Page 65 of The Moon Blessed King
‘General Leferge,’ Partho begins. ‘May I present our Stello Alest?’
The correct response would be a bow, low and formal. Alelunen mannerisms differ from Soleben custom, but if Elician remembers correctly, Leferge would be expected to step back with her left leg and lean as low on her right knee as she can manage, her right arm swinging outwards in response. She does nothing. She continues peering down her nose at Cat, judging him before the army he needs if he intends to keep and hold his throne.
‘Any boy can put on a charm and call himself our stello,’ she says eventually. ‘You were presumed dead. Then they called you a Reaper. How am I to accept you are who you say you are?’
‘I vouch for him,’ Partho says.
‘You are a biased and compromised fool.’ Leferge’s inflection does not change in the least. Her eyes remain fixed on Cat and Cat alone. ‘I require proof, not sentiments. Prove to me you are indeedStello Alest.’
There must be a memory, Elician thinks.A moment or a piece of information that only he would know.Though he doubts Leferge spent much time around Cat when he was a child, she would not be asking if there was not some way to convince her.
‘No,’ Cat says. Startled murmurs break out amongst the normally tightly controlled troops. Leferge does not shift her stance, but her eyes narrow and her lips purse. The scar on her cheek twitches as a nerve spasms along the badly healed muscle and sinew. ‘There is nothing I can say that will prove that to you,’ he goes on. ‘I could have been coached; I could get lucky. You will not believe me if you are determined not to do so.’
‘Why should anyone believe you?’ Leferge asks. ‘It is something out of a fairy tale. A lost prince appearing at a time of political unrest to solve all the problems of the world.’
‘I don’t intend to do that either.’
‘Then whatdoyou intend? Why are youhereand not back in Soleb wherehebelongs?’ At this she thrusts one vicious finger in Elician’s direction.
It takes everything in Elician’s body to not reach for his sword, to keep his hands at his side and stay perfectly still, even as he becomes hyperaware of every single person in both Partho’s and Leferge’s corps. He breathes in through his nose, slowly and steadily, desperately trying to keep his pulse steady and breathing even. His skin recalls too easily the vicious bite and burn of too-tight ropes around his wrists. His tongue remembers the call of desperate thirst as Nured dragged him and Lio to Alerae.
Not again, he swears.I will not be taken hostage again.Lio is not here this time to be held over his head. Lio is safe, back in Altas, and ifanyonedaresto touch Cat the way they did Lio – they will not live long.
‘I’m here because of the plague,’ Cat says. ‘I wouldn’t have come like this otherwise. But we can help…and so we’re here to help.’
Leferge is unmoved. She peers down at Cat as if he were a stray dog begging for scraps, a desperate cur who knows only how to be meek and small, who is easily frightened away and easily managed. She sneers. ‘You wear a sword. Do you know how to use it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Prince Marias was an exceptional swordsman beforehis uncleruined that too.’ She jabs out her finger again. She had not even lowered it from the last accusation and now needs only to flex her elbow to jerk it once more in Elician’s direction. Sweat beads along his palms. His fingers tap in a jerking, jittering rhythm against his legs. ‘Fight me then,Stello.Should you win, I will march this army behind you.’
As far as Elician knows, aside from a few half-remembered lessons as a child, Cat has only been practising the sword for a little more than a year. It is a fool’s bet, and Cat must know it. He takes his time replying. His eyes slip from Leferge to Partho, even to Elician. Elician has no advice to offer him. He knows that such a challenge, if given in Soleb, could not be left unanswered. It does not matter if Cat is almost certain to lose; the point of the altercation is to shame and humiliate him. But to deny such a thing…that would only bring more shame, for there is nothing worse than being a coward. Marina has been training Cat hard. Perhaps, with the gods’ grace, he might just barely stand a chance.
But Cat meets Leferge’s eyes once more and he shakes his head. ‘There’s no point.’
‘You will not offer proof of who you are, and now you will not even fight for the chance to earn the throne you insist you deserve?’
‘General, if I fight you and it is merely to first contact, I have no doubt you will win. Perhaps if I am lucky, I will manage, but I donot rate my chances that highly. You will win, and I will lose. I concede without question or need of contemplation. But if it is to the death, then there is no need to fight there either, for you cannot kill me. You will strike fatal blows upon me, and I will get up each time until you are so fatigued from an endless battle that even someone as poor at the blade as I will manage to kill you. I do not wish to see you dead; you have served this army and our people well. But those are the only two outcomes to our fight. And so…there is no point.’ He pauses, licking his lips, clearing his throat. ‘If you would deign to teach me, I would be your willing student. I will spar and learn from you. But I will not fight you in a contest such as this. If that is your condition for your support, then I will not ask for it. I will ensure your men are healed, and then I will continue on my way.’
‘And if I deign to stop you?’
‘You won’t be able to,’ he replies, calm and steady. ‘I won’t kill any of you. I won’t kill my own people. But I will do what I came to do: stop the plague, and meet with my brother. And if it is your duty to interfere, then you will have to follow me all the way to Alerae.’
Leferge lowers her arm. ‘And what will you do when you meet your brother?’
‘I will ask Death to decide, between my brother and I, who is the most worthy ruler.’
Partho flinches. Leferge’s eyes widen.Something is wrong, Elician realizes at once, looking between the two. There’s a tension threading through both groups, the Guard and the army – shocked out of their perfect discipline.
‘Every single person who has dared to challenge the sitting ruler of Alelune by requesting Death’s interference has died,’ Leferge says slowly.
No.It feels like a hand has reached through flesh and bone and wrapped cruel fingers tight around Elician’s heart, yanking it from his chest and squeezing it until there is nothing more. He tries invain to hold it back; he reaches one hand out towards Cat only to somehow manage to stop his arm’s progression just in time. He cannot touch Cat here. Not before his people. Not when his culture frowns on any display of public intimacy or engagement.
Cat’s back is to him.Did he know?
No. He couldn’t have known. He would have said something. He would have mentioned it. Cat stands frozen in a stunned stillness, and Elician can feel his sudden, sharp panic in the air. They have planned for failure: for returning home to Soleb, heads down and defeat understood. But this…The throne is not worth Cat’slife.
‘This is the only legitimate way to ascend, isn’t it?’ Cat asks.
