[2016] The Bride Trials Read online

  There was a tap on her window. Keyla quickly palmed the blades so they were out of view. She cautiously approached the open window and looked out. There was a rolled up paper in the flower box. Keyla put her blades away.

  Finally, her assignment! She grabbed the note and opened it. The paper lit up and a blue beam of light quickly scanned her face. After a beep, a map of the city appeared. A star marking the location she was to be at by ten for the delivery shone at a gate on the other side of the City. She barely had time to process the information before additional instructions indicating the path and stops along the way popped up.

  Three left turns, two rights before pickup, one ‘s’ formation and a ‘u’ for drop off. Lots of almost circles to avoid guard rotations.

  But the most surprising bit of information was her emergency contact, Officer Emre Murtle. What? The text disappeared and it looked like a normal blank sheet of paper. She pressed the upper corner and flung it outside. Only ash hit the ground.

  A knock sounded at her door before it popped open. Lady Plume entered. Her remaining hair was twisted and twirled around her head so that the burned spot was completely covered. “Lord Plume and I are leaving for the dinner. Mr. Nit is returning home. Scrub the kitchen and bathrooms while we are gone. As there isn’t enough time for a proper disciplining, no dinner for you. The pantry and fridge are locked.”

  Lady Plume twirled on her heel and left. The kitchen and bathrooms were already spotless, so Keyla waited in her room until the sun was just passing below the horizon. Dressed in the scuffed boots she’d arrived in, she wore the darkest clothes she could find, a long sleeved green sweater and black dress pants. They were fancier than she would have liked, but they would do. She slipped the invitation from Emre into her pocket, maybe if there was time she’d stop by the dinner on her way back. The route she’d been given would take her close enough to it. Her pick-up was only a couple streets over. It should be late enough by then that the Plumes would be home. A brief appearance there would be a good alibi in case the Plumes discovered she’d left the house.

  Although if they saw her there, she’d get an extra beating. Keyla opened her window and slipped out onto the window sill. This was it, her first mission and chance to prove herself. She jumped down into the flower bed before turning back to the window. She left it open just enough so that she would be able to get back inside on her return without using a door.

  The shadows were just long enough for her to creep down the road by the closed bakery. It still perfumed the air with its tempting promises of fresh pastries. She ignored the growl in her stomach and took the first left.

  After the second right Keyla hurried to the book store on her map. The instructions said to wait for five minutes behind the store before retrieving the message. Retrieve it too soon and the guards would be passing by and hear the scrape of the brick. Too slow and the guards would see her before she would be able to move on.

  “One, two, three, four, five,” she whispered as she counted the bricks from the bottom and the right side of the back wall. There, in a crack, was a paper folded up so that it was no longer than her pinky.

  She clutched it tightly in her hand and ran towards the next street with its barely functional buildings of trade. Step three, she thought: ‘s’ formation, then the ‘u’. Drop off point behind rusted fence post.

  A flash of light loomed ahead of her. She spotted an opening to her right and dashed down it. She squeezed behind a dumpster. “Figures we get patrolling instead of the fancy dinner.” One voice said. The voice was low and whiney.

  “I don’t want to be anywhere near the Lords and Ladies thinking we’re their personal errand boys. Let the servants serve the drinks.” The second bored voice responded.

  Keyla’s heart beat like a hummingbird inside her chest. Guards! Amid slimy cabbages, and other rotted garbage that was no longer recognizable she tried to blend further into the shadows. Rats happily squeaked across their treasures. Keyla was grateful they ignored her presence.

  The guards’ voices faded into the distance, and she poked her head out from behind the dumpster. A sign on a door read, Cabbage Ration, everyone gets their share.

  From the looks of things, the cabbage wasn’t worth rationing. Like every city and town she’d been to, the grocery store with its under-stocked shelves was limited by the king, only allowing enough food to keep the city residents from death’s door. Much of the food was rotted before it could be distributed, but the upper class like the Plumes continued to receive the best of it first.

  Holding her breath to ignore the smell as much as possible, Keyla stepped out from behind the dumpster and froze. Fire Elementals dressed in a scarlet color, the two guards moved down the street without a glance in her or the dumpster’s direction. She let out a sigh of relief when they passed without seeing her. That was too close.

  A loud scream broke through her thoughts. Keyla turned towards the sound’s source. A young boy ran past the alleyway, up the street. He was followed closely by the guards dressed in red. Tripping over his untied shoes, the boy screamed again as he tumbled to the ground. Blinding red light from the guards shot towards the boy. The smell of burning flesh reached Keyla as the light stopped. Nothing but ash remained of the boy.

  The guards walked towards the ash. One of them elbowed another before saying, “We sure got him good.” Then the two guards continued walking.

  The night became eerily quiet as the footsteps faded. The note in her hand began to vibrate. Letters appeared in a bold red print. ABORT. She pressed the corner and flung it away.

  A loud squeak to her right made her jump. A sad excuse for a rat stared at her from atop a cabbage. I hate rats! She tried to shoo him with her foot and accidently kicked a can. Keyla froze. The road was sloped just enough that the can rolled all the way down and towards where the boy died. “Over there!”

  The shout came from around the corner. Keyla ran in the opposite direction from the voice.

  “Runner, call for assistance!” The voice yelled behind her. As she ran, she took the first right, then left and another right. Each turn adding a little distance between her and the guards behind her as they had to stop and look to see which way she went. She rounded another turn and found a set of stairs to hide under.

  Trying to calm her breath, Keyla counted silently as she had been trained with each intake and exhale. After counting about ten times, the thumping started to slow, one-two-three. Her lungs slowed to a more normal speed, and the thudding in her ears began to dim. Somewhere in the distance she could hear music and laughter.

  No running footsteps or guards shouting. Keyla felt the tension in her shoulders ease a little. Gravel crunched under her feet as she shifted her weight to peer at her surroundings, trying to see where she was. No idea. She needed a sign or something so that she could get her bearings. A loud scuff on the pavement drew Keyla’s attention. Gazing toward the end of the alley opposite of the one she had entered, she saw another patrol pass the opening. This time they were dressed in blue. Water elementals.

  Suddenly, the heat was sucked out of the air around her. Seeing puffs of white where her breath met the darkness, her eyes widened. Her skin prickled as cold seeped through her long sleeved sweater despite the summer season.

  She held her breath, praying that the stairs provided enough cover in the night to hide her. Her legs burned from crouching for so long. She could feel her feet trying to slip out from under her. Clutching the bricks behind her to try and keep herself upright, she hissed when her hand slipped. Cuts crisscrossed across her palm.

  Five more guards moved slowly into her line of sight, watching every direction as they moved out of sight past the alleyway entrance.

  “Are you sure it was a person?” One of them said. “It could have been a dog picking through the garbage.”

  “I know what I saw,” another said. “Five more minutes, and we’re going back to the party. We need to escort the Heir to the dinner around the corner soon. His
detail will be here any minute.”

  Somehow she had to get back to her caretakers’ house. Emre and the dinner are closer though. Several minutes passed without sound or sign of guards, only the music floating through the air from the party. As she moved out from her hiding spot and to the front of the stairs, her pant leg caught on a rough section of wood. Keyla cursed and started to bend down to pull it free.

  The door to the building opened, showering her in light.

  “Let’s go, before the Viscount thinks me rude for being late.”

  Keyla looked up into blue eyes, clear like a summer sky. So that’s what the Heir’s eyes look like. He glanced behind her and before she could fully turn to see what he saw, he tackled her to the ground. A loud sound crackled above them and she tried to breathe.

  Her lungs burned in their need to take a deep breath. The weight of the man on top of her barely allowed her to take shallow breaths of air. Gravel bit into the tender skin of her face.

  Several voices shouted.

  “Sire, are you alright?”

  The low honeyed voice of the Heir responded. “I’m fine. Take her to a room for holding. No one in or out.”

  The pressure lifted off of her, and Keyla sucked in a large breath. Dust lodged itself at the back of her throat, causing her to cough. Her arms were jerked behind her in order to have harsh metal cuffs clasp her wrists together. Rough hands seized her by the arms before pulling her to her feet. Blood rushed to her head, and she swayed slightly. The hand on her arm gripped her more tightly. “Move,” was all she heard before being pushed forward.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw the Heir surrounded by guards. Keyla stumbled up the steps she’d hidden under only moments before. Warm air blasted her as she entered the building. More guards lined the hallway until they reached a door. The door was clear glass, and a display popped up of a green guard sitting at a desk. Her escort placed his hand on a white pad next to the door, and after a beep the door opened.

  As she and her escort walked further into the building, the fewer people she saw. The light reflected off the polished black floor tiles. Her escort led her up a set of stairs and turned right. They walked around the corner, and a familiar face smiled at her.

  “Miss Stinton, glad you could make it,” Emre said. “I’ll take her from here.”

  “Heir Ditran said to take her to a room for holding,” The guard escorting her said.

  “I invited her to the dinner this evening.” “I can’t let her go without the Heir’s order.” Her escort gave a look of apology to Emre. “We found her in the back alley. All the guests are arriving at the north entrance around the corner.”

  “I get lost easily,” Keyla said.

  Emre frowned. “Take her to the room. I’ll talk to the Heir and get this straightened out.” The guard motioned her forward, and Emre walked away. Eventually, the guard commanded her to stop. She felt a gust of air, this time cold, stale and musty as a door slid open to the right, as if the air had been trapped in the room for a long period of time. She shivered. Her escort quickly undid the cuffs before shoving her forward into the room. Keyla hit the floor.

  She got up to face the guard, but it was too late. He was gone as the door closed behind him. She was alone in a completely white room with a cot and small windows illuminated from light panels the floor, walls and ceiling. She sat down on the cot and heard a click to her right.

  A door in the wall opened. A man entered the room, staring at the clipboard in his right hand. He was dressed in emerald green scrubs with a crisp white coat that swished below his knees. In his other hand he held a small metal case.

  “I’m healer Stim. Per Statute 116 the code of stainless steel table. There were no to provide escape. The room was conduct regarding detained subjects, I’m here to take a blood sample that will be tested. What is your name and age?” His voice was low, gruff to the point of being clinical as it lacked any hint of emotion.

  “Keyla Stinton, sir. I’m seventeen.” Her voice came out hoarse and nervous. She gripped the cot in an effort to hide her nerves. The lacerations from the brick wall stung at the contact.

  He placed the metal case on the table, then wrote her answer down on the clipboard. The pen scratched across the paper. He fired the next question off, “What were you doing outside?”

  Keyla turned her bruised face towards him. Making the purple hand mark from Lady Plume clear. Keyla let her voice shake to show the healer her fear. Not that she feared the Plumes. Her actions were a bit melodramatic, but if it saved her from torture at an elemental’s hand she would take it.

  “I was invited to the dinner. My caretakers didn’t want me to come. They were pretty angry with me. Please don’t send me back.”

  “Not my decision. Sleeve up.” The man opened the metal case and put on a pair of matching green gloves before retrieving a syringe, complete with needle.

  Right, not his decision, he’s just doing his job. Keyla did as he asked and squeezed her eyes shut. The needle point burned as it pierced her skin. He used the instrument to draw blood from the tiny blue vein that squiggled down her arm.

  The silence stretched on while he collected two more vials of blood and pulled the needle out. He pressed a finger to where the needle had been in her arm. She felt a cold tingle briefly when he healed it. Without a response or glance in her direction, he wrote a few more notes down on the clipboard, and put the vials in the case. After gathering his things, he left through the same door he had entered.

  Before she could think to follow or ask another question, the wall sealed her away from the rest of the world once more. Legs gathered to her chest, Keyla wrapped her arms around them and buried her face between her knees.

  Failed. My first mission failed.

  itran looked at the girl on the screen before him. She was the same one who had stared at him earlier from the crowd, a red handprint on one side of her face. That handprint was now purple. But it wasn’t the hand print, or the terrible pink dress, that caught his attention in the crowd. It was her hair, when she turned just right, the way it gleamed in the sunlight reminded him of the painting of Vatra Dra in the Fire kuil, the fire dragon protecting Dovesti’s fountain and the source of the power to control the elements. Smoldering embers ready to catch fire just beneath the scales. Beautiful. Dangerous.

  Ditran sat back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. Idiot! Why did I save her? But he’d seen her face, bruised and afraid. And the guard’s

  face, smiling as he prepared a frozen heart attack.

  Drake stomped into the office. “What were you thinking?” “I don’t know.” She wouldn’t have stood a chance against that attack, or an attack from the other guards closing in. And he couldn’t watch someone die just because they could be guilty. He needed to be certain of her guilt.

  “She could have killed you.”

  “She didn’t. Maybe she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed like your father?” “You forget your place, Captain. My father died on the battle lines, not in the back of an alley.” Ditran stood up and pulled open the door. “I’m going to talk with her.”

  “The guests for the dinner have arrived. They’ve already waited an hour.” “Give me twenty minutes.”

  “Fifteen.”

  Ditran let the door slam behind him and walked to the room next door where the guard had taken her. When he walked in and she saw him, she moved as far into the corner as she could, her eyes wide as she looked at the open doorway behind him

  like a caged animal.

  “What happened to your face?” He winced internally. Idiot. That’s going to make her comfortable and willing to spill her secrets. He looked for a chair, but found there wasn’t one, only a table and the cot she occupied.

  “My caretaker took it upon herself to discipline me.”

  “For what?” He moved to the table and sat on it. “An incident with a hair iron.” “And you were ou
tside in the dark because …?” “I was looking for the dinner party.” “Alone?”

  “I wasn’t respectful enough at the announcements. My caretakers left without me.” Ditran leaned forward and clasped his hands. “So you left their house, on your own, at night.” “Yes.”

  “You realize how unrealistic this sounds, yes?”

  “I was by the storehouse. There were guards. I panicked. I’m new to this city, so I just ran.” She pulled her feet up close to her and clutched the ankles of her boots. One of her pant legs was torn

  at the knee.

  “How old are you?” “Seventeen.”

  “Less than a year left with caretakers then. What do you plan on doing after wards?”

  “Something I choose. I’m sick of people telling me what to do.”

  He smiled. “That’s something we have in common then.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Before he could answer, Viscount Ashby entered the room.

  “Heir Ditran, dinner is ready. Please join me and the eligible ladies of Cryssal.” Ditran nodded. “Yes, I was just speaking with one. This is …” He left it open for her to fill in her name.

  “Keyla Stinton.”

  “Miss Stinton, do you have your invitation?”

  “I do.” She pulled out the blue and white paper and handed it to him.

  “An officer’s ticket?” Viscount Ashby said. “Who invited you?”

  “Officer Emre,” Keyla said. “He’s part of my security staff.” Ditran frowned. She wasn’t telling him everything, of that he was sure. Perhaps she was trying to meet Emre for a lover’s secret rendezvous before the dinner? “I’ll need to confirm this with him.”

  Keyla unfolded her legs so that her feet hung off the side of the cot and she leaned against the wall. “Of course. You’ll know where to find me.”

  “One last question. What is your favorite color?”

  She looked at him with a confused expression. “Red.” “I prefer green myself.” Ditran paused and waited for the typical stammering and whatever explanation she would concoct to say she meant green. It didn’t come.