Daughters of Fire & Sea
Page 38
Kell stood by the mirror with his shirt off, twisting to see his back. There was a long, angry burn from his shoulder to his left side, cutting through the intricate tangle of tattoos. His skin was charred, a mix of black and red and waxy white.
“Kell!” Lyric gasped, rushing towards him.
Azora, startled by her movement, hopped out of Lyric’s way and settled on the back of a chair, eyeing Kell with large, radiant eyes.
Kell’s eyes snapped towards Lyric in the mirror, and he tried to turn around, but Lyric stopped him, resting her hands lightly on his hip below the damaged skin.
“I’m sorry,” Kell said. “I wanted to see it for myself, and I remembered there was a mirror in here and —”
“I didn’t know you were injured!” Lyric breathed. She studied the wound, noting that someone had cleaned and covered the charred skin with ointment. The burn obliterated whole sections of Kell’s tattoos, the looping black and green lines severed where the skin had melted and reshaped.
“When did this happen?” Lyric asked. She stepped back, letting him turn to face her.
“When I went to the village with Braysa, to check for survivors,” Kell said. “A burning branch hit my back.”
“A branch?”
“It was dragon fire. Braysa had to kick me into the water to put it out.” His lips curved as Lyric stared at him with frustration, anger, and fear. “It’s fine, Ly,” he said.
“Fine?” Lyric said, her voice rising. “This is a serious injury! If it gets infected —”
“I’m fine.” Kell reached for her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I won’t die, Ly.”
She grabbed his wrists, staring at him with wide eyes. She could sense Azora shifting uncertainly, sensing her panic.
“Patho helped me,” Kell said. “He thinks it will heal if I’m careful. Nothing to do about the scar.”
“Patho?” Lyric asked, blinking. “How did I not notice you were wounded? When you came back to the ship —”
“You were preoccupied,” Kell said. “Patho is the Talan’s healer. He patched Braysa and me up. Braysa burned his hands.” He smiled. “I’m fine, Ly.”
“Stop saying that,” Lyric said. She looked at Kell’s face, assessing his health. He looked tired, more so than usual, and sweat beaded on his forehead and dampened the hair at his temples. His skin felt cold and clammy beneath her hands. “You’re feverish,” she said. “You may already have an infection. I need my bag. I need —”
“It’s not the burn,” Kell said.
“Of course it’s —”
“No.” Kell looked away from her, his eyes finding Azora. “Well, maybe a little, but the tattoos … the spells are damaged.”
Lyric frowned, remembering their conversation along the road to Rathgar’s Hold.
“I feel different,” Kell said, looking down into her face. “There are memories, old ones, older than Thenda, pressing against the edges of my mind. It feels like something is thinning. I remember a woman …”
“A woman?” Lyric asked. She swallowed, feeling a stab of jealousy.
Kell smiled and pulled her closer. Lyric released his arms and placed her hands against his chest. His skin was too cold.
“I know her somehow like she’s family or … someone who cared for me,” Kell said, “and there’s this strange feeling in my chest, a tangled knot of something that I think if I could just unravel it, I could …” His voice trailed off, and he sighed in frustration. “It feels powerful, Ly.”
Kell studied her face, searching for a way to explain. “What does your power feel like? When you touch magic?”
Lyric considered and looked at Azora, who was watching her. “It’s different now, with Azora, but before, when I started speaking a spell and held the runes on my tongue, I’d feel the expansion of something inside me, like I stepped into a stream of light or water. When I summoned wind, I’d feel pressure build around me, and when I released it, it’d rush away, and I’d feel this sense of —” Lyric blushed and looked down at her feet. “It feels good,” she finished lamely. “Powerful.”
Kell nodded, a muscle shifting in his cheek. “I suppose that’s how it feels, building pressure. The knot is alive somehow like it wants something. It’s almost like weight and emptiness, existing together. I don’t know ...”
“You’re worried,” Lyric said. She thought about the nubs on his back. “You think you’re going to do something, release something.”
“Yes,” Kell said.
“No,” Lyric said, shaking her head. She stepped closer, staring up at him with a fierce expression. “I told you before. You’re not evil. You decide what you are. If something happens, we’ll figure it out. Don’t try to protect me. I want to help you.”
“I don’t want to add to your burdens,” Kell said, stroking his hands down her arms. “With the dragons, your mother, and Runa …”
Lyric felt a pang at her sister’s name, and she folded her arms against Kell’s chest, leaning into him. She could feel his breastbone sharp against her head. He should have felt warm, not cold. Worry thrummed through her as she thought about the damage to his back. What if she lost him too? What would she do then?
“I’m sure you won’t be separated for long,” Kell murmured against her hair.
“I hope you’re right,” Lyric whispered. She raised her face, her eyes searching his.
Eyes darkening, Kell leaned down and kissed her. His lips were dry, and Lyric pushed against him. He felt strong and stable, and she felt a desperate need to claim as much time as she could with him.
When Kell pulled away, leaving Lyric breathless and worried, she rested her head against him again and closed her eyes. What if the Sireni weren’t willing to set aside the war and help figure out a way to calm the dragons, and reverse whatever Laenadara and her priests did to them? What if the Gale decided to let Erith and Raendashar burn? What if Ayanar was the last time she saw Runa?
And where was Runa now? Was she safe? Was she on Kaia’s airship flying to the Sea of Screams? Would Runa be there, with Eleden and their father, when Lyric and Kell arrived?
“We’ll survive this,” Kell said.
Lyric breathed in, drawing the scent of him into her lungs, shoving her fears aside. She focused on his heartbeat, thudding rhythmically inside his chest.
To the end, Lyric thought, praying her sister could hear her.
32
Elaina
Elaina stared at her father with a tightly controlled expression. It was an effort to keep the distrust off her face, but she must have managed it for he simply studied her, his brown eyes sharp with thought.
She was propped up in her old bed, with thick pillows at her back, and she’d folded her hands together in her lap to keep from picking at the coverlet. Elaina felt weak and slow, and a glance in a mirror beside the bed had shown her how bloodless her skin looked against the deep red of her robe.
“Triktakis healed you,” King Rakarn said bluntly. His hair was still cut in the same, short style from her childhood, but there was silver now that hadn’t been present before. He looked older, harsher, if that were even possible, as though the harsh winds from the Sea of Screams had chiseled away all the flesh of his face, leaving just the wide bones beneath.
“Yes,” Elaina said. Her voice was raspy, and it grated unpleasantly when she spoke. Though the Dragon Blessed had performed a miracle repairing the damage to her throat, her vocal cords were permanently scarred. She would never sing again or delight the Scorched Court with her voice. Her father’s eyes contracted at the tortured sounds, but he said nothing.
Rakarn sat stiffly in the chair beside the bed, his focus unwavering on Elaina. He didn’t shift, or fidget, just sat like an immovable statue, his hands resting palms down on his knees. “Your daughters were here, in the city,” he said, watching her.
Elaina felt her heart skip but kept her face blank, controlled. She held his stare without speaking.
“I know you have children,” Ra
karn said. His eyes narrowed, a crack in his calm appearance. “Curious they dumped you in Ivernn. Your own children don’t care if you die?”
Ivernn. That’s where he’d found her? That meant Lyric and Runa had survived. Her girls were alive. She bit her tongue to keep her face calm.
“I don’t know why you’d try to hide them from me,” her father continued. “I could have protected them. Obviously, you failed at that yourself.”
He was trying to provoke her, she knew it, but Elaina felt her blood rise and her face flush. She took a small, controlled breath. “I did not want them to become part of this,” she said.
“Part of the greatest empire in the world? The strongest bloodline?”
“Part of your war,” Elaina said.
Rakarn narrowed his eyes, and the barest hint of a flush darkened his cheekbones. “My war? Everything I do is for Raendashar. For protecting our people, for providing for them.”
Elaina sneered. “Hundreds of Raendasharans are dead because of you. Women and children. For every blow you give the Sireni, they respond in kind, sinking ships and bleeding the towns along the Sea’s edge.”
“And thousands more are alive because I made difficult choices to ensure our survival,” Rakarn said.
“I know what you’ve done,” Elaina spat, venom dripping from her voice. Her hands twisted the coverlet on her lap, trying to rip apart the heavy fabric. “The Taint is your fault. Thenda is gone because of you, because of your hunger for power.”
Rakarn’s jaw clenched, and his fingers tightened on his knees, his knuckles whitening from the pressure. “The Sireni killed my mother, my father,” he said coldly.
“You killed a young woman! Someone’s daughter.”
“I prevented a massacre,” Rakarn said. “The Sireni were posed to attack, as soon as negotiations began.”
“There was no sign of that!”
“Because I killed their assassins on my way to the treaty signing!” Rakarn’s eyes blazed, his lips drawing back in a rictus sneer. He took a breath and relaxed again, stilling his fingers atop his knees, leaving creases behind in the dark fabric of his pants. “The Sireni have always wanted to destroy us; to drown us in their damned sea. Without me, you wouldn’t be alive. Your children would never have been born.”
“Without you, my brothers would still be alive. Better you had died, and mother lived,” Elaina spat.
Rakarn laughed, a harsh, brutal sound. “I will not apologize for my actions, Elaina. I do not need your absolution.” He stood, staring down at her with a look of disgust, as though he found her weak and useless. “Next time you see your precious Egan again, if he’s not already dead, ask him how it was he found you. Ask him why he was so far from his beloved sea.”
Elaina stared at her father, her blood thundering in her ears. She gripped the coverlet, focusing on the feel of the fabric beneath her skin, the pain in her fingers as she twisted sharply, holding on.
Smiling cruelly, Rakarn turned and left the room.
Elaina sat, her body rigid, teeth clenched. She waited, imagining her father striding down the hall and rounding the corner, heading towards his study. She waited for another breath, and then another, and then she broke.
Covering her face with her hands, Elaina sucked a ragged breath through her lungs and felt tears spring into her eyes. It felt like her heart was breaking, trying to rip out through her breastbone. Was it true? Had her father arranged Egan’s arrival in Elae’s Hollow? Had their moments together meant nothing?
Despite Rakarn’s hatred and disgust for the Sireni, had he conspired to have his daughter fall in love with one? Had he known then, what Egan was? His power?
Elaina tried to focus on her father’s words, tried to shove aside the violation she felt, the heartbreak. Egan had wanted to tell her something after they’d first made love in the field by her house. He’d tried to … no, no she couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t imagine, wouldn’t believe her father willingly let Sireni blood into the Raendasharan line.
But if he had, if he’d orchestrated all of this somehow, what plans did he have for Lyric and Runa? Elaina could not let her father get his hands on them, not ever. They could never come here. They must not come here.
Her hands dropped into her lap, and she stared sightlessly at the far wall. He’d said they’d been here, in the city. Been, but were no longer. What had happened? Where had they gone?
Elaina reached for a bell on the table beside her bed, nearly knocking over a glass of water. Her hands were shaking, and she took a stilling breath as she rang the bell.
A maidservant entered, adjusting her hair with a distracted expression. She was a thin woman with a narrow face and fawn skin, covered in freckles. Elaina had not known her long, but she’d quickly learned the woman loved to read. Given her disheveled appearance, Lada had probably been tucked into a chair reading in the sitting room while Rakarn sat with Elaina.
“Lada,” Elaina said, tucking away her anxiety and pasting a warm smile on her face.
Lada’s expression shifted to concern, and she stepped up beside the bed, looking Elaina over. “Are you all right, your highness?” she asked. “Are you in pain? Should I send for the Dragon Blessed again?”
“I’m fine, thank you, Lada,” Elaina said. “I was hoping you could tell me about any attacks that happened recently. Or anything unusual?”
Lada’s forehead wrinkled, and she rested her hands on her hips with a thoughtful expression. “Attacks, your highness? Well, we did have a group of Sireni get through the second gate a few weeks ago. They slaughtered several guard squads, and the city was on edge for days afterward. That’s the farthest they’ve ever made it into the city! To think, they could have ended up here in the castle. King Rakarn raged for hours after and sent an entire cadre of soldiers to the dock. I’ve never seen him so —”
“They attacked the hold?” Elaina interrupted.
Lada blinked, refocusing on Elaina’s face. “Yes, your highness. They got their hands on writs of passage, and several of them somehow made it through the second gate. Darin, he works in the stables, said that they killed all the guards there, but when the stone guardians were activated, they ran off.” She cocked her head to the side, speculation sparking in her eyes. “Odd, isn’t it? Don’t the guardians only activate if royal blood is spilled? At least that’s the legend. I don’t remember a time when it’s happened before. Can you believe it? In our lifetime! There must be another Raendashara out there! Another heir to the —”
Lada cut off, paling, her eyes flying back to Elaina’s face. She twisted her hands in the folds of her apron. “Forgive me, your highness,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to suggest that there is … I don’t mean to say that … forgive me. I ramble on sometimes. Can I get you anything?”
“Thank you, Lada,” Elaina said, trying to keep her voice even and calm. “I agree; it is strange. So my father has increased the guards at the dock?”
“Yes, your highness,” Lada said, her head bobbing nervously. “There has been an increase in patrols all over the city. I doubt very much that the Sireni will manage to get inside again.”
Elaina inclined her head. "Thank you, Lada. Let me know if you hear any other news about the Sireni or anything strange in the city. That’s all for now.”
“Of course, your highness,” Lada said. “It is good to have you back with us.” She blinked as if startled she’d said that aloud, then curtsied quickly and left the room.
As the door shut quietly behind the maid, Elaina leaned back into the pillows and tried to ease the knots in her muscles. She was weak from her illness, and sometimes it was hard to breathe. Elaina drew a long, exacting breath into her sluggish lungs and looked down at her hands.
The Sireni had her daughters, and likely now knew who they were. Lyric and Runa had been taken weeks ago. Where were they now, and what would the Gale do with her children? Had Eleden learned of their abduction? Had he already rescued them? Where would he take them,
if he had?
Elaina closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Giving in to worry and fear would not help her daughters. If they were with the Sireni, it was unlikely they’d hurt them, at least not right away. First, they’d try to use them. For now, Lyric and Runa were safer there than here with her father.
Eleden would see that they were safe; she knew he would. After everything Elaina had done for the Sae’kan, he owed her. Still, she had to find a way to contact him. Find out where her girls were. Make sure they were protected. She would not give up now, even trapped in bed as she was.
And perhaps Egan …
Elaina swallowed, feeling battered. She hadn’t seen Egan for nine years. She had no idea where he was or what he was doing. What did a god-child do, when not seducing women? Her lips twisted bitterly. Had his words to her been a lie? Maybe if she’d told him about the girls, perhaps if he’d known —
No, she would not think about him. They’d been so young when they’d met, so hopeful, so naive. However they’d found each other, what they’d felt, what they’d shared, it had been real. No one would take that away from her.
Who then, had betrayed her? Who told the Sireni where to find Elaina’s daughters? Only a handful of people had known, and all members of Eleden’s crew. She knew them, had fought, and slept beside them. They would not have sacrificed her children. She pictured their faces, but she couldn’t name anyone as a traitor. Elaina ground her teeth. Whoever it was that had put her daughters in danger would be punished. She would find them.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her and she sagged, closing her eyes. She had to get out of bed and find out what her father was up to, and she had to find her daughters.
The door opened, and Elaina blinked her eyes open, feeling groggy. It was Lada, carrying a tray of food. She looked excited.
“Good, you got some rest,” Lada said, smiling at her.
Elaina frowned. Her eyes felt gritty, and her mouth dry. She’d just closed her eyes, hadn’t she? She turned her head to look towards the window. The light seemed softer, filtered by the thick glass. How much time had passed?