Greer roused Alize early in the morning, when the horizon bled scarlet beneath the cracked yolk of the sun. Alize forced her sore limbs to move. They had stayed up late into the night, suggesting and abandoning strategies. Time was a tightening noose around their necks. Alize knew each moment she lingered risked her sisters their lives, and if a Hrumi-Kogalok force attacked the city, it would further cost her clan any claims of integrity.
She limped out of bed, pausing at the door leading to Kell’s chamber. They had been too tired to speak when they left each other night before. Alize briefly considered waking him to say goodbye. Then she shook her head adamantly. What a strange idea.
Greer awaited her in the stables. Though the morning shed silence, Tamer’s refuge teemed with soldiers, moving with delicate footsteps and cautious glances. Despite their bared weapons and blunt hostility, Alize found the seething mass oddly comforting. After so long facing masks, it relieved Alize to be able to see their faces and trace their attentions.
Greer greeted her with another much younger girl, still a child, who faced Alize wide-eyed.
“Alize, please allow me to introduce my sister, Princess Dyala.”
Alize smiled, “It’s a pleasure-”
“Is it true,” Dyala whispered, “that the Hrumi will protect royal families once again?”
Alize startled, “I know not-”
“Hush Dyala,” Greer hiccupped, her cheeks burning. “There, you have met the Hrumi. Father will have my head if he hears you were here. Back to bed.”
Alize watched the girl depart with furrowed brows.
Greer interrupted her thoughts, “Kelesh asked me to give you this.”
Alize felt a rush of disappointment to see Greer held up a common sword. What were you expecting? Still she watched Greer attach it to her saddle with some trepidation. It was a gift, that much she knew, but did it signify Kell’s forgiveness, or his esteem? Did he mean to provide her protection even when he could not? Or was it a spare sword he could not be bothered to ride back with?
When the horses stood ready, Greer wasted no time. She pressed hers to a gallop, raising the dust and sand behind her on the road. Alize caught up to her and the road twisted back towards the forest where the Hrumi made their camp.
“What did your sister mean,” Alize asked over their scavenged mid-day meal, “about the Hrumi protecting royalty?”
“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Kelesh has assured me the story isn’t true, but my sister clings to it. She thinks it’s about her, I guess.”
“What story?”
“We had a nursemaid as a child who told us tales of the Hrumi. In her version, the Hrumi formed under Rehsan’s guidance. She granted them her soul.”
Alize blinked, “That is not so different from the story we tell about ourselves.”
“Well,” Greer cleared her throat loudly, “in her version, Rehsan gave them that power with the special purpose to protect royal families.”
“Oh,” Alize cringed, “that’s quite…imaginative.”
“I know. I hope I don’t offend you. I heard the same tales as a child, and I remember being so captivated. Our nursemaid told us if we ever needed help, we could trust a Hrumi to defend us, even from Icar and Nadar’s cruelties.”
Alize stifled a laugh, “How strange that I should want to deny it and take pride in it at the same time! And here I am, helping you defeat those very uncles. It is wrong, but it is not wrong too.”
Greer’s corresponding smile fell almost immediately. “Our grandfather was furious when he discovered that we championed the Hrumi. But we plead their case. I like to think that when Kelesh approached him to propose communicating with the Hrumi, perhaps Grandfather said yes for our sake. Although,” Greer stumbled over her words, “I understand his work did not improve relations.”
“But Kell learns from his mistakes. That is what will make the difference.”
“Kell?” Greer repeated. “Only his closest friends call him that.”
Alize shrugged to hide the warmth filling her chest. “It was how he introduced himself to me. He dislikes when I call him Kelesh.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Just hoping you know your warding runes.”
Alize could hear the invitation in Greer’s voice, but hesitated to inquire further. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“The runes to ward off pregnancy, if you lie with a man.”
“Ha.” Alize grumbled, “That’s not a concern. At all.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Greer said wryly, “but take this,” Greer tugged at her finger, “a little more power, however you choose to use it.”
And she presented a ring with tightly carved runes.
Alize frowned without accepting it. “A Hrumi does not need such a trinket.”
“Oh, protected already are you?”
“No,” Alize fumbled, “not like that.” If she accepted, it would mean she could imagine lying with a man. That would breach a sacred, unspoken trust with all her Hrumi sisters.
Greer looked confused. ”But then why would you refuse power over your own decisions?”
“Perhaps we are not meant to have such power.”
“Now those are words I never thought I’d hear a Hrumi say!”
Shaking her head, Alize could not help but agree. Since when would the Hrumi abscond control over their own lives, their own bodies? What purpose could that possible serve?
Greer held out the ring again. “It won’t hurt you!” She laughed. “I make my little sister wear one even, and she’s not even looking at boys.”
After hesitating, Alize reached out to accept the ring. It was warm to touch. “Boys,” she scoffed.
“Men,” Greer corrected with a wry smile, “Go on, put it on.”
Alize could feel the magic in it as she slipped it onto her finger. Still, she rolled her eyes, “Not that it matters at all.”
“No, of course not.” Greer changed her tone completely. “Peace then. Isn’t that what the Hrumi say?”
Alize chuckled and nodded.
“Tell me of the Hrumi life. We used to beg for stories.”
Alize obliged as they continued their journey. She told Greer of her childhood in the children’s camp, of warm lentils patties on brisk evenings and stag hunts in the lightning forest. Every story had hints of the children’s camp, and Alize carefully shrouded the details of the mountains or the snow or the plants that might indicate either. When Greer asked about her time in the West, Alize described the Inland Sea at dusk, the massive pine trees with trunks as thick as boulders, and the stone ruins of collapsed settlements, sometimes spanning entire valleys that she and Hesna had uncovered in their wandering. Telling these tales, Alize was careful not to mention anything about the salt flats or the tunnels. Salt gathering was a sacred Hrumi task unfit for outsiders’ ears. But all the layers of secrets made it difficult to tell Greer anything that mattered. As much as the princess seemed captivated, she still knew only pieces of Alize’s story, and it was not truly enough to assemble anything meaningful.
As the sun sloped downwards, Greer reciprocated with stories of her own. Her description of the Parousia court sounded surprisingly familiar to Alize, the same naughty antics of children and adults’ futile punishments. Her stomach hurt from laughing when they stopped for the evening meal, but they both became more somber as Alize calculated their proximity to the Hrumi camp.
Scouts found them by moonrise. Though friendly enough to Alize, they reacted to Greer first with confusion. Suspicion and skepticism followed.
“A willow?” One of them whispered to Alize. “It is an adult recruit?”
“Not exactly,” she whispered back.
Winter fog rolled in as the night sank into further darkness. Alize was careful to stick by Greer’s side, both as a protector and as a signal to her fellow Hrumi sisters. The clans had no traditions for receiving guests, and Alize meant to encourage only civil behavior.
When they arrived by the central campfire, Benay greeted them with raised eyebrows and cracked lips.
“Clan leader,” Alize bent in the ceremonial sign of subordination, “I present to you Princess Greer, daughter of Prince Tamer of the Parousia province.”
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Benay rose to her feet slowly, her gaze locked on Greer. “Granddaughter of the High Prince that our sisters are imprisoned for killing.”
Greer stood perfectly still, her posture straight and tall. “Give us reason and power to pardon the Hrumi, and my father will see it done.”
“Why?” Benay demanded.
“Because we are in a war.”
“A war you claim we started.”
Greer met Benay’s for the first time. “The Hrumi did not start this war, but together we can end it.”
Benay stayed as she stood. “We fight for ourselves.”
“Only liars, lovers, and fools would claim otherwise.”
“Yet our alliance benefits you?”
“We can grant your sisters freedom while sparing the city from a Kogalok assault.”
Alize almost melted under the scathing look Benay cast her. “Arouah contacted them too,” she murmured.
“Alize,” Benay intoned, “you had better make it very clear why you brought a willow princess to our camp.”
“The Deku have entered Parousia,” Alize choked, “they are attempting to soultruss our sisters. When I left two nights ago, twenty had already died.”
Benay had turned quite pale and cries of dismay erupted from the other clan members. “Then we demand the Kogaloks enter now,” Benay spoke.
“No,” Greer said hotly, “as princess I am bound to protect the people of Parousia.”
Benay whirled to face her, her eyes on fire. Alize nearly recoiled but Greer stood her ground.
“Not at the expense of our sisters!”
“We are protectors too!” Alize interrupted, stepping between Greer and Benay. “And those deaths would be on our hands.”
Benay’s nostrils flared and Alize felt a sinking fear that she had pushed the clan leader too far.
“If I may,” Greer spoke clearly. Alize wondered where she mustered the strength, “Tamer’s forces have long coveted a partnership with the Hrumi. While Icar holds your sisters in his prisons, we strive towards the same goals.”
“You dare claim that when your grandfather has been the most pernicious in Hrumi persecution?” Benay hissed.
Alize pressed her fingers to her temple. The situation deteriorated around her. How had she deluded herself that it would go any differently?
But a voice interrupted Benay’s diatribe. “Benay, remember Dierdin’s story of the prince’s prison. The Parousia prince sought to establish communication with the Hrumi. It is our creed that dictates we die in the prisons.”
Alize lifted her gaze. She did not know the name of the woman that spoke, but felt immense gratitude that she would not have to promote the truth alone.
Benay closed her mouth and folded her arms, inhaling slowly. Finally she uttered, “And what of the allegations that the Hrumi killed Jorin? Your father cannot simply dismiss them.”
Greer hesitated, and Alize could tell she deliberated her words. “It is our understanding that Icar has already taken action. Tamer will seek no further recourse for that crime.”
Spoken like a true politician, Alize thought. Greer made no mention that, from the prince’s perspective, the Hrumi crime of kidnapping still remained unpunished. Alize regarded Benay, but her expression suggested the answer had not satisfied her.
“We offer you,” Greer said quickly though Alize noted a fleeting tremble in her voice, “a way into the city. My father’s forces will coordinate to attack in two night’s time.”
“It is sooner than the Kogaloks,” Alize added.
“I will be honest,” Greer said, “we need the Hrumi to defeat the Deku.”
Benay frowned, “A good negotiator should never admit her desperation before her advantages.”
“I would not condescend to clarify your incentives for you. You already know them well.”
Alize closed her eyes. Greer had spoken exactly as Alize had instructed her. Now the moment would reveal whether that gamble would work.
Benay paced, oscillating between the firelight and the darkness that shrouded the woods beyond it. “Tamer is not guaranteed to be prince. We might debase ourselves with this alliance for naught, and accrue only imprisonment for any additional clan members captured.”
“If you do not defeat the Deku, the Kogaloks will attack Parousia. We are prepared to do everything,” Greer’s voice cracked just a little, “everything in our power to stop them from threatening our city. Indeed you would not find me here if the risks were not so great. And remember too, my father’s life is also forfeit if we do not succeed.”
“But not yours. Your uncles would trade you to another prince’s family for an allegiance.”
“That may be its own type of forfeiture.” Greer countered, “But, you are right, it is not my life or my soul at stake, just my legacy. But I will fight for that.”
“I see,” Benay replied. She raised her voice, as if she had forgotten the audience of her sisters. “But I have heard enough. Osmae, see to it that the willow is fed and given a tent. She will remain under guard. Now Alize, you will attend our questions.”
Alize tried to mimic Greer’s composure as the princess departed even as her own doubts seethed through her. They weakened her knees and threaten to crush her with their weight, but still she resisted.
“This is not our battle,” Benay said sharply, as soon as Greer left hearing range, “we have lost sight of the true enemy. Sargons are the reason we protect our souls, even if that protection gives us power against the Deku that both Arouah and this willow want to exploit. This is not strategy, this is suicide.”
Her heart thumped in her throat, but Alize found her voice strangely calm. “Let me trouble you, my sisters, for the story of Rehsan’s greatest defeat.”
“I hardly-” Benay began.
“It bears upon our decision,” Alize declared. “Who can name the one trial Rehsan never overcame?”
The Hrumi voices deteriorated into soft murmurs.
“She feared the Jovingians,” one sister offered.
“But she faced them nonetheless,” Alize countered.
“She could not deflect the flood in the Herat valley?”
“But her magic protected the inhabitants.” Alize continued to shake her head at all the suggestions that emerged.
When her sisters fell into silence once more, Alize leaned forward. In her mind she heard Celillie’s pendantic tone, her exasperation, for those rare explanations she had deigned to provide. But Alize unclenched her fists. She would not use Celillie’s voice, nor Hesna’s overused tone of compliance. She would speak from her stomach, a voice strong and sure. Such words did not need justification or excuses, only the gentle silence the Hrumi gave her.
“There are not so many examples for Rehsan’s failings, though we are told she was only human. I speak of her as a youth, when she grew up on the streets of an ancient city whose name history has forgotten. Her two brothers kept her fed as best they could. But as she grew older, they discovered it was much harder to protect a young girl, this being before the Hrumi existed to provide her safety. So they took her to the mountains to join a family there.
“The three siblings had no food, and less money, but Rehsan was kind and clever, and eventually they found a suitor. The brothers took her to meet his family in the country and they pointed out the window to where a young man worked chopping wood. Rehsan observed he was strong, diligent, and kind to his younger brother who sat to the side, bent and mangled. She was pleased with the man and accepted to be his family, to work by his side, to bear his children.
On the day she was to join him, her brothers took her once more for the long ride to the small village. As they rode, she told them how she dreamed of a future would be brighter than what their parents had left for them.
But it was not the man at the woodpile who met her at the home. The younger brother, who had complications at birth and could neither move nor speak, was lain across her lap. Rehsan’s grief was great, though her sense of betrayal overwhelmed it. The last words her own brothers told her as they left were simply, ‘you could not expect more than this.’
“But Rehsan had expected more. She had lost her dreams, and soon discovered that was only the beginning. His family abused her, taunting her at every turn and working her until her chaffed palms bled and her hair fell out in chunks. Rehsan was still a youth, unacquainted yet with the great power the rested within her. She let her anger overwhelm her. She cursed her brothers, cursed them for letting her believe a lie, even a beautiful one, and for abandoning her to a life of servitude and misery. Some say the curse was her first true act of power, her first taste of the magic would change the world forever.”
“But she escaped,” one of the younger Hrumi ventured.
“Indeed,” Alize responded, “So she was spared from a lifetime of such wretched circumstances. Before the Hrumi, few in her position were so lucky.”
“What does this have to do with the subject at hand?” Benay brandished her impatience like a weapon.
Though her throat seized, Alize nodded, again finding her voice. “There is no denying the Sargons have wronged the Hrumi with their assaults, as Rehsan’s brothers wronged her with their silence while she dreamed. But her brothers were not the ones who beat her, held her head underwater, or left her locked in the cellar for days. We know Rehsan believed her brothers never would have accepted that.”
“We know she believed that of one of them,” Benay corrected.
“Yes,” Alize iterated, “she believed he truly had not known the circumstances he condemned her to. He would never have allowed that life for her. Ultimately, she chose not to blame him for it. The Sargons have committed crimes against us, yes, but the Deku soultrussing is so heinous, even Prince Tamer will stand against them. Should we not support a prince who condemns our own greatest threat?”
“But what of the Sargon soultrussing?” Benay hissed. “To save our sisters, you tell us we must ignore their crimes? Disregard our history?”
“There will be no history if we do not survive the Deku assault.” Alize took a deep breath. “Besides, we know the Deku soultruss our sisters, and we have no evidence that the Sargons do. Let us not conflate those who imprisoned us with the crimes the Deku commit against us. We are no more justified to hold the Sargons responsible for our soultrussed sisters than Rehsan was to hold her brothers for her hosts’ cruelty.”
“You criticize Rehsan?” Benay reproached.
“Remember the story,” Alize replied. “When Rehsan finally escaped, she struggled for the remainder of her life to master her power. For many years she forgot her brothers’ curse. But in her old age, she reflected upon her legacy and had no greater regret, no greater sense of failure, than the fate she had left her brothers. There is no heroism in perpetuating misery. It breeds itself naturally. If we do not help Prince Tamer’s forces, nothing will change. But if we do, something might.”
“Even after all their violence against us?”
“These scars can fade,” Alize breathed, “if we only stop reopening the wounds.”
Benay frowned. “You would swear to us, Alize, that the Sargons in Parousia made no attempts on our sisters’ souls?”
Alize bit her lip, suddenly recalling a moment so long ago, when she had sworn to Kell she would never take a stand in his war. She had trusted in her own truth so much she saw no value in any other perspective.
But that war had come to her. It sat smug on her shoulders while she strained under its weight. Wincing, Alize dropped to Benay’s feet. “I swear it on my own soul. If you truly believe the Sargons engage in soultrussing,” she shook with her suppressed urgency, “then you believe too that I would lead all my sisters to a fate worse than death.”
Menah’s face flashed in Alize’s mind and she wilted with remorse for her mistakes. She waited while the firelight enveloped her words in ash.
“Have we any reason to believe that of you?” Benay asked softly.
Alize pulled back her shoulders, heaving her shoulders back and facing Benay, facing her sisters, and facing all her gnawing doubts. Her hand stole her heart, probing the black mark. But beneath it, her heart beat steadily. Across the fire, her eyes met Sosje’s. Her sister nodded.
“No.” Alize said. “I am Hrumi until the gods strike me from this world. And I will attest that if ever there were ever to be a time to extend any Sargons, any prince, our trust, it is now. Prince Tamer offers us a favorable alliance, while if we support the Kogalok attack upon Parousia, we are only amplifying the tragedy that strangles us. Let us not condemn ourselves to the Rehsan’s regret. We fight for a better future.”
Benay opened her mouth but faltered when an echo shot out of her, followed immediately by several more. They quickly became a swarm. They sank into Alize readily and she caught her breath as she looked at her hands. Her palms glowed dimly even in the firelight, pulsing with the energy that she knew she could not control. It set Alize’s body trembling in muted panic. She bent forward to perform the ceremonial sign of subordination, bestowing the echoes to Benay once more.
“It seems the clan has already spoken,” Benay murmured. “I will ask only for volunteers.”
Alize blinked into the firelight. All around it she met the eyes of her sisters, wary, but no longer undecided.
“But,” Benay added, “let it be clear that even if the Sargons do not soultruss, they are not absolved of their crimes against us. We have made no decision to truce, nor shall we, without generous concessions on their part.”
Alize exhaled, wondering if still Kell and Davram and all her sisters lived on borrowed time.