Four generals stood around a map with torn and jagged edges. Figurines dispersed around the map stood at attention, ready for battle. The black stallion represented me — the Grand General of the Calidonica army — while my lesser generals' figurines stood ready for battle beside mine. And across the map stood a proud red figurine — Queen Sharlot. My mortal enemy.
Meetings with the generals were always tense, but I'd worked out how to rein them in years ago.
"How many hostages do we have?" a lesser general asked.
"Twenty," Sanna said, her hand resting on her sword, her brow smooth. These situations never fazed her. I wished I could have her even temperament.
"Then we'll give them four days," I said, and all of the lesser generals straightened. Their Grand General was about to give them a direct order. "We'll execute five hostages a day. If Queen Sharlot doesn't state her demands or surrender by then, we attack."
The soldiers surrounding me, all older than me by at least a few years, gave their nod of approval. Their approval was hard won — I had worked overtime to earn their respect. And now that I had it, operations like this went so much smoother.
"Queen Sharlot never pulls a stunt like this unless she has high demands," General Hunter Gaston said. Hunter was the kind of soldier who thought ten steps ahead.
I made eye contact with all five generals at the table. "Her demands will be met with challenges. We will give her nothing we aren't willing to give, and only in exchange for something equally worthwhile, like our people."
Since taking on the role of Grand General last year, I'd realized that one of my most important roles was bolstering my soldiers' resolve.
"There will be retribution for what she's done to our people. Those aren't just Calidonican citizens in that fortress — she's holding hostage our brothers in arms. We can't let them down."
"When will this cycle end?" another general muttered.
I had wondered that myself many times over the course of my life. And I had only been able to come to one conclusion. There would be no end to this vicous cycle of kill or be killed, a constant struggle to get the upper hand where no one ever made real progress. All the work I'd ever done in my nineteen years was futile. It would be a constant loop of insanity — doing the same thing and hoping for a different outcome.
"We can't hope for an end," I said, the words scraping across my tongue like gravel. I had given up on hope long ago. Learning I needed to abandon hope to survive was the most bitter lesson I'd ever learned. "As the guardians of our nation, it's our job to prepare for the worst. If we allow ourselves to hope for a better outcome, we've already lost the battle."
Sanna Poplar, my immediate inferior, was the first to bring her fist to her chest in salute. The others did the same, bowing their heads. At times I still wondered if they did it out of respect or fear, like if they didn't fall into line, I would break every bone in their body. I found the two were closely related in my case.
"Our first hostage dies in an hour," I said, stepping away from the map. "Alert Queen Sharlot."
A knot formed in my stomach as the Vydonian hostage and I marched to the fortress's front gate. A moat lay between Queen Sharlot and I, but her seething anger was palpable. There was a lot of history between us — years of battle that only grew in intensity and destruction as our power and influence increased. We danced across each other's border in a deadly performance that our people suffered for.
When Queen Sharlot came into sight, standing behind the parapet on top of the wall, I tossed my hostage to the ground. She was a powerful warrior — she'd taken out two dozen of our Caledonican soldiers before she reached me.
No one survived me — not unless I was ordered to spare their life, as Baruuk had ordered me to spare Sharlot's.
"You know better than anyone," my master had hissed in my ear, "that the love of a sibling is a powerful thing." Baruuk was referring to Sharlot's younger brothers, all loose cannons barely restrained on Sharlot's leashes. If she died, a more ruthless and unpredictable sibling would ascend to the throne.
"This soldier doesn't need to die, Sharlot," I called across the moat, my legion arranged at my back in battle formation.
"Neither do your soldiers," Sharlot said, her sweetly feminine voice at odds with the bitter tone she took.
"What is this really about?" I asked.
"I never get anywhere negotiating with you. I want to speak with your king."
It was as close to a compliment as she'd ever given me. When I relayed this information to Baruuk, he would be satisfied with my work. His praise was a double-edged sword — I craved it, but it also made me sick to my stomach.
"Baruuk will do almost anything not to have to deal with you."
"I've noticed," Sharlot said, dark humor expressed in the grin on her face. "Kill your hostages. I have an entire fortress of your soldiers at my mercy." Her voice took on a theatrical quality as she sang, "Starvation is a terrible way to go."
Losing an entire fortress worth of soldiers to Sharlot would be one of my greatest failures, and would surely earn me an especially painful punishment. I couldn't afford to lose.
"You know I could kill you right here, and right now," I gritted out.
"Why don't you?"
Images of my sister beaten until she was black and blue all over flashed before my eyes. The last time I'd let Baruuk down, her punishers had broken my sister's nose. As usual, I was powerless to heal her. However Sharlot and Baruuk had backed me into a corner this time. If I killed Sharlot, Baruuk would punish Hetty and me. If Sharlot maintained control of this fortress, Hetty would also be beaten.
"You're a mystery to me, Lura. So much power… wasted as a dog on Baruuk's leash."
So much power… wasted… Those words echoed in my mind, as rhythmic as the toll of a funeral bell. I heard those words repeated over and over again in my mind in Sharlot's voice, but eventually her voice melded into Baruuk's.
"All your power… wasted…. on a weak, pathetic little girl." His fleshy red face appeared before me as a mirage, hovering over me as if I were still a child. I felt shame course through me as I had in that moment. He'd made me feel insignificant, whereas before that moment, when I'd first come to live with him, he'd made me feel so important.
Then, Baruuk offered me his hand, and hope flooded my veins. "I may yet be able to make something out of you, but you'll have to work hard." My heart had soared at the sound of those words.
"Kill me," Sharlot said, her voice coming back into focus, "and you'll have my brothers to deal with."
I looked down at the hostage kneeling on the ground beside me. Of the two of them, I much rather kill Queen Sharlot. I had to tread carefully, or else Hetty would pay the price.
My fingers twitched, but I barely felt them move. There was an emptiness in my chest as my conscious self ascended above my body. I watched myself kneel beside the hostage.
"How would you like to die?" I asked the soldier at my feet. She looked up at me with a look of hatred many had given me before. "I have to make your death a spectacle, but I can kill you quickly and quietly beforehand."
The soldier narrowed her eyes. "I thought the Grand General showed no mercy."
I grimaced. "I have a reputation to uphold."
Understanding registered on the soldier's face. "And I won't be around to ruin it."
I thought of this soldier who had charged me, knowing who I was, but without a second thought for her life. "You're a true warrior. Would you like to die on your feet?"
The soldier pushed herself to her feet and dusted the dirt off her hands. "I lived my life in service to a woman who doesn't care whether my death is painful or not." She bowed her head to me. "It is an honor to die at your hands."
Her words chilled me to my bones. It wasn't the first time someone had said something like this to me, but it never sat right with me. This soldier shouldn't have to die, and certainly not at my hands. The kind of respect I'd earned, no one should have. But that's what you get when you were born with seemingly infinite power.
"Make my death…spectacular." The soldier looked up into Sharlot's eyes and spat at her.
"As you wish." The little girl who still lived inside of me closed her eyes and blocked her ears. The sight and sound of death no longer made me sick, but it still wasn't something I wanted to witness.
I pictured myself far away from that fortress, floating among the stars. I peeked down from behind a fluffy white cloud at what was about to occur.
My blue eyes glowed white as I lifted the soldier off the ground using the power of my mind. I raised my palm up as I lifted her toward Queen Sharlot. As I did, I crushed her neck. She didn't even have a chance to cry out in pain before she died.
I maintained her posture so it looked like she was still alive. As she hovered before Sharlot, I acted quickly so Sharlot would not notice the lifelessness of her form. With my mind, I ripped the soldier's body in half, spraying her blood across Sharlot's body.
A thick coat of crimson blood dripped down Sharlot's face. She gasped in shock, as if I'd just splashed cold water on her face, and blood ran into her mouth. To add to the insult, I tossed the remains of the soldier's body so hard that they knocked Queen Sharlot over.
Queen Sharlot screamed as she fell out of sight behind the parapet. My soldiers roared with laughter as I walked away. Several clapped me on the shoulder, but I acknowledged none of them. I left the fortress to the sound of Sharlot cursing my name.
"You will pay for this, Lura! You will pay!"
As I left, Sanna's voice echoed across the plain. "One of your soldiers will die every six hours until you state your demands. If you do not state your demands in four days, you will experience the full wrath of the Grand General and her legion."
Seeing Queen Sharlot descend from the wall covered in her own soldier's blood would bolster my people's resolve, and decrease the morale of Sharlot's soldiers. I was sure retribution of the same kind would follow. She would likely execute Calidonican hostages. It never made sense to me to resort to violence to resolve our disputes. Violence only bred more violence.
In my studies, I'd read of governments of a bygone era who didn't allow their peacekeepers to bear lethal arms. That way, their citizens felt no need to bear them while committing crimes. As a result, violent crimes decreased. I felt the same principle could be applied to other scenarios. However, Baruuk would punish Hetty if I even suggested that violence may not be the only way to resolve a dispute, so I remained silent.
Already, countermeasures to protect our soldiers from Sharlot's wrath ricocheted through my mind. I could easily send spies into the fortress to undermine Sharlot from the inside, but Sharlot definitely had the upper hand.
I found comfort in the rhythmic gait of my soldiers marching behind me, and slowly I regained feeling in my fingers, and my body no longer felt like a shell I vacated when I didn't want to feel the anguish of taking another's life.
When I arrived at my private quarters — an elaborate tent chock full of furniture I didn't need. Their only purpose was to make me look more important than I was. I sat down at the desk to see a letter with the Calidonican royal seal stamped on the envelope. Before I could open it, though, Sanna called my name and stepped into my tent once I gave her permission.
"This missive just arrived via a single messenger." She handed me an envelope with not a single word marking the paper.
"Sharlot is ready to make her demands?" I asked, one eyebrow arched.
"The messenger wasn't even wearing armor, and his accent was Espazotan."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I turned the envelope over to see a familiar seal stamped onto the envelope.
"Should I leave you alone to read your love letter?" Sanna asked, cocking her head in a way that made her long black ponytail fan out around her. At the teasing tone she took I looked up to see a grin to match.
"Get out of here, General, or else." Sanna saluted as she left me alone with the two messages. Baruuk's was certainly the more urgent. He was my king, after all. But as a quiet rebellion, I opened the other first. When I opened it, I saw handwriting as familiar to me as my own.
Sinking into my seat further, I asked the sender, "What do you want now?"
"Dearest friend, I'm coming to Malosiaga. If you leave now, you'll be home just in time to greet me at the door. There is something important I must discuss with King Baruuk. I would greatly appreciate it if you were there to cushion the blow. Yours, C."
My heart sputtered in my chest. "Cushion the blow?" I muttered. The sensation of someone pulling a rug out from beneath my feet settled into my bones. I felt the weightlessness of being suspended in the air, just before a mighty crash. I tore open the letter from Baruuk.
"Lura, We have an important guest coming any day now. Prince Cisco-Zabriel is coming to Malosiaga without his father. His lack of notice doesn't bode well for this visit. He could be in trouble, or he could have ill intentions. Either way, I need you here. You know how to handle him better than I do. I can barely tolerate the boy. Come to the palace as soon as possible. Baruuk."
Ill intentions? King Darius, Cisco's father, had only successfully stolen his throne from his predecessor with Baruuk's help. Their alliance was decades old — it was formed before Cisco and I were even born.
Cisco's and Baruuk's messages were frequent. Their arrival was not suspicious — it was the context. Why hadn't King Darius given us more notice? How did Cisco know where I was? Cisco could have been traveling in the area and met trouble. But Cisco's letter made it sound like he wasn't in trouble yet, but that he could be if Baruuk didn't like what he had to say.
Baruuk knew I was in the middle of a great struggle. For him to call me to his side meant he might even fear for his life.
Half an hour later I was mounted on my black stallion, Buzzard, dressed in riding clothes that wouldn't draw me any attention. "My absence will leave Sharlot confused," I said to Sanna and Hunter. "Use that to your advantage."
"Calidonican casualties will be higher without you here," Sanna said, and instantly guilt stabbed me between my ribs. But this was my life — constantly having to choose who would survive and who would die. If I had to choose between Baruuk and Cisco, I would choose Baruuk, because choosing Baruuk meant choosing my sister. If I failed to protect Baruuk, he had people in place who would kill Hetty as punishment for my failure.
If I had to choose between my people and Cisco… the weight of that choice was an anvil on my chest. Exactly how heavy it was, I would never admit.
"The situation is in your capable hands." I made earnest eye contact with both Sanna and Hunter. "I'm confident in you. Maybe Prince Cisco's visit will be brief — or maybe he'll want to join the action — and I can return." It wouldn't be the first time Cisco and I had joined forces in battle.
"Good luck," Hunter said.
"Good luck," I echoed, and galloped away.