S. Usher Evans - The Veil of Ashes

Version Date: 3/29/22

Copyright 2019 S. Usher Evans

ISBN: 978-1945438257

All rights reserved. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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DEDICATION

To the girls who make the hard choices

Steel met steel as the two children faced each other. They wore matching expressions of loathing and desperation as they clashed with a sword and a spear. But the girl on the left was more desperate, pulling a stick from her belt and jabbing the boy in the stomach. He lost focus, and she knocked him to the ground, effectively ending the match.

"What did you learn?" I asked the boy, whose name I hadn't bothered to learn.

He was silent, his red face etched in stone.

"Don't trust anyone," the girl parroted, giving me a look not unlike the ones I used to give the trainers when I won.

"Right," I said softly. If only I'd taken that lesson to heart. "Go wash up for dinner."

The two children scampered toward the bathing room, shoving each other playfully as they went. They couldn't have been older than tenorphans both, if I were to guess. The ones who were here against their will didn't laugh so easily.

They were good fighters. Although the boy had lost, he would still be a useful foot soldier in Celia's army. They'd join the ranks of the children in the trees who scouted the trade road that connected the kingdom of Kulka to Forcadel. It would be a few more years before they were handed real swords.

Dusk had begun to settle, so I cleaned up the discarded weapons and left the small ring where the children were taught. Tall pine trees towered just outside the camp's guard walls, but inside neat little log cabins lined the expanse. Everything was communal, from the sleeping arrangements to the bathing and dining houses. Privacy meant secrets, which was why only Celia lived in her own cabin at the back of the camp.

I didn't mind an audience, because I had nothing to hide. Not anymore.

Celia was also keen on everyone pulling their weight, so I was making myself useful by training the younger kids to survive in a fight. It was hard not to feel that every day was a reflection on my failures, especially as I drilled into these kids the one lesson that hadn't stuck. I'd trusted too many people, and I'd ended up as defeated as the little boy.

With my mind on other things, I walked into the dining hall, which was already filled with the chatter of young and old. Celia accumulated childrensome orphaned, some whose parents were in dire need of cash, some just stolenand kept them until they paid off their debt. Unfortunately, that debt accumulated with every meal and every night spent in the camp, so there were also those well into adulthood, still tethered to this place. After a while, some just adjusted to the yoke.

I sat down in an empty spot at one of the long tables with my bowl of meaty stew, staring at the dark depths of the broth and trying to clear my head.

"Long day?"

I looked up at the kind face of a girl I'd seen around camp. I wouldn't call us friends, but we'd been friendly. She sat down across from me, still wearing the apron and hair tie that marked her as a maid. Her hands were pruny from spending the day dunked in the river, washing the camp's considerable laundry.

"Every day's a holiday," I said dully, pushing a piece of potato around.

"I don't think I've seen you smile since you returned," she said, daintily slicing through a carrot with her spoon. "What's on your mind?"

"At the moment?" I shrugged, not sure why I was talking to her. "Failure."

"The kids seem to be getting better with you there," she said with a small smile. "The other tutors, they train with harshness and threats. You take the time to talk to them."

"Perhaps I should be harsher," I said, pushing my bowl away. To her stricken face, I offered a small shrug. "Sorry, justnot really hungry. Feel free to give my bowl to anyone who wants it."

I left the dining hall, knowing that in the morning I would regret giving up my one meal. For now, though, I was content to take a moonlit walk to clear my thoughts. Unfortunately, I didn't get very far before they were rudely interrupted again.

"Always the giver, aren't you?"

I stopped, inhaling deeply, then turned to face Celia. The woman was in her mid-fifties, but barely looked a day over thirty. Her short black hair hung around her ears and her fiery dark eyes stared down at me with a mix of amusement and scrutiny. At her hip, she carried a bejeweled knife the length of my arm.

"What can I help you with?" I asked, nodding my head slightly.

"Oh, come now. You don't need to bow to me, Your Highness." I winced at the title, and she chuckled. "I figure I should start referring to you as such, since it's clear you've forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten." I wished I could.

"Then, Princess, I wonder why you haven't made good on your promise to reclaim your throne?" she asked, knowing full well the reason. "It's been four months."

"I'm working on it," I said, turning to walk past her.

The sound of metal on metal made the hair on the back of my neck stick up, and I moved out of the way just as her blade came within an inch of my shoulder. My hand went to the knife at my hip and I drew it to match with Celia's. I stood there, at an awkward angle, waiting for her to strike next, but she stepped back, sheathing her blade.

"It's clear you aren't still injured," Celia said. "You're wasting your time and mine, Brynna. I'm not running a charity."

"And I'm not asking for charity," I snapped, turning to face her fully. "I'm training people."

"I have plenty of trainers. What I don't have is a queen on the throne." She lifted her chin, her gaze piercing me as sharply as Ilara's knife had. "I suggest you remedy that before I decide you're more valuable to me dead."

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving her words to settle on the mountain of guilt I'd been carrying. I placed my hand against my stomach, feeling the raised skin of my scar. There wasn't a reward for my capture, as all had assumed I'd perished. But I didn't doubt Celia would run me through and deposit my body on the front steps of the castle if she thought it would get her a king's ransom.

Or queen's, as it were.

Not in the mood for more conversations in the sleeping quarters, I turned in the opposite direction and joined the shadows along the camp's tall walls. Above me, the soft footfalls of the sentries kept me company.

In the darkness between the torchlights, shame and embarrassment came roaring to the forefront, reminders of how I'd allowed Ilara, the queen of Severia, to walk right into my kingdom and take it from me. She'd played me effortlessly, coming on bended knee and begging for my help. And, like an idiot, I ignored all the advice to the contrary and allowed her to set up her coup right under my nose. I'd never been so completely blindsided in my life. More importantly, people were dead because of my mistake. Innocent people who'd perished just because I was too stubborn to see reason.