The Search for Terror (ONC 2021)

Chapter 11

      "Seeing how easily he resigned, maybe you were right to take the throne," Warrior Abadi laughed as they left the city the next morning—they'd slept and eaten at the castle, drilling it into the minds of the old king that it really was hers now. They had also left behind forty men from Third Platoon. 

      Saqat shook his head, but whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself. 

      "We're not finished yet, soldiers," Amaia reminded them. Though King Faizan had given his crown easily, the others may not. 

      Grins spread throughout her army as they no doubt imagined returning home victorious, ten more crowns to Amaia's name and a sense of security no one before had achieved. These men were leading the march to a brilliant change that she had fed them. One taste of freedom, and no one could hold back from the want for more. 

      But though she wished she could, Amaia couldn't celebrate with them. She had done, briefly, when the throne room had first become hers. Since then, however, doubt had been nagging at her persistently.

      'Seeing how easily he resigned...' 

      Abadi's words echoed through her head, though she couldn't place the feeling floating around them. 

      Sounds of joy and laughter filled her ears, distracting her from her worries, as they continued their journey east of the capital, traversing the rocky hills. As planned, there were no wounds to tend to, nothing to slow them down. Pure elation carried them over the sharp rocks threatening to trip them up; excitement pulled them under low hanging branches of the dark trees trying to catch hold of them; readiness kept their feet moving under the growing pressure of fatigue. 

      The king they were headed to was known to be a strong leader, though not without heart. He was likely to put up a fight, but if she could convince him that this was in the best interest of his people, it was quite probable that he'd resign just as easily as Taavetti had. If he would hear her out, Amaia trusted they would be crossing borders again the next morning. 

      Still, something wasn't sitting quite right. 

      'Seeing how easily he resigned...'

      But he'd resigned due to her promises and her threat, hadn't he? He'd resigned easily because she'd done her job perfectly. As was her plan. So, why then, did she feel so off?

      "It's not too late to head home," Saqat offered. She jumped, having been so caught up in her head that she hadn't noticed his approach. That had been happening too often lately. Once she'd shaken off her surprise and steadied her pulse, she processed what he'd said and glared at him. He still disliked her plan, still disapproved. 

      But he had never doubted her, so why suggest cutting her plans short only now? Surely, after her performance in Castle Faizan, he could see the benefit of seeing this through?

      "You are troubled by something, Amaia," he reminds her. 

      'Seeing how easily he resigned...'

      Had she been that obvious? "Only by your disapproval of my plan. It is hard to believe you won't turn against me when I need you most." Lies, and harsh ones, leaving a redness in his cheeks. But the truth would make her look vulnerable. 

      It was his turn to glare, hurt burning through his gaze that he finally brought round to meet her eyes, "If you know nothing about me, you still know I am loyal to you and your family. Do not question me just because you're too scared to question yourself." 

      Fair, but infuriating. 

      Drinking from her flask, Amaia attempted to quench the flames of anger. The cool, smoothness of the water, untainted by flavourings, relaxed her to the bone. Part of her mind still raged, but a few deep breaths of fresh mountainous air took care of that. 

      When she next turned to Saqat, it was possibly five minutes later, her words softer. "I have been unable to stop worrying," she confessed, "That Taavetti fell a little too quickly, too easily. Even with the threat I posed to his freedom, most would have still searched for a way out if they had wanted one. His eyes did not once flick to the windows to check my claim." 

      "There were at least twenty guards in the throne room with us, and he ordered not a single one to move against us," Saqat added. "He could have removed the threat of your soldiers by holding you hostage." 

      She chose to ignore the memory of deep worry for her in his voice. "What if my plan was not perfect? What if it only seemed fool-proof to the fool who had created it." 

      "You are no fool," Saqat assured her, "You are a lost child who was asked at too young an age to save a world you didn't yet even know. You can't blame yourself for making mistakes when it was not you who chose this fate." He smiled slightly, his lips quirking upwards in just one corner as he added with slight humour, "When you want a rug for your living room, and one arrives rolled up ready, and you unroll it across your floor, it is not your fault when the pattern doesn't match the wallpaper."

      "Has anyone ever told you you're a weird one?" Amaia laughed. 

      "Your dad did, often," he grinned, joining her laughter. 

      Silence followed, but a comfortable one, and when Saqat finally broke it, that, too, was done comfortably. "If you feel something is wrong, it is better to call our men back to Haglaiya to double check than to keep walking away from a potentially worsening situation. I will stand by your decision, convince the men to keep up the pace they have been managing the last half day."

      She was nodding before he'd finished speaking. Yes, she needed to ease her mind. Needed to know she hadn't somehow messed up her perfect plan.

      Nodding in return, Warrior Ayad fell into step with the other platoon commanders, passing on her orders to turn back on themselves. However much they tried to hush their voices, Amaia could hear the men questioning the decision. Few did so quietly, but the soldiers turned easily, tracking their path back towards Haglaiya. 

      What would be waiting for them when they returned? A country looking to her for guidance?

      Or a man ruling without a crown?