Page 17 of Artemysia
I’m not sure which to expect today, though.
The attendant raps on the tall wooden door with his knuckles and waits for a reply before shoving it open. He ushers us into a large, smoky hall containing a monstrous table etched with maps. All twelve colonels are there, their crimson cravats around their necks, smoking cigars and arguing loudly.
They stop abruptly when I step over the threshold.
High King Galke of South Kingdom rises from his seat at the head of the rectangular table. He’s slender, shorter than me, and wears an elegant dark blue suit paired with a sapphire-studded crown.
All eyes are on me. This is unexpected. In the past, when I’m called in front of the High King, I’m with a superior. Someone usually speaks for the seated king, relaying orders, and then we verbally accept our assignment and leave. Even those meetings are rare, since I suspect they’re more to remind us of the face behind the highest chain ofcommand.
What the hell is going on?
My fists are clenched, and I’m breaking into a cold sweat as I somehow remember to bow at the waist, with Throg following suit.
“Captain Delphine Julian, Commander Orion Throgmorton. Welcome. I’ll keep this short.” The High King’s commanding voice is a low baritone, his mouth framed by a salt-and-pepper beard. He’s ruled for almost two decades, having inherited the throne at the cusp of when the Syf started to come out of the woods. The stress shows in the white overtaking his beard and the graying of his short, upswept hair. There are rumors that he’s cracking, willing to assign riskier missions and suffer more casualties in his desperation to fight back against the invading Syf.
“The fate of Stargazer could very well lie in your hands,” he adds, looking down his long nose at me, his hawk-like eyes unblinking in his bronze complexion.
My throat tightens, and the massive amount of food I scarfed down feels like it’s going to make its way back up. Not because I’m being called on for my capabilities to serve whatever purpose the king has in mind. I’ve been doing that for a decade. Dangerous assignments don’t faze me anymore.
I’m not shaken because of that.
But because sittingnextto High King Galke of South Kingdom—while everyone else rises to their feet because the king stands—is a dark-haired, fresh-faced man in a fine three-piece suit that fits impeccably over his muscled arms. He glares at me with unjustified scorn in his glacial eyes, the left one cut by the claw of a Syf.
Riev.
“Perhaps you wanted to fail.” - Colonel Jorgen
Beside me, Throg’s sharp inhale tells me he’s only just spotted Riev, and it’s absolutely killing him not to be able to make a snappy comment to me.
The moonflower-embroidered cloak draped around Riev’s squared shoulders signals he’s still in uniform, despite the tailored suit. Did he wake up in the clock tower this morning and then go buy a perfectly fitting suit? He’s clean of the blood and dirt from last night. He must have showered somewhere, as I suggested.
He wears a black cravat around his neck.
No rank has that color.Violet, blue, green, gold, crimson.
“Captain Julian,” Riev echoes coolly after a colonel introduces us, giving no indication that he’s ever seen me before. My name rumbles from his lips, his voice throaty and deep. His gaze latches onto me as though no one else were in the room with us. I wonder what part of last night he’s reminded of when he looksat me that way—as if he’s imagining meeting in a different scenario besides the war room. His fist may as well be slowly closing around my throat in the alleyway, or his fingers slipping past the top buttons of my shirt in the clock tower.Oh, hell.I return his steely stare, even as I force my breath to be steady.
He still hasn’t stood from where he’s seated, and no one tells him otherwise.
King Galke regards Riev with wary eyes, the way one would look at a feral beast within striking distance.
“North Kingdom,” the king says, “is our goal.”
My pulse erupts into a deafening thrum. Beside me, Throg shifts on his feet, his leathers squeaking.
North Kingdom is a mere legend at this point.
A legend of a human civilization on the other side of the forests of Artemysia, though no one really knows what’s there. There’s been no word from North Kingdom for over two centuries, and no one remembers why or how they were cut off.
Records are lost, forgotten.
There must have been communication before, or how would we have known about them? Are they still there? Or have they been decimated by Syf?
King Galke’s deep voice snaps me back. “We require a more aggressive strategy as we approach our twenty-first year defending ourselves from Syf attacks. Losing fifteen percent of our population isunacceptable.”
He takes his time making eye contact with each of us, controlling the room he surveys. Galke has the gravitas of a ruler, despite his relatively small stature, and it’s difficult to look away. “For the last five years, we’ve been attempting to cross Artemysia to contact North Kingdom. Riev and his team have almost mapped their way through, at great cost.”
His gaze lands on Riev, whose unflinching glare shines with something that might be regret or fury when Galke saysat great cost.But either way, I know what this means to Riev.
