Gambit of the Gods Read online

  I tell myself I’m just curious to see if young Derod can dance after having taken a pair of gardening shears to the thigh two weeks ago. But deep down, I know I’m looking to see if Wilde has come with his Chosen.

  Just as I reach the stairs, I hear what sounds like flesh slapping flesh from around the corner, and then a muffled cry of pain. Peering down the hall, I recognize the woman in black from earlier that day, High Elder Malisanth, standing over a cowering slave. No one else is around. Moving closer, I’m glad for once that I’m invisible.

  “If you fail me again, I’ll lock you up in a cell and leave you to starve. The coins were supposed to go to the girl in the dark green dress with white pearl beading, not the one in the light green dress with with the white lace overlay. The girl you’re looking for is called Kliara. And don’t forget: tell her her gift worked to perfection, and The Higher Path owes her a similar gift, as we discussed.”

  What does Kella’s oldest sister Kliara have to do with this woman, and what is this ‘Higher Path’? What ‘gift’ would she have to give the High Elder of House Mystalora, one of House Klia’s greatest rivals?

  The slave hurries past me, head down. The Lady Malisanth follows after a few moments, her gorgeous, clinging black velvet dress brushing the floor, raising a feathered mask to hide part of her face. Thankfully, Malyse doesn’t step out of her this time. Still wondering, I head down the stairs.

  The large servants’ dining hall has been cleared of tables and chairs and the dancing is in full swing, accompanied by servants playing instruments. The dancing below-stairs is far more spirited, much less concerned about following the forms of the dances. They laugh and call out to one another, clapping and capering as if this night might never end. They know full well that it soon will and they must enjoy it while it lasts.

  Glancing around, I catch sight of Derod dancing gingerly along with the others. It does my heart good to see the joy wreathing his face. I know him to be a sensitive but hard-working lad. I still remember his look of terror when they carted him away to House Elmaya’s healers.

  Like any workhorse, he feared they would put him down rather than waste precious supplies on his care. He wasn’t paranoid to think so. I’ve never gotten used to the carelessness with which the majority of the Queensrealm Ladies view slaves, even after all these years I’ve spent with them.

  Wilde waves at me from the far corner of the room. I had, of course, been aware of his exact location from the moment I descended the stairs far enough to see across the room. But I act surprised and shutter my feelings tightly. I’ve always found his dark, roguish looks and careless grin attractive yet completely infuriating at the same time, much to my own chagrin. I avoid most men, but with Wilde, there’s always been something fascinating that I can’t explain.

  When I’m not thoroughly annoyed by his cocky, disrespectful attitude, that is.

  He’d flirted in the past with Malyse, mostly ignoring me. Yet for the last several decades, I’ve noticed him avoiding her. Now she’s taken Kai for her lover instead. The small, insistent feeling of hope that rises up inside of me when I think about him being free of her drives me quite mad. I have no intention of ever letting myself feel anything for him, or any other man. But ever since Wilde helped me bestow Kella’s gift a couple of moons ago, I’ve found myself thinking of his lazy grin and dark, knowing eyes at the oddest times.

  Walking up to Wilde, I make sure my face and mind are carefully devoid of emotion. He’s listening to Kisto and Jaereth talk with other Resistance members from different Houses, but he waves me over to a clear space in the corner so we can talk without being distracted.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you here, among the lesser beings,” he teases, his smile wide, as he deliberately looks me over. I flush, then catch myself.

  “Yes, well, I didn’t think to see you here either, so near the fairer sex that you despise.”

  He blinks in surprise. I use his hesitation to my advantage.

  “You spend all your time with these mindless plotters,” I gesture toward the rebels, “so surely you’ve taken up their hatred as your own?”

  His mocking grin winks out; inwardly, I rejoice. You may be prettier than I am, I think at him, with your long, dark hair, the kind every woman wants to bury her hands in, your dark-lashed, warm brown eyes and that oh-so-kissable mouth, but my wit’s as sharp as yours.

  “I don’t hate women,” Wilde growls, folding his arms and scowling at me. “I just care about the slaves’ plight.” His cocky grin comes back as he drawls, “Whereas you don’t care about anything but playing dress-up and picking flowers.”

  My hands fly to my hips before I can catch myself.

  “That’s—that’s not true!” I stammer, flustered. Does he really think that of me? “House Klia is my family now. Of course I care about the slaves, but there’s nothing either of us can do about them!”

  I’m glaring, but inside I feel frustrated. It’s so difficult for me to see the slaves treated as less than human, day after day. Thankfully, House Klia treats them better than most.

  Inexplicably, he softens, one hand reaching out toward my elbow before falling back to his side.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he says. I feel actual regret from him. Surprise floods my mind. “I just feel so powerless to stop the bloodshed that is coming. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  Surprise gives way to alarm.

  “Coming…soon?” I gulp, feeling sudden terror rake my insides.

  Wilde nods grimly, dark eyes downcast.

  “The other faction leader, Berit, was imprisoned two moons ago for stealing some bread. They found a knife hidden in his hut, which as you well know is death for any slave.”

  I nod unhappily.

  “They’re going to hang him next Field Day. The men of his faction have vowed to free him first or die trying. With so many Ladies gathered at the Field of Honor to watch the hangings, the faction has decided it would be the perfect time to kill them all.”

  Wilde had explained the two factions to us at one of our meetings to share knowledge with the other Transformed. Berit’s faction is the more violent one, I remember now. Their dearest wish is to slaughter as many Ladies as they can, enslaving and raping the rest. Kisto’s faction, on the other hand, speaks of killing only when necessary, frowns upon rape, and is, unfortunately, the smaller of the two.

  “We must do something to stop them. Or warn them.”

  Wilde shakes his head.

  “What are we supposed to do, Sera?” he implores me, despair thick in his voice and emotions. “Whisper into their dreams and hope they take it seriously?”

  I know what he means. The only time we’ve been able to actively communicate with ‘normal’ humans is when their defenses are completely down, while they’re deeply asleep. We tried it in the distant past, but each time they woke complaining of strange dreams and nothing more.

  Wilde reaches out with his mind and gently strokes mine, trying to comfort me. I realize I’m pacing in my distress, and stop myself by force of will.

  “And what if we were to succeed?” he asks quietly. “The Ladies would hang every slave they couldn’t personally vouch for. There would still be a bloodbath.”

  In my mind’s eye, I see slaves chasing Ladies in their long, clumsy-making dresses and high-heeled boots, trapped in the close quarters of the grandstands at the Field of Honor. I see Ladies stabbed and bludgeoned to death, or raped and enslaved. Judging by the distress I feel from Wilde’s mind, I know he’s conjuring very similar images.

  I feel oddly close to him in this moment, much like we felt in those first moments after our transformation when we had no one but each other. Malyse and Kai couldn’t care less about the fate of the Queensrealm’s people, and there’s nothing Gideon or the others can do, wrapped up in caring for the People as they are. This is all on our shoulders—Wilde’s, and mine.

  “Maybe I can save Kella and a few of the others.” Determination hardens in my gut.
“She has her new ability now. She can use it to defend against the Resistance long enough to escape from the Queensrealm with her family. If I whisper into her dreams on the night before Field Day, she won’t have time to stop the uprising and endanger your Chosen.”

  Wilde nods, trying to hide his doubt but failing to fully mask it.

  “Maybe,” he echos, pity reflected in his eyes. But he doesn’t understand the special connection Kella and I have, her awakening sense of something other. I have to believe I can reach her. I must find a way to save her.

  “Do you think this uprising is somehow Malyse’s doing?” Anger fills me at the thought of that evil, selfish creature threatening everyone I love just for the sake of a cheap thrill.

  “I wondered that too,” Wilde answers thoughtfully. “There’s no way to know.”

  “I saw her today at the hanging. She tried to convince me that people can’t be blamed when they do evil things because they’re only being who they are, as a result of the evil in all human hearts. I think her Chosen is the High Elder of House Mystalora, by the way.”

  Wilde looks unsurprised. “Sounds like something she’d say,” he sighs. “She used to tell me that the concept of good and evil is a delusion of the weak-minded, when I, ah, before.”

  When you used to love her.

  “You know her better than anyone.” He opens his mouth to argue, but casts his eyes down, instead. “Can you think of any way we can convince her to have mercy on our Chosen?” I know what I’m asking him, and I’m ashamed, but I would do anything to save Kella.

  He knows what I’m asking, too. His eyes hold mine, and the music around us fades away. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I’ve never seen there before. I sense both hurt and hope in him.

  “Is that really what you want me to do, Sera? Go back with Malyse? Is that what your heart wants?”

  “I can’t afford to think about what my heart wants right now.” My heart is telling me something very different, but I ignore it. “I had to ask.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry, but I can’t do what you’re asking.”

  I straighten my shoulders, giving him a tiny smile. “Well, thank you for the warning about the uprising.”

  He gives me a small, wan smile in return. Some of his usual cockiness comes back into his eyes. “Be sure to tell Kella to pack all her best dresses and jewelry. I wouldn’t want her to suffer unduly, after all.”

  This doesn’t nettle me like it would have a few minutes ago. I’m beginning to see that his joking and arrogance are just a facade to protect him from getting hurt, much like my quiet, avoidant behavior. We’re not so very different after all, perhaps.

  So I beam up at him, showing my dimples, and say only, “I will.” Then I give him a wink. He bursts out laughing at my unusual cheekiness, grudging admiration in his eyes.

  “I’ll need your help soon with Jaereth’s ability,” he adds hesitantly. Does he think I won’t come through for him, as he did for me?

  “Just come and get me when you’re ready.”

  I hope that whatever he chooses isn’t turned against Kella and House Klia somehow. How could I bear it, knowing I had a hand in hurting them?

  I turn to go.

  “Good luck, Sera,” Wilde says quietly.

  I turn back and nod solemnly, meeting his gaze once more. I’ll need luck. And perhaps a miracle or two. Walking away from him through the jubilant crowd, I feel his eyes on me the whole way.

  Chapter 9: Spark

  When I reach the Lightning Tree, my family is all there waiting for me. My grandfather, Smoking Arrow, is there to see us off, too old now to hunt but looking proud, standing as straight as he can. He nods solemnly at me as if I’m his equal. I nod back, greatly moved.

  My father, Singing Bow, comes forward to greet me with his usual serious look. We grip forearms briefly in the way of the People, man to man. His lips are slightly upturned, which means he is pleased. The others crowd around, their high spirits evident.

  My mother, Sun on Leaves, gives me a proud smile while my elder brother, Swift Blaze, grips my forearm, then pounds on my back, grinning widely.

  “Time to hunt, little brother!” he exults. I stand taller and puff out my chest, wanting to look like the man I’m becoming. I’ve always looked up to Swift Blaze; now, finally, we can run together as Pack. My heart swells within me.

  My sister, Moon Song, is the last to greet me, giving me a warm smile.

  “I’m proud of you, little brother.”

  Moon Song and I, being closer in age growing up than we were with our older brother, often chased each other around the Village; that is, until the day I first met Little Squirrel.

  One other set of eyes watches me, but she does not approach. Fiery Grace kneels on a mat, grinding corn on a large, flat rock outside her parents’ hut. Her dark eyes have tracked me since I appeared, though whenever I glance over, they appear to be on her work. Her glossy black hair, parted in the middle, falls to her waist in twin braids, twined with fine red ribbon traded for from the Queensrealm. She’s slim and quiet. Lately, I and the other young men have begun to notice the beautiful young woman she’s becoming.

  Fiery Grace went on her Quest shortly before I did. Ever since her return, I’ve noticed she carries herself more confidently, her stride lithe and her head held high. Her friends are older and cross Clan lines, which is very unusual, but they treat her as an equal.

  Knowing Fiery Grace is witnessing my family greet me before my first hunt after my Change makes me stand even taller. My pulse pounds harder, adrenaline rising within me. I’ve known for some time now that she and I are expected to mate when we’re old enough. She knows it too. I can tell from the way she always watches me, the way she watches no one else.

  I know she watches me because I watch her, too.

  But I wish Little Squirrel was here to see this moment, as well. And, as I have too many times to count, I wish we were not of different Clans so I could be free to follow my heart.

  Many of the young men have spoken to the Elder Council lately about changing the mating rules to allow mating between Clans. A sickness swept through our huts several winters in a row back when my siblings and I were small, taking the old and infirm as well as many of the very young. It also robbed us of several Clansfolk of mating age and affected babies in the womb, with many pregnancies resulting in stillbirths. All of this caused a sharp decline in healthy births and a lack of youths our age, which has in turn meant far fewer mating possibilities for us. So I’m fortunate to have someone my age to mate with, as my parents remind me rather more often than I’d like.

  The Elder Council meets tonight after Little Squirrel’s Questing Celebration to discuss this issue. The Village is abuzz with discussions and arguments about it. But I don’t dare to hope that the Council will decide to change the mating rules. They’ve stood for generations beyond counting.

  Swift Blaze has said to anyone who will listen, “They’re a collection of old men, already mated long ago. They seem to care more for the Old Ways than they do about our mating prospects.” He feels strongly about this because he’s one of the few who are faced with the prospect of having no mate. Fiery Grace’s parents were the only mated adults of childbearing age in the Wolf Clan, besides our parents, able to carry a child to term during the great sickness, and she was the only female born to them. Her brothers, Wood Owl and Grey Spear, have no choice but to vie for my sister’s affections.

  My brother could woo and win Fiery Grace, of course. But she’s several years younger…and my brother loves another. Her name is Dancing Shadow. She is, unfortunately, of the Hunting Cat Clan, like Little Squirrel. My brother thinks no one knows that he and Dancing Shadow go off into the woods together sometimes at twilight. But I’ve seen them go many times, and I wouldn’t be surprised if others have, too.

  I’ve thought about standing with my brother tonight, urging the council to change the mating rules. Yet I know in my heart that I will not. I don’t want to
shame my family by speaking against the Old Ways, or shame Fiery Grace by making her feel I don’t want her. Another part of me whispers that I don’t even know if Little Squirrel wants me.

  After all, we’ve never spoken of our feelings for one another beyond friendship. I’ve tried to show her in little ways how I feel about her, and once we kissed, but that was a season ago. We’ve not spoken of it since.

  Striking Talon is a summer older than she is and part of her Clan, so her father has, no doubt, told her she must mate with him. Talon draws every girl’s eye. He’s undeniably good-looking, but he’s also a bit arrogant and self-absorbed, if you ask me. I’ve seen Little Squirrel gazing at him a few times when she thought I wouldn’t notice. So what hope do I have to win her heart?

  Then there’s Artan, though he poses no real threat to my suit. The Council of Elders would never allow Little Squirrel to mate with an Outsider, though she’s part Outsider herself. This doesn’t stop Artan from staring at her all the time and following us around. He speaks to her in his funny, lilting accent, trying to impress her with his book-learning and foreign ways. Little Squirrel calls him her heart-brother, but I can tell he sees her as much more than that.

  I always bump him aside when he’s walking with us and she’s not looking. Sometimes I pretend to wrestle with him for her amusement, landing a few hard elbows to let him know his place. I think he and I have an understanding of sorts now, because he avoids me.

  I shake my head to clear it of these thoughts, casting one more surreptitious glance at Fiery Grace before turning to lead my family into the forest. We walk in silence as the shadows swallow us, reveling in the coolness, enjoying the scent of wildness and the music of birdsong. It’s here, connected to the spirits of tree, earth and river, that I feel most alive.