Marching on Antietam, Chapter Seven
Okay, so the angst monster has come to play with us for the rest of the story, starting in this section. This part is also monstrously long. I apologize to your retinas in advance.
This one goes out to nadeshiko1, because I was mean to her last night and made her wait all day for this section. :)
Disclaimer in Chapter One.
Chapter Seven: Stranglehold
The assault of the sunlight would have made her head hurt, had it not been pounding already. The brunette winced, and tried to move her hand to shield herself from the onslaught, but found her limbs heavy and virtually immobile. She pursed her lips, turning her head gently and slowly to stare at her right arm, willing it to move. When it finally lifted a few millimeters off the bed, she grunted in pain and let it drop to the bed with a muffled sound.
A kind face entered her field of vision, but it took a double take for her to understand who it was.
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” the medic said. “I’ve given you a combination of pain reliever and muscle relaxant. You’ll feel out of sorts for a little while longer.”
Azkadellia licked her chapped lips, and the blonde resistance fighter reached behind her, picking up a glass of water. The blonde helped the princess sip from the cup, and rapped her on the back when she tried to swallow too much and started sputtering.
“Jesus, Az, you’re not a fish. Take it easy.”
Azkadellia turned to face the newcomer, and smiled brightly as the doctor helped her into a sitting position. “I was thirsty,” she managed in a hoarse, raspy voice.
“Good things come to those who wait,” DG teased back, sitting down in her watchman’s chair, situated next to the bed. “You look like shit,” she proclaimed, causing the medic to try, and fail, to stifle a loud chuckle.
Az rested against the pillows, watching the medic as she took her pulse and blood pressure. “I would probably agree with your assessment, little sister.” She looked back at DG, who had deep circles beneath her eyes. “How long have I been out?”
“Almost four days,” the medic replied when DG did not. “I kept you fairly heavily medicated. I wanted to give your body a chance to heal. Though I think your sister did most of the work.”
“Looks that way,” Azkadellia murmured quietly. “Deege, are you all right?”
The younger princess nodded. “Just tired, Az. I haven’t slept much the past two weeks.”
“Something on your mind?” the older woman joked softly, and smiled wider when DG finally grinned back.
“Just a few things,” DG confirmed, albeit evasively. “Seriously, how are you feeling?”
“Like I went fifteen rounds in the Realm of the Unwanted and lost miserably.”
“You’ll feel that way for a few more days at least,” the medic informed her, and Azkadellia turned to face the blonde woman fully. “But I was able to procure some additional pain medicine should you need it.”
“I’d like to catch up with my sister,” the older princess requested. “I have a feeling I’ve missed something.”
The blonde medic and the younger princess exchanged a significant look before the doctor spoke again. “Very well, Your Highness. But please don’t let the discomfort get too out of hand. I don’t want to give you too much pain medicine in an attempt to catch up with the pain. Too much could stifle your breathing, and then we’d be back where we started.”
“Thank you, Doctor Lowry,” Azkadellia said, trying not to wince at the still-apparent bruises and lacerations marring the woman’s face.
“You can call me Ainsley, if you wish, Highness,” the blonde replied.
“Ainsley?” DG’s eyebrows reached her hairline. “Really?”
The blonde looked momentarily uncomfortable. “It was my mother’s maiden name.”
“It’s so girly,” DG replied, only half-thinking in her worried exhaustion, and obviously relieved for the change in topic. “You’re not a girl.”
“I think Jeb Cain might disagree with that assessment,” Azkadellia corrected her sister, causing DG to sputter with laughter, though her sister caught the fleetingly surprised look on the younger woman’s face, as though she hadn’t expected to remember how to laugh. The blonde merely smiled, collecting her things.
“Let me know if you need anything,” the medic said, curtsying at both girls before leaving the room.
Once the door shut behind her, Azkadellia folded her hands and rested them primly on her stomach. Had she not been so pale, or confined to bed, one would find her the epitome of royal grace. “Spill it, little sister.”
DG sat back in her chair, rubbing her forehead. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Everything.” At her sister’s silence, Azkadellia continued. “We may have been separated a long time, DG, but I can still tell when something’s bothering you. What’s going on?”
Both girls jumped at the rapport of gunfire as it blasted outside the tower. Azkadellia turned with wide, scared eyes and demanded of her sister, “What’s going on, DG?”
“We’ve fortified the walls with volunteers. About sixty-five or seventy in number.”
“Fortified the walls against what?”
DG sighed. “There are indications that the resistance are preparing for an attack.”
Had she not already been feeling lightheaded, that news would have brought the eldest princess to her knees. “They want me.”
DG couldn’t lie. “I think so, yes. And the Qu-Mother, to some extent. We issued a press release, but kept it ambiguous, thinking that most people would just celebrate the Witch’s demise and get on with life.”
“They deserve retribution.”
DG’s eyes toughened. “Not against you, they don’t. If they want a scapegoat, they can have me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Azkadellia looked away disgustedly, and guiltily, for a moment. “Mother is in no state to rule. I still have my magic, but no one will have me on the throne. You’re the last in the line. You have to rule.”
“I’m the reason this whole damn thing happened in the first place! Why doesn’t anyone understand that?” DG rose and started pacing the room, the squeaking of her sneakers intensifying the rhythmic pulsing in her sister’s head.
“Be that as it may, DG-would you please sit down?” Az rubbed at her temples. “You are the only one sufficient to rule. I’m sorry to say you don’t have a choice in the matter.”
DG sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking at loose strands on the duvet. “I know that,” she finally admitted. “I just can’t seem to wrap my brain around it. Az, I fix turbines and motorcycle parts, not countries.”
Az reached for her hand and tightened her fingers around the younger woman’s knuckles, the white, pulsing light of their magic mixing and making her momentarily stronger. “Then we’ll do it together. They’ll ignore the crazy girl behind the curtain if we hide me well enough.”
DG didn’t smile. “Don’t talk like that. Please.”
Azkadellia looked concernedly at her sister. “DG, what’s going on? This is a terrible situation, but I feel like there’s something else bothering you.”
DG sighed. “Cain and Jeb went to visit Adora’s parents two days ago. I just…I have this feeling that something’s wrong. I have since before they left.”
Az tried to keep her tone gentle. “Could your discomfort be because you miss him?”
DG shook her head. “It’s more than that, Az. I feel like I should be yelling ‘trap!’ as loud as I can, but nobody’s listening. It’s like this little voice in the back of my head telling me something is off about this whole thing.” She started to pace the room again, and Azkadellia winced as the squeaking resumed. “The timing is just a little too convenient, you know?”
Az chose to ignore her sister’s confirmation that she missed the elder Cain, though she filed it away for later questioning. “If you were that concerned about their well-being, why didn’t you go with them?”
The squeaking ended suddenly, only to be followed by a loud, continuous scraping of rubber sole on marble as DG turned hastily and gaped at her sister. “Uh, hello, you in a coma? That kept my interests pretty focused the past few days.”
“Are you having any dreams? Premonitions?” At her sister’s shaking head, Az pursed her lips again. “You’ve been through a lot the past two weeks, Deege. Your unease could be a reaction to that, and not necessarily to the Cains’ current situation.”
DG put her hands on her hips and glanced out the window, her tone defiant. “I don’t think so, Az. Something’s wrong.”
The certainty with which her sister spoke troubled the eldest princess. “You could send scouts, or a search party.”
DG shook her head, walking to the window and looking unseeingly past the glass. “We don’t have enough manpower to spare anyone. Besides, all I know is that they were on the border with Munchkin Country. I wouldn’t even know which way to go.”
“I’m sure they’re fine, Deege.” The reassurance was hollow at best.
The windowpane shook as their mismatched army practiced with their munitions. DG stepped away, unable to watch the once bright landscape, the same sunshine that had warmed her face just a scant few days earlier, as they both dimmed before her dulled eyes. She sat down in the chair next to Azkadellia’s bed, her once light eyes meeting her sister’s dark, wise ones. “Have you ever just known something was wrong? Have the hairs on the back of your neck just stood up, and you knew in your gut something was off?”
“Yes.” Azkadellia didn’t elaborate, for the last time she remembered having such a feeling was the day she and DG discovered the cave.
“So I’m not crazy?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” At her sister’s defeated half-smile, Azkadellia reached across and took her sister’s hand beneath her own. “There’s no use in worrying yourself ragged, DG. They can take care of themselves.”
“I know. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”
Azkadellia was silent for a long moment, enough that DG took notice and looked curiously at her. “Az?”
“I never thanked them. Or you.”
DG’s brow wrinkled. “Thanked me for what?”
“Saving my life.” Az looked down at her hands. “For saving all of us.”
DG leaned over and ducked her head, making sure to catch her sister’s gaze. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that, Az. Or the others. We were just doing what was right. Besides,” she looked away uncomfortably, “if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have needed saving.”
“This is going to become a sick cycle, isn’t it?” Az smiled briefly.
“Probably,” DG agreed before sighing and looking toward the window.
“A watched pot never boils,” Az told her, and the younger princess returned her gaze to her sister. “He’ll be back soon.”
“He better,” DG muttered, and Az watched as her sister’s eyes darkened in apprehensive thought.
“Is there something I should know?” Azkadellia was magnificent in keeping her tone lightly neutral.
DG stared at her sister. “About what?”
“You and Mr. Cain,” the eldest princess replied evenly.
“No!” At the perfect, disbelieving quirk of her sister’s brow, DG slumped. “I rely on him a lot. Az, you gotta see this from where I’m standing-he’s one of the only people I know here. We’ve been through a lot together, and he…he protected me when he didn’t need to. He stuck by me when I had no one else.”
“So did Ambrose and Raw,” Az pointed out.
DG stood and started to pace the room, and Azkadellia cursed her curiosity as the blasted squeaking began anew. “Cain and I talked a lot. Well, I talked a lot, and he listened, as we drove to the Northern Island, and after Finaqua. Az, you remember things I don’t even have the inclination to imagine, let alone relive. To me, my parents are Hank and Emily, not the Queen and Ahamo. My house is a farm in Kansas. I just…I may not have realized it there, but that was my life. Mine. I knew up from down and left from right. Now I have no idea where to begin. Cain’s in the same boat.”
“You’re kindred spirits,” her sister remarked. “I can understand your attachment to him. I just worry that it’s turning into something more.”
DG turned, hands on hips, eyes blazing. “What if it did?”
Azkadellia kept her face neutral. “Do you want it to?”
“Answer my question first.”
Her sister finally grinned. “I’d say good job and godspeed.”
DG laughed briefly, momentarily calmed. “They’re fine.” It was a question, trying its damndest to be a reassuring statement.
“They’ll be fine, DG. Just like you.”
***
Every broken branch, every whistle of the wind, every shadow that crossed into the small cabin caught the older woman’s attention. Her blonde hair flung backwards each time she looked eagerly to the window. When she saw the source of the sound, perhaps a bird or butterfly fluttering their wings, anticipation seeped further into her, nervous energy causing her to abandon and resume her knitting half a dozen times.
“They’ll be here soon, Emmeline,” her husband assured her, walking in from the small sitting room.
She sighed and looked up from her seat at the small kitchen table. “Are we doing the right thing, William?”
Her husband replied without hesitation. “Yes, my dear.”
They both turned and looked as the sound of horse hooves broke the relative stillness. Emmeline rose from her chair and watched two similar blond forms straddling two horses approach the house. The butterflies that had been hovering outside settled in her stomach as she approached the front door and wrenched it open.
She didn’t recognize the men standing in front of her, and yet, it seemed that no time had passed since she’d seen them.
The three stood meters apart, openly appraising each other. Finally, Jeb took a step forward, and Emmeline rushed to greet him, enveloping him in a tight hug. “Look at you,” she whispered, releasing him briefly and searching his face for signs of her daughter. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m looking at you, my darling boy.”
“Hello, Grandmother,” Jeb replied uncomfortably. When the older woman finally pulled back, he stepped away, eyes scanning the small plot of land. The older woman watched him, memories flooding her vision as she appraised the young man in front of her. He’d spent so much time here as a young boy; he’d learned to swim in the small pond behind the house. Emmeline could still hear his shrieking laughter as his father threw him into the water from the dock, and as the wind rustled the elm leaves beside him, she swore she heard her daughter’s half-hearted admonishments to her son-in-law. When the breeze stopped, she remembered how Wyatt would just grin and throw his wife right in after their son.
She blinked away the memories, and they were replaced by tears as she stared at her son-in-law. “Oh, Wyatt.”
Cain offered a small smile before allowing the woman to embrace him just as tightly as she had Jeb. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she whispered, tears staining his shirt. “I thought…”
“I know,” Cain replied, patting her back awkwardly.
Emmeline sniffled and swiped embarrassedly at her eyes, then wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, come inside, both of you. I’m sure you must be tired from your travels.”
“Thank you,” Cain said, turning to face Jeb. “Coming, son?”
Jeb nodded absently and followed the two into the small cabin. William was shaking Cain’s hand heartily when the younger man shut the door behind him.
“Sit, sit,” the older man ordered, and Cain and Jeb took seats on either side of the fireplace. William and Emmeline sat on a settee across from them, and an unnerving silence fell over the foursome.
“I suppose we should thank you,” Emmeline finally said, and Jeb jumped a little as the stalemate broke.
“For what?” Cain asked, removing his hat and placing it on a side table.
“Your adventures are becoming legend,” William said. “How you helped stop the Sorceress. How you’re staying with the royal family.”
“You’ve heard all that?” Jeb sat back in his chair.
“You’re rather famous,” Emmeline confirmed with a proud smile. “What a sight it must have been, you two fighting side by side. Adora would have been so proud.”
The Cain men both looked at the floor at the mention of the dead woman’s name. Emmeline and William exchanged a look before the older woman spoke again. “I don’t suppose you boys have had much time to reconnect.”
Cain glanced at Jeb, whose eyes remained on the floor. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But there’ll be time for that soon enough.”
Emmeline smiled. “Absolutely right, dear Wyatt. Now,” she clapped her hands and stood, causing Cain to rise with her, “Who’s hungry?”
The flurry of activity in the kitchen drowned out the awkward silence permeating the rest of the house. Pots and pans clanged with wooden spoons as Emmeline started cooking. The three men remained in the sitting area as she hummed her way through dinner preparations.
When she finally called to the men, informing them dinner was ready, the suns had started to descend, leaving a trail of blue hues behind them. Jeb and Cain sat on opposite sides of the small table, and Emmeline and William sat at either end.
His grandmother laughed when she heard Jeb’s stomach rumble as his eyes raked over the mountain of food in front of him. “I don’t suppose the palace has instituted any cooks yet.”
Jeb shook his head, filling his plate. “There’s only a handful of people there. Servants aren’t high on the list of priorities.”
“Why stay at the Black Tower?” William inquired, passing Cain an overflowing dish of vegetables. “Doesn’t the Queen want to get back to the palace? I’d want to get the hell away from anything to do with the Sorceress.”
“Azkadellia’s not well,” Jeb replied. “They’re waiting on Doc to clear her to travel. It’s easier to stay right now.”
“Doc?” Emmeline asked, cutting into her meat.
Jeb blushed. “One of my medics. She’s helping out.”
Emmeline shared a knowing smile with Cain, feeling her heartbeat start to race. Her stomach was tight, and not because of her meal. She rose abruptly from the table, causing all three men to look at her concernedly. She tried to form an excuse, but found none. Instead, she hurried to the kitchen corner, leaning against the splintering wood for support.
“Emmeline?” Cain walked up quietly behind her. “Are you all right?”
She tried to nod, but felt the tears threaten, catching in her chest. “I miss her so,” she whispered, and heard her son-in-law sigh.
“I do, too,” he replied quietly. “I keep expecting her to walk through that door.”
Emmeline turned to face him, though her gaze remained on her apron, watching as her hands twisted in the fabric. “I don’t know what’s worse, Wyatt; knowing you’ve thought she was dead for eight annuals, or the fact that she really is gone.”
Cain sighed again. “I got my hopes up when they said she was alive. Seeing that grave…”
“It was like she died all over again, and that hope died with her.” Jeb had come into the kitchen, leaning against the stove.
Emmeline watched as father and son exchanged a tentative look, one meant to be a peace offering. “She would be so proud of you,” she repeated, her voice stronger now. “I’m proud of you. You’ve both sacrificed a lot.”
A faraway look momentarily passed over Cain’s face before the mask slipped in behind it, shutting him off to her. “We all have.”
Emmeline nodded, and then looked over at Jeb, who was watching his father intently, but also seemingly impassively, though she could see something intense, but something she could not name, behind his eyes. “So tell me about this Doc, my boy.”
Jeb blushed again. “Not much to tell.”
Emmeline wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you lie to me, Jeb Cain. I want to hear about her.”
“You’d like her,” his father interjected. “Reminds me of Adora.”
The anxiety in her stomach doubled, and the older woman looked over her shoulder and out the small window over the sink. She chewed her lip as she mulled her decision. When she stepped forward to Cain, her eyes were sure, dark and forceful. “Get out of here.”
Cain’s brow creased. “Excuse me?”
“Leave. Now.”
Cain searched her face keenly. “Emmeline, what’s going on?”
“Please, Wyatt, just go!” Her pleading admonishment was too loud, and she winced as she heard William come from the other room.
The cocking of the gun caused both Cain men to turn and stare worriedly at the older man. “Sit,” he ordered coldly. When no one moved, he pointed the barrel of the rifle at Cain’s head. “I said sit.”
They walked back into the sitting area, the old floorboards creaking in resignation. Jeb and Cain sat on the sofa, glancing quickly at one another, trying to gauge the situation. William kept the gun trained on them until there was a knock at the door.
When Garrett stepped through the front door, Emmeline could see he had not come alone. There were dozens of her fellow resistors outside, carrying torches to light their path in the stillness between the setting of the suns and the full rising of the moons. The new resistance leader’s eyes were as cold as she’d ever seen them, and she could feel her daughter’s intense, disapproving gaze chilling her along with Garrett’s presence. She stepped forward, surprising William, but not enough that he lost focus on their ultimate goal.
“There’s got to be another way,” she implored both men, despair dropping her shoulders as Garrett shook his head.
“We haven’t received a reply from the Crown yet. It’s been long enough. We have to take action.”
“William, please,” Emmeline beseeched her husband. “I know we want to punish the bastards who killed our daughter, but they’re family. We can’t do this. It’s not right.”
William did not waver. “We have to do what we have to do, Em. You’re either with us or against us.”
“Think of Adora. What would she want?”
“She’d do everything in her power to right the wrongs against her family.” William turned to face the older blonde woman fully. “You heard the same reports I did, my dear. They let the Sorceress live. They let our daughter’s murderer live. The Crown is ignoring us, and we need help to rebuild. We have to do something to get their attention. This is the only way.”
She looked over her shoulder at the two blond men, sitting stiller than stone in her living room. Two men she thought she’d never seen again. Two men who wanted to move forward just as much as she did. They were just going about it the wrong way, and with the wrong help.
Defeated, she stepped aside and let Garrett approach father and son.
***
DG had not slept in nearly three days. Cain and Jeb still weren’t back from their trip to see Adora’s parents, and the feeling of dread had only intensified the longer they were away.
She was in Azkadellia’s room, reading a random book from the small library she’d found tucked away in the back of the tower, when her mother came in, looking pale and shaking. It was the first time she had ever seen her mother that unhinged. Her heart dropped to her stomach, beating wildly, trying to escape its confines.
Azkadellia noticed it too, and was quicker to question. “Mother? What’s wrong?”
The Queen’s lavender eyes were dark and laden with tears. She did not move until Ahamo stood directly behind her, supporting her weight with his own. “We have received a ransom letter,” she finally managed, her emotion thickening her accent.
It took DG a moment to understand her mother’s words, but she did not comprehend their meaning. “What do you mean, ransom?”
The Queen nodded, looking sorrowfully at DG. “My darling, I am so sorry.”
The youngest princess stood, facing her mother completely. “Why are you sorry?” Her words were timid, and her voice dropped with each syllable.
Ahamo put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Tell her,” he said quietly, also scrutinizing his youngest daughter. It was enough to unnerve her and make her take a step back.
“Tell me what? What’s going on?” DG looked down at Azkadellia, who seemed just as confused and worried as she was.
“The resistance fighters of the East have banded together against us,” her mother began. “They were the most vocal in response to our proclamation. They feel their demands for a meeting and reclamation have not been met.”
DG scoffed, though her concern kept her body rigid. “We’ve been a little busy.”
The Queen straightened her shoulders as she prepared to give her daughters the rest of the news. “They have taken hostages, and will not release them unless one of us goes to their location.”
The revelation hit DG like the proverbial ton of bricks. Flailing blindly, she sat down again, focusing on the scuffed floor around her feet as her head spun in a thousand different directions. “Cain.”
“I’m afraid so, my love,” her mother replied, moving away from Ahamo and kneeling in front of her youngest daughter. “It appears his visit was part of their plan.”
DG looked her mother dead in the eye, devoid of any emotion, except firm and unwavering determination. “I’ll go.”
“No.” Azkadellia’s voice was as firm as she’d ever heard it. “You’re in no position to negotiate with them.”
DG looked painfully, pleadingly, at her sister. “Az, I have to. It’s Cain.”
“I understand that,” her sister replied, though her voice was hard enough that it made DG wonder just how much she knew, “but you’re not prepared. You don’t know diplomacy, or the basic laws of the O.Z. You’re the last person who should deal with these…people.” The last word was so scornfully hateful that DG had to resist the urge to wince.
“Give me the Cliffs Notes version,” DG pleaded, looking between her mother and her sister.
“Your sister’s right,” her mother finally replied. “You’re in no position to go to them.”
“So, what? You’re just going to leave them out there?” Disbelievingly, she pushed the chair back from her mother and started to pace. “We can’t do nothing.”
“They expect us to go in with a regiment of men. Taking personnel from our borders will leave us essentially unguarded,” the Queen replied. “It would open us up to a direct attack, during which our depleted resources would be quickly overtaken. I cannot, in good conscience, trade the lives of all those men for just two, no matter how important they may be to my family.”
DG motioned to the letter her mother held. “Does it say anywhere in there that they plan to attack?”
There was a long, tense pause before the Queen answered. “No.”
“They just want to negotiate.”
“Yes. But DG-“
“Please. Let me go. If they just want to talk, the least we can do is hear them out. They’re not going away. People aren’t responding the way we hoped they would. We have to adapt.” DG crossed her arms, and caught Ahamo’s brief, proud smirk out of the corner of her eye. “If these cells have banded together, and I can convince them to back down, that could go a long way in encouraging the other factions to come to our side.”
Azkadellia looked torn, as though she could not decide whether her sister was actually a good mediator, or whether she was just plain nuts. The Queen’s face was more neutral, but her eyes raked over her youngest daughter as she mulled a plan of action.
Finally, she shook her head, rigidity in her body and her voice. “It’s out of the question, DG. You will not go, and that’s final.”
DG’s eyebrows rose. “You’ll come to learn that I don’t really respond to ultimatums.”
“Dorothy Gale-“ Ahamo began, and the youngest brunette whirled on him.
“What do you propose we do? Sit on our asses and let them attack us? We wouldn’t survive five minutes with those jokers,” she waved in the general direction of the window, “and you know it. I have to be the one to go. They’d kill Az five paces outside these walls, and Mother’s too weak to go, not to mention the fact they blame her for ‘disappearing’ and letting the Witch take over.” She looked between her parents, both of whom could not meet her staunch gaze. “I won’t let you down. I won’t mess up again.”
“Oh, my angel, I know you won’t. That’s not the issue. Your sister is right; you don’t know how things work here. It’s too dangerous. There are too many variables at play.”
“I had to talk down two drunk truckers after the Kansas/Kansas State basketball game. Huge fight, right in the middle of the diner, and I handled it. Diplomacy is little more than listening to your opponent, and trying to meet in the middle. I can do this. I need to do this.”
The Queen placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Angel, I just got you back. I cannot lose you again.”
DG sighed. “I understand that. But if going to them could help broker peace, then I have a duty to help.” She held up a hand as her mother started to protest. “This isn’t about being a martyr. This is about doing what’s right.”
Ahamo and the Queen exchanged a long look, the silent conversation eluding both their daughters. Finally, with a small shake of his head, Ahamo relented. His wife followed suit, though she looked painfully troubled at the possibilities.
“We will send a response to the resistance leader,” her mother finally said. “We will request his presence for negotiations here. Then, we will proceed.”
It was a feeble plan, but neutral enough that both parties could agree on the holding pattern. Azkadellia’s soft voice was the next to pose a response.
“We need to tell Ainsley what’s happened,” she said, looking at the still apparent stalemate between her mother and sister.
“I’ll do it,” DG offered, but Az shook her head.
“Let me,” the eldest princess requested. “She and I…we…I would like to be the one to tell her.”
DG didn’t question the appeal. “I guess we should go formulate a response,” she said to her mother, motioning to the parchment in her hands.
“Yes, we should.” The Queen pressed a kiss to her eldest daughter’s forehead before stepping crisply to the door. “I shall summon the doctor for you, Azkadellia.”
***
Your Highness,
Now is not the time for reconciliations or negotiations. You would not listen to words. Now you must listen to action.
We stand by our demands. If they are not met within three days, one of the hostages will die.
We are prepared to do whatever is necessary to reclaim the O.Z.
Respectfully yours,
Garrett Griffin
***
The response came in the middle of the night, during dead time, when the air barely moves and sounds must amplify just to be heard above the whispering of the darkness settling over them.
DG was not asleep. She still had not rested, choosing instead to exploit her insomnia and immerse herself in all the information she could find regarding Ozian law. The courier found her in her sister’s room, papers spread out on the floor, reaching from baseboard to baseboard. The youngest princess was sitting in her socks, mulling over a particular book when he arrived.
He handed her the reply, and looked between her and the sleeping Azkadellia. DG could see a fiery hatred in his eyes, blatant and unsettling. She rose from her sprawl of papers and ushered him back toward the door. “There are some cots set up down the hall. I will discuss this with my mother, and we will have a reply for you shortly.”
The courier simply nodded, and made to leave the room, but not before tossing one last abhorrent look in her sister’s direction.
DG tore open the reply, and tears filled her eyes. She felt drained; not from exhaustion, but at the knowledge that someone she cared deeply for was in trouble. Again. And she had seen what they could do-especially to those they felt had defected.
She raced to her parents’ room, slipping and nearly falling as she slid across the marble floors. Knocking once, she barged in, surprising Ahamo out of a dead sleep, and causing the man to leap up and fumble for a weapon to defend himself.
He got as far as grabbing his boot when DG held up her hand. “It’s just me. The Resistance replied.”
Her mother sat up, grey curls spilling far past her shoulders. She slumped as she saw the look on her daughter’s face. “They refuse to negotiate.”
DG nodded. “We need to go to Plan B.”
“I am still wholeheartedly against this,” the Queen reminded her. “I know you’ve done a lot of work the past few days, and I commend you for that. But a crash course in diplomacy does not a diplomat make.”
“We don’t have a choice. They’re going to kill them. I can’t…” DG pursed her lips. “I have to help him, Mother. He got me through. He never abandoned me. I have to do the same for him. For both of them.”
The Queen and Consort exchanged a long look. “You could very well be walking into a trap, DG, just like the Cains did.”
“I know that,” the youngest princess replied. When her parents said nothing further, she put her hands on her hips. “Look, I’m going, with or without your blessing. I’m as prepared as I can be. I’m going.”
The Queen sighed. After another long glance at Ahamo, she slid out of bed. “Let’s saddle the horses.”
***
The first communiqué had indicated the meeting place would be near the old cabin by the white elm, on the border of the crack in the O.Z. Traveling there was quicker the second time around, given she was on horseback, but it was no less painful. DG’s heart thudded in time with the horse beats on the ground, and for every landmark they passed, it seemed as though they were falling further and further behind.
Reynolds, one of the newly appointed Captains in the Royal Guard, was directly in front of her, with two soldiers on either side of him. She was flanked by two more on her left and right, and three in back. They sounded like a freight train tearing out of control down a greased track.
Somehow, she heard the waterfall over the din, and it mixed with the rushing blood in her head. They were getting close. Hold on, she pleaded. Just hold on.
Two men stood in the clearing as they approached, guns aimed. Reynolds pulled them to a full stop, and then looked over his shoulder at the princess. “Highness? What would you like us to do?”
She dismounted and stood in front of the company of men. For all her planning, all her studying, she had neglected to think about how she’d start the negotiation. I come in peace? Take me to your leader? She nearly giggled at the absurd thought, thankful for a break in the grave reality of the past week.
“Jeb and Wyatt Cain,” she finally called. “I wish to see they’re not harmed.”
“They’re fine,” one of the men said. “We’ll trade one for you.”
DG shook her head. “No. You want me, you let both of them go.”
The rifle cocked and pointed straight at her head. “You’re in no position to make demands, Princess.”
“I need proof of life.” Stay calm. She heard Az’s voice in her head, and wondered for a minute if their magic allowed for telepathy. You can do this.
The second man turned and faced behind him. DG could see a row of boulders behind him and immediately started searching for the familiar fedora, or for a flash of blond hair. Her heart sank when she saw neither.
Finally, over the clamor of the whinnying horses and the rushing water, she heard a voice call out.
“Hey there, Princess.”
Relief flooded through her so quickly and strongly that she nearly had to lean on Reynolds for support. But she would not let them know she was shaken; she would not bend or break. Defiantly, she raised her chin and called back. “You okay?”
“Been better,” came the reply, and she had to bite back a smile.
“Jeb?”
“Here.” He sounded worse than his father, but still mercifully alive.
The resistance leader turned back to her. “Proof enough, Princess?”
There were guffaws of laughter at his comment, and the sound quickly encircled her. She realized they were surrounded, and looked to Reynolds anxiously.
“We need to pull back and set up our own blockage,” he said quietly, his hand on his sidearm.
She nodded slightly, and then looked at the leader across the clearing. “Pull your men back, and then we’ll talk. I will not be painted into a corner.”
There was more laughter, and the leader again looked over his shoulder at his company, this time in amusement. “I’d say you already are.”
“You want me to give you something, you gotta offer something first,” DG said. “Good faith goes a long way in this.”
The two men in the clearing turned toward each other, bowing their heads and discussing it briefly. Finally, the second man’s voice shouted to his comrades. “All companies pull back! Back behind the front lines!”
There was a thunderous shifting around them, but DG never saw any of the men that had surrounded her. They were skilled, and slightly desperate. It was a deadly combination.
She turned to Reynolds, and made to speak, but he beat her to the punch.
“Princess, I highly advise against this.”
“Have your men pull back,” she ordered, her tone clipped and efficient. “I’ll make the trade.”
“Princess…”
“Do it.” She’d never sounded more coldly commanding in her life.
The commander sighed. “Pull back!” He yelled, his voice carrying beyond the cheering of the opposition as he did so.
DG stood in front of her horse, arms raised in surrender. “I’m coming out!” She called, and the victorious cheering diminished into anticipating whispers. “I’m unarmed!”
She stepped into the clearing, the wind rustling her hair in goodbye as she took her first tentative steps toward the front lines. She stopped parallel to the crack of the O.Z., and held her breath as she waited for the familiar frame to occupy the space in front of her, and she thought she might pass out from oxygen deprivation as the seconds lingered into infinite pause.
When she saw Cain emerge from behind a great elm, a sense of relief washed over her, and she expelled a heavy breath, the tightness in her chest lifting like a weight. Her eyes inspected him closely, looking for any signs he’d been injured.
Except for the gun pressed firmly into his side, he looked exactly as he had the last time she’d seen him. She dropped her head in relief, and clenched her fists to fight falling to the ground. Her eyes raked over him, her mind replaying the mantra of his good condition in an unending cycle.
She took a step toward him, her arms still raised above her head.
“Come closer!” A hidden form yelled, and she took another step, the muscles in her arms starting to ache from how rigidly she held them. They were the only outward signs of her nervousness, and she willed herself not to shake as she crossed the path to where her eventual captors lay in wait.
There was the all-too real possibility that they would kill her. They wanted to send a message; what more obvious sign of discord could they send than the dead body of the successor to the throne could there be?
She knew that, if she survived, Cain would have her ass for trading herself for him. But there was really no question in her mind-he’d already sacrificed so much for this cause, while she’d been spirited and hidden away, shielded from the actualities of war and loss. Now it was her turn to step up. Now it was her turn to save him, when he’d already done it for her, countless times.
She approached the other side carefully, and watched with unblinking eyes as Cain was pushed forward. His captor let him get ten paces in front of him before training the gun on DG. Cain continued walking, his cool eyes watching her every step.
His scent-musky, heady, tarnished and forgiving-assailed her as they closed the distance between them. They remained parallel to each other, their steps deliberate, both knowing that one misstep, one false move, could result in both of their deaths. DG focused on her breathing, but her chest hitched as he came ever closer, relief mixing with fear in overwhelming amounts.
They both slowed their pace as they rested side-by-side, and their hands dropped and caught between them, holding on as tightly as they dared in between steps. Their gazes met and caught, unwavering in the split second they had to converse.
Her eyes told him what she did not dare speak. This is the right thing to do. Trust me.
He replied as openly. With my life.
The unexpected, hesitant I love you was exchanged in the same breath, before the autonomic blinking severed the connection.
Their laced hands broke apart as she passed, but her arm remained reaching behind her, as though her body instinctively knew he should be back by her side, physically connected to her as strongly as he was emotionally.
The rest of the walk to the resistance was blurry, and she blinked harshly to rid herself of outward emotion. She’d have to be as strong and stoic as Cain to survive this. Don’t show your weakness, she chastised herself. These people were out for blood; who it belonged to was of little importance, as long as they got it. They seemed unhinged but expertly planning and cunning. She was walking into the lion’s den blind.
They took Princess Dorothy Gale, heir to the throne of the O.Z., threw her to her knees and pressed a gun to her head.
End Chapter Seven Chapter Eight: Come Undone
This one goes out to nadeshiko1, because I was mean to her last night and made her wait all day for this section. :)
Disclaimer in Chapter One.
Chapter Seven: Stranglehold
The assault of the sunlight would have made her head hurt, had it not been pounding already. The brunette winced, and tried to move her hand to shield herself from the onslaught, but found her limbs heavy and virtually immobile. She pursed her lips, turning her head gently and slowly to stare at her right arm, willing it to move. When it finally lifted a few millimeters off the bed, she grunted in pain and let it drop to the bed with a muffled sound.
A kind face entered her field of vision, but it took a double take for her to understand who it was.
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” the medic said. “I’ve given you a combination of pain reliever and muscle relaxant. You’ll feel out of sorts for a little while longer.”
Azkadellia licked her chapped lips, and the blonde resistance fighter reached behind her, picking up a glass of water. The blonde helped the princess sip from the cup, and rapped her on the back when she tried to swallow too much and started sputtering.
“Jesus, Az, you’re not a fish. Take it easy.”
Azkadellia turned to face the newcomer, and smiled brightly as the doctor helped her into a sitting position. “I was thirsty,” she managed in a hoarse, raspy voice.
“Good things come to those who wait,” DG teased back, sitting down in her watchman’s chair, situated next to the bed. “You look like shit,” she proclaimed, causing the medic to try, and fail, to stifle a loud chuckle.
Az rested against the pillows, watching the medic as she took her pulse and blood pressure. “I would probably agree with your assessment, little sister.” She looked back at DG, who had deep circles beneath her eyes. “How long have I been out?”
“Almost four days,” the medic replied when DG did not. “I kept you fairly heavily medicated. I wanted to give your body a chance to heal. Though I think your sister did most of the work.”
“Looks that way,” Azkadellia murmured quietly. “Deege, are you all right?”
The younger princess nodded. “Just tired, Az. I haven’t slept much the past two weeks.”
“Something on your mind?” the older woman joked softly, and smiled wider when DG finally grinned back.
“Just a few things,” DG confirmed, albeit evasively. “Seriously, how are you feeling?”
“Like I went fifteen rounds in the Realm of the Unwanted and lost miserably.”
“You’ll feel that way for a few more days at least,” the medic informed her, and Azkadellia turned to face the blonde woman fully. “But I was able to procure some additional pain medicine should you need it.”
“I’d like to catch up with my sister,” the older princess requested. “I have a feeling I’ve missed something.”
The blonde medic and the younger princess exchanged a significant look before the doctor spoke again. “Very well, Your Highness. But please don’t let the discomfort get too out of hand. I don’t want to give you too much pain medicine in an attempt to catch up with the pain. Too much could stifle your breathing, and then we’d be back where we started.”
“Thank you, Doctor Lowry,” Azkadellia said, trying not to wince at the still-apparent bruises and lacerations marring the woman’s face.
“You can call me Ainsley, if you wish, Highness,” the blonde replied.
“Ainsley?” DG’s eyebrows reached her hairline. “Really?”
The blonde looked momentarily uncomfortable. “It was my mother’s maiden name.”
“It’s so girly,” DG replied, only half-thinking in her worried exhaustion, and obviously relieved for the change in topic. “You’re not a girl.”
“I think Jeb Cain might disagree with that assessment,” Azkadellia corrected her sister, causing DG to sputter with laughter, though her sister caught the fleetingly surprised look on the younger woman’s face, as though she hadn’t expected to remember how to laugh. The blonde merely smiled, collecting her things.
“Let me know if you need anything,” the medic said, curtsying at both girls before leaving the room.
Once the door shut behind her, Azkadellia folded her hands and rested them primly on her stomach. Had she not been so pale, or confined to bed, one would find her the epitome of royal grace. “Spill it, little sister.”
DG sat back in her chair, rubbing her forehead. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Everything.” At her sister’s silence, Azkadellia continued. “We may have been separated a long time, DG, but I can still tell when something’s bothering you. What’s going on?”
Both girls jumped at the rapport of gunfire as it blasted outside the tower. Azkadellia turned with wide, scared eyes and demanded of her sister, “What’s going on, DG?”
“We’ve fortified the walls with volunteers. About sixty-five or seventy in number.”
“Fortified the walls against what?”
DG sighed. “There are indications that the resistance are preparing for an attack.”
Had she not already been feeling lightheaded, that news would have brought the eldest princess to her knees. “They want me.”
DG couldn’t lie. “I think so, yes. And the Qu-Mother, to some extent. We issued a press release, but kept it ambiguous, thinking that most people would just celebrate the Witch’s demise and get on with life.”
“They deserve retribution.”
DG’s eyes toughened. “Not against you, they don’t. If they want a scapegoat, they can have me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Azkadellia looked away disgustedly, and guiltily, for a moment. “Mother is in no state to rule. I still have my magic, but no one will have me on the throne. You’re the last in the line. You have to rule.”
“I’m the reason this whole damn thing happened in the first place! Why doesn’t anyone understand that?” DG rose and started pacing the room, the squeaking of her sneakers intensifying the rhythmic pulsing in her sister’s head.
“Be that as it may, DG-would you please sit down?” Az rubbed at her temples. “You are the only one sufficient to rule. I’m sorry to say you don’t have a choice in the matter.”
DG sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking at loose strands on the duvet. “I know that,” she finally admitted. “I just can’t seem to wrap my brain around it. Az, I fix turbines and motorcycle parts, not countries.”
Az reached for her hand and tightened her fingers around the younger woman’s knuckles, the white, pulsing light of their magic mixing and making her momentarily stronger. “Then we’ll do it together. They’ll ignore the crazy girl behind the curtain if we hide me well enough.”
DG didn’t smile. “Don’t talk like that. Please.”
Azkadellia looked concernedly at her sister. “DG, what’s going on? This is a terrible situation, but I feel like there’s something else bothering you.”
DG sighed. “Cain and Jeb went to visit Adora’s parents two days ago. I just…I have this feeling that something’s wrong. I have since before they left.”
Az tried to keep her tone gentle. “Could your discomfort be because you miss him?”
DG shook her head. “It’s more than that, Az. I feel like I should be yelling ‘trap!’ as loud as I can, but nobody’s listening. It’s like this little voice in the back of my head telling me something is off about this whole thing.” She started to pace the room again, and Azkadellia winced as the squeaking resumed. “The timing is just a little too convenient, you know?”
Az chose to ignore her sister’s confirmation that she missed the elder Cain, though she filed it away for later questioning. “If you were that concerned about their well-being, why didn’t you go with them?”
The squeaking ended suddenly, only to be followed by a loud, continuous scraping of rubber sole on marble as DG turned hastily and gaped at her sister. “Uh, hello, you in a coma? That kept my interests pretty focused the past few days.”
“Are you having any dreams? Premonitions?” At her sister’s shaking head, Az pursed her lips again. “You’ve been through a lot the past two weeks, Deege. Your unease could be a reaction to that, and not necessarily to the Cains’ current situation.”
DG put her hands on her hips and glanced out the window, her tone defiant. “I don’t think so, Az. Something’s wrong.”
The certainty with which her sister spoke troubled the eldest princess. “You could send scouts, or a search party.”
DG shook her head, walking to the window and looking unseeingly past the glass. “We don’t have enough manpower to spare anyone. Besides, all I know is that they were on the border with Munchkin Country. I wouldn’t even know which way to go.”
“I’m sure they’re fine, Deege.” The reassurance was hollow at best.
The windowpane shook as their mismatched army practiced with their munitions. DG stepped away, unable to watch the once bright landscape, the same sunshine that had warmed her face just a scant few days earlier, as they both dimmed before her dulled eyes. She sat down in the chair next to Azkadellia’s bed, her once light eyes meeting her sister’s dark, wise ones. “Have you ever just known something was wrong? Have the hairs on the back of your neck just stood up, and you knew in your gut something was off?”
“Yes.” Azkadellia didn’t elaborate, for the last time she remembered having such a feeling was the day she and DG discovered the cave.
“So I’m not crazy?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” At her sister’s defeated half-smile, Azkadellia reached across and took her sister’s hand beneath her own. “There’s no use in worrying yourself ragged, DG. They can take care of themselves.”
“I know. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”
Azkadellia was silent for a long moment, enough that DG took notice and looked curiously at her. “Az?”
“I never thanked them. Or you.”
DG’s brow wrinkled. “Thanked me for what?”
“Saving my life.” Az looked down at her hands. “For saving all of us.”
DG leaned over and ducked her head, making sure to catch her sister’s gaze. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that, Az. Or the others. We were just doing what was right. Besides,” she looked away uncomfortably, “if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have needed saving.”
“This is going to become a sick cycle, isn’t it?” Az smiled briefly.
“Probably,” DG agreed before sighing and looking toward the window.
“A watched pot never boils,” Az told her, and the younger princess returned her gaze to her sister. “He’ll be back soon.”
“He better,” DG muttered, and Az watched as her sister’s eyes darkened in apprehensive thought.
“Is there something I should know?” Azkadellia was magnificent in keeping her tone lightly neutral.
DG stared at her sister. “About what?”
“You and Mr. Cain,” the eldest princess replied evenly.
“No!” At the perfect, disbelieving quirk of her sister’s brow, DG slumped. “I rely on him a lot. Az, you gotta see this from where I’m standing-he’s one of the only people I know here. We’ve been through a lot together, and he…he protected me when he didn’t need to. He stuck by me when I had no one else.”
“So did Ambrose and Raw,” Az pointed out.
DG stood and started to pace the room, and Azkadellia cursed her curiosity as the blasted squeaking began anew. “Cain and I talked a lot. Well, I talked a lot, and he listened, as we drove to the Northern Island, and after Finaqua. Az, you remember things I don’t even have the inclination to imagine, let alone relive. To me, my parents are Hank and Emily, not the Queen and Ahamo. My house is a farm in Kansas. I just…I may not have realized it there, but that was my life. Mine. I knew up from down and left from right. Now I have no idea where to begin. Cain’s in the same boat.”
“You’re kindred spirits,” her sister remarked. “I can understand your attachment to him. I just worry that it’s turning into something more.”
DG turned, hands on hips, eyes blazing. “What if it did?”
Azkadellia kept her face neutral. “Do you want it to?”
“Answer my question first.”
Her sister finally grinned. “I’d say good job and godspeed.”
DG laughed briefly, momentarily calmed. “They’re fine.” It was a question, trying its damndest to be a reassuring statement.
“They’ll be fine, DG. Just like you.”
***
Every broken branch, every whistle of the wind, every shadow that crossed into the small cabin caught the older woman’s attention. Her blonde hair flung backwards each time she looked eagerly to the window. When she saw the source of the sound, perhaps a bird or butterfly fluttering their wings, anticipation seeped further into her, nervous energy causing her to abandon and resume her knitting half a dozen times.
“They’ll be here soon, Emmeline,” her husband assured her, walking in from the small sitting room.
She sighed and looked up from her seat at the small kitchen table. “Are we doing the right thing, William?”
Her husband replied without hesitation. “Yes, my dear.”
They both turned and looked as the sound of horse hooves broke the relative stillness. Emmeline rose from her chair and watched two similar blond forms straddling two horses approach the house. The butterflies that had been hovering outside settled in her stomach as she approached the front door and wrenched it open.
She didn’t recognize the men standing in front of her, and yet, it seemed that no time had passed since she’d seen them.
The three stood meters apart, openly appraising each other. Finally, Jeb took a step forward, and Emmeline rushed to greet him, enveloping him in a tight hug. “Look at you,” she whispered, releasing him briefly and searching his face for signs of her daughter. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m looking at you, my darling boy.”
“Hello, Grandmother,” Jeb replied uncomfortably. When the older woman finally pulled back, he stepped away, eyes scanning the small plot of land. The older woman watched him, memories flooding her vision as she appraised the young man in front of her. He’d spent so much time here as a young boy; he’d learned to swim in the small pond behind the house. Emmeline could still hear his shrieking laughter as his father threw him into the water from the dock, and as the wind rustled the elm leaves beside him, she swore she heard her daughter’s half-hearted admonishments to her son-in-law. When the breeze stopped, she remembered how Wyatt would just grin and throw his wife right in after their son.
She blinked away the memories, and they were replaced by tears as she stared at her son-in-law. “Oh, Wyatt.”
Cain offered a small smile before allowing the woman to embrace him just as tightly as she had Jeb. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she whispered, tears staining his shirt. “I thought…”
“I know,” Cain replied, patting her back awkwardly.
Emmeline sniffled and swiped embarrassedly at her eyes, then wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, come inside, both of you. I’m sure you must be tired from your travels.”
“Thank you,” Cain said, turning to face Jeb. “Coming, son?”
Jeb nodded absently and followed the two into the small cabin. William was shaking Cain’s hand heartily when the younger man shut the door behind him.
“Sit, sit,” the older man ordered, and Cain and Jeb took seats on either side of the fireplace. William and Emmeline sat on a settee across from them, and an unnerving silence fell over the foursome.
“I suppose we should thank you,” Emmeline finally said, and Jeb jumped a little as the stalemate broke.
“For what?” Cain asked, removing his hat and placing it on a side table.
“Your adventures are becoming legend,” William said. “How you helped stop the Sorceress. How you’re staying with the royal family.”
“You’ve heard all that?” Jeb sat back in his chair.
“You’re rather famous,” Emmeline confirmed with a proud smile. “What a sight it must have been, you two fighting side by side. Adora would have been so proud.”
The Cain men both looked at the floor at the mention of the dead woman’s name. Emmeline and William exchanged a look before the older woman spoke again. “I don’t suppose you boys have had much time to reconnect.”
Cain glanced at Jeb, whose eyes remained on the floor. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But there’ll be time for that soon enough.”
Emmeline smiled. “Absolutely right, dear Wyatt. Now,” she clapped her hands and stood, causing Cain to rise with her, “Who’s hungry?”
The flurry of activity in the kitchen drowned out the awkward silence permeating the rest of the house. Pots and pans clanged with wooden spoons as Emmeline started cooking. The three men remained in the sitting area as she hummed her way through dinner preparations.
When she finally called to the men, informing them dinner was ready, the suns had started to descend, leaving a trail of blue hues behind them. Jeb and Cain sat on opposite sides of the small table, and Emmeline and William sat at either end.
His grandmother laughed when she heard Jeb’s stomach rumble as his eyes raked over the mountain of food in front of him. “I don’t suppose the palace has instituted any cooks yet.”
Jeb shook his head, filling his plate. “There’s only a handful of people there. Servants aren’t high on the list of priorities.”
“Why stay at the Black Tower?” William inquired, passing Cain an overflowing dish of vegetables. “Doesn’t the Queen want to get back to the palace? I’d want to get the hell away from anything to do with the Sorceress.”
“Azkadellia’s not well,” Jeb replied. “They’re waiting on Doc to clear her to travel. It’s easier to stay right now.”
“Doc?” Emmeline asked, cutting into her meat.
Jeb blushed. “One of my medics. She’s helping out.”
Emmeline shared a knowing smile with Cain, feeling her heartbeat start to race. Her stomach was tight, and not because of her meal. She rose abruptly from the table, causing all three men to look at her concernedly. She tried to form an excuse, but found none. Instead, she hurried to the kitchen corner, leaning against the splintering wood for support.
“Emmeline?” Cain walked up quietly behind her. “Are you all right?”
She tried to nod, but felt the tears threaten, catching in her chest. “I miss her so,” she whispered, and heard her son-in-law sigh.
“I do, too,” he replied quietly. “I keep expecting her to walk through that door.”
Emmeline turned to face him, though her gaze remained on her apron, watching as her hands twisted in the fabric. “I don’t know what’s worse, Wyatt; knowing you’ve thought she was dead for eight annuals, or the fact that she really is gone.”
Cain sighed again. “I got my hopes up when they said she was alive. Seeing that grave…”
“It was like she died all over again, and that hope died with her.” Jeb had come into the kitchen, leaning against the stove.
Emmeline watched as father and son exchanged a tentative look, one meant to be a peace offering. “She would be so proud of you,” she repeated, her voice stronger now. “I’m proud of you. You’ve both sacrificed a lot.”
A faraway look momentarily passed over Cain’s face before the mask slipped in behind it, shutting him off to her. “We all have.”
Emmeline nodded, and then looked over at Jeb, who was watching his father intently, but also seemingly impassively, though she could see something intense, but something she could not name, behind his eyes. “So tell me about this Doc, my boy.”
Jeb blushed again. “Not much to tell.”
Emmeline wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you lie to me, Jeb Cain. I want to hear about her.”
“You’d like her,” his father interjected. “Reminds me of Adora.”
The anxiety in her stomach doubled, and the older woman looked over her shoulder and out the small window over the sink. She chewed her lip as she mulled her decision. When she stepped forward to Cain, her eyes were sure, dark and forceful. “Get out of here.”
Cain’s brow creased. “Excuse me?”
“Leave. Now.”
Cain searched her face keenly. “Emmeline, what’s going on?”
“Please, Wyatt, just go!” Her pleading admonishment was too loud, and she winced as she heard William come from the other room.
The cocking of the gun caused both Cain men to turn and stare worriedly at the older man. “Sit,” he ordered coldly. When no one moved, he pointed the barrel of the rifle at Cain’s head. “I said sit.”
They walked back into the sitting area, the old floorboards creaking in resignation. Jeb and Cain sat on the sofa, glancing quickly at one another, trying to gauge the situation. William kept the gun trained on them until there was a knock at the door.
When Garrett stepped through the front door, Emmeline could see he had not come alone. There were dozens of her fellow resistors outside, carrying torches to light their path in the stillness between the setting of the suns and the full rising of the moons. The new resistance leader’s eyes were as cold as she’d ever seen them, and she could feel her daughter’s intense, disapproving gaze chilling her along with Garrett’s presence. She stepped forward, surprising William, but not enough that he lost focus on their ultimate goal.
“There’s got to be another way,” she implored both men, despair dropping her shoulders as Garrett shook his head.
“We haven’t received a reply from the Crown yet. It’s been long enough. We have to take action.”
“William, please,” Emmeline beseeched her husband. “I know we want to punish the bastards who killed our daughter, but they’re family. We can’t do this. It’s not right.”
William did not waver. “We have to do what we have to do, Em. You’re either with us or against us.”
“Think of Adora. What would she want?”
“She’d do everything in her power to right the wrongs against her family.” William turned to face the older blonde woman fully. “You heard the same reports I did, my dear. They let the Sorceress live. They let our daughter’s murderer live. The Crown is ignoring us, and we need help to rebuild. We have to do something to get their attention. This is the only way.”
She looked over her shoulder at the two blond men, sitting stiller than stone in her living room. Two men she thought she’d never seen again. Two men who wanted to move forward just as much as she did. They were just going about it the wrong way, and with the wrong help.
Defeated, she stepped aside and let Garrett approach father and son.
***
DG had not slept in nearly three days. Cain and Jeb still weren’t back from their trip to see Adora’s parents, and the feeling of dread had only intensified the longer they were away.
She was in Azkadellia’s room, reading a random book from the small library she’d found tucked away in the back of the tower, when her mother came in, looking pale and shaking. It was the first time she had ever seen her mother that unhinged. Her heart dropped to her stomach, beating wildly, trying to escape its confines.
Azkadellia noticed it too, and was quicker to question. “Mother? What’s wrong?”
The Queen’s lavender eyes were dark and laden with tears. She did not move until Ahamo stood directly behind her, supporting her weight with his own. “We have received a ransom letter,” she finally managed, her emotion thickening her accent.
It took DG a moment to understand her mother’s words, but she did not comprehend their meaning. “What do you mean, ransom?”
The Queen nodded, looking sorrowfully at DG. “My darling, I am so sorry.”
The youngest princess stood, facing her mother completely. “Why are you sorry?” Her words were timid, and her voice dropped with each syllable.
Ahamo put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Tell her,” he said quietly, also scrutinizing his youngest daughter. It was enough to unnerve her and make her take a step back.
“Tell me what? What’s going on?” DG looked down at Azkadellia, who seemed just as confused and worried as she was.
“The resistance fighters of the East have banded together against us,” her mother began. “They were the most vocal in response to our proclamation. They feel their demands for a meeting and reclamation have not been met.”
DG scoffed, though her concern kept her body rigid. “We’ve been a little busy.”
The Queen straightened her shoulders as she prepared to give her daughters the rest of the news. “They have taken hostages, and will not release them unless one of us goes to their location.”
The revelation hit DG like the proverbial ton of bricks. Flailing blindly, she sat down again, focusing on the scuffed floor around her feet as her head spun in a thousand different directions. “Cain.”
“I’m afraid so, my love,” her mother replied, moving away from Ahamo and kneeling in front of her youngest daughter. “It appears his visit was part of their plan.”
DG looked her mother dead in the eye, devoid of any emotion, except firm and unwavering determination. “I’ll go.”
“No.” Azkadellia’s voice was as firm as she’d ever heard it. “You’re in no position to negotiate with them.”
DG looked painfully, pleadingly, at her sister. “Az, I have to. It’s Cain.”
“I understand that,” her sister replied, though her voice was hard enough that it made DG wonder just how much she knew, “but you’re not prepared. You don’t know diplomacy, or the basic laws of the O.Z. You’re the last person who should deal with these…people.” The last word was so scornfully hateful that DG had to resist the urge to wince.
“Give me the Cliffs Notes version,” DG pleaded, looking between her mother and her sister.
“Your sister’s right,” her mother finally replied. “You’re in no position to go to them.”
“So, what? You’re just going to leave them out there?” Disbelievingly, she pushed the chair back from her mother and started to pace. “We can’t do nothing.”
“They expect us to go in with a regiment of men. Taking personnel from our borders will leave us essentially unguarded,” the Queen replied. “It would open us up to a direct attack, during which our depleted resources would be quickly overtaken. I cannot, in good conscience, trade the lives of all those men for just two, no matter how important they may be to my family.”
DG motioned to the letter her mother held. “Does it say anywhere in there that they plan to attack?”
There was a long, tense pause before the Queen answered. “No.”
“They just want to negotiate.”
“Yes. But DG-“
“Please. Let me go. If they just want to talk, the least we can do is hear them out. They’re not going away. People aren’t responding the way we hoped they would. We have to adapt.” DG crossed her arms, and caught Ahamo’s brief, proud smirk out of the corner of her eye. “If these cells have banded together, and I can convince them to back down, that could go a long way in encouraging the other factions to come to our side.”
Azkadellia looked torn, as though she could not decide whether her sister was actually a good mediator, or whether she was just plain nuts. The Queen’s face was more neutral, but her eyes raked over her youngest daughter as she mulled a plan of action.
Finally, she shook her head, rigidity in her body and her voice. “It’s out of the question, DG. You will not go, and that’s final.”
DG’s eyebrows rose. “You’ll come to learn that I don’t really respond to ultimatums.”
“Dorothy Gale-“ Ahamo began, and the youngest brunette whirled on him.
“What do you propose we do? Sit on our asses and let them attack us? We wouldn’t survive five minutes with those jokers,” she waved in the general direction of the window, “and you know it. I have to be the one to go. They’d kill Az five paces outside these walls, and Mother’s too weak to go, not to mention the fact they blame her for ‘disappearing’ and letting the Witch take over.” She looked between her parents, both of whom could not meet her staunch gaze. “I won’t let you down. I won’t mess up again.”
“Oh, my angel, I know you won’t. That’s not the issue. Your sister is right; you don’t know how things work here. It’s too dangerous. There are too many variables at play.”
“I had to talk down two drunk truckers after the Kansas/Kansas State basketball game. Huge fight, right in the middle of the diner, and I handled it. Diplomacy is little more than listening to your opponent, and trying to meet in the middle. I can do this. I need to do this.”
The Queen placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Angel, I just got you back. I cannot lose you again.”
DG sighed. “I understand that. But if going to them could help broker peace, then I have a duty to help.” She held up a hand as her mother started to protest. “This isn’t about being a martyr. This is about doing what’s right.”
Ahamo and the Queen exchanged a long look, the silent conversation eluding both their daughters. Finally, with a small shake of his head, Ahamo relented. His wife followed suit, though she looked painfully troubled at the possibilities.
“We will send a response to the resistance leader,” her mother finally said. “We will request his presence for negotiations here. Then, we will proceed.”
It was a feeble plan, but neutral enough that both parties could agree on the holding pattern. Azkadellia’s soft voice was the next to pose a response.
“We need to tell Ainsley what’s happened,” she said, looking at the still apparent stalemate between her mother and sister.
“I’ll do it,” DG offered, but Az shook her head.
“Let me,” the eldest princess requested. “She and I…we…I would like to be the one to tell her.”
DG didn’t question the appeal. “I guess we should go formulate a response,” she said to her mother, motioning to the parchment in her hands.
“Yes, we should.” The Queen pressed a kiss to her eldest daughter’s forehead before stepping crisply to the door. “I shall summon the doctor for you, Azkadellia.”
***
Your Highness,
Now is not the time for reconciliations or negotiations. You would not listen to words. Now you must listen to action.
We stand by our demands. If they are not met within three days, one of the hostages will die.
We are prepared to do whatever is necessary to reclaim the O.Z.
Respectfully yours,
Garrett Griffin
***
The response came in the middle of the night, during dead time, when the air barely moves and sounds must amplify just to be heard above the whispering of the darkness settling over them.
DG was not asleep. She still had not rested, choosing instead to exploit her insomnia and immerse herself in all the information she could find regarding Ozian law. The courier found her in her sister’s room, papers spread out on the floor, reaching from baseboard to baseboard. The youngest princess was sitting in her socks, mulling over a particular book when he arrived.
He handed her the reply, and looked between her and the sleeping Azkadellia. DG could see a fiery hatred in his eyes, blatant and unsettling. She rose from her sprawl of papers and ushered him back toward the door. “There are some cots set up down the hall. I will discuss this with my mother, and we will have a reply for you shortly.”
The courier simply nodded, and made to leave the room, but not before tossing one last abhorrent look in her sister’s direction.
DG tore open the reply, and tears filled her eyes. She felt drained; not from exhaustion, but at the knowledge that someone she cared deeply for was in trouble. Again. And she had seen what they could do-especially to those they felt had defected.
She raced to her parents’ room, slipping and nearly falling as she slid across the marble floors. Knocking once, she barged in, surprising Ahamo out of a dead sleep, and causing the man to leap up and fumble for a weapon to defend himself.
He got as far as grabbing his boot when DG held up her hand. “It’s just me. The Resistance replied.”
Her mother sat up, grey curls spilling far past her shoulders. She slumped as she saw the look on her daughter’s face. “They refuse to negotiate.”
DG nodded. “We need to go to Plan B.”
“I am still wholeheartedly against this,” the Queen reminded her. “I know you’ve done a lot of work the past few days, and I commend you for that. But a crash course in diplomacy does not a diplomat make.”
“We don’t have a choice. They’re going to kill them. I can’t…” DG pursed her lips. “I have to help him, Mother. He got me through. He never abandoned me. I have to do the same for him. For both of them.”
The Queen and Consort exchanged a long look. “You could very well be walking into a trap, DG, just like the Cains did.”
“I know that,” the youngest princess replied. When her parents said nothing further, she put her hands on her hips. “Look, I’m going, with or without your blessing. I’m as prepared as I can be. I’m going.”
The Queen sighed. After another long glance at Ahamo, she slid out of bed. “Let’s saddle the horses.”
***
The first communiqué had indicated the meeting place would be near the old cabin by the white elm, on the border of the crack in the O.Z. Traveling there was quicker the second time around, given she was on horseback, but it was no less painful. DG’s heart thudded in time with the horse beats on the ground, and for every landmark they passed, it seemed as though they were falling further and further behind.
Reynolds, one of the newly appointed Captains in the Royal Guard, was directly in front of her, with two soldiers on either side of him. She was flanked by two more on her left and right, and three in back. They sounded like a freight train tearing out of control down a greased track.
Somehow, she heard the waterfall over the din, and it mixed with the rushing blood in her head. They were getting close. Hold on, she pleaded. Just hold on.
Two men stood in the clearing as they approached, guns aimed. Reynolds pulled them to a full stop, and then looked over his shoulder at the princess. “Highness? What would you like us to do?”
She dismounted and stood in front of the company of men. For all her planning, all her studying, she had neglected to think about how she’d start the negotiation. I come in peace? Take me to your leader? She nearly giggled at the absurd thought, thankful for a break in the grave reality of the past week.
“Jeb and Wyatt Cain,” she finally called. “I wish to see they’re not harmed.”
“They’re fine,” one of the men said. “We’ll trade one for you.”
DG shook her head. “No. You want me, you let both of them go.”
The rifle cocked and pointed straight at her head. “You’re in no position to make demands, Princess.”
“I need proof of life.” Stay calm. She heard Az’s voice in her head, and wondered for a minute if their magic allowed for telepathy. You can do this.
The second man turned and faced behind him. DG could see a row of boulders behind him and immediately started searching for the familiar fedora, or for a flash of blond hair. Her heart sank when she saw neither.
Finally, over the clamor of the whinnying horses and the rushing water, she heard a voice call out.
“Hey there, Princess.”
Relief flooded through her so quickly and strongly that she nearly had to lean on Reynolds for support. But she would not let them know she was shaken; she would not bend or break. Defiantly, she raised her chin and called back. “You okay?”
“Been better,” came the reply, and she had to bite back a smile.
“Jeb?”
“Here.” He sounded worse than his father, but still mercifully alive.
The resistance leader turned back to her. “Proof enough, Princess?”
There were guffaws of laughter at his comment, and the sound quickly encircled her. She realized they were surrounded, and looked to Reynolds anxiously.
“We need to pull back and set up our own blockage,” he said quietly, his hand on his sidearm.
She nodded slightly, and then looked at the leader across the clearing. “Pull your men back, and then we’ll talk. I will not be painted into a corner.”
There was more laughter, and the leader again looked over his shoulder at his company, this time in amusement. “I’d say you already are.”
“You want me to give you something, you gotta offer something first,” DG said. “Good faith goes a long way in this.”
The two men in the clearing turned toward each other, bowing their heads and discussing it briefly. Finally, the second man’s voice shouted to his comrades. “All companies pull back! Back behind the front lines!”
There was a thunderous shifting around them, but DG never saw any of the men that had surrounded her. They were skilled, and slightly desperate. It was a deadly combination.
She turned to Reynolds, and made to speak, but he beat her to the punch.
“Princess, I highly advise against this.”
“Have your men pull back,” she ordered, her tone clipped and efficient. “I’ll make the trade.”
“Princess…”
“Do it.” She’d never sounded more coldly commanding in her life.
The commander sighed. “Pull back!” He yelled, his voice carrying beyond the cheering of the opposition as he did so.
DG stood in front of her horse, arms raised in surrender. “I’m coming out!” She called, and the victorious cheering diminished into anticipating whispers. “I’m unarmed!”
She stepped into the clearing, the wind rustling her hair in goodbye as she took her first tentative steps toward the front lines. She stopped parallel to the crack of the O.Z., and held her breath as she waited for the familiar frame to occupy the space in front of her, and she thought she might pass out from oxygen deprivation as the seconds lingered into infinite pause.
When she saw Cain emerge from behind a great elm, a sense of relief washed over her, and she expelled a heavy breath, the tightness in her chest lifting like a weight. Her eyes inspected him closely, looking for any signs he’d been injured.
Except for the gun pressed firmly into his side, he looked exactly as he had the last time she’d seen him. She dropped her head in relief, and clenched her fists to fight falling to the ground. Her eyes raked over him, her mind replaying the mantra of his good condition in an unending cycle.
She took a step toward him, her arms still raised above her head.
“Come closer!” A hidden form yelled, and she took another step, the muscles in her arms starting to ache from how rigidly she held them. They were the only outward signs of her nervousness, and she willed herself not to shake as she crossed the path to where her eventual captors lay in wait.
There was the all-too real possibility that they would kill her. They wanted to send a message; what more obvious sign of discord could they send than the dead body of the successor to the throne could there be?
She knew that, if she survived, Cain would have her ass for trading herself for him. But there was really no question in her mind-he’d already sacrificed so much for this cause, while she’d been spirited and hidden away, shielded from the actualities of war and loss. Now it was her turn to step up. Now it was her turn to save him, when he’d already done it for her, countless times.
She approached the other side carefully, and watched with unblinking eyes as Cain was pushed forward. His captor let him get ten paces in front of him before training the gun on DG. Cain continued walking, his cool eyes watching her every step.
His scent-musky, heady, tarnished and forgiving-assailed her as they closed the distance between them. They remained parallel to each other, their steps deliberate, both knowing that one misstep, one false move, could result in both of their deaths. DG focused on her breathing, but her chest hitched as he came ever closer, relief mixing with fear in overwhelming amounts.
They both slowed their pace as they rested side-by-side, and their hands dropped and caught between them, holding on as tightly as they dared in between steps. Their gazes met and caught, unwavering in the split second they had to converse.
Her eyes told him what she did not dare speak. This is the right thing to do. Trust me.
He replied as openly. With my life.
The unexpected, hesitant I love you was exchanged in the same breath, before the autonomic blinking severed the connection.
Their laced hands broke apart as she passed, but her arm remained reaching behind her, as though her body instinctively knew he should be back by her side, physically connected to her as strongly as he was emotionally.
The rest of the walk to the resistance was blurry, and she blinked harshly to rid herself of outward emotion. She’d have to be as strong and stoic as Cain to survive this. Don’t show your weakness, she chastised herself. These people were out for blood; who it belonged to was of little importance, as long as they got it. They seemed unhinged but expertly planning and cunning. She was walking into the lion’s den blind.
They took Princess Dorothy Gale, heir to the throne of the O.Z., threw her to her knees and pressed a gun to her head.
End Chapter Seven Chapter Eight: Come Undone