Grand Traitor Read online

  Meanwhile, banners from all the major Houses of Darzia decorated the walls with splashes of color, sporting animals from every corner of kingdom to symbolize the royal families: the Elborn hare, the Perin jackal, the Grandil lion, the Jeridar crow, the Feldren hound, and so forth. The House Leaders themselves were no less colorful or diverse than the banners themselves. Over thirty people surrounded the table, representing a wide range of races and cultures, wearing any number of fabrics and armor. Nadia took pride in her country’s diversity. The lush terrain and valuable resources of the continent had drawn a wide range of travelers from across the world to settle here over the centuries. Some of them came to hunt the exotic game of the jungles or mine the kimberlite dikes of eastern Darzia. Many of them never got to leave, even if they intended to—the fierce life of Darzia always had a way of destroying people or ensnaring them, permanently.

  Nadia took her place next to Grand Prince Gerald at the far end of the table. She gave her husband a quick nod before settling into her seat. Then she sneaked another glance at him as he turned the other direction. She did this all the time, hoping to find some hint of his mood on his exterior, whether by the expression on his angular face, or by the way he assembled his immaculate red robes, or even the manner with which he groomed his short brown hair. He was a man of few words and noble countenance, two traits which combined to form a chiseled, stalwart expression that hardly ever revealed his thoughts or feelings. A face like that could serve many uses as a king or Grand Prince. Nadia only wished that he might drop his shields during their few moments of privacy. She didn’t even know whether his emotions were impenetrable, or simply not there at all.

  As soon as she sat, the other nobles sat in turn, and the Duma proceeded as usual. An honored priestess, Matria Odelle, led the meeting. She allowed the House Leaders to speak and present their issues in order of michevno, feudal hierarchy, represented by where each House Leader sat at the table. Those who possessed the most power and favor sat closest to the Queen herself, and could also speak before those who sat further down the table.

  Nadia grew weary of the system of michevno and the dissent it engendered. Even now, she saw men and women glaring at each other because they had been moved to one seat or another since the last Royal Duma, and their concerns would be heard last, if they even got to speak at this Duma at all. The ruling House Leader—in this case, Nadia herself—could always change the order of presentations if she so desired. But normally, she did not exercise this power, for by doing so, she would always manage to make someone angry.

  “House Leader Reinhald wishes to discuss the hiring of miners in the eastern regions,” Matria Odelle intoned. “Next, House Leader Jeridar wishes to discuss the tax regulations of the Tanzen province. Thirdly, House Leader Grandil wishes to introduce two visitors with valuable messages to the Royal Duma.”

  For the first time in awhile, Nadia appreciated the breadth of her power. She glanced at House Leader Tristan Jeridar and felt her stomach lurch for a number of reasons. She despised Tristan Jeridar, a chubby youth who glittered with jewels and wore a constant leer on his face—the leer of a man who knew the blood of a god pumped in his veins. But it was Nadia’s own fault that the younger son of House Jeridar had become its Leader, and not his more rational elder. Arken Jeridar would have sat at this table and represented his family, if not for what had happened almost a year ago. If not for her own conceit and selfishness...

  She squirmed in her chair, and found herself speaking before she thought her words through. If there had ever been a time to exercise her right as Queen at a Royal Duma, it was now. “I elect House Leader Grandil to speak first,” she blurted. “I wish to receive his two visitors!”

  A long silence followed Nadia’s proclamation. Tristan Jeridar’s face stretched into an expression of shock an indignation, an image Nadia tried to burn into her memory for future consolation.

  Matria Odelle nodded and proceeded gracefully. “House Leader Grandil may now address the Duma.”

  House Leader Grandil stood slowly, his whole body trembling with the weakness of his age. His long white hair, wound in dozens of tiny braids, lay in stark contrast against his dark brown skin. More than eighty years old, House Leader Grandil surpassed everyone else at the table in age and wisdom. Everyone held him in high esteem, even if they competed against him daily for a seat so high up the table. The only reason he did not sit at the head, next to the queen herself, was that his ambition had lessened as his age increased. Even so, the entire room fell silent as they waited for the elder to speak.

  Grandil cleared his throat. He took his precious time preparing to talk, his head bobbing slightly on his weary neck, his dark eyes darting about the room as he gathered his bearings. But at last, his deep voice rang out and seized everyone else in its tremor. “Fellow House Leaders. Queen Nadia Elborn. Grand Prince Feldren.” He nodded to each in turn. “Today is one you will describe to your grandchildren, and their children after that. For if you are like me, then in all your years at the Castle of Krondolee, you have wondered what lies in the Grand Keep, but never had a chance to find out.”

  A murmur of surprise rumbled around the chamber. The Grand Keep? Everyone knew of its existence, but people rarely spoke of it, for no one understood its significance beyond a legendary mystery. The name referred to a compartment deep below the center of the fortress, guarded by an enormous door of metal. The door seemed to lead into an underground cave, for the area was surrounded by rocks. Otherwise, whatever treasures or mysteries lay beyond the metal door remained completely unknown. The door had been there for centuries, but no one ever managed to open it, nor discover why it had been built in the first place.

  House Leader Grandil waited for the room to absorb this tantalizing intro. Once all attention had returned to him, he proclaimed, “It is my great honor to welcome two special visitors to the Royal Duma. They are new to Darzia and its customs, so please forgive them for any unintended offense. I now invite Vivian Trell and her guard to address the Duma!”

  Just like that, two people seemed to appear suddenly in the room. Nadia shook her head, unable to recall where or when they had entered. They moved so gracefully across the floor, they could have emerged from any corner in the Grand Hall and she probably wouldn't have noticed. Had they been here the whole time, or slipped soundlessly from the shadows? She felt dizzy trying to figure it out, so at last she gave up. Her efforts were far better utilized studying the newcomers’ appearance.

  The first foreigner was a small and wiry woman with long blonde hair and strange, boyish clothes—Vivian Trell. If Nadia had glimpsed the young woman on the street, she would have never thought twice about her. But Vivian’s ability to blend into the background probably served her well. The girl moved with the grace of a cat and wore a smug smile on her face to match. Tight leggings wrapped her legs along with tall leather boots, over which hung a large shirt that puffed at the sleeves but tightened around her torso with a slim leather vest. Combined with the spring in her step and her big blue eyes, she might overall be described as “cute.” But Nadia sensed there was much more to this girl than appearance suggested.

  Her “guard’s” significance, meanwhile, was much more obvious. His manner provided a complete contrast to his lively companion in almost every way possible. He moved slowly and with purpose, as if to ensure he did not waste a single shred of energy. He wore a large black cloak that covered almost all of his body. As such Nadia could see little of the man’s figure or clothes, but his face was pale and gaunt, the skin almost white. The long black hair flowing down his cheeks and neck only made him seem paler. But none of this mattered so much as the red eyes peering through his black lashes.

  The rest of the room came to the same realization as Nadia at about the same time. Most of them tensed or shifted nervously in their chairs; others gaped openly or murmured to their neighbors.

  “Wolven,” they hissed. The word seemed to echo around the room from a dozen directions
. And if that wasn’t enough, Wolvens already possessed heightened senses. Descendents of Belazar had noses and ears as acute as a hound’s, and their hawk-like eyes could see in extreme darkness. They were also notoriously cold-hearted and excellent fighters, two traits which combined to make them the most effective and highest-paid assassins in the world.

  But the Wolven kept a calm composure, even as the room stirred with distress from his presence. He was probably accustomed to such a reception wherever he went, if not worse.

  The woman, Vivian, kept a huge smile on her face as if she didn’t even notice the room’s discomfort. “Greetings, Royal Duma of Darzia!” Her chipper voice rang around the chamber and silenced all the House Leaders once more. “Wow, it really is amazing to see so many royal faces all in one place. I mean, you are all royalty, aren’t you? That’s how this whole thing works, right? Your kingdom doesn’t have just one royal family, but twenty or something?”

  Everyone stiffened again. House Leader Grandil cleared his hoarse throat and interceded. “Once again, I ask that the Royal Duma be patient with my guests, and forgive their ignorance of our customs. They are not from our kingdom.”

  Vivian just kept smiling from ear to ear, her big blue eyes sparkling. “Well then. I guess I shouldn’t keep you all waiting. You all want to know why Xavier and I have traveled all this way to see you, eh?”

  The Wolven’s red eyes flicked angrily towards his master, and perhaps the slightest snarl pulled his thin lips. But the slight surge of anger faded quickly into his normal expression, which looked very similar. Wolvens did not like for people to know their names, even their employers. Despite this, Vivian had blatantly announced it in front of the entire Duma. Was the girl stupid? Or just overly daring? Either possibility seemed equally dangerous.

  The girl’s hand reached into her vest and fished around. Some of the men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, for Vivian appeared to be groping her own breasts, which were generously large for a girl of small stature. Then she made a yelp of delight and pulled out what she had been looking for.

  “Here it is! For a minute there I thought I had lost it. Now that would have been bad.” She released a bubbly laugh, then held up the sparkling treasure for everyone to see.

  It was a key, and nothing more. Perhaps it had an unusual shape, with sharp teeth on the tip and a jewel on the end, but it did not look particularly special to Nadia otherwise. It even looked rusty and unused. A small gold chain looped through the key and around Vivian to form a necklace.

  Vivian seemed disappointed by the room’s lack of excitement. For a long while, they all just stared at the key curiously.

  Finally, Vivian laughed again. “Right, I guess you’ve never seen it before, so you don’t know what it is. Well this, my friends, is the key to the Grand Keep of Krondolee!”

  After that, the room seemed to explode. Many people spoke up at once. Some of them stood and waved their hands to be heard above the others.

  “It’s not possible!”

  “It doesn’t exist!”

  “But if it is real, then she should give it to us now!”

  Nadia couldn’t resist watching Tristan Jeridar, for she knew that this news would excite him more than anyone else in the castle. But shock had paralyzed the poor young man. All the blood drained from his chubby cheeks. His golden irises were reduced to tiny dots in the circles of his wide, gaping eyes.

  Finally, Nadia found her own voice. She stood up and shouted loudly enough to cut through the House Leaders’ clamor. “SILENCE! Everyone in their seats now, or I will arrest you for misconduct!”

  The nobles obeyed, if with some reluctance, and their faces were red with anger or embarrassment. Only Nadia remained standing, her sharp green eyes slicing across the room towards Vivian. Vivian met her stare without wavering, a little smile still stamped on her pink lips.

  Nadia glanced at House Leader Grandil, though only for a moment. “I trust you have verified this ridiculous claim, Lord Grandil?”

  The old man nodded his head, letting white braids fall about his shoulders. “I have indeed, my queen. I inserted the key into the door, turned it, and the door unlocked.”

  More gasps echoed around the room. Nadia’s harsh glare cut them short.

  “I did not open the door, of course, Majesty,” Grandil continued. “I knew that you should see the contents of the Grand Keep before anyone else. So I relocked the door and intended to bring you the key. However, Vivian Trell and her guard made it very clear they would only give up the key on their own terms.”

  Queen Nadia could not help but shake her head in amazement. Only House Leader Grandil possessed the honor and self-control to unlock the most mysterious door in all of Darzia and then resist the urge to open it. She did not doubt his word in the slightest. So she turned her attention back to Vivian, who still wore that damnable smirk on her face.

  “Where did you find this key, girl?” she demanded.

  If only for a moment, the slightest hint of uncertainty crossed Vivian’s face. Perhaps she had not expected Nadia to address her so rudely. She wanted to feel that she held power over everyone, even the queen herself. But Nadia would not offer respect where none was given.

  “I found the key in Norsidia,” said Vivian at last.

  Immediately, Vivian regained the room’s full attention. Even Nadia’s heart skipped a beat. Norsidia was the land of the gods. Few mortals set foot on the large island, if they could even find it; supposedly, the island constantly changed location in a manner that defied reason. “How did you... ?”

  “How I got this key shouldn’t concern you,” said Vivian, her eyes giving another flare of indignance. “What matters is that I hold the key now, and I haven’t yet decided who I’ll give it to.”

  This time, it was Nadia’s own husband who rose to challenge Vivian’s audacity. His boxy chin, stern eyes, and perfectly composed appearance had a way of demanding respect, even from an upstart like Vivian. “There is no question about who shall receive the key,” said Grand Prince Gerald in a rich, booming voice. Nadia didn’t know whether to be grateful for his support, or annoyed by his interference. “You shall give the key to Queen Nadia Elborn. If you give it to anyone else, or otherwise keep it from her, you will be arrested for contempt of the crown.”

  “Oh really?” Vivian’s teeth flashed with a smile. “Contempt for the crown! That sounds bad. But please explain to me, Grand Prince—that’s your title, right? Not a king, exactly? Because technically, the queen’s family is currently the ruling House?”

  Even Gerald’s stone-like composure wavered briefly, his mouth pinching with the slightest hint of anger.

  “Forgive me, I’m just trying to understand all these Darzian politics.” She batted her lashes innocently. “Anyway, as I was saying—please explain to me, your Grand Princeliness, why I should be arrested for giving away—or keeping—an item that has been in my possession since before I ever came to your corner of the world? It seems to me the key is mine, and I’ll do with it whatever I please.”

  “The key was never yours at all,” said Gerald, who had regained his placidity. “If it is the key to the Grand Keep, then it belongs to the crown.”

  Nadia sat back down and motioned for Gerald to do the same. She wanted to continue to appear in complete control of the situation, even if she did not feel that way. Besides, her back ached from the pregnancy and she felt as if a pile of rocks kept rising around her ankles. But as she and Gerald settled back into their seats, Vivian began to pace around the room with a little hop to her step, pausing to look into the eyes of this or that noble as she went. Nadia felt more restless than ever, confined to her restrained position.

  “Let me assure you all of one simple fact,” piped Vivian. “The only way any of you will get the key—and I mean any of you—is if I give it to you willingly. If you try to arrest me, I will disappear, and the key along with me. I’m really not kidding. If you test me on this, you’ll regret it. Because I�
��ll be gone, and so will the key. Forever. Your one and only chance to discover what’s in the Grand Keep—” She snapped her fingers, so sharply that a few people flinched. “Puff! Gone! Like it was never even here at all!”

  Nadia’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She felt the baby stirring within her. This girl seemed to assume that she could easily escape capture. Perhaps she did not know the full power of the Darzian Royal Guard. Or perhaps she did, and knew she could escape anyway. Perhaps she had planned all of this out from the beginning. She didn’t seem capable of such a cunning and intricate plot. But who else would dare this entire charade? What if the girl really could vanish as mysteriously as she’d arrived? Was it worth losing the key permanently to find out?

  While Nadia considered what to do, Vivian continued to stroll about the room, sizing up the House Leaders, and even giving some of them flirtatious glances. Finally she approached Tristan Jeridar, and Nadia’s breath stopped in her throat. This, most certainly, would not be good. The girl leaned close to the young noble, giving him a generous view of her tightly-vested breasts. The man was practically slobbering at the mouth, but his lust burned only for the key that hung from Vivian’s neck. As she dangled it in front of him, the jewel on the tip sparkled, like the dozens of precious gems on Tristan’s own person. It was almost as if Vivian knew that this simple gesture would send the poor man hurtling over the edge.

  And it did. Tristan reached for the necklace.

  Vivian darted away so quickly, Tristan grabbed only air. But he might as well have grabbed a noose and hung himself from the ceiling. For in the blink of an eye, the Wolven stood behind Tristan and pressed a blade to his throat.