Kingdom of Souls. Rena Barron
runt.’ Rudjek feigns indignation. ‘I have half a mind …’
‘Shall we go?’ I ask.
Without waiting for an answer, I head for our spot along the river, taking one route while they take another. It wouldn’t be so secret if four people marched straight to it. Rudjek has had many attendants over the years, and he’s bribed them to keep our secret. When coins haven’t worked, he’s turned to subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle persuasions. He really can be charming when he wants. Not that I’d tell him, lest it go to his head.
As I push through the crowds, an ice-cold chill runs down my back. Familiars slink across the market like a pack of rabid cats ready to pounce. No longer than my arm, their shadowy bodies are shapeless and ever changing, as fluid as a breeze. As they flood the streets, their presence sucks the warmth from me. I take a deep breath, watching as dozens of them swarm around a young girl. They crawl across her face and cling to her limbs, and she’s none the wiser.
A few others in the market see them – the ones with tribal blood. Their faces have gone stark and they whisper to each other. But most people don’t see the Familiars at all.
One or two Familiars are a nuisance, with the way they slither over everything, but a horde means only one thing: something bad is coming. Thinking of the missing children, I realize that the bad thing is already here.
In a daze, I cut through the mud-brick houses on the bank of the Serpent River and travel upstream from the docks. There are no Familiars here, but cold gnaws at my bones. The tribes believe that Familiars are the relics of a people destroyed by the demons long ago. In the demons’ lust for kas, they ravaged a whole realm before Koré and Re’Mec, the Twin Kings, waged war to stop them. Familiars are the only things left of that time. Restless ghosts with no souls, seeking what they cannot have again – life.
When I reach our well-worn spot amidst the tall reeds, I see Majka and Kira standing guard on the riverbank – far enough away to give us privacy. Rudjek sits on a yellow blanket spread across the grass. ‘Father’s putting on a big fight to celebrate the end of the blood moon,’ he says after a yawn. ‘You must come. I’m undefeated in the swords competition three years straight. I’m only the best swordsman in Tamar. Well, outside of the gendars, I suppose.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea after this morning,’ I say, my throat parched.
His eyes, darker than the hour of ösana, widen in question. With his full attention on me, the space feels smaller, the air warmer. ‘What’s wrong, Arrah?’
His voice cracks when he says my name and his boasting fades away. As I sit beside him, his scent of lilac and wood smoke sends a tinge of heat up my neck. I should say something to distract him or pretend that I don’t like the way my name rolls off his tongue, but I don’t. Not immediately. I let this strange, wonderful thing linger between us. He’s my best friend, and insufferable half the time. But lately I imagine something else – I imagine something more.
Guilt settles in like an old friend, and I glance away. Even if our parents didn’t hate each other, a wrongness edges into the back of my mind. Yes, I want more, but I don’t want to ruin what we have now if it goes wrong. One moment I’m on the verge of confessing to him and the next I bury my feelings under a rock.
‘Nothing,’ I say quickly, before our conversation veers off course. So many thoughts tangle in my head. The Familiars, the child snatcher, the green-eyed serpent. On the surface they’re unrelated, but together they remind me of moves in a game of jackals and hounds. A game built upon strategy, evasion, and misdirection. I could be drawing connections where none exist, but I don’t believe in coincidences. I shake my head and smile at him. ‘Why the fancy blanket today?’
I smooth my hand across the quilt, feeling the intricate patterns of the stitches. He knows me so well that he doesn’t protest when I change the subject.
‘I didn’t want you to ruin your fancy dress on the grass.’ He rearranges his scabbards, which lie next to him on the ground. ‘It’s very pretty.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, staring at the boats ambling down the river. It’s so wide that the water seems to stretch on for ever.
After a long and awkward pause, we both try to speak at the same time. We laugh and some of the tension eases. ‘You go first,’ I say.
‘About this morning,’ he says, his voice catching in his throat. ‘My brothers would never do something so vile. Jemi and Uran haven’t been themselves since the Rite of Passage, but my father … my father keeps them in check. He has a gendar who sends regular reports on Jemi’s squadron, and Uran is never without his attendants. When I say never, I mean never.’
I reach out for the family crest affixed to his collar, but I stop myself. ‘May I?’
Rudjek scratches his head, looking sheepish. ‘Of course.’
I run my fingers across the smooth craven bone carved into the shape of a lion’s head. It’s cold even in the heart of a much-too-warm day. Had I any magic, it would repel me. But nothing happens. Its yielding touch is a reminder that I should listen to my mother. Maybe it’s time to give up my dream.
‘What does it feel like when someone with magic is near you?’ I’ve never asked before, avoiding anything that could lead back to my lack of magic. What would it be like if I had magic and we were close … closer than we are now? That’s the true question burning on my lips.
Rudjek shrugs. ‘I don’t know … It vibrates a little if the magic is directed at me; otherwise, I don’t feel anything.’
I move from the crest on his elara to the pendant that hangs around his neck. My fingers brush his throat and we both tense. He leans a little closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘I missed you.’
Majka clears his throat and we jump apart. ‘Am I interrupting anything?’
‘No!’ we both yell in unison.
‘Nothing at all,’ I add, piqued.
‘Of course not.’ Rudjek frowns at him. ‘What do you want?’
Majka glances over his shoulder at Kira, who is still on watch. ‘I am to remind you that your father expects you at the council meeting at fourth afternoon bells.’
Rudjek grimaces at his trousers legs, dusty from the market. ‘Give us a moment, will you!’
Majka nods with a crooked grin and pads off to where Kira is waiting.
‘I’m sorry, I do have to go.’ Rudjek sighs. ‘Father will be in a mood after this morning.’
‘It’s true, then,’ I say, my throat dry again. ‘He’s going to name you his heir?’
Rudjek winces and looks away. ‘It is. I … don’t know how I feel about it yet. I’m the youngest. I never thought the responsibility would fall to me. My father’s expectations – well, everyone’s expectations – of me have changed.’
I don’t want to think about what this will mean for our friendship. If he – no, when he becomes Vizier one day, he won’t be able to shun his duties to sneak off to meet me by the river.
‘What about the gendars? All you’ve ever talked about is joining their ranks.’ I regret my question when he glances longingly at his shotels. ‘How will you survive if you can’t fool around in the arena all day?’ I add to cheer him up.
‘I’ll make do.’ Then under his breath, he says, ‘I can be quite crafty.’
I pick at the beads on my sheath. ‘You can’t turn it down, can you?’
‘No.’ He scoops up a rock and flings it into the river. ‘My mother sent a message to her childhood matron in Delene asking her to come teach me proper etiquette.’ He forces a humourless laugh, sombre like both our moods. ‘What do the Aatiri say? “A man’s character lies not in his