Royal Bastards Read online

  “Lyriana?” I looked up at her, shielding my eyes with one hand, squinting through her unearthly glow.

  “Tillandra,” she said, and her voice still had that rumble to it, like it was coming from the heart of a thunderstorm. “You’re safe.”

  The light around her snuffed out like a candle. Her Rings flickered and went dark. She blinked, and her eyes had pupils again. “I did it,” she said, her voice her own, as bubbly as it had been when she’d first come tumbling into the tunnels. “I really did it!”

  Then she keeled over face-first into the sand and lay still.

  “LYRIANA!” I SCREAMED. I TRIED to get up and run to her, but my legs betrayed me. They were no longer magical, floaty, feel-good legs, but real legs, legs that had just slid down a jagged hill and been immersed in freezing water, legs that exploded with pain and sent me collapsing into the sand.

  Jax, snapping out of his daze and scrambling over, was the first to her side. He turned her over onto her back. A minute ago Lyriana had looked like the Titans on the murals in the castle’s shrine, a glowing being of light and power. Now she looked terrifyingly small and broken. Her beautiful dress was torn in dozens of places. Her bare feet were bloody and swollen. Jax pushed aside the wet hair clinging to her face and pressed his ear to her lips.

  “She’s breathing!” he shouted, and my stomach unclenched with a surge of relief. “She’s breathing. I think she just…she just magicked herself out.”

  I didn’t know you could magic yourself out, but I suppose I also hadn’t known Lyriana was a mage in the first place. I didn’t think anyone had known that, not even my father. The royal family must have wanted it kept a secret.

  “She saved our lives,” Zell said softly. Through the dim light, I could only see his silhouette on the shore’s edge, facing the dark ocean beyond. “She saved all of us.”

  “Well, pardon me if I’m not ready to play the trumpets and break out the cake,” Miles replied, his voice hoarse and scratchy. He squatted on all fours in the sand, head bowed low, his wet curls wrapped like tendrils around his ears. “We might be safe from the ocean. But what do we do when those Zitochi lunatics come tearing out after us?”

  “They won’t,” Jax grunted. “The cave collapsed after we went through. And even if they followed, they’d be swept out to sea. We never would’ve made it without the Princess. She saved us from Zell’s psycho crew.”

  Earlier tonight, an eternity ago, I might’ve scolded Jax for being offensive. But now I was just too exhausted, too sore, too broken. I just wanted to collapse into the sand and pass out. I just wanted it all to go away.

  Zell turned to Jax, just the barest hint of anger dancing in his eyes. “That wasn’t my crew,” he said. “And even if it was, they’re not the ones to worry about. It’s your people we should be scared of.”

  “My people?” Jax lurched to his feet, and not very gracefully. “My people are passed out drunk in the stables right now! That wasn’t my father going berserk up there with an ax or my mother blowing up the Archmagus with some crazy-ass magic bomb!”

  “My—my mother was obviously coerced,” Miles stammered. “She just built the weapon. It was the others’ scheme.”

  “My father is a warrior, not a schemer,” Zell said. “If anything, your mother was the one who seduced him into it….”

  “My mother would never—”

  “It was my father,” I said, and the night went silent. “He’s the one behind this all. He’s the traitor.”

  Zell, Miles, and Jax turned to stare at me. “Tilla,” Jax said, “you don’t know….I mean…”

  “No, Jax. I do know. We all know it. This was all his plan.” I think I said it just to shut them up, but now that the words were out, they had the unmistakable weight of truth. “My father is a traitor. My father is a killer. And now my father probably wants me dead.” The words felt like a knife, scraping me hollow. I wished Lyriana had just let the current take me away.

  There was nothing else to say after that. Zell turned back to the ocean, and Miles slumped into the sand. Jax ran his hands through his messy, wet hair, craning his face up to the sky. I closed my eyes and drowned out the voices in my head. I focused on the wet sand in my hands, the breeze on my skin. I felt the weight of my soaking clothes for the first time, felt their chill against me.

  “It just doesn’t make sense,” Miles muttered, still trying to somehow think his way out of this. “None of it. Even if…even if our parents are secretly Western radicals…what in the frozen hell are they trying to accomplish? What does killing the Archmagus and blaming the Zitochi gain them?”

  I hadn’t even stopped to think about this yet. “It…lures more mages into the West,” I speculated. “Sets them up for an ambush.”

  “Right, but with what? That mage-killer bomb my mother had was powerful, but how many more could they have? Your average mage has, what, three, four Rings? Multiply that by six missing mages and that’s twenty-five bombs, tops. Nowhere near enough to hold back even a single company of mages.” Miles shook his head. “There must be something we’re not understanding here. There has to be a reasonable explanation. We just need to talk to them and find out what’s going on.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jax demanded.

  “My mother is very reasonable,” Miles pressed. “If I could just talk to her, I could find out what really happened and make sure she understood we didn’t mean any harm. I’m sure I could persuade her to give us a second chance.”

  “For you and me, maybe,” I said, unable to keep my mouth shut any further. “But what about Jax? What about the Princess? There’s no way our parents would let them live, not with everything they know.” I didn’t mention Zell, but I didn’t have to; I think all of us got the picture about what his family would do to him if he went back.

  Miles cradled his head in his hands, his voice trembling. I could tell he was crying. “But what…what’s the alternative, Tilla? Running away? Turning our backs on our homes? On our lives? On our own parents?”

  I didn’t even know how to answer that. Could I really do it? Just run away and never set foot in Castle Waverly again, never lie down on Whitesand Beach, never see my father again? I thought of his face down at the beach, that wild, gleeful bloodlust that had made me want to scream. Could I go back to him, even if I wanted to? Would I ever look at him the same way? Even if he forgave me, could I ever forgive him?

  Of course, a little voice inside me whispered. He’s your father. And you love him.

  “Look,” Jax said, mercifully pulling me out of my thoughts. “We don’t need to answer the big questions right now. What we need is food and shelter and some clothes that aren’t ripped to shreds.”

  “And how do you propose we get those?” Zell asked.

  Jax craned his head down the beach. “I don’t know how far that river took us, but we’re still obviously on the Western Shore. I’ve got friends up and down this coast. I say we sit tight till morning, and then when the sun’s out, I’ll get us somewhere safe, somewhere we’ll be taken care of. We can figure it out from there.”

  “Won’t our parents look for us?” Miles asked. “Tonight, I mean?”

  Zell shook his head. “Right now, anyone after us is trapped in the tunnels. It’ll take them hours to get out, and even longer to get together a half-decent tracking party. Besides, they have no idea where we went.” He jerked his head toward a pile of driftwood lying under an outcropping at the base of the cliff, near the cave’s entrance. “We can make camp there. Get a small fire going. Stay warm.” He turned to gaze back out at the ocean. “I’ll take first watch.”

  A part of me wondered why we needed a first watch if we’d be safe until sunrise, but I didn’t question it. It wasn’t just that Zell was the only one among us who had even half a clue how to get by in a situation like this. It was his manner: cool, confident, collected, like this was just the same old shit he always had to deal with, like this was nowhere near the worst day of his life. His own fathe
r and brother had straight up tried to kill him, but he still didn’t let any emotion break through, no fear or sadness or anything. I couldn’t tell if his stoic facade was just that or if he really was that jaded. Some distant part of me knew that probably wasn’t healthy, but right then I didn’t care. In that moment, on that beach, Zell’s calm was pretty much the only thing that made me feel safe.

  He had lost that pretty sword of his in the cave, so he pulled the sheath off his back and tossed it into the sand, followed by his soaked leather and furs. Miles paced back toward the outcropping, gathering hunks of wood. And Jax knelt down by Lyriana, lifting her up in his broad arms, and then we all walked toward the cliff face. She looked so small and fragile now.

  “You think she’s okay?” I asked.

  Jax sighed. “I hope so. I hope we’re all okay.”

  My heart sank. I felt guilty, as if this were all my fault. In a way, it was. If it hadn’t been for me, Jax would still be happily drinking with his buddies in the stables. If it hadn’t been for me, he’d still have a nice, safe life ahead of him. “Jax,” I said softly, “I’m so sorry….”

  He glanced at me, one eyebrow cocked, the same sweet, goofy brother I’d loved my whole life. “Shut your face, sis,” he said, and walked off toward the outcropping.

  I smiled despite myself and walked after him.

  AN HOUR LATER, I WAS lying on my back in the sand, eyes shut, trying to fall asleep.

  Ten minutes after that, I was sitting up, wide awake, and knew there was no way in hell it was happening.

  I stood up on the beach, my back aching, my legs still sore. I was near a surprisingly well-made fire gently flickering in a pit that Jax and Miles had dug. Miles lay on his side nearby, deeply asleep, twitching and whimpering. It was, just maybe, the saddest thing I’d ever seen. Jax was a few feet away, asleep half upright against the cliff wall, with Lyriana lying beside him. The two of them looked almost peaceful, if you ignored the rips in their clothes and the bruises blossoming on their skin.

  I couldn’t believe they were able to sleep. My mind was still racing, a million thoughts colliding. I had to take a walk. Or a run. Or maybe just wade into the ocean and scream into the night sky. But I had to do something.

  I walked out from under the outcropping, toward the dark, lapping waves. The Coastal Lights hung in the sky above, soft and faded now, flickering away into nothingness.

  I made it maybe two steps before I heard Zell’s voice. “Still awake?” he asked from behind me.

  I spun around. Zell was sitting on a driftwood log just past the outcropping’s entrance, facing out at the ocean. He was almost totally hidden in shadow; if he hadn’t spoken up, I wouldn’t have noticed him at all. “I was just going to go for a walk. I need to clear my thoughts.”

  He shrugged. “I doubt a walk will help with that. It’s never helped me.” An awkward silence lingered in the night air between us. “You can…join me. If you’d like.”

  Why the hell not, right? Not like my night could get any worse. Zell slid over, and I sat down on the log next to him. He had stripped down to a thin, sleeveless undershirt that clung to him like a second skin. I tried hard not to glance at his toned, lean arms; at his broad, bare shoulders; at the firm muscle where his neck met his back, just barely visible through his flowing hair. “How’s your watch going? Any sign of them?” I asked.

  Zell shook his head. “None. I haven’t heard anything but the crashing of the waves and the whistling of the wind.” He had this funny way of talking, like he was being poetic without even remotely realizing it. He craned his head up to the sky. I couldn’t read his expression. Sad? Worried? Longing? “Can I…ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t understand what happened tonight,” he said. Was that a hint of embarrassment in his voice? “I mean, I can understand some of it. I understand why my father did what he did. His reign as Chief of Clans is crumbling. He has promised our people great prosperity and glory, neither of which he has delivered. If your father offered him gold and grain, perhaps even the return of some of the Borderlands…I can see why he would offer his ax in return.” Zell closed his eyes, his brow furrowed. “But it’s your father I don’t understand. Aren’t the Princess and the mage his rulers? Doesn’t he bow before them?” He finally turned to look at me, his eyes shining bright in the moonlight. “Why did he do it? Why would he want to kill the family he swore to serve?”

  “It’s…it’s complicated,” I said. “Your father, he’s the Chief of Clans, right? Are there other Chiefs who oppose him? Who want to be the Chief themselves?”

  “Of course. The Conclave this year was brutal.”

  “Conclave?”

  Zell arched an eyebrow, like he really expected me to know this. “Every three years, all the Chieftains of all the Clans gather at Zhal Korso for a great Conclave. After four days of games and feasting and drinking, the Chieftains who would wish to lead present their arguments in the Hall of Bones. Then all the zhindain, the clanless women, vote on who they believe will be best. And that man is the Chief of Clans.”

  “Oh,” I said, even though I didn’t really understand at all. “So, the Chief changes, then? Often?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well…that’s not how we do it,” I said. “The Volaris family rules us. They have for one hundred and twenty years, since the Great War. When the King…Right now, that’s Leopold Volaris….When he dies, his oldest child, Lyriana, takes over. And then she’ll be the Queen until she dies.”

  “But that makes no sense.” Zell stared at me skeptically, like I was pulling some kind of trick on him. “What if your King’s child is a fool? What if she leads your people to ruin?”

  “We don’t have a choice, Zell. They have the power. The magic. All the men of the West couldn’t stand against the mages.”

  “Magic. Like what your Princess did earlier tonight, when she pulled us out of the water.” Zell was obviously still a little in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “What she did was amazing,” I admitted. “But it’s just a fraction of what the mages can do.” I hadn’t paid much attention to Headmaiden Morga’s history lessons, but I remembered vividly all her accounts of the battles of the Great War, all the gory details. “They can turn men inside out from a mile away. They can rain down fire and lightning from the skies. They can rip the earth out from under a battlefield and turn rocks into monsters that battle for them.”

  “How did they come by such power?”

  “From the Titans. Well, from their Rings.” Zell stared at me blankly, as if I were saying total gibberish. He really didn’t know any of it, did he? “Your people…the Zitochi…you don’t have any stories about Titans, do you? Giant men who came from the heavens, who transformed the world with their amazing magical powers?”

  Zell furrowed his brow. “There are ancient legends about great monsters from the South, huge pale men who came from the sky with hands of fire. The shamans say the first Zitochi, who used to live down in the forests you call home, fled these monsters into the frozen tundra, where we’ve lived ever since.” He stroked his chin. “Could these monsters be your Titans?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, more surprised that the Zitochi had apparently once lived in the West. “All I really know is what Headmaiden Morga taught me.”

  “Which is?”

  I sighed. Why was I, of all people, the one teaching a history class? I could barely remember half this stuff! “A thousand years ago, my ancestors were simple folk scattered in tribes across the plains of the Heartlands, wearing animal furs, living off the land, that sort of thing. Then the Titans came down from the heavens. To them, doing magic was as natural as breathing. They settled among the tribes and taught them all kinds of things, like farming and medicine and how to build castles.”

  “Why?”

  “The Lightspire priests say it was because they were angels, beings of pure kindness, come to better our kind and save us from oursel
ves. That’s why they worship them.”

  Zell’s eyes flickered with curiosity. “But you don’t.”

  “No. I mean, not really. I don’t know.” I’d been brought up to respect the religion of Titan-worship, if only because it was the religion of our King in Lightspire. But a few years ago, when I was going through my question-everything phase, I’d gone asking around and found out what they’d believed in the days of the Old Kings, before we’d been conquered. “Some people say the Titans weren’t angels but demons. That they brutally conquered our ancestors, used them as slaves to build their cities and plow their fields. That they used magic to oppress the entire continent.”

  “I find that easier to believe,” Zell said. Honestly, I did, too. I remembered the tapestries in my father’s archives, hundreds of years old, drawn by men who’d seen Titans in the flesh. They showed terrifying creatures, hulking giants that stood twice as tall as any man, their heads bald, their eyes glowing white, their beardless faces identical and beautiful and always smiling, like porcelain masks. They sure didn’t look like angels. “But the Titans are gone now.”

  I nodded. “No one knows why. Just a hundred years after they came, they disappeared overnight, leaving behind only the empty cities they’d built. The priests say it was because they were leaving the world in our hands now and testing us to see if we could rise to their level or what-ever.” I shrugged. “With the Titans gone, my people…my ancestors…were free to settle this new world. All kinds of little Kingdoms sprang up over the continent. There were the Baronies of the Eastern Shore, the Dynasty of Hao in the Southlands, those weird little Kingdoms in the swamps whose names I can never remember…and there was the Kingdom of the West.”