert the attention of the crowd back on her husband.

  Aiva was on her feet as the two men positioned themselves, lances at the ready. Her heart pounded in her chest. She didn’t blame her mother for being uneasy with the sport. Many times they had witnessed injuries, some severe, on this very field during tournaments of show. Her only comfort was in knowing that neither man would aim for the head. It was too dangerous. The chance of a lance slipping was too great and Tanispa couldn’t risk losing their King, or their General.

  The sound of the trumpet rang through her head. In a clamor of hoof-beats and armor, the men charged, lances lowered. With bated breath she watched the two cross, a sharp crack echoing through the list, wood splinters projecting in tiny fragments from amongst the action. Continuing past, the men slowed their pace, allowing Aiva to get a better look at the outcome. The King’s lance was shattered. The General’s remained intact.

  Her mother was on her feet, excited by the victory, while at the same time making no attempt to hide her relief at the display being completed. They cheered loudly from the stands, waving at Thade, offering their congratulations from across the arena. Turning around Aiva smiled at Calie, beckoning her to stand. “Do not be discouraged, Calie,” she chuckled. “You will win it back against my sister when Herryk and Kaemin ride.”

  Folding her arms across her chest Calie smirked. “I have no doubt on that one.”

  As the crowd began to calm, everyone returned to their seats for the next two competitors. Without the adrenaline of the first match, Aiva found the next few rounds boring. Lacking in any flash. The soldiers were strong enough, but there was nothing about either which made her feel the desire to stand up and cheer for them. Her heart warmed to see the King making his way through the stands, settling himself between Aiva and her mother.

  “Ah, I forgot how much more enjoyable the festivities are from this vantage,” he smiled, leaning in to give Leyna a gentle kiss. “You are lucky, dear. Cadell and I discussed the possibility of running the full three passes.”

  The Queen jutted her chin out, displeased with the notion. “Oh?” she raised her brow. “Had you done so, you would have finally had need of your private quarters this evening.”

  Thade chuckled to himself. Lightly running his fingertips along the side of Leyna’s face he coaxed a smile to her lips. “I behaved however,” he replied quietly. Oblivious to anyone else around who might overhear. “How could I risk upsetting you today, of all days? The celebration is in your honor, after all. You deserve all the attention I can possibly bestow upon you.”

  Averting her eyes, Aiva tried not to focus on her parents. It was a sickening display. She never ceased to be amazed at how two people could still be so madly in love with one another after almost fifty years of marriage. Five decades and five children later, they remained loyal. Attached to one another in a way that Aiva had never seen in any other couple at court. She envied it. While her grandmother spoke of sometimes having to sacrifice happiness for the good of their people, the King and Queen were the perfect example that it wasn’t always the case. They sacrificed throughout their lives, but in the end it worked out for them. They were happy. Part of her hoped that one day she might find someone with whom she could share such a bond, though looking out over the crowd – she saw nothing. None of the men were capable of catching her eye.

  At Shaelyn’s burst of excited shouts, Aiva let her mind drift back to the present, focused once again on the arena. To evoke a reaction of that extreme from her sister, it could only mean one thing. Lord Herryk was about to ride. Which would mean Calie’s beloved Kaemin would be entering the field as well.

  “My wager still stands, Shae. If you dare to accept it,” Calie stated, dangling a small indigo purse in front of Shaelyn’s face.

  Proudly, Shaelyn rose from her seat, nodding in challenge to Calie. “I take your coin and double it. Triple if Lord Kaemin is left on his back. Do you have enough faith in your man to rise to the challenge?”

  “Goodness, child,” Leyna laughed quietly. Raising her hand she motioned for Shaelyn to return to her seat, shaking her head in disapproval. “It is a game. Calm yourself.”

  “It is alright, Your Majesty. I will see her raise. May the best man win.” Rising to her feet, Calie called out at the sight of Kaemin riding into the arena. At his waist Aiva could see the delicate fabric of Calie’s favor dangling from his belt, his attention turned toward the royal family, saluting once to the King and Queen, followed by a sharp nod in recognition of Calie standing behind them.

  The two men took their places at the rail, visors lowered. Aiva jumped in surprise to feel Shaelyn’s hand clutch at hers. Fearful. A sudden look of doubt passing over her features. “I have changed my mind. I dislike this very much,” she whispered miserably in Aiva’s ear. “Why do men feel compelled to do these things?”

  “Relax, Shae. He will be fine.”

  Lightly patting her sister’s hand, Aiva stared out onto the field. In the first pass the men collided with incredible force, though it was Herryk whose lance shattered over the breastplate of his opponent. Rocked from the blow, Kaemin reset himself, returning to his squire in wait while Herryk retrieved a new lance. A trumpet signaled the start of the secon
d pass. Calie’s screams rang out over the rest of the crowd as Kaemin’s lance splintered against Herryk’s helmet. Herryk struggled to maintain his position atop the horse, Shaelyn’s cries of horror echoing through Aiva’s head until his horse came to a halt.

  The suspense was too much. On either side Aiva was overwhelmed by the shouts and cheers of her family. She didn’t know who to root for. Both men were close acquaintances of hers. It felt only fair to remain silent or applaud them both equally for a job well done. But there was still a third and final pass to be made. The score was in Kaemin’s favor. As long as he kept himself on his horse, there was a chance at victory. Or a tie. A neutral outcome would be best between Calie and Shaelyn. Aiva knew it might be too much to hope for.

  Nervous, she leaned forward, Shaelyn’s hand still clutching her own. With a final charge the men came forward. A loud crack swept through the air, both lances shattering.

  In her head she did a quick count of the scores. Kaemin’s second run had served him well. By a single point he was victorious over Herryk, leaving Calie in a wild state of excitement while Shaelyn flopped down in her seat, head leaned against Aiva’s shoulder, sobbing pathetically into the soft fabric of her gown.

  “It cannot be!” she wept. “Lord Herryk should have won.”

  “Now, now, Shae. It was a good match. And he stayed on his horse. It was an honorable show,” Aiva consoled, lightly brushing her fingers through Shaelyn’s hair. With a half-smile she caught her mother’s gaze, a knowing smile on the Queen’s face.

  As Kaemin and Herryk exited the lists, Aiva watched with interest as General Cadell made his way out into the center of the arena, motioning with his hands for the crowd to silence. “Ladies and Gentleman!” he shouted over the roar. “We have a very special show for you, in honor of our King and Queen – and myself, if I may say so.” Cadell chuckled to himself. “I have waited a long time for a chance to see this, and finally I have the pleasure to introduce our next match. A test of swordsmanship. If our two competitors will enter the field at this time!”

  Aiva smiled to see her brother make his way into the arena, hand raised to wave gallantly to the crowd. Intrigued by what was in store, she leaned over to her father, searching his face to see if he shared her confusion. “Father, what is Edric doing? I was not aware he would be participating in the tournament today.”

  “It was not part of the plan, I admit. Though a surprise guest made us decide to change the arrangement this morning. That is why the General and I chose to tilt lances rather than our usual duel.”

  Calie shifted forward in her seat. A devious smile was upon her lips once again, resting her elbows on Aiva’s shoulders. “Would you like one more chance at some of my coins before the tournament is over?”

  “How can I place a bet when I do not even know who the opponent is?” Aiva inquired, distracted by the increasing roar of the soldiers along the sidelines of the lists. A second figure was coming forward, clad in the same armor she’d seen the General wear in the past, though unlike Edric, his face was concealed. There was less showmanship in his entrance than Edric’s, turning to the crowd on either side of the lists with a sharp salute.

  Shaelyn’s muffled sobs ceased, her gaze centered on Edric, showing no signs of her previous distress. Like Aiva, she was equally confused by the presentation. After a moment of silence she whispered into Aiva’s ear, her voice barely audible. “Who is that?”

  “I do not know,” Aiva replied, absent, barely aware of Cadell leaving the arena to allow the two men the freedom to begin. It struck her as odd that the change to the show had slipped by her notice. She’d been present for most of the preparation arrangements. Could it really have been so last-minute?

  She watched her brother circle around his opponent. Whoever the man was, he was quite skilled. Aiva recognized his stance to be solid. Well-placed. His footwork was quick and agile. Any strike Edric attempted was easily deflected, parried to one side and countered without hesitation, forcing her brother to keep on his guard. At her side she could hear the King and Queen cheering for Edric, her mother shouting out critiques on her son’s movements, the advice lost in the sea of raucous applause and pounding of hands and feet.

  It was an impressive display, knowing her brother to be a well-trained swordsman under General Cadell himself. Any fighter with personal instruction by the General possessed incredible finesse with the blade. Edric’s opponent revealed no flaws in his technique. No holes in his guard to expose. Aiva feared her brother might be outclassed.

  Breath held in anticipation, she stared, mouth agape, muscles tensed as if she might somehow be able to add to Edric’s strength with her own if she channeled it hard enough. She hated not being in control of the sword during a match. In her mind she could see all the moves she would make. Any side-step or lunge that might prove effective, but the fighters never followed the trajectory in her thoughts. It was out of her hands and all she could do was hope.

  Calie called out encouragement for the Prince’s opponent, on her feet in the stands behind Aiva. The crowd was absolutely wild. Both men teetered back and forth between victory and defeat, always managing to regain their footing at the last second to deflect and counter, finding a more dominating position. Aiva feared her heart would burst from her chest if they didn’t end the match soon. “Come on, Edric!” she shouted, her voice drowned out amidst the others. Swept up in the excitement, she found herself on her feet, hands poised in front of her as if in prayer for her brother’s victory. The rush of the battle was exhilarating.

  Twisting and turning, the men continued their seemingly endless battle, neither showing sign of fatigue or strain. It was all a game to them. She could almost hear their laughter on the field with every clash of their practice swords, the blades designed to have the appearance of a real weapon while lacking any sharpness to the tip or firmness of the steel. Flexible. There was no danger of wounding one another. And yet the crowd roared as if the men dueled to the death.

  When the combatants finally came to a halt on the field, Aiva heard her own voice cry out in utter shock, aware only of the opponent’s blade coming to rest on Edric’s shoulder, inches from his neck. He paused, head tilted downward, drawing attention to Edric’s sword, the tip bent, having found its mark between stomach and chest. Fatal blows on either side. It was a draw.

  Relieved by the conclusion, she cheered, unsure of whether or not her praise was for her brother or the remarkable skill possessed by his adversary. It wasn’t every day she saw a display of such grace and power. Certainly worthy of a demonstration for the King and Queen. Deep down she felt a strong desire to challenge the man herself. It had been some time since she’d found a worthy opponent, other than her brother, though of late he was never available to practice. She worried her skill would diminish if she didn’t find a new means of honing it. But now was hardly the time. She wasn’t dressed for combat and it would be out of line for a lady to interrupt the festivities simply out of a misplaced desire to feel the rush of battle.

  General Cadell was making his way onto the field, face alight with pride. Edric unclasped his helmet to settle it under his arm, a charming smile over his lips, the crowd filled with women calling out to him from the stands. He was a handsome man. Aiva tended to overlook it at times. His features resembled their father’s in many ways. Angular in structure, though his eyes were a perfect mixture of his parents’, glowing with a brilliant combination of sapphire blue flecked with silver, like tiny diamonds shining from within. His usually well-combed hair was now a mass of black tangles atop his head, matted down from the sweat of the spar. Disheveled or not, the women were madly in love with him.

  Aiva leaned forward in her seat, arms resting on the rail, unable to tear her eyes away from the soldier standing to the right of the General. His face remained concealed. Through the clamor of the crowd she couldn’t make out anything Cadell was saying. Something about the military. A commander.

  When the man lifted his hands to the
base of his helmet, she could barely stand the suspense. The other soldiers hooted louder than before, banging their hands against the seats to create as much noise as they could muster. Aiva’s breath caught in her throat as the visor lifted. He bore a shocking resemblance to General Cadell, the bright umber flash of his eyes searching the crowd, coming to rest on Aiva. Quickly she lowered herself into her seat, hoping he would lose sight of her amongst the joyful ovation of the others.

  It couldn’t be. She hadn’t seen those eyes in years. Lost at the image of him there in the arena, she was amazed to see how much he’d changed. Callum Zerne. No longer was he the young boy she’d known as a child, chasing her through the garden with his wooden sword. He was very much a man now. There was a difference in the way he carried himself. Confident. Strong. A true soldier. And his ability with the sword had improved far beyond that which he’d possessed the day she defeated him in the palace courtyard. After the initial surprise to see him standing there, she found her heart filled with an uncharacteristic rage. How dare he! After all this time, to simply walk back into Sivaeria as if he belonged there, having made no attempts to contact her upon his return? And how long had he been back? Not a single visit? A letter?

  After he left for his training, his promises to write had been proven empty. Other than the occasional note to her brother Edric, Aiva had heard nothing of him. No news of his progress. He could have been killed at the hand of a pirate in Luquarr and she would never have known.

  “Aiva, are you alright?”

  Blinking her eyes dazedly she looked up to find Calie standing over her. “Oh, yes. I am fine.” She forced a smile, opening her slender fan to create a soft breeze over her flushed face. “A little too much excitement, I think. I felt a bit faint for a moment, but I am better now.”

  “Are you surprised? I wanted so badly to tell you but everyone wanted it to be such a secret.”