Page 17 of A Matter of Destiny

I open my eyes. My heart beats like the drum leading to the gallows. Light shines through the windows, painting the stairwell in bright, clear hues. Cold, calm certainty settles through my body like fog following the path of the river.

Ensyvir let me in. He let me see all the documents strewn across his floor. He has no idea I’ve already betrayed him, stolen the key to his cell, let the dragons he’d imprisoned fly free. He thinks he’s training a weapon. A foolish, stupid, and obedient weapon. And, by all the blessed kings above, he’s right. I am a weapon.

I’m a weapon that’s going to explode in his hand. I’ll be a weapon aimed straight at his heart. My breath catches in the back of my throat as the plan unfurls in my mind, bright and clear, as if I’m reading another one of the maps spread across Ensyvir’s floor.

I’m going to find out what he’s doing. I’ll uncover his plans, find the reasons behind the troop movements, the alliance with Cassonia, and whatever else he’s been doing with King Donovan’s signet ring.

And then I will burn it all to the ground.

I force myself to count to one thousand, and then I resume my slow progress up the stairwell. A sense of deadly purpose swirls in my blood like ice, and everything around me jumps out in exquisite detail. A spiderweb in the rafters sparkles like diamonds. The sun catches specks of dust suspended in the air, making them gleam like amber.

I cough. Several times. Loudly. The voices in Ensyvir’s chamber fall silent and, when I enter the room at the top of the stairs, I force myself to look surprised.

There is another man in the room, of course. He’s an odd-looking man, tall and slender with a strange sort of cloth tied around his head, and for some reason I associate him with the part of town where the orphanage is located. Perhaps I knew him as a child, I realize as a low, dark anger pulls tight in my gut. Perhaps he’s the one who stole me from my mother.

“Rayne,” Ensyvir declares, smiling at me like a wolf. “This is my associate Varitan. We have a little something for you, child. A gift. Something you won’t believe.”

His smile widens, and fear wraps its cold tendrils around my spine. I press my jaw together, stand tall, and force myself to smile back.

I will destroy you, my mind whispers as my lips curl over my teeth.

“Sir?” I ask.

Ensyvir and Varitan exchange a glance.

“All in good time,” Ensyvir says, turning his wide, malicious smile back to me. “For today, why don’t we get you that spot in His Majesty’s Royal Army?”

Chapter10

Rayne

“Bow your head, Rayne of the Royal Barracks,” King Donovan says.

I close my eyes and do as the king commands. The metal of his sword is cold and heavy as it touches my shoulders, first the right, then the left. My own breath sounds hollow as it swirls through my chest.

How long have I wanted this? How many times have I imagined this moment, the feeling of cool metal against my tunic as His Highness brought the broad side of his sword to my shoulders? What did I think I would feel when the weight lifted and I came to my feet?

And now here I am, kneeling before His Highness in the royal throne room of Valgros, and I feel nothing at all. My chest is as empty as the echoing darkness of an abandoned well, and the only thought fluttering through my mind is the dull, aching wish that I’d been able to see those shining Towers in the Silver City.

No, not just the Towers. That I’d been able to see the Towers with Doshir.

My eyes sting beneath my closed lids, and I try to shove that thought down as far as it can go. What happened with Doshir belonged to another lifetime. Another world. The woman who kissed Doshir beneath the dancing stars of Cairncliff is dead.

Now, I’m a weapon.

King Donovan’s sword leaves my left shoulder. He clears his throat.

“Rise, Rayne of His Majesty’s Royal Army!” Donovan declares.

A smattering of applause echoes through the marble-lined chamber. It’s a far cry from the roar made by the entire Royal Army, but of course most of the Royal Army is now serving in Cassonia. I open my eyes, focus my gaze on Donovan’s polished black boots, and then come slowly to my feet. Torold limps forward, holding my newly-issued Royal Army uniform and its matching sword and wearing an expression that maybe is intended to look solemn but instead just looks like he badly needs to find an outhouse. Through the windows, the thick light of the setting sun paints the marble walls of the throne room in bronze and scarlet.

I bow my head to the king as I accept my uniform and my sword. When I look up, Donovan’s gaze has settled on the fabric of my training uniform that’s stretched tight across the swell of my chest. It’s the kind of thing I used to dream about, the attention of the king fixed on me before an entire room full of people, as if I were someone worthy of such attention.

Now, it leaves me feeling hollow. All the effort I’ve put into earning this sword, all the years of training and fighting and striving to be the best, and His Majesty is still just staring at my tits? Blessed kings, why have I given this man so much of my life?

I rock backward, and His Highness seems to realize what he’s doing. He shakes his head, gives me a distracted sort of smile, and steps back into his throne. Where Ensyvir is standing, of course, with his arms tucked behind the folds of his massive black cloak and a smile on his face that makes my skin crawl.I got you this, that smile says.I own you.

I smile right back at him, peeling my lips from my teeth even as my blood hisses through my veins. He wants a weapon, does he? He has no idea what he’s going to get.

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