Into the Unreal

2. Kiria

2

Kiria

Kiria adjusted her crown and swung around to check it in the glass. It seemed to be centered. She couldn’t help wanting every minute detail to be perfect. Today was her first official session as Keeper. Though she had been coronated, today she would take her throne.

“It looks perfect,” her mother crooned, touching one of its silver points with a finger. Kiria could see her and her Amiran advisor Chetana standing in the middle of the bedroom floor behind her.

The only one missing was her father, killed by Torithians a few months before. He would have been so proud of her. She fought back the memory of getting that news, when Firian had tried to comfort her, holding her as she wept, but nothing was enough. Her mother had been even more devastated by his death than she was.

After clearing her throat, Kiria turned to look at her mother. Not long ago, she had worn this crown. Kiria didn’t have any regrets about taking over the throne, but seeing only pride in her mother’s face made her smile.

“This is a big day for you,” her mother said, squeezing Kiria’s hand. “Why haven’t you changed?”

“I will in a second.” Kiria bit the inside of her cheek. While she got ready, putting on the trappings of a Keeper for the first time since the coronation, she didn’t want her Beauty yet. She wanted a moment for the title to seep into every part of her, to let its glow be beautiful enough. In the Main, she would appear with her official face, the one blessed by God with painfully complete Beauty, but for a second she was just Kiria. This part of her wore the crown too.

As though she’d been summoned, Candrae, one of her serving girls, rushed to check the fastening of Kiria’s dress. Kiria flinched as Candrae touched the buttons.

“Oh, My Keeper!” Candrae cried, laying a palm gently on Kiria’s bare back.

“The tattoo’s still a little tender. It’s not your fault.” Kiria’s design covered the upper part of her back and shoulder blades. She’d chosen a design similar to the one Mari Calthwaite had received in Carradoc. Artists kept a record of all the designs, and she’d always admired the beauty and ferocity of the founder’s. Delicate swirls ending in claw-like points adorned her upper back like jeweled armor. Kiria had added a subtle laird flower in the center to symbolize the peace of Brithnem. The final flourish, a graceful point, rose up the nape of her neck.

Since she’d had the procedure, she’d worn open-backed dresses. This one, all light blue, made her appear every inch a Keeper.

“I’m sure she won’t do it again,” said her mother, eyeing Candrae, who dropped her gaze.

Kiria squeezed Candrae’s hand gently to reassure her that she’d done nothing wrong, then turned her attention to Chetana. “Do you have a tattoo?” She’d never noticed one on her advisor’s dark skin, but her advisor was fiercely proud of being Khelê. Most Khelê had tattoos in recognition of their heritage. It was in solidarity with the mismatched race of Khelê that the tradition of royal tattoos had started all those years ago.

Chetana tapped the side of her head with an elegant finger. “Right there. Not all allegiances are obvious to the eye.” She pulled down the high-necked collar of her Amiran robe. Beneath her hairline of dark, rusty curls, the edge of a tattoo unfurled. Although impossible to see the whole design, it had the signature curls, dots, and points of most Khelê tattoos.

“You used to shave your head?”

Chetana smoothed the collar back up and patted the sides of her close-cut hair. “For a very short while.”

“I didn’t know that, Chetana,” her mother said, drawing her brows together.

“It’s not always best to give every detail of one’s past. The present is more important.”

Kiria was about to ask why when a voice cut in.

“You know, compared to Atty’s, yours is very nice.”

Kiria whirled around at the sound of Jori’s voice. True to form, Jori wore the finest clothes in the sloppiest ways. His embroidered vest was undone as though he were just arriving at home. How he could manage to seem at home no matter where he was remained a mystery to Kiria. “Atty’s is exactly like your father’s, though. That has to mean something.”

“And? I think it must be something about the skin,” he said thoughtfully. He sauntered up beside her. Blushing, Candrae backed up against the vanity.

Despite herself, Kiria smiled. “You’re ridiculous.”

“The Keeper is right,” Chetana agreed with no hint of levity.

“Of course,” he replied. Giving into his penchant for theatrics, he bowed his head.

“I’m surprised they let you in,” her mother said, with a little more amusement.

“I’m not.” Jori flashed a mischievous grin. “Well!” He turned again to Kiria. “I just wanted to wish you good luck. With those two, you’re going to need it.” Those two were Cúron and Jori’s brother Atty, the other Keepers.

“Hardly,” she said. “I can hold my own.”

He winked. “That’s my girl.”

“We need to finish getting ready for the session,” Chetana said pointedly.

Jori flourished a hand. “Point taken. You might start talking politics at any moment.” He headed toward the door. “All my best, darling,” he cried as it shut behind him.

Candrae returned to fiddle with the ties of Kiria’s dress. It felt secure back there. Maybe Candrae just wanted to feel like she had something to do.

“Speaking of politics,” her mother said, “have you done your research?”

Kiria fought not to roll her eyes. “Yes, I’ve done my research.” She’d dived into the issues until she could barely see by the candlelight. The past week had been packed with nothing but study punctuated by checking for the scouts Firian had promised to send.

She wouldn’t know if she could trust him until all three scouts came back unharmed, with peace terms and news of the Tanyuin Academy’s location. She prayed he was as good as his word. If her gut was right, and he was telling the truth, then the war against the Tanyu would be over, and they could potentially end their war with the pirates as well. What a victory that would be—peace on both fronts!

If her calculations were correct, it took about two weeks to travel between Brithnem and the Academy. One more week to wait.

She came back to the present and closed her eyes. A tingling covered her body as she put on her Beauty. When the change completed, her mother gasped softly behind her. No one quite got used to the Ability. Beauty revealed everything Kiria was, but more. She’d seen it over and over again in the glass. Her light brown eyes turned golden, her mousy brown hair rich and full, her skin flawless, her figure immaculate. It was everything she was meant to be.

Candrae stopped fussing over the back of her dress.

A satisfied smile curled the edges of Kiria’s lips. Despite the dangers of war, of wrong decisions, of future anxiety, she felt ready, eager to begin.

“Is it time?” her mother asked, smiling.

“Let’s go.”

Guards flanked them as they left for the Main, the enormous meeting room for the three Keepers of Brithnem. Kiria couldn’t count how many times she had snuck in there as a child, then sat in on sessions when she was older, but now… now she was a Keeper.

When they arrived, two guards opened the grandly carved double doors. Blood hummed through her veins as she saw a familiar sight, now glowing with possibility. The dais in the center of the room held three thrones: one for Cúron, one for Atty, and the center one for her.

From the ceiling hung the blue and purple flags of Brithnem. Movable walls portioned off part of the room so it didn’t look as cavernous as it had during her coronation. A collection of chairs ringed the bottom of the steps, spreading back onto the intricate floor mosaic. Daelon, her tutor, smiled encouragingly at her from the front row.

Her mother and Chetana took their place near him in the front row with the other Amir, nobles, and generals. Kiria climbed the steps to her throne between the other two. Surely this was a dream. Atty, dressed in a fur robe much too warm for the season, pursed his lips in a reassuring smile as she took her seat. Not too long ago, he’d had his first session too.

As soon as Kiria sat, Chetana rose to begin the session with a prayer. She quoted part of the passage from the Sacred Scroll carved along the edge of the ceiling.

With the session open, Kiria spoke. “Keepers, Amir, and dignitaries, I am so pleased to be here today to carry on the long tradition of the Second Keeper.” She looked at her mother. “I pray that I can bring honor to the position. I know that I’ll do everything in my power to better the Western Kingdom, and to protect it, as I swore at my coronation. I look forward to serving you all the best of my ability.”

The small crowd gave polite applause.

“We’re sure you will,” Cúron replied, smiling at her. “Now onto the matters at hand. Because of the Tanyuin threat to our citizens, I have discussed with our military strategist Petra Madola about allowing people to sleep during the day and work at night, since that is when all the nightmare attacks happen. Our normal economy will be temporarily disrupted, but it is important to keep the people of Brithnem feeling safe.”

“There haven’t been any attacks since the new Tanyuin Head took over,” Kiria pointed out.

“No one has reported an attack,” Cúron admitted, “but we assume that he’s just getting settled. Firian Kess is young and no doubt took the position by force. Once his crown is secure, he’ll turn our way again.”

When Kiria turned to Atty, he nodded almost apologetically.

“I don’t think he will,” she insisted.

“Don’t forget what he did, to you, to all of us.” Even as Cúron turned dramatically to the little crowd, there was a clear warning in his voice.

How could she forget? She was the one taken hostage, not him. She bit back a retort. Diplomacy, even when Cúron was condescending to her, was the best way. He wasn’t a bad man, she reminded herself, just ambitious.

“I think it works as a solution for now,” Atty said, referring back to the sleeping schedules. He raised an eyebrow at her, a friendly nudge to get her back on track.

“There!” said Cúron. The word was a warm reward to Atty for having said the right thing. Was this how Cúron spoke to Kiria’s mother when she was the Keeper? To leave everything to Cúron, the oldest and most experienced leader, must have been tempting, but Kiria had known since she was a child that she wanted to be a different kind of ruler than her mother.

Kiria’s brows twitched downward. Dimly, she noticed the attention shift to her. Every gesture she made was magnified with her Beauty.

“So, if no one has anything else to say…?” Cúron let the question hang in the air as he regarded the advisors, the generals, the other Keepers. He ran his hand once over his white beard.

“I have something to say.” Kiria’s own voice surprised her. She shouldn’t be rankled by something so small. But this was her first session. Everyone needed to take her seriously as their leader, not push aside her voice.

“I would like to announce that I have received hopeful news from the new Tanyuin Head that our war may be at an end.”

Surprised shuffling. Her mother stared at her with a warning in her eyes. Bold moves, according to her, often led to danger. Maybe that was the reason she never proposed any.

That look made Kiria falter, though she was no less sure of what she wanted to say. Surely her mother had to feel proud of her once she heard the plan.

Cúron turned to her with another admonishing expression. “When did you receive this news?” he demanded.

“The day before my coronation.”

“From what source?”

She hesitated, just for a moment. “The Tanyuin Head himself.” I stood here and he stood there. She glanced at the spot on the dais as though she could still see his shadow.

“And you trust this news?” Cúron began.

“What did he say?” The fact that Atty talked over Cúron proved his surprise.

Kiria turned to Atty. “He said he had our scouts, but that he would send them all back safely with terms to end the Tanyuin War. He also promised to help us in our efforts against the Torithians as well.”

Cúron’s eyes narrowed.

He was probably thinking that, mere months ago, Firian had double-crossed them. The Academy had ordered him to do it. Now that he was in charge, though, things would be different. Probably. Hopefully.

“What does he want in return?” Cúron asked.

“He doesn’t want a vote like the Amir. He just wants Torithian prisoners of war.” Anticipating their next question, she added, “The scouts should be here in a week to confirm if he’s telling the truth.”

“Until then,” said Cúron, his voice booming now, to include everyone in the small crowd, “we will refrain from negotiations with Tanyu.”

He said it as a parent would to a child. There was something final, non-negotiable, about it. Kiria bit her lip. It would be extraneous to add anything else, wouldn’t it?

Gathering her courage, she said, “I hope this will mean the end of both wars for us. If we don’t broadcast the alliance, then we’ll be able to surprise the Torithians. Though it’s unlikely, an alliance with the Tanyu could be the most advantageous move for us right now. A risky one, but if it pays off, well worth it.”

Obviously a little irritated that Kiria got the last word, Cúron smiled broadly. She met his gaze. Especially since the death of Atty’s father, Cúron was used to being right, to being the one to run these meetings. It was true that he did have more experience, but Kiria planned to contribute just as much as he did.

Parohim, Cúron’s advisor, stood, holding a piece of paper. “Next on our—”

With a huge crash, a window exploded into shards. Kiria’s arms shook once against the carved armrests as pieces of glass shattered across the floor.

Parohim ducked. She thought she caught the flash of an arrow and her heart turned to ice. But no. Just glass.

Everyone at the foot of the dais twisted to see the many-paned window. Two guards patrolling the door sprinted outside. Others ran protectively toward the Keepers on the dais.

Kiria’s spine stiffened with fear. She let out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to touch the wound on her shoulder. No other crash followed, but threat billowed like smoke through the room.

Shouting came through the empty window. Cúron and one of the generals stood. The distortion and height of the glass didn’t offer a good view of what was happening, especially now that the dais was surrounded by guards poised to fight. From her seat, Kiria could only look between them.

“What was that?” Atty asked.

Kiria looked at him but couldn’t answer.

After a few more seconds, one of the guards returned.

“What happened?” Cúron demanded.

“There’s no danger, My Keepers,” said the guard, bowing. “We apprehended two protesters throwing rocks at the window. They are being held outside, bound.”

Kiria’s brow furrowed. She stood to see around the guards, who parted respectfully and stepped halfway down the steps so she could get a clear view. “Protesters? What were they protesting?”

“Please forgive me, My Keepers. They were protesting your ascension to the throne.”

Something like guilt threaded through her. She’d heard a passing comment to that effect before she was coronated. Her mother Merian was well-loved by the people. But this disruption took Kiria completely by surprise.

Her mother stood angrily. “Tell them my daughter has my full support.” Her tone was strained, as though the anger wasn’t directed only at the protesters, but at her daughter too.

“Of course, My… lady.” The guard turned his full attention to Kiria. “What shall we do with them, My Keeper?”

All attention shifted to her. She felt herself pale. This is it. So soon, she had to make a hard decision on her own.

Why had these protesters snuck onto the palace grounds? Why couldn’t they have stayed home? She couldn’t let them go. To solidify her reign, she had to show that this threatening behavior wouldn’t be tolerated.

It would be easy to execute them. The thought made her still. What a horrible thought! It would be simpler than a just solution, but she wanted justice more than simplicity. The temptation snagged at her consciousness, but, finally, she stood. “Keep them in a cell for two nights. After that, bring them here to me. If they swear allegiance to me as their Keeper and beg forgiveness, I will show them mercy.” Swear allegiance, beg forgiveness… The solution sounded self-centered. But this wasn’t just about her, it was about the Second Line.

She glanced around quickly for affirmation—her mother, Chetana, Daelon, Cúron… To her relief, they all regarded her with a little pride. She looked at Atty last, who seemed like he wanted to clap her on the shoulder in congratulations. She let out a furtive sigh of relief.

“Of course, My Keeper,” said the guard. “Right away.”