A Fleeting Eternity - Chapter One

Ky was sitting in a dark room, crouched behind a stack of feed bags, a blanket over her head. She was vaguely aware of Talia’s presence, somewhere off to her left, but she was more focused on the shouting coming from the front room. Her right hand tightened on a dagger, waiting for the time to strike.

A moment later the blanket disappeared and she was staring up into the sneering face of Lieutenant Borrond Mikaelson. He grabbed her left arm and yanked her in the air. Her father’s instructions echoed in her ears: don’t let anyone take you away. She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves, and wildly swung the knife at him.

Her stomach fluttered as the blade sank deep into his shoulder. He howled in pain and slammed her into the wall again and again and again, making her head ache as she –

Ky landed heavily on the ground with a groan. She spluttered on a mouthful of hay, squinting up at her supervisor as he stood over her, hand still on the hammock he’d just tipped her out of. “Get up!”

“Hey, Broer,” she coughed, voice gruff as she rubbed her face.

“Don’t you ‘hey Broer’ me,” he snapped. “You should have been up feeding the horses half an hour ago.”

“Apologies,” Ky murmured, pushing herself to her feet. “I’ll do better next time.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you will, you bum,” Broer said, waving away the apology.

Ky stretched her back, but stopped mid-motion as she felt her underclothes slipping down her abdomen. She looked down and saw the tail sticking out under the hem of her tunic. She grabbed it and hastily tucked it back up under her shirt, eyes snapping towards Broer’s face to see if he’d seen it.

“Once you’ve finished with the feeding, get the King’s mount ready.” He didn’t seem to have noticed. She swallowed hard. “He’s got a friend arriving soon and they’ll be going out for a mid-morning ride before lunch.”

“Yes, sir,” Ky answered, fisting her hand and standing stiffly to keep the clothes from falling any further down her abdomen.

“Do it quickly,” Broer ordered, striding out of the little stall she called a room.

“Yes, sir,” Ky answered promptly.

The instant the curtain fell back into place over the doorway she yanked her tunic up and set to work. She untied the length of cloth she always wore, and tightly tied it off around her chest once more. She wrapped the tail around and around her torso, then pulled her tunic back down straight, and gave herself a pat.

Her chest was hard, and she couldn’t see any lines to betray that her chest was only artificially flattened. She ran her hand through her short mane of hair, knocking stalks of hay out of her matted knot of blonde, as she walked into her boots. She shoved her feet into the boots and kept walking, forcing her feet to find their places inside without bending to untie her boots.

That was too close of a call for comfort.

She’d need to be careful to double-check her binding was tight before falling asleep from now on. If Broer had been a little more observant, and cared to ask questions, she really would be in a bad spot. She could talk herself out of trouble for oversleeping half an hour – it’d be impossible to explain a false identity away with excuses.

Ky walked into the hallway, ducked into the tack room to grab a few buckets, and then hurried outside to the water trough. She knelt next to it and splashed her face with water, washing the sleep away, and then dipped the buckets into the trough. If only dreams were as easy to wash away as the sleep.

The day of her abduction was always one of her most frequent dreams: sometimes it was about when she’d stabbed Borrond, sometimes when she’d discovered that Borrond had stabbed Father, other times about when she’d first been brought to the castle. But it always left her feeling unsettled, and worried about Father.

She made several trips back and forth between the stable and the water trough, trying to rationalize her way to peace.

Father was fine. He’d only gotten stabbed in the shoulder – same as she’d managed to stab Borrond, and the Lieutenant had recovered in a matter of weeks. With the help of the Healer, Father would also have recovered quickly. And she was sure the other men of the town were caring for him well, now that she wasn’t there to help him on their farm.

Mr. Myrond, their town butcher, always showed concern for their wellbeing. Each year Ky would help him during the calving season, often spending the night in his barn with newborn calves, to ensure they stayed warm and fed and survived the harsh weather. When it was time to harvest the crops, Myrond would bring his kids, Kyan and Talia, to her farm and help her get the food stored away for the winter.

And then there was Mr. Drakan, the town black smith. In the winter, when it was too snowy to garden, Ky would help him cut and stack firewood to use in his forge throughout the year. And in return he’d ensure that their tools were in prime condition for her to use during the growing season.

There was no doubt Mr. Myrond and Mr. Drakan had stepped up and ensured that Father was well taken care of, after she’d been abducted by the soldiers and brought to the castle. It’d been well over two years at this point. He was probably better off with their help than he ever was with hers. They’d actually be strong enough to lift Father in and out of his wheeled chair, instead of having to wrestle him into bed each night, like she’d had to.

Ky watered all of the horses, then dumped a scoop of grain into the King’s mount, and went to gather the grooming materials. The king rode a majestic black stallion named Zivyn that stood nearly as tall as Ky did herself. She started grooming while Zivyn was still eating, meticulous in her work.

She brushed every inch of his coat, removing the dead hair and old sweat, and then quickly rubbed him down with a light oil that made the hair shine in the sunlight. She carefully combed all the knots out of Zivyn’s mane, then wove the hair together in tiny braids. Finally, she saddled and bridled him, triple-checking to ensure that the girth was good and tight.

Ky stepped back and looked him over, nodding approvingly as she stroked his muzzle, enjoying how soft the skin felt under her knuckles, despite his bristles. She turned as Broer suddenly filled the doorway to the stall. “Get this horse out to the courtyards.”

“Me?” Ky asked, startled. She’d been forced to take Zivyn directly to the king a few times in the past, but for the most part she was able to talk her way out of having to deliver his mount. She didn’t like having to interact with King Makata directly.

Broer gave her a dangerous look, silently daring her to argue.

“Yes, sir,” she answered tensely.

“Do it now.” He disappeared as quickly as he’d materialized.

Ky led Zivyn into the hallway, draping the reins over her arm as she walked towards the courtyard, knowing fully well that he’d stay right at her shoulder whether he had the bridle on or not. No one dared put the king on any horse that wasn’t perfectly behaved. She still had no idea how they’d managed to get a stallion so thoroughly domesticated, but he was the best trained horse she’d ever laid eyes on.

Ky ran her fingers through her hair, trying to work out as many tangles as she could in the time she had, lamenting that she hadn’t had time to run a comb through it. She tucked her undershirt in as best she could as she was walking, smoothed her thread-barren tunic down, checking yet again to ensure that her binding wasn’t visible, and made a final attempt at patting her hair down flat.

It was getting too long again.

Ky always made sure to keep her hair cropped short, to aid in her masculine façade. It’d never occurred to her before she cut it, however, how irritating it was to have to trim the hair every few weeks to keep it from growing out too long. It was still better than the long hair she used to have. It didn’t weigh her down nearly as badly.

Ky grabbed the reins properly as she rounded the corner of the stable, putting on a show of dignity as she went to present Zivyn to Makata. She straightened her shoulders and took even, dignified steps, before realizing that the only people outside were other servants.

Ky gazed around curiously, trying to take in everything she could about the inner courtyards. She wasn’t allowed in here often. Directly in front of her was a small stone deck that led to two massive doors that’d been painted green and led into the palace. At the end of the deck were two large gargoyles that glared down at her with their stony snarls. The ground under her feet was high-quality cobble that was kept immaculate.

To both the left and the right the palace stretched out for what seemed to be an eternity, rising up so high in the air Ky wondered how it didn’t come tumbling down at the slightest hint of a breeze. Behind her was an even taller wall, patrolled constantly by soldiers. She peered up into the guard towers at the corner of the wall, wondering if the men up there could actually see anything from their lofty vantage point, or if they were all slow-moving blurs on the ground so far below, like tiny ants.

On her level, just to the left, was a carriage painted navy blue. It was hitched to two gorgeous dapple geldings, which stood with their heads drooped in exhaustion. She wanted to take them to the stables for a good rub-down and grain, so she could pat them and tell them what good boys they were, but it wasn’t time for that yet.

The coachman was still watching them.

He was one of the largest men Ky had seen in her life. He was tall enough he could see over the top of the carriage without straining, and his arms seemed as big around as her torso was. He was bigger even than Mr. Myrond, which Ky hadn’t thought was possible. His skin was a rich brown, contrasting sharply with the sky-blue tunic he wore. He was standing next to the carriage, holding a third horse that wore an elaborate saddle.

Ky looked back towards the palace as she heard the doors swing open, just in time to see King Makata walk outside, surrounded by a group of people. The servants in the group instantly scattered to their respective roles, the soldiers hemming him in safely, as he walked next to a man Ky didn’t recognize.

Ky stepped forward and clucked to Zivyn, making him turn horizontal to the stone platform, then carefully reached her hand up to hold his neck still so the king could mount at his leisure once he reached them. She stared straight down at her boots, like she was supposed to, waiting for the royals to approach.

“So, Aleth,” Makata said. “This one is mine. I assume you brought a suitable mount for yourself?”

“Indeed, I did,” the other man answered.

Ky glanced up at them, peering around Zivyn’s forehead, using his head to hide her own face. She couldn’t take a chance of Makata recognizing her from that audience he’d had with her when she was first brought to the castle, before she’d assumed her male persona. He looked essentially the same as he had – his hair starting to become streaked with gray, and face a bit more creased, but the smug arrogance in his eyes burned as strong as ever.

“However,” Aleth continued. He was well-dressed, wearing a hunter green tunic that was tailored to fit his body perfectly. “I seem to have forgotten my riding spurs in my chest. Please excuse me.”

“Of course,” the king said amicably.

Ky’s gaze drifted down to his feet. The king wasn’t wearing spurs, of course, but Zivyn didn’t need anything but the slightest of pressure to respond to instructions. Aleth wore fine leather boots that were pressed with intricate designs. She glanced back towards his face, and felt her heart lurch as her eyes locked on Aleth’s gaze. She quickly dropped her own gaze back towards the ground.

Aleth stepped down from the platform and patted a large chest on the back of his carriage. “Could I borrow one of your servants to haul this to my room? I only brought Tadaaki, and he’s got my riding mount.”

“Of course!” Makata said.

Ky started as Makata stepped down from the platform and took the reins from her hands. He never took the reins from her before he was comfortably seated on Zivyn’s back. Having the king mere inches from her made her heart race.

“Think this one will be able to lift it?” Makata asked, gesturing lazily at Ky.

“That is just the one I was hoping you’d pick,” Aleth said with a slight smirk, eyes boring straight into Ky’s soul as she glanced back at him.