by R. K. Thorne
Aven was still shaking with rage when he realized Daes was moving back, his opportunity passing. No…
Daes grinned. “But now there will be nothing you can do about it, really. Let’s get on with this. Oh, also, seize them.” He pointed at the rest of the Akarians.
The guards rushed forward, and swords slid out of scabbards, ringing in the morning air.
“No! Just me was the deal,” Aven shouted. “You can’t take them.”
“Looks like you’re no longer in much position to bargain, Star Mage.” Daes stepped closer and moved to push Aven to the ground, glowering again.
Aven ripped the dagger from the arm sheath and lunged.
Daes was enough of a fighter for his instincts to flare. He staggered back, blocking with his arms. But he was expecting a stab. And that was not at all Aven’s goal.
Aven’s free hand snaked out and caught Daes’s, and Aven viciously pressed the blade to his palm. The blade glowed with red, fiery, writhing energy, and it hissed as it met flesh like it was truly on fire. Aven pressed down, determined to pour every ounce of energy he could into Daes.
He held it as Daes screamed.
He held it as the guards rushed him, as chaos broke around him.
He held it as the star magic, the evil star magic, flew out of him and bound Daes to Aven’s very soul.
Masari. Slavery.
When he finally let go, Daes fell back, skittering away like a crab. Staring at his palm.
Around them, everyone else was fighting. Except Marielle, who stared, fear in her eyes.
“Order them to stop,” Aven said, rising easily, voice hard as steel.
Daes glared incredulously, then cried out as the pain seared his hand anew. The horror in his eyes only grew.
“By the gods…” he whispered. “No, it’s not possible, I’m the Master, not you—”
“Do it!” Aven ordered. “Now.”
“Stop, stop—” Daes shouted. “All of you!” Then he looked shocked at his own words as the men backed away. The tumult quieted, except for the sound of feathery wings landing.
Aven stepped closer to Daes.
“You’re supposed to be coming with me,” Daes said weakly. “I… I won.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Aven shook his head.
“But—but—”
“Get up.”
Gritting his teeth and clutching his palm, Daes rose.
“How’s it feel,” Aven said, “to do things against your will? Things you wouldn’t choose? Things you hate?”
“No,” Marielle whispered.
But Aven had no sympathy for her or any of them now. “This is over. From now on, you belong to me.”
Daes’s eyes widened in horror. Then, a heartbeat later, his gaze darted over Aven’s shoulder and widened even further.
Aven spun around.
He caught his breath. For a moment, he wondered if the exhaustion or the awful magic was making him hallucinate, but no. It was her.
Miara stood before him—a beautiful, magnificent thing, a gorgeous creature, radiating might. Her hair was chopped short, falling bluntly to her chin, and three pairs of massive wings like an eagle’s stretched out from her back, the largest the breadth of a man, all the way down to the smallest near her elbows. Relief cascaded over him. She was alive, truly alive, more alive then ever.
But her eyes were dark.
Gods and ancestors. He swallowed hard. This was the price he’d thought he’d been willing to pay, the risk he’d been willing to take. He’d saved the city.
Had he lost her in the process?
“Miara—” he started, and he took a step forward, but the realization that this moment of victory was truly a defeat had drained him of all strength. He stumbled and collapsed to the earth.
Miara landed and shook out her wings. Growing wings from her own body had the convenient side effect of allowing her to land faster, without transforming, and she dropped to the earth in an immediate run. “Aven!”
He didn’t hear her. He was standing by a horse, talking to someone. What was this strange meeting? Why was there no battle, even though huge swaths of Panar were devastated? What was going on?
He finally turned toward her as she stopped, a few feet short of him. His eyes met hers in a bleak look of surprise. “Miara—” He looked relieved to see her, but stunned. Wary, even. He took a step forward.
And collapsed to the ground.
She rushed forward, barely able to hold him up. She poured energy in, stealing recklessly from those around them. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I had to. I—”
She pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him. But he lurched away from her, collapsing to the ground again, and he let out a groan.
“By the gods, Aven!” She crouched at his side and poured more energy in, but it didn’t seem to do any good.
He glanced at a man behind him, and Miara followed his gaze. She gasped and took an involuntary step back.
Daes.
“Get on your horse and send your guards back,” Aven ordered hoarsely.
Daes’s face contorted in an expression she knew all too well.
“Don’t make me kill you,” Aven growled.
Daes gritted his teeth and let out his own low growl. “You vile son of a—”
Aven narrowed his eyes, and Daes gasped, shaking his hand, clearly in pain. “What, you don’t find being a slave pleasant? I can do worse than this,” said Aven calmly.
Daes gasped for breath, falling forward, and then reared back. “Fine! Fine!” He strode over quickly, got on the horse, and looked at his guards. “Go on. Take Marielle and go. Retreat. Go back to Kavanar.”
Miara’s mouth fell open as she realized what she was seeing.
What Aven had done.
The groans—he must be in extreme pain. She tightened her grip on his shoulder, helping him to his feet. He looked down at her, nodding his gratitude for her help.
A man from the right cleared his throat. “Why should I not just crush this city to the ground anyway?”
Aven turned sharply and glared. “Who are you?”
“General Vusamon, commander of these Kavanarian armies. My lord and lady are clearly under duress; perhaps I should execute their former orders…?” His voice was leading, as if suggesting Aven present another option.
“Without your mages, we can still fight you off,” Aven said, an edge of threat to his voice.
“Who will rule Kavanar?” the general asked briskly. “Will you to turn it over to some minor noble you can puppet? Do you mean to take the nation as your own?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Aven said slowly. “It may take an order from Marielle. Or it may take a longer campaign to force the nobles to accept it. But I won’t tolerate the evil that’s brewed in Kavanar any longer.”
Miara caught her breath.
“Hmm,” said Vusamon thoughtfully. “And when this conquest of yours is over—”
“Spoken like a true patriot,” Daes snapped.
“—do you plan to extend your typical Akarian practices to the Kavanarian military?”
“Such as?” Aven said, frowning.
“Such as a standing, paid army that’s trained and well-supported by the crown?”
Aven raised an eyebrow. “If your soldiers can swallow their rivalry, that’s how I’d prefer it.”
Vusamon smiled. “Then our goals are in alignment. I offer my regiments to your command, Your Highness.”
“You traitor,” Daes snapped.
Vusamon looked at him through slitted eyes. “As if you’d do differently in my position. The Kavanarian monarchy is rotten and impotent. You are defeated. Why should I not choose my own master, one that will value my skills and my calling rather than neglect them?”
Daes scowled bitterly, but didn’t disagree.
Vusamon glanced back at Aven. “I will return to my camp and await your orders, Your Highness.”
Aven le
aned hard against her as they watched the general ride away. The guards were gathering around Marielle, preparing to escort her in the same direction.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Miara said.
“You look magnificent,” he said quietly. “I thought you were dead. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Well, my dress has seen better days. But I’m no worse for the wear.” She smiled, crooked and a little shy.
“No.” A powerful word from Marielle cut through their reverie. She’d started to follow the guards, but turned and angled her horse back. “I’m not leaving.”
“Marielle, you will do as I say—” Daes snapped.
“No.” She glared daggers at him. “I am the reigning monarch here, and I choose my actions, not you. And I’m choosing to go with you.”
Daes opened his mouth to argue again.
Aven turned to Devol. “Take them to Ranok. Put them in the dungeons until we can decide what to do with them.”
“He will not!” Daes shouted.
“Yes, he will, and so will you,” said Aven, voice brutal. Daes stared, then looked down at his palm once again. “You will go wherever Master of Arms Devol tells you to, and you won’t put up a fight.”
At that, Daes was too stunned to do anything other than be led away, Marielle in tow.
“You did it,” Miara whispered. “You really did it.”
“C’mon,” called Jaena. “Let’s go back inside.”
Miara helped Aven to his horse, and she flew alongside them back into the battered, beaten shell of the White City.
Inside, he had no time for prisoners. No time for planning. No time for responses. Nothing. There were others who could handle it. He dragged Miara into the nearest room, which happened to be a library, ordered everyone out, and slammed the door, so they could be alone.
He had to know. He had to get what was coming, so he could start dealing with it or die trying.
“Miara, Miara, I’m so sorry, I had no choice, I—” What he’d hoped would be a rational explanation came out a wandering, incoherent mess as he gripped her shoulders and searched for words to forgive the unforgivable.
She covered his apologies with a sudden kiss, brief and firm. And he stopped still for a heartbeat before returning her kiss—ravenously. Something in him cracked and broke, something made of fear and despair, and his heart soared up through its remnants, casting the brittle pieces of horror and anguish aside as it headed toward the sun.
He broke away abruptly. “You’re not mad? You don’t hate me?”
“No,” she said softly. “Well, I’m a little bit scared of you, to be honest. But how could I hate you?”
“I had no other option. I swear to you. They were going to level the city.”
“I know. I know. I saw the walls. I saw the Tall Master, too.”
“You did? Where?”
“Near Dramsren. I killed him.”
“You killed him?”
“Yes. But before that, I finally understood. The map could have stopped him. I’m sorry for judging you so harshly. I’ve seen a lot of evils in the world, but all-out war was something… different. I underestimated it. The senseless loss, the chaos, the pointlessness of it all…” She trailed off, blinking away tears.
He clung to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “Don’t be sorry. Let’s not be, either of us.”
She nodded and started to smile, shaking off the sadness a little. “We were both sort of right.”
“ ‘Sort of’ right. How’s that for justice? For morality?” He smiled down at her bitterly.
She smiled more brightly back. “Maybe ‘sort of right’ is the best anyone can really do.”
He nodded. “And maybe, just maybe, it’s over now.”
She sighed and clung back to him. “Yes. It’s time to rebuild.”
Chapter 19
Beginnings
The clanging of the dungeon doors was all the warning Daes had. He staggered forward, and was not surprised to see the star mage entering, the rebellious creature mage by his side. Daes gritted his teeth.
Marielle stood and came calmly to the front of her cell, separate from and opposite Daes’s, to his dismay.
“Queen Marielle,” the Akarian started. “I’m of a mind to believe you were an innocent bystander in this, even with a fleet of your ships at my doorstep. I think perhaps I should send you back to your family on said ships, who’ve claimed this was all a miscommunication and they were just looking for safe harbor. Am I wrong to assume so?”
Daes wanted to lunge through the bars and shove him away from her, but that would only reveal another way to control Daes, if the Akarian hadn’t guessed it already.
“Your Highness, if I may…” Marielle clasped her hands gracefully in front of her and glanced at Daes. As their eyes locked, she hesitated.
Daes gritted his teeth but held her gaze, forcing careful, deep breaths through his flared nostrils. He knew what could come next, and none of it was something he’d ever wanted to see. What would come out of her mouth? What would it be—vying for a place in Akarian court, an offer to be mistress rather than prisoner, lies, groveling on her knees, what? He pressed his eyes shut, not that that did much of anything. He would still hear it all, see it burned in his memory.
He wished he could shut them out completely. The Akarian should have killed him already.
“I know I am in no position to make requests, Your Highness,” she said. “I hold no particular claim over Kavanar, so it does not pain me to quit it. If you should order me to return to my father, if you were to be so magnanimous, I would readily obey your wishes, of course. And if you were to ask for my head on a platter, you would have every right.”
“I have no desire for that,” the Akarian said, surprising Daes a little. In fact, it sent a sliver of fear into Daes’s heart, much as he didn’t want to admit it. If the Akarian didn’t mean to execute Daes and Marielle publicly, then what might he have planned? Torture? Public humiliation? The gods knew there were many things worse than death. He had a feeling he was about to learn some of them firsthand.
“I know it is sometimes customary to have defeated queens marry those in power to solidify their hold over newly acquired lands,” she said, sweet and smooth as ever. Daes’s fists tightened around the bars, but he said nothing.
“That is not our custom,” said the Akarian coldly. Daes glanced at the creature mage standing beside him. Betrothed, they had said. Indeed. That did ease Daes’s mind a bit.
“Well, I am coupled but as of now not married, should you be concerned about the option. However, I would make a different request of you, if I may.”
“Request all you like. What is it?” The Akarian’s voice was wary.
She curtsied low now, knees almost touching the floor. Here it comes, he thought. What ploy would this be? “I would ask, if it would at all please you, Your Highness, that I stay with my lord in his sentence. Wherever you are taking him, I would like to go.”
Daes felt his heart skip a beat. “Marielle—no,” he said without thinking. She didn’t turn toward him, but her shoulders straightened, pushed back slightly, her chin raised. She was set upon this, he could see. But why? “Think about what you’re doing. Don’t do this to yourself.”
Now she finally glanced at him, but her look told him nothing. She turned back to the Akarian, waiting.
Why would she—oh.
He finally had a definitive answer, didn’t he? If she really felt anything for him. If she’d only wanted her husband offed, or if she’d actually wanted him. Here was his answer. Was it the one that he wanted?
“I’ll think about it,” growled the Akarian. “Later.”
The two of them walked out, leaving Daes and Marielle alone in this part of the dungeon. The very minute they were gone, he set upon her.
“How can you do this?” he demanded. “You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“A life of what? I have spent my wh
ole life alone. I have searched, I have talked, I’ve rolled between the sheets of both highborn and low. And yet never have I found anyone loyal. No one who treated me as a friend.”
He said nothing for a moment, thinking. Highborn and low? He’d have to ask about that—some other time. If such a time ever occurred. Had her days truly been so uniformly lonely?
“Until I met you,” she said, “I’d gone from loneliness to horror to torture to apathy, then back around the meadow for another tour of pain.”
“But I’ve failed, Marielle. I’ve failed at that as completely as I possibly could have. You’re not safe, and how can you be happy? Why they haven’t killed me, I’ll never know. I’ve got half a mind to try to hang myself from these bars.”
Even as he said it, though, the burning in his hand told him that doing so was not truly an option. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Please don’t,” she said, the perfectly soft command of a true queen.
“I don’t know why you are doing this, Marielle.”
“Why? Have you even tried to see this from my point of view? I know you cared much about Kavanar, and this war. I have cared for none of it but you.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but faltered.
She shrugged. “If the choice is between safe agony and happy death, I choose death.”
He reeled back an inch at the bluntness of her words, at the sincerity creasing her brow, at the entreaty in her frown. “I don’t want you to choose death,” he said numbly, for once letting his guard fall away. “I have destroyed nearly everything I ever fought so hard to have. I will not destroy you too.”
“It is not your choice,” she said gently. “And besides, you aren’t destroying me. I don’t think they are going to kill us.”
He scowled bitterly. “They are most likely waiting to publicly execute us in the most horrifying way they can think of. And they need time to think of it.”
She shook her head, smiling. “Then we’ll die together.”
