The Offering Read online

  I grinned out at the delegates who’d gathered for this occasion, absorbing the moment and taking in their dubious expressions as I let my finger drop firmly and satisfyingly onto the button.

  I sat there for a moment, waiting for something more to happen now that I’d done my part, but all I heard was the crackling of static. It was exactly like the static we used to hear when Sabara still ruled and the loudspeakers in the street would repeat daily recorded messages, reminding us to be diligent citizens, or to report our neighbors for suspected wrongdoings, or for immigrants to report to Capitol Hall to be registered.

  I could feel the delegates’ eyes fall upon me while I continued to stare at the box in front of me.

  “IS ANYONE THERE?”

  I jumped back. The voice that boomed through the speaker on the table was altogether too loud, and instinctively my hands flew up to my ears to muffle the sound. But just as quickly I lowered them, reveling in the fact that the voice had been so clear and vibrant from so far, far away.

  Wonder and awe filled me all at once, and I heard a small giggle escape my lips. “Aron?” I asked through another bubble of laughter. “Is that you?”

  But I knew it was him. He’d been gone for three weeks, and the only messages we’d received had been the ones he’d sent by courier, assuring us he’d be ready on time.

  I’d been terrified to trust him . . . and now tears sprang to my eyes.

  Within me Sabara withdrew, as her doubt was crushed by my hope.

  “IS BROOK WITH YOU?” His voice was still painfully loud, but I hardly cared.

  I looked out to where several of the delegates were standing now, unable to mask their amazement at the feat we’d accomplished—bringing dead technology back to life. I searched past them, trying to find Brooklynn among them, and saw that she was already shoving her way through the crowd. Anyone who’d been in her path parted without being asked to do so. One look at her in her black leather uniform, and it was clear she was formidable, even without knowing she was commander of the armed forces.

  “I’m here,” she called out to the box before she’d even reached the table. Static stretched between them as I stepped aside, making a place for her as she leaned forward, spreading her palms flat over the tabletop. “What do you want?” She was shades quieter than Aron was, and far more reserved, but I knew—I could hear it in her voice—that she’d missed him.

  Brook hadn’t confided in me, so I didn’t know exactly what had transpired between her and Aron in the months since our return from Vannova. But even without Brook to tell me her secrets, I hadn’t missed the private exchanges, the looks and discreet brushes of their hands that had passed between them whenever they’d believed no one was watching.

  Aron’s voice squawked over the line from halfway across the country: “I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT IF I DON’T MAKE IT BACK . . .” I could practically hear him grinning as he spoke, despite the distance that separated us. “THAT I LOVE YOU!”

  Between any other couple it might have been a tender moment, that declaration of love. And maybe it was between them as well; it was impossible to know by trying to read Brooklynn’s expression. Her face remained motionless. Impassive.

  I lifted my hand to my mouth and pretended to cough to cover my smile.

  “DID YOU HEAR ME? IS ANYONE THERE?” Aron’s voice echoed when Brook—and everyone else in the room—stayed silent for too long.

  The corner of Brooklynn’s mouth quirked up. “You do realize this is a simple operation to establish communication, don’t you? You’re not a soldier who’s gone off to war or anything?” Her smile grew then, becoming more mischievous than it had been before.

  She caught my expression, recognized my feigned cough, and winked at me. I hated that I so badly craved her forgiveness, that I’d missed her so much, for so long, that her simple gesture made my heart soar.

  “In fact,” she added, “I’d venture to say you’re more like a child with a new play toy, wouldn’t you?”

  There was a momentary silence from the other end, and then Aron’s voice returned. “OUCH, BROOK. THAT REALLY STINGS.”

  “You’ll be fine. Trust me,” she answered, just as her finger moved toward the button.

  “WAIT FOR ME—” Aron started to tell her. . . .

  Right before she disconnected him . . . in front of the entire room full of witnesses.

  And then the applause started.

  I couldn’t stop grinning.

  It had been years since a message had been able to travel from one end of our country to the other in an instant. And today we’d done just that. I’d spoken to Aron from inside the halls of the Capitol, while he’d stood in one of our southernmost cities. It seemed like something out of a far-imagined dream.

  But it wasn’t, and now I couldn’t keep the excitement from my face.

  We hit a bump in the road and I bounced unsteadily, my head colliding with Max’s shoulder. His musky scent filled my nostrils as I leaned against him, sighing dreamily.

  “Can you believe it?” I asked, turning to gaze up at him, and wishing I could say something more, but coming up empty every time I tried.

  “You know why I can believe it, Charlie?” He pushed a wisp of hair from my cheek. “Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known. Because you’re clever and iron-willed and selfless. You can do anything you set your mind to,” he whispered. “You’re going to take this country and turn it on its head.”

  “Maybe when Xander and Niko return, we can open a line of communication with Astonia,” I said, exhaling.

  Just saying Niko’s name made Sabara stir within me. And as always, I had to concentrate to quell her. To stop her from surfacing all the way.

  “Charlie . . .”

  I frowned at the caution I heard in Max’s tone, my eyes searching his.

  Max scrutinized me, and I watched as his expression changed from warning to worry to something softer. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. It’s already been too long since we’ve heard from Xander, or any of them, for that matter. We’ve no idea if he’s even made progress. It was a long shot to begin with. Elena’s not to be trusted, not after the stunt she pulled with Sebastian.”

  Max was right. I should never have let Xander convince me to send him in the first place. I should’ve denied his request and come up with another plan. There was no excuse for putting him in harm’s way. But hearing my former stable master’s name made me bristle all over again. Sebastian had turned out to be both a spy and a murderer, enlisted by the queen of Astonia, who we’d later discovered had been working in tandem with Brooklynn’s traitorous father to assassinate me.

  I’d never so much as suspected the stable master in my employ, someone who’d taught me everything I knew about horses. Who’d taught me to appreciate them, even if he hadn’t broken me of my discomfort around them.

  “I know,” I said, shrugging and trying not to let my disappointment show. I knew I was being fanciful, entertaining such notions, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to start anew. For Ludania to live in amity with our neighbors.

  I let my palm drift over the exquisite fabric of Max’s suit. I wondered if I’d ever tire of the feel of fine fabrics, if I’d ever grow accustomed to that aspect of my new life. Wools woven so tightly, they could feel like silk; silks so delicate, they were sometimes transparent; and velvets, creamy fleeces, and luxurious cottons that were weightless against my skin.

  His fingers, however, ignored my clothing altogether. They slipped beneath the hem of my skirt and traced a path to the back of my knee, making my pulse quicken and my breath catch. His hand moved higher, finding its way up the back of my thigh as the rhythm of our hearts beat dissonantly. He leaned in close, until our lips nearly touched and our breath fused.

  Fire flared in the pit of my belly as my fingers clamped into a ball and I clutched his jacket, clinging to him for balance. My head swam in dazzling confusion. He didn’t kiss me right away. He just stared at
me, his eyes devouring me, and the hunger in his eyes was nearly enough to undo me completely. He willed me, with that steel gaze as firm as the fingers that stroked the flesh beneath my skirt, cupping my skin, making me quiver and ache, to close that minute distance between us.

  “I . . . I . . .” Breathlessly I held on, not sure what more I could say.

  And then, from the front seat, Zafir cleared his throat, and even though I knew he couldn’t see us, facing forward the way he was, I was sure he’d sensed our restlessness. Our impropriety. Zafir always seemed to know what we were up to.

  “We’re arriving at the palace,” he said, his voice insinuating none of the censure that his simple throat-clearing had.

  I glanced at Max, and hoped he could tell from my expression that this wasn’t finished.

  He didn’t release me right away. His hand stayed where it was, hidden beneath the folds of my skirt, and he gave me one more distinct squeeze, letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that it most definitely was not.

  max

  Max had grown accustomed to watching Charlie sleep. It was his favorite pastime.

  Well, one of them, anyway, he thought as he grinned at her still form in the shadows of her bedchamber.

  She had no idea the way her skin sparked in her sleep. The way her dreams made it glimmer and glow and sometimes blaze, like a torch that set the room aflame.

  She also had no way of knowing the way those illuminations affected him.

  Even now, seeing the barest of sparks swirling far beneath the surface, almost invisible as she delved into the deepest recesses of sleep, he wanted to climb back into bed beside her. To feel that warmth. To curl against her and guard that fire so it would never go out.

  That was his greatest fear. That Charlie would burn out. That this was all too much, this responsibility—the pressure put on her by those around her and the pressure she put on herself. She expected perfection. She expected to make grand, sweeping changes.

  And she expected them to be immediate.

  She didn’t understand that change—the kind of change she intended—wasn’t just about intention and resources. They would take time.

  But Charlie was impatient.

  She wanted to see her country in a better place, and Max admired her for that. But it was taking a toll on her. She was putting too much of herself into it, working too hard. She couldn’t keep up this pace indefinitely.

  Already she’d managed to abolish the work camps—abhorrent places where unwanted and neglected children had once been carted, only to then be victimized by wardens who’d tortured and abused them. She’d begun efforts to get those from the Scablands who’d served their time and no longer belonged there—and those who’d never belonged there in the first place, like Avonlea—integrated back into society. Those who still remained in the Scablands were being trained to work the resources in the wasteland regions—mining for ore and ranching.

  She believed that everyone could be useful. Everyone had a place in Ludanian society, even those who’d committed crimes.

  Max believed she was amazing. And fiery. And beautiful.

  Yet he knew she’d been damaged by the attempts on her life—and by the fact that she’d had to kill to save herself and Angelina—despite her best efforts to hide her pain.

  He crept closer, kneeling on the carpet beside her bed and sweeping a curtain of her hair from her face. He watched as her eyelids fluttered.

  “I love you, Charlaina di Heyse,” he whispered, saying the words as silently as his voice would allow. “I’d follow you to the ends of the world and back if you’d let me.” And he meant it. From the moment he’d met her, he’d belonged to her.

  Silently he got to his feet, not wanting to disturb her, and not wanting to give anyone reason to gossip about his being there in the morning.

  Just as he was turning to go, her hand shot out to stop him. “You don’t have to follow me anywhere.” Her voice was rough with sleep. “You just have to stay.” And when he hesitated, her fingers tugged at him. “I insist. You can’t deny a queen, you know.”

  Max grinned when he saw she was already pulling the blankets back for him. And then he bowed low. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  ii

  “Your Majesty! Your Majes—”

  I almost hadn’t heard the boy’s voice above the clash of steel, but when I finally heard his shouts, I whirled in time to see him come crashing through the trees.

  His sudden presence in the clearing startled me. We were normally alone, Zafir and I. We’d never been caught training before. No one but the two of us knew that I’d given up learning to ride horses altogether and had focused solely on learning the ins and outs of battle. I was determined to learn to fight.

  More so since I’d first discovered that my country—and I, in particular—had come under threat from Queen Elena.

  The boy’s round face was red and blotchy, and sweat beaded along the edges of his hairline. I could see that he was panting, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of me standing there, dressed in full battle armor, wielding my sword against my own guard.

  I dropped my blade, ignoring the moisture that trickled down my spine. “What is it, Gabriel?”

  He glanced at me, uncertain, and then he looked to Zafir, mutely assessing the unusual situation. “It’s just that . . . well, I was sent to tell you . . . there’s someone coming.” He clutched and unclutched his stubby fingers in front of him as he spoke.

  I turned to Zafir. “Xander?” I breathed. And then to the boy. “Are they back? Are Xander and Niko here?”

  This time I couldn’t subdue her, and Sabara’s hopes became my own. Niko, she whispered, his name filling every part of me.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block her out.

  “I—I don’t know, Your Majesty.” My question made Gabriel shift even more, made him fidget and stammer. “I—I was only told to fetch you.”

  I barely heard his last words as I was already running toward the palace. I’d dropped my sword—a cardinal sin, I knew—and left it lying in the grassy field, unsheathed, and I’d left myself unarmed. Something no real warrior would ever do.

  For now at least I was not a real warrior. I was a queen, awaiting word of one of my chief advisers.

  Waiting for my friend to come home.

  I saw horses tied up in the courtyard and knew immediately by the banners that flapped in the breeze that they were from Astonia. I’d have recognized Queen Elena’s red flag, with its crimson laurel border, anywhere. Sebastian had used that same emblem to wipe his brow one too many times, all while pretending to serve me. All while reporting back to his true queen and preparing to slit my throat.

  Traitors sometimes presented themselves in the most trustworthy forms, and Sebastian had seemed about as honest and loyal as they came. Which was why I’d never suspected him. Why I’d let him get so close to me and my family.

  And why I’d never trust anyone in that way again.

  “They must be inside already,” I called to Zafir, not waiting for a response as I raced past the horses, practically stumbling over my own feet in an effort to reach the entrance.

  For two months we’d been waiting for word from Xander. It had been two months since he and Niko had taken a small party of soldiers and gone to try to reason with Elena, to try to get to the bottom of her betrayal and see if there was any way to forge a tentative peace between our two nations.

  From where I stood, it seemed an impossible task, but I’d let him go because he’d been certain there had been some sort of mistake. That the Queen Elena who’d helped him when he’d fought against his grandmother would never betray him—would never betray us—in this manner. He’d been convinced she couldn’t possibly have been behind the plot to have me assassinated.

  Despite all the evidence to the contrary.

  I slowed when I entered the main hall, the sound of my heavy boots still echoing off the walls around me. I stopped short when I realized that everyone in the room
had turned to watch me.

  On my way back to the palace, I’d managed to strip out of my heaviest outerwear, leaving not just my sword unattended but also my breastplate and the bulk of my armor. But I hadn’t been able to wiggle out of everything, and now I stood before an audience of gaping stares, not just from the travelers who’d already been awaiting me, but also from those who knew me best, including Max and Claude, and Brook, Eden, and Avonlea. Even my parents were there, anxious for word of Xander and Niko.

  I was suddenly aware of how I must have looked wearing a carapace of chain mail, even one so delicate that it was practically feather light. From their vantage point it looked as if I were wearing nothing more than long underwear and military-grade boots, the kind Brook’s soldiers wore.

  I avoided making eye contact with any one of them, knowing I’d have to answer for my appearance—and my actions—eventually. But for now I leveled my stare on the visitors, noting that neither Xander nor Niko was among them.

  My heart sank, even as my voice found purchase. “You’ve come from Astonia?” I inquired as firmly as I could manage after running all that way. “You have news from your queen?”

  There were four of them—messengers, one and all. My only real thought was that it was an odd number, because messengers didn’t typically travel in packs.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the men answered, stepping forward. He bowed, as was customary in Ludania. The other three followed suit, but they were tense, bending stiffly at their waists. Then the man in front reached behind him, and one of the others carefully handed him a box the size of one of my father’s bread loaves. I vaguely wondered what kind of gift Elena thought might assuage me at this point. I had no intention of being bought into submission.

  He held the package out to me in both hands, his eyes never leaving it, and never truly meeting mine.

  My gaze slid over it. There was nothing remarkable about it, the box. A carton like any other. But there was something about the way the messenger held it that made my stomach tighten ever so slightly. Or maybe it was Eden, my sister’s guard, that I sensed, her curiosity charging the air around us.