We swirled into the crowd, my feet light as I danced in his familiar arms. It was funny, despite the anger unfurling within me I could do this, I could act like I was nothing more than a visitor to the city, flattered to be having a twirl round the dancefloor with the charming, handsome Marcus Courtenay.
“Have you enjoyed your visit to the city?” he asked politely, his face obscured by his mask.
“Yes,” I kept my answer brief.
“I trust it has been successful,” he added.
Keep moving, keep dancing. Had the others realised yet who I danced with? Gideon was over by the exit to the balcony, his height making it easy for me to locate him. He was at Rion’s side in a group of overdressed babbling elite men and women, fussing and flirting as they had all week.
“As much as it could be,” I assured him. The line was not fully healed as it had been at Keswick or Avebury, but it would hold for a time. At least for the months it would take our army to gather to its maximum strength, for now that I had spent all the Avalon power we would have no choice but to wait for the Albans to join us. “We have kept our side of the agreement. I trust you still intend to uphold yours.”
“I wanted…” He paused, lifting his head to look around us, twirling me deeper onto the dancefloor.
His head bent as he swung me around. “I’m sorry, Cassandra.”
My heart ceased beating in my chest. I stiffened, but his hands held me firm.
“Keep dancing.” He smiled down at me with that brilliant white smile that said he hadn’t a worry in the world.
My heart stuttered back to life. Gideon’s head was up; he was scanning the room for me. He could sense that I felt in danger. I saw that odd flicker that I had seen in the borderlands, the aura of the Griffin.
“It’s too late for you,” he said. His eyes lifted in the direction of the exits where I could see several oh-so-casual guests were rather well-built and watchful for elite party guests.
“Then why let me know the trap is closing?” I asked, my anger at his second betrayal temporarily restrained as I assessed our options.
“It’s not closed yet. There’s still a chance, if some of your friends leave now, that the council will let them go without a fuss.”
I smiled up at him. The smile did not reach my eyes as I looked fully into the face of my former friend.
“Who?” I asked casually.
“Marina.” He knew I cared for the girl I had helped escape the city over four years ago; Fidelma he also knew but to him she would be unrecognisable in her current form. “Bronwyn.”
Ah. So that was why he was risking his neck.
“Will that unburden you of your guilt when they execute the rest of us?” I asked. “That is how you live with yourself, isn’t it, bargaining this life for that many lives?”
He swallowed, the inference not lost on him.
“I didn’t know they would kill him,” he said blankly, repeating the weak defence I had let him have that night in the lab.
“Well, they did,” I said curtly. Unforgivingly. “My brother, will they let him go?”
“No. He’s too much of a threat.”
“Right,” I said bleakly. “Gideon?”
He loosed a black laugh. “If you were on the opposite side to Gideon, would you let him live to fight you on another day when you had your chance to take him out?”
Gideon had spotted us and knew the source of my growing dread. I shook my head slightly: don’t interfere, please don’t interfere. If he drew attention to my dancing with Marcus, whatever slim chance I had of getting some of my friends through the closing trap was over.
I saw him detach himself from the group he was with, leaning down to speak to Marina, her exquisite mask turning my way before she edged toward the door.
“Did you ever plan to let me have Féile back?” I asked bitterly, saving my darkest anger for myself, for being taken in a second time.
His jaw tightened, and he looked over my shoulder as he continued to twirl me around the dancefloor. I caught sight of Governor Dolon in conversation at the edge of the room, his eyes catching mine, a thin smirk lifting his lower face beneath the mask. He knew.
“They know it’s me. How?” I asked lightly.
“They’ve known it was you from the start. The cameras can see right through the illusion. It might look like I’m dancing with a Briton to the rest of the room, but the tech sees through the glamour. It sees you,” he explained.
They had known the whole time.
“Why let the charade continue?” I asked.
“You know Calchas likes to play with his toys,” he said hollowly. “And they wanted you to feel safe so I could persuade you to fix the ley line…”
“But, in the lab, you didn’t seem sure I really was me.” He had been so convincing.
“I knew you had seen my slip, my surprise that you and Gideon were together. I had to explain it somehow.”
They had played me. Again. Féile had been the bait, and the failing line had been the hook. The process had sapped me of the power I needed to prevent the net from closing around me.
“How long do we have?” I asked, scanning the room and the fancily dressed sentinels circling ever nearer.
He shook his head, his face tight. “I don’t know. Minutes.”
I smiled up at him and dropped into a deep curtsy as the dance ended.
Fidelma was closest, seated in a dark-navy gown at the edge of the dancefloor, her black and silver hair looped up in a graceful shining swathe.
“Are you enjoying the ball?” I asked her as I took a seat beside her.
She gathered her gown and repositioned it out of the way of some passing guests. “Not as much as I might have when my bones were younger.” She smiled wryly back at me.
“Can I refill your drink?” I asked, leaning in to retrieve her half-full glass. “We are discovered,” I whispered to her urgently. “Tell Bronwyn. Try to get Rion out of here. We’ll meet at your tent. If I don’t make it, head for the Bishopsgate. I have a friend; he’ll find you.”
If I could get them out to Linus, we stood a chance. We had a network that might be able to hide those who got out. Marina knew the city; if she got out of the palace, she would be able to blend in. I had last seen her with Gideon.
I made my way hurriedly towards the tall, dark head; he was already stalking towards me. He pulled me into his arms as we met on the dancefloor, swirling me close.
“What is it?”
“They know it’s us. They’re coming to arrest us,” I whispered urgently. “They’ll never let me go, but Fidelma and the others may have a chance if they leave now. Fidelma is warning them.”
Gideon stopped moving. “No, she’s not.”
I followed the direction of his gaze. Fidelma stood beside Praetor Calchas. Neither wore their masks anymore. They saw me, and I them.
“We need to get a message out.” We needed the army here, now. “Where’s Marina?”
“I told her to get out.”
Amber eyes glittered down at me through his mask. “The abilities from the Lake. They stayed with me.”
Those odd flickers I had seen… I hadn’t imagined them.
“More than just the tracking? And you’re only telling me this now.”
He didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the room, the exits.
“You can transform?”
He nodded sharply.
“You can still make it… the balcony,” I urged. Gideon stood unmoving and his lips twisted as he emitted a low snarl, his stance preternaturally still as he surveyed the approaching threats. I punched him in the shoulder. “Bring the army. Gideon, go. Now.”
Across the room, I could see sentinels moving swiftly to surround the delegates. On the dancefloor, we were the furthest from any of them as they streamed in through the doorway. I didn’t have a spark left within me, still barely recovered from our efforts of the other night. I stood helpless yet again as the sentinels poured in and attacked the people
I loved.
Gideon still hadn’t moved, transfixed by the sight of his mother shoulder to shoulder with the praetor. Governor Dolon began to move towards us, his lips spread in a supercilious smile of satisfaction. Citizens in their finery milled around us in confusion, half-startled at the movement of the sentinels against the delegates, backing away to ensure they did not get caught up in it, the rest lingering to watch the drama unfold.
The dancefloor cleared and we were left standing alone. There was something about Gideon that made the sentinels slow to approach. Many were busy securing the other delegates – Rion was fighting them off, but he was outnumbered, and they used batons to subdue him. I could do nothing as they cut him down.
Another battle caught my eye and I watched as Richard Mortimer went down from a blow to the head. There was a growl beside me that vibrated through the room, a flicker as Gideon’s amber eyes glowed and there interlaid over him was an almost holographic version of a lion, a great beast that he was… and yet also was not.
“No, no!” I cried, pressing against him, laying my hand on his chest, the chest of a man… no, not just a man anymore. “Gideon, please, eagle, eagle… I need you to fly.”
His amber eyes moved in my direction, his brows drawn together as man and beast were transposed, interlaid one on top of the other.
“To save me, to save us all, you must fly.”
Feline eyes blinked slowly, in what I hoped was understanding. I backed away to give him room. The air shimmered again as the transformation continued until wings spanning many feet flexed wide and strong.
“The windows!” yelled Calchas, directing his soldiers to block the Griffin’s escape.
I felt hands grabbing me from behind. I looked over my shoulder to find that the hands belonged to Matthias Dolon. I pulled away, every fibre of my being repulsed and furious. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see more sentinels approaching, some with syringes in their hands. I was powerless and so there was no need for their drugs, I had emptied myself voluntarily. I screamed, fear and rage ripping through me, and I managed to catch the governor with my fisted hand. He weathered the blow and held on to me, his own anger and disdain writ large across his face. I struggled in his arms, writhing like a wild thing as my emotions got the better of me. I would not suffer the touch of this man. I would not.
Then he was gone, and so too were the sentinels who had been coming for me – a flash of golden brown, but whether it was the eagle or the lion I couldn’t tell. The floor around me was covered in blood, flashes of the Griffin roaring in its anger, enraged by my own anger and fear. It all happened in mere moments and then there was the pop-pop of shots. The beast was felled. My knees gave way, and I collapsed on the floor, the beautiful silks of my gown spread wide, a shimmering island in a lake of blood.
Gideon. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t…
I blinked slowly at the sight of my fallen Griffin, his glimmering bronze wings fading to arms once more, the lion veil pulling back, leaving the prone unmoving man in his wake, his clothes, his hands covered in blood, the broken bodies of the sentinels beside him. Governor Dolon, a great gaping gash across his chest, lay beside me, his unseeing eyes staring sightlessly back at me.
I lifted a hand towards Gideon. I needed my feet to work, I needed to go to him. There was so much blood. I couldn’t breathe. I scanned the room for Marcus. Marcus could help. Marcus could save him. I could hear the dull background noises, the screams and terror of the fleeing guests. And then Marcus was there, holding me, pulling me into his arms.
“It’s all right, Cassandra. He’s alive. They shot him with a drug. He’s unconscious but that’s all.” His hand swept across my hair in calming strokes. “Breathe, Cassandra, shh. It’s all right, he’s alive. I promise you.”
Marcus’s mask was off and his pupils were dark in his shocked face. His father was dead. And he really was dead this time.
“So much blood,” I whispered. “Not Gideon?”
I knew it. I could focus on it now, reason leaking through the sensory overload of the last few minutes. I had known what it felt like to lose a Griffin before, to have that connection severed. He was still here. But I needed to hear it.
I gripped Marcus’s jacket and looked up at him.
“Not Gideon?” I demanded.
“Not Gideon,” he confirmed, looking over my head and then there was a pinch on my arm, and I knew no more.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The room I found myself in upon waking was familiar. My head felt woozy as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light streaming through the windows.
It was morning then. The windows were set in a stone wall, familiar from years in the north, yet the style of the window was strange. But I had seen it before: criss-cross patterns with stained glass set in it, old but angular in the way the Empire’s lines were. My eyes hurt, and I closed them again; my mouth felt dry. I pushed myself up off my pillows, and the blankets dropped to reveal the beautiful ruined gown Oban had made me for the masquerade ball discarded on a nearby chair. My mask lay on the table by the fireplace, as if waiting for me to pick it up and whirl off to the next party.
I knew this room. My heart stopped beating in my chest as I looked around and took in the granite walls, the elaborate bed, the cacophony of city noise outside. The beat resumed at double pace as I named it: the Tower. I was in the White Tower. The very room that I had escaped from on my previous visit – a coincidence for which I could no doubt thank my twisted host.
The same copper bath lay waiting in the middle of the floor. It had been a novelty the last time, an odd anachronism from a previous era due to the lack of encroachment of Imperial technology into the home of the praetor. I was all too familiar with such anachronisms now, after years beyond the walls, living without conveniences I had previously taken for granted, like hot running water and steam rooms.
Those who had knocked me out and transported me here had at least removed my gown, leaving me in my slip so that I hadn’t been forced to lie in the blood-stained dress all night. My charm too had been removed.
I had to get up. I had to meet this day.
Some white clothes were waiting on the chair. That wasn’t right. Where was the regulation black of the accused? For surely that was where this day ended: on the sands facing Calchas and his mob.
I stepped out of the bed and padded softly across the room. I was sure there were guards outside the door – no need to alert them to my wakened state until I had to. Shaking out the clothes, I discovered a plain floor-length white dress with long sleeves. A clatter on the gleaming wooden floor alerted me to the presence of a new mask.
Picking it up, I ran a finger lightly across the natural symbols etched around the edge of the top right half of the mask, swirling liquid greens and blues that evoked nature in a way that almost echoed the Celtic style, but not quite. There were also openings for the eyes – if I was bound for the arena then the mask’s eyes should be closed to keep me blinded until I was freed of the mask and revealed to the mob. Nor was there any sign of the mechanism that prevented the accused from hearing.
There was fruit laid out, and a pot of tea sat steaming on the table where my elaborate masquerade mask lay looking blankly back at me. Was Gideon receiving such hospitality? I couldn’t imagine the fierce, enraged warrior waking to such urbanity. After the events of last night, it seemed more likely that they would have him restrained behind as many bars and walls as they could find.
Gideon’s reputation as a fighter was well respected, but what I had witnessed last night had been something else. The overplay of eagle and lion as he had lashed out at all around him, had been… had others seen it? He had gashed Matthias from waist to neck with his hand. How was it possible? Had the talon been real? How else, though? He couldn’t have done that with his bare hands.
The way he had explained the transformation when we had been at the Lake, it had sounded like it was a literal metamorphosis, but last night it had been as if he had
coexisted with a shadow that had merged into him. Had he known he could do that?
I reached out to touch and check the food as had become my habit but I was still so depleted even such simple magic was beyond me and so the mango and strawberries remained undisturbed on the plate. I disrobed and washed quickly, anxious to remove any last trace of the night before. After the bath, I dithered over which dress to wear. It felt wrong to comply with my host’s choice of outfit, but the layer of blood splashed along the skirt of last night’s dress made me reluctant to put it back on. Was it Matthias’s blood? Or did it belong to another, one of the sentinels perhaps?
I dressed in the white and lay back on the bed, barely rousing when a couple of girls came in and cleared away all traces of my morning’s activities. What was the point? They wouldn’t tell me anything, and I just didn’t have the energy. Without Gideon, I was slower to recover. But even depleted I could still feel a connection to the world; they hadn’t dosed me like before. It was a mistake for which I would make them pay.
At the girl’s request, I took a seat at the dressing table. One of the girls swept my hair up, rather plainly for an imperial event. The reason became clearer when the other wrapped a white cloak around my shoulders and pulled the deep hood over my head after the new mask was in place. One of the girls surveyed me before turning and nodding to the waiting guard; apparently, I was just as ordered.
More food was brought and sat untouched on the table. The wait was killing me. Where was everyone? What was Calchas’s next move? Had Marina escaped? Last time I had been marched out onto the sands – was that what I had been dressed for today? Time drifted heavily by; there was little activity outside in the courtyard and only stillness inside the room.
When at last the door opened, it was to Fidelma rather than my expected escort to my trial.
Her face was expressionless. She entered with the same authority and entitlement she’d had when I had known her as the premiere druid in the land. There was no sign that she commanded any less respect than that now.
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