Red (The True Reign Series) Page 2

  “Rest assured,” Nulea said, “you’re safe now.” She had pale, white skin, similar to Rema’s, not tan like most of the people on Greenwood Island. Nulea reached toward her.

  Rema jerked backward, then wished she hadn’t when the pounding in her head increased.

  “Try not to move,” Nulea said. “You have a nasty gash on your forehead. You lost a lot of blood and have been unconscious for some time. I had to stitch you up and put catnip on the wound.”

  Nulea reached out toward Rema again, inspecting the bandage. Her sleeves slid to her elbows, revealing two bare wrists.

  “Where is your mark and band?” Rema asked. She had never seen someone without a tattoo or identification band before. Each child born in the kingdom was tattooed on their left wrist with their region’s emblem, and every person in the kingdom wore a band on their right wrist stating their name, age, and marital status. The law was simple—the army would execute anyone found without either one.

  “I don’t have them,” the woman answered. “You still have some bleeding.” Nulea smiled, a dimple on her right cheek showing. “You’ll have to stay here for a few days until you’re stronger.”

  “And where exactly is here?” Rema asked.

  Nulea’s eyes darted to the far end of the room where a hearth was situated. “I better get a fire going so you don’t catch a cold.”

  “Please,” Rema tried again, “am I in the king’s dungeon?”

  “No,” Nulea answered. “You are not in the dungeon. Like I said, you’re safe.” She knelt and pushed the logs around, finding some embers and nursing the fire back to life.

  “How did I get here?” Rema asked.

  “Mako brought you. He’ll explain everything to you in a bit.” Nulea stood.

  Rema knew that name. Her hand flew to her neck, still burning and tender from the thick rope. The rope was gone, but the necklace with the ruby key was still there. The secret message locked inside told her to trust in Mako.

  “Are you hungry, dear?” Nulea asked.

  Rema was in so much pain that food was the last thing on her mind.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “I’m going to let Mako know you’re awake.” Nulea slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Rema was once again alone. Where was she? If only she felt strong enough to stand. She wanted to look around, just to make sure this wasn’t some sick joke, and she wasn’t really in the dungeon.

  The fire crackled. The light from the flames provided a better view of the room. The walls were a dark, gray stone. Two closed, wooden shutters hung side by side on one of the walls. They shook, the wind pounding against them. That was a good sign. If the shutters opened to the outside, then Rema wasn’t underground.

  She fingered the necklace. Trust in Mako.

  ****

  The door banged open, startling Rema awake. Perhaps everything that had occurred during the past few hours had been a dream, and soldiers were coming to take her to the gallows—only this time the rope wouldn’t snap.

  Two figures rushed toward Rema. She rubbed her eyes, adjusting to the dim lighting.

  “Rema!” Aunt Maya exclaimed. She fell to her knees next to the bed and clutched Rema’s hand.

  Uncle Kar stood right behind Maya, a smile plastered across his face.

  “What are you two doing here?” Rema asked, reaching her free hand out to her uncle.

  He came closer and grabbed it. “We’re here to see you!” he said.

  Aunt Maya let out a sob. “I never thought I would see you again.” She kissed Rema’s hand, and then held it against her wet cheek.

  “I never thought I’d see you two either!” Rema cried. “Are you both all right?” They looked like she remembered them—gray hair, dark brown, weathered skin like a well-worn saddle. Neither had any visible cuts or bruises, but she did notice her uncle stood slightly hunched.

  “We’re fine,” Kar responded, squeezing her hand. “How about you?” He pointed toward her forehead.

  With the excitement of being reunited with her aunt and uncle, Rema had forgotten about her pounding head.

  “I’m alive,” she whispered, still afraid it was all a dream. One minute she had a noose tied around her neck, and now she was safe with her aunt and uncle. It seemed impossible.

  Nulea entered, holding a metal cup with steam rising from it. “Kar, Maya, I thought we agreed to let her sleep.”

  Kar chuckled, the sound filling Rema’s heart with warmth. “Well, you requested we let her sleep. But when word came that she had regained consciousness, we had to see her for ourselves.” He looked down to Rema, his eyes sparkling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so happy.

  “I have a cup of steeped listerblossom infused with willow bark for Rema to drink,” Nulea said. “This will help ease the pain.” Kar and Maya each took one of her arms and helped prop her against the wall. Rema winced from the painful throbbing in her head. The healer handed her the cup. “I’ll let you have some time alone.”

  “Is Mako coming?” Kar asked.

  “No,” Nulea responded. “Once I informed him she was awake, he left. I expect he’ll return later tonight once he’s sure no one followed him.” Nulea closed the door on her way out.

  “Who’s Mako? Where are we? And how did I survive my execution?”

  Kar and Maya exchanged a brief look.

  “You should rest,” Maya said.

  Rema grabbed her aunt’s hand. “Please don’t leave me in the dark like this. So much has happened. I want to—”

  “I promise we will tell you everything,” Kar said. “But now is not the time.”

  Rema wondered why no one would answer her questions. She tried to catch Uncle Kar’s eyes, but he wouldn’t look at her. Rema sighed and drank the bitter tea, thankful that she was alive.

  Darmik

  Crouching behind the moss-covered boulder, Darmik peered toward the steep hill once again. All was still. He slid to the ground and crawled forward on his hands and knees until he was closer to the area in question. Rocks and vegetation covered the hills, making it difficult to find any openings or large crevices. Noticing an area between two narrow boulders covered by a thick, broken branch from one of the nearby trees, Darmik had a gut feeling the branch hid an entrance to a cave.

  The rain lessened to a light mist, and the sky was turning dark. Darmik had been tracking the rebel and Rema since he let them go and watched them ride away. Even though it had only been a few hours, it felt like days, his decision weighing heavily upon his conscience. When Darmik initially discovered that Rema was the long-lost princess, it infuriated him. He had assumed she knew her identity and was deceiving him the entire time in order to regain the throne. However, after seeing her confusion at her sentencing, Darmik wasn’t so sure she knew who she really was. It seemed reasonable to assume a rescue attempt would be made. But Darmik hadn’t expected that the timing would be so close—Rema had almost died. Then, when he’d caught up to the rebel, Rema again acted as if she had no knowledge of her heritage.

  Darmik shook his head, forcing himself back to the task at hand. He needed to investigate the area now, before it was dark. Focusing on the forest floor, he noticed the scattering of leaves. He brushed a three-foot section clear, and discovered hoof prints and footprints captured in the damp earth. Because of Darmik’s training at Emperion’s elite military school, he could tell this rebel learned to hide his tracks from an expert. For the past couple of hours, he followed one false lead after another, trying to track where the rebel took Rema.

  Pulling out his dagger, Darmik stood and approached the large, broken branch. Moving it would be difficult because of its weight, and it would make a lot of noise. Instead, he chose to duck underneath it. He moved aside the leaves and found a black hole approximately four feet in diameter. He broke off a small, damp branch, wrapped some dry ferns around the top, and lit it on fire. Using the makeshift torch, Darmik crouched low and entered the cav
e.

  Inside, Darmik squatted down and studied the area. The markings on the middle of the dirt floor looked like a blanket had once been laid there. There were several drops of blood on the ground. Something shiny caught his eyes. He picked it up and held it to the light from his torch. It was a needle, the thin thread still attached and the tip coated with blood. The image of Rema screaming for him to help her assaulted his mind.

  The rebel must have brought Rema to this cave so the healer could tend to her wounds. Glancing around, there was a stack of wood in one corner and bread and vegetables in another. This had to be one of several rebel camps. Knowing that Darmik was tracking them, the cave was probably abandoned once Rema became stable.

  Darmik still couldn’t believe he’d let her go, with his horse no less. But what other option did he have? If he stayed and fought the rebel, Rema would have died and then he’d have no way to find the rebels. However, wouldn’t her death have ended the rebels’ cause? Darmik wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter. He had to find her—and find her he would.

  All of his training had ingrained in him the necessity of following the order of command. But the right course was no longer clear. War raged inside of Darmik. Trell had made him promise there would be no unnecessary killing. Darmik’s duty was to protect the kingdom, and he was also obligated to his father. But these elements in the puzzle did not seem to fit together.

  Darmik came to realize that even if he had stayed and fought the rebel, he wouldn’t have taken Rema back to the king and Lennek to be executed. Seeing her hanged forced him to face his feelings—he still loved her. So he did the right thing by allowing the rebel to take Rema. Now all he had to do was follow them, although tracking them was proving to be more difficult than he imagined. And once he found them, what was he going to do?

  Exiting the cave, Darmik finished sweeping aside the leaves covering the forest floor. He discovered several sets of boot prints. One set in particular sunk in deeper than the others did. This rebel was mostly likely carrying Rema. Moving in that direction, he looked for anything indicating horses had been in the area. There was nothing. Darmik decided to follow the direction of this particular pair of boot prints. After a few minutes, the prints led to rocky terrain—impossible to track any further. If the rebel continued in this direction, then he traveled down the hill, away from the Middle Mountains, which made sense. No one lived on the Middle Mountains. The mountain range loomed higher than any other part of Greenwood Island, going so high as to ascend into the clouds. The weather so severe that no one could survive.

  Darmik came to a narrow stream that carried snowmelt from the frigid peaks above him. He took a drink and splashed the icy water on his sweaty face. Night closed in; he needed to find a place to stay and something to eat. He decided to go back to the cave, remembering the food. Besides, it seemed unlikely the rebels would return.

  Once inside the shelter, Darmik started a small fire and ate some bread. Afterwards, he lay down on the dirt and tried to sleep. Tomorrow he would continue in the direction of the footprints. But what if that was what the rebel counted on? After all, the man clearly demonstrated that he had exceptional training, maybe even on par with Darmik’s. Perhaps the rebel expected Darmik to follow him, and he intentionally led him away from his true destination? That’s exactly what Darmik would do if he were in the rebel’s shoes.

  If the tracks led away from the Middle Mountains, then did the rebel travel up into the mountain range? Darmik was in no position to go into such treacherous territory. He needed reinforcements, proper clothing, and a traveling partner. A plan formed. Tomorrow, he would return to the castle and seek out Neco—his closest friend and most proficient soldier. Together, they would climb the Middle Mountains and find the rebels.

  Rema

  Rema awoke after a long, uninterrupted sleep. Pleasant smells filled the air, and warmth replaced the feeling of fear—her constant companion for weeks. The dim lighting suggested morning had arrived. The howling wind beat against the closed, wooden shutters. Rema glanced at a noise from the end of the room. A girl was bent over the hearth, trying to nurse the fire back to life.

  Stretching her legs, Rema let out a yawn, happy to be on a straw bed instead of the fecal-infested one in the dungeon where she had awaited her execution. Her life had dramatically changed.

  “Good morning,” Rema said to the girl.

  The girl stood and smoothed down her simple wool dress, coming closer to the bed. “Morning. I’m glad you’re awake, miss. You’ve been asleep an awfully long time. How do you feel?” She pushed her long, chestnut hair away from her brown eyes while studying Rema thoughtfully.

  “Where exactly are we?”

  “You’re at the infirmary. My mother, Nulea, has been tending to you.”

  “And what is your name?” Rema asked, noting that the girl shared her mother’s pale skin. She looked to be about sixteen.

  “Vesha,” she answered. “I assist my mother with patients when she needs the help.” She raised her arm, pointing to the hallway outside where, presumably, more rooms were located.

  The sleeves from her dress inched down slightly, allowing Rema to see Vesha’s wrists. Like her mother, she did not bear an identification band or tattoo. Uneasiness settled over Rema. She had to be on Greenwood Island—no one ever left. The nearest kingdom was Emperion, located on the mainland, and the journey took weeks.

  “What region are we in?” Rema asked. King’s City sat on the boarders of Dresden, Telan, and Shano. But, feasibly, they could be in any of the seven regions within the kingdom.

  “I better go tell Mother you’re awake.” Vesha quietly left the room.

  If Rema was indeed somewhere safe, like everyone insisted, then why couldn’t their location be divulged? What was going on?

  If only she could make it to the shutters and peek outside. Then she could see if she was in King’s City or in some small, remote village. Moving as slowly as possible, Rema rolled onto her side and pushed her body up. Her head swam, and it felt as if the room was spinning. She sat still, waiting for her body to acclimate.

  The door swung open, and Nulea entered, carrying a tray of food. When she saw Rema sitting up, her eyes widened and she rushed to put the tray down on the table next to the bed.

  “You need to lie still,” she scolded. “Your body isn’t ready to move around yet.” Nulea lowered Rema back to the pillow. Crossing her arms, she stared at Rema. “I can tell you’re a stubborn one. I’ll be back.”

  She returned a moment later with Vesha, who was now wearing a thick, black tunic with trousers and some sort of brown leather gear over her clothing.

  “My daughter will stay with you until you are better.”

  Vesha sighed. “Mother, I have training.”

  “Training for what?” Rema asked.

  Nulea glanced sideways at her daughter, the corners of her mouth tightening. She shook her head ever so slightly before turning her attention back to Rema. “I need to check your bandage.” Nulea sat next to her. “Hold still while I remove the dressing and apply some medicine to the wound. Vesha dear, don’t just stand there. Go change. You’ll be here with Rema for a couple of days.”

  Vesha’s face reddened, and she stomped out of the room.

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” Rema said. “She doesn’t need to sit with me.”

  “Shh, I told you not to move. That includes your mouth.” Nulea smiled while unwrapping the bandage on Rema’s head.

  “Sorry,” Rema replied.

  Nulea gave her a stern look, and Rema snapped her mouth shut. Once Nulea was done tending to her wound, and before she left, she reiterated the importance of resting and staying in bed.

  When the door opened again, Rema expected to see Vesha. However, a man in his forties stood at the entrance to the room. His tall frame and muscular body took up the entire doorway. Brown hair and a beard covered his face.

  The man looked vaguely familiar to Rema, and she tried to recall where she’d
seen him before. “Didn’t you buy horses from my uncle on occasion?” she asked.

  “Yes,” the man replied. His brown eyes penetrated into hers. “My name is Mako.”

  Rema shuddered. This was Mako—the one mentioned in her necklace.

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  Rema nodded.

  Mako carefully crossed the room and sat on the small, wooden chair next to her bed. His eyes looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days. He wore simple brown pants and a heavy wool tunic. When he folded his hands on his lap, Rema noticed his knuckles were bruised and his left wrist bore a bloody cut where an identification band should’ve been. Mako’s eyes sought hers, and he smiled.

  “What do you remember of your rescue?” he asked in a soft, gentle voice.

  “Not much,” Rema said. “I remember standing on the gallows, waiting to be executed. Then I woke up here. Everything in between is unknown to me.”

  Mako stared at her with an unreadable expression.

  “Are you going to tell me how I got here?” Rema asked. “It seems some great mystery that no one is willing to reveal.” She was getting anxious, and wanted answers to calm her nerves.

  He grinned. “It’s no great mystery, but it is a secret. And I’d like to keep it that way.” Rema opened her mouth to argue with him, but Mako held up his hand and continued, “We are in a fortress that was built a century ago. No one knows of its existence. After the takeover, a group of survivors came here. We’ve managed to start a new life, separate from the monarchy.”

  Several questions swam through Rema’s mind. “I don’t understand. If it was a secret location, then how did people find it? How did you know about it?”

  Mako flexed his fingers, looking uncomfortable. “When you are feeling better, I will give you a tour of the compound and explain everything. For now, I just want you to focus on getting well.”

  Rema was anxious to see what waited outside the walls of her tiny room, but for now, she’d settle for having some of her curiosity answered.