Keepers of the Crown

by Lydia Redwine

  Camaria’s heartbeat accelerated. From a slight thundering against her chest to one intense and loud. So loud it nearly drowned out the queen’s voice. She had made it far too obvious. “But that is the point,” Cam thought.

  “You tell my story. How you came to know it is a mystery to me.” Silva inclined her head towards Ilea without looking at her. She knew exactly where Cam had heard it.

  The queen leaned ever so slightly closer. “And yet, Camaria, you have the story twisted. You have one fact correct. The barbarian who pecked at the men’s corpses was no man. He was an animal. Though, I wish you hadn’t described him as a bird.” Silva sighed.“Asfor thewoman youmatchmetoo, shewas not driven by revenge but by love.”

  Cam scoffed, her voice rising above the sound of her own thundering heart. “She was driven by ambition and hatred!” She was risingfrom her seat, but Peter’s handwas at her back, urging her to sit. This was a game, not a battle. Which meant it was more dangerous. And she had to be careful. Cam felt her veins rushing, her heart beating at the sudden fear that she was already losing. But then she glanced at Ilea whose eyes had gone from absent to wholly present. So focused was her gaze on Cam, that the latter knew exactly what she had done had been the right move.

  “I’ve penetrated her,” Cam thought with triumph.

  Silva scoffed. “Enough of this. I’ve solved your riddle. No needto informmethatmyanswer isincorrect.It's my turnnow.” She pasted a sly smile to her lips, and her eyes sparkled with fury. When her mouth next opened, sounds and words poured forth. But Cam could not hear them. Rather, she watched a mouth move and heard no sound but felt them. Felt the words sinking into her very bones.

  And Cam knew something was decaying within her.

  Yes, she had expected a riddle insolvable, derived from twisted logic, but she hadn’t expected the riddle to come in the form of an entirely diverging language. A language felt instead of heard and written and read.

  Cam’s mind fumbled for an answer. Any answer. Silva went on for a few lines and ended in an airy tone. She reached for her goblet, sipping the wine while holding Cam’s gaze.

  Silence reigned within the room.

  Only the sound of Silva’s goblet being placed upon the table echoed through Cam’s ears. She looked desperately in a direction, any direction. She paused in sweeping her gaze over the table to behold Joel who’s mind appeared to be swirling. His hands fidgeted upon the table.

  “Your time is coming to an end,” Silva trilled. “Have you an answer?”

  Cam had no time to respond, for Joel leaped from his spot, pointing a shaking finger in the queen’s direction.

  “One goblet is poisoned!” he cried out. “You, you poisoned one goblet of wine here. The last line of your riddle was ‘one goblet is poisoned.’” Silva’s eyes widened. She didn't even try to hide her surprise.

  “He knew the words…” Cam gasped inwardly.

  The following scream ripped open Cam’s focus.

  She saw the body next and sprang from her seat as her panic heightened. “Youtoldus that neither the wine nor the food was poisoned!” Cam seethed, her voice a shaking tone escalating into a scream.

  Silva laughed. “Correction: I told you that your wine and food was without poison. I did not assure than anyone else’s was.”

  Something pricked Cam on the inside. The point of a blade diving into her heart. Panic seized her nerves. The sounds of coughing as if one was hacking up a lung reached her ears. Her eyes slipped slowly from Silva to the figure slumped to the table.

  Ilea’s eyes filled with blackness as if the ink was pooling her vision. Fear seized Cam, gripping her every nerve. She leaped up, scrambling over the table, not caring for the clatter of dishes and the vases and knocked over. She grasped Ilea’s arms. Took her head in both of her hands.

  Ilea mumbled, her eyes beginning to slip shut. Cam could not distinguish her words. With all the strength she could muster, Ilea lifted a hand and opened her fingers to reveal a tiny slip of parchment already blood-stained. Her hand fell, the parchment fluttering to the floor. Joel picked it up, for he was at Cam’s side now.

  But Cam was frozen at the sight of Ilea’s pooling pupils and purple veins trailing up her neck, over her face, and into her skull. “What the hell did you do?” Cam screamed, whirling around.

  Silva was nowhere to be seen.

  Cam could barely hear her own ragged breathing let alone the

  noise around her. Her skin prickled with newly forming sweat. A hand was at her back, and Fiera’s voice was calm and soft in her ear. Everything was muddled. Cam’s mind. Her eyes. Her body even.

  “This isn’t your fault.” Slowly, Cam lifted her head to meet her sister’s gaze. “This is all on Silva, and she will pay for it.”

  Cam nodded.

  She thought of the remaining sample of Medulla magic they had brought with them and looked earnestly in Owen’s direction.

  He shook his head. “Medulla does not cure poisons. That is why Imber Fel wroteup their own cures.” But even if themagic could heal Ilea, how in hell would they get it to her?

  “She cannot die. Not by human means anyway,” Cam finally said as she swallowed the ache in her throat. It only settled in her chest.

  “I’m not entirely sure Silva is human,” Caleb commented from the other side of the cell.

  “That is certainly comforting,” Cam returned. Caleb shuffled his feet upon the stone floor.

  “Silva did this on purpose,” Fiera spit. She was still pacing as if fire rushed in her veins, screaming to be released. “She wished us to see one of our own sufferings. It gives her an edge.”

  “I think Ilea thought our riddle was exactly what we had to usethough,” Joel said, his words grittedout between clenched teeth. “We wouldn’t have won anything trying to trick her.” He had previously been hunched in the corner, his hands clasped together. He brushed aside a mop of bronze hair. His sea-green gaze locked with Cam’s. His eyes glittered for a brief moment. “You cut deep into the snake.”

  Cam sank against the wall. “Elyon help her. Don’t let her suffer anymore,” she prayed silently, not sure at all that the prayer would do anything. “If Elyon is even out there, why would He let this happen?”

  She buried her hands in her arms, a question burning in her mind. But Fiera was already asking it. “Is this worth the sacrifice?” Only one answer surfaced in Cam’s consciousness. Yes. The answer would always be yes. Always as long as Silva was alive.

  And then Cam remembered as she glanced back at Joel. Ilea had tried to give them something. And Joel was reading it now, his eyes widening as he gazed at the bloodied parchment. “Whatisit?” Camaskedwithhereyesonly.Joel’sshakingfingers brushed hers as he handed it to her. “Key in the chamber of the king. Follow the crows. Unlock the keep. Free the Band of the Banished.”

  Cam read it once. Twice. Three times. The figures were tiny, just barely fitting on a scrap of parchment. “Shewants us to make an alliance with the Shadow Bearers,” Cam breathed. Joel’s brows rose, his eyes flicking to those watching them just beyond their cell. Cam shook her head.

  “The castaways. Under us.”

  Coldwater splashed Cam’s face, jerking her awake just in time

  to see a similar bucket being hurled at Peter. He swore as he thrashed to his feet. “Line up!” commanded the hissing Shadow Bearer. Cam could see this one. His features were impeccably placed, his eyes slits of dark ice. But no one she recognized.

  Cam found that she had been the second to last of the company to be awakened in such a manner. Fiera was brooding with her raven hair plastered to her face.

  The cell doors had been swung open and the guards were ushering the company through them as Cam scurried into line behind Peter. Her nails, which were in much need of a trim, pierced her palms as she attempted to refrain from clawing at the guard’s face for the rude awakening. “Where are we going?” she hissed at Owen who had just stood behind her.

  “Showers. Apparently, we smelled so
horrend ous last night that Silva couldn't stand it,” he replied grimly.

  A hard hand gripped Cam’s shoulder mercilessly to pull her from the cell. She stumbled over loose stones in the passage and bumped into Peter as she attempted to see into the dark walkway they were being led into. Only the flickering light from a torch allowed her to see the dripping pipes and moisturized walls and floors of stone. At last, they broke into a wide room where pipes from the ceiling were extended above them so they could stand beneath the rusty-colored water. The room and the water both smelled worse than the sweltering bodies of the humans.

  “Ten minutes,” the Shadow Bearer at the head of their line shouted. He then went to stand at the entrance with his arms crossed to watch them. Watch them strip off their clothing and stand naked under barely running water from rusty pipes.

  “This is no time for modesty. I must be clean…” Cam thought. But still, the thought of removing her clothing with so many others around her had her hesitant to strip her tunic and trousers.

  She glanced sideways at Fiera. “Just turn around and ignore them,” the elder said as she lifted her own shirt over her head. “Here...I will hold my shirt over you until you have finished, and you can do the same for me.” Cam nodded her appreciation and undid the strings at her trousers quickly. It would be best to finish as soon as possible.

  The water was freezing.

  Where it had come from, Cam did not know. Nor did she want to know. She shivered as she scrubbed her body with her own hands. Fiera patiently held up her own shirt with her back to the others so no one would view her front. Fiera did not say a word as Cam picked up her clothing and replaced them over her body. She placed the cloth in her trousers, hoping it would be enough for now. Her hair dripped water onto the tunic. It dripped water and silver spots from the dye that was now washing out.

  Cam then turnedtoholdFiera’s shirt so thather sister might wash. They only had a few moments left. Cam closed her eyes as she held the shirt up as if to drown out the sights around her. That was when she heard the hissing.

  They were voices.

  Cam’s eyes sprang open, and she perked her ears so that she might hear better. It took a full moment before she realized that the muffled sounds were coming from the pipes. “Let usssssss out…”

  Cam jumped, the shirt nearly falling out of her hands. Fiera shrieked at Cam who immediately jerked it upward again. She turned so her eyes could meet Peter’s. His gaze was wide as he mouthed, “I can hear them too.”

  The only question was…who were they?

  But the question did not linger long, for Cam knew. The spirits of Silva’s vengeance whispering through the walls. When the company was led back to their cells, Peter glanced at Cam. Both knew the plan. They had planned it with a simple look. A glance that told the other everything.

  Peter threw his fist into the Shadow Bearer’s cheekbone. Cam heard it as loud as the clanging of their cell door. She had but a second before the other Shadow Bearers would intervene. Just as the creature Peter had punched slammed the young man into the wall, Cam reached for the key, snatched it, and slipped it into her tunic.

  The cool iron pressed to her palm was worth it even when Peter was slammed into the bars.

  Twenty-Five

  So, Lucius was not the regal overlord Riah had imagined him to

  be. He was powerful looking, that was for sure, and his very state made Riah wish he had never been born. The rags and the mere fact that this creature was sitting in a dark room alone rather than commanding armies made Riah wonder one thing. “What sort of power do you hold over Leviathan, then?” Was it the ability to make blue light appear out of nowhere? And what harm would that do?

  Then Riah remembered well... everything. Everything he had read, or rather, felt when peering at the Infernal Speech and from what Leviathan had already related to him.

  TheShedim under Lucius’ commandwho were supposed to be far more dangerous than Shadow Bearers. As for the Shadow Bearers, well, this creature before him was the one who had brought them into existence. This was the creature who had first used the Infernal Magic as his primary weapon.

  Riah tensed at this thought. Not that he could have tensed any more than he already had. His muscles were like cords tightened to burst.

  The creature was still staring at him.

  Then, it spoke.

  The voice was a smoothness that ran deep and low in the creature’s throat. And it was...cold. “Wait...what did he say?” “I said...who are you? But I already know the answer, of course.” The creature looked once again at the ball of blue light floating above his hand as if he was rather uninterested.

  Riah wasn’t sure if he should bow or run, so he remained perfectly still and wondered why Lucius was living beneath the fortress. “So he can read minds too.” The creature whipped its head and nodded curtly. Lucius turned to examine a nail as if he were picking dirt from it. The nails were long, lethal, and black. Silence passed between them for so long that Riah wondered if he were caught in some awful dream. A dream where Apollyon might appear. For Saffira. And this creature was only a figment.

  But the creature was speaking, its tone cool. And he was speaking aloud, not in whispers in Riah’s mind. “Why are you here?”

  “Don’t you know that too?”

  “I tire of reading human hearts.”

  Riah spoke aloud. “I-I want to be something mmore...” He stammered. And he suddenly realized how stupid the prospect was. Being something “more” had brought him here? His mind scrambled to find an answer. “Why am I here?”

  The creature watched him for a long time. Riah thought of moving, but his body betrayed him and would not. “Hmm...mosthavean answerwith more substance. Butyouare young. You’re still figuring it out.” Riah heard the smile in the creature's voice. A smile he knew was anything but pleasant. “Perfect. I’ll make use of you yet.” A slight shrug rolled off of the creature’s shoulders.

  Silence reigned in that dark chamber for what seemed to Riah to be an eternity. He had no inkling as what to do. He could run. But what good would that do? Just because he felt like running didn't mean it was a prudent choice. “And where would I run to that he couldn't find me at?” The thought crossed his mind before he could remember that he might as well have spoken it.

  With a small sigh, Lucius spoke, “I will tell someone to plan a party for you. We do it for all the...humans that come to us. Make them feel welcome.” Nothing about the creature’s tone was welcoming. The opposite actually.

  “A welcome to my death sort of party?” Riah mused. He could have sworn that Lucius had laughed. He felt it rumble along his bones.

  “Leave me be,” Lucius ordered. The tone was could and ancient.

  Riah complied.

  He did not sleep that night.

  His insides were too tightly coiled. His heartbeat was rapid for hours. His mind felt numb. His heart too. And yet, there was a rising unease and swelling panic he could not place the exact extraction of. He had not felt this way since that night in Gnosi when he had killed the Spirit Followers.

  And now, as he lay in his bed, staring at the dark ceiling, Riah wished he could sleep. He welcomed the nightmares and the appearance of his father. Anything to quell the monstrous fear inside him.

  Riah had no inkling as to who exactly was planning his party.

  But whoever it was had pretty good taste. Arria had arrived at the fortress the morning before and had announced that the event was to take place that night. She was positively giddy about the occasion. Riah had asked her if she was the planner to which she laughed and had replied with a resounding no.

  “But I will help you prepare,” she had said. He now sat before a mirror and watched her through it as she rummaged through a pile of uniform-like suits for him to wear. She seemed absolutely bored by the project. “Wear what you want,” she said at last with a sigh. She then departed saying that she was going to inspect the ballroom. Or rather, clean it up. Riah had not touched that room
since his arrival.

  “The servants will be arriving soon,” she had also said. “Servants? From where?” Riah had asked. From Leviathan, he supposed. “But whatsort of...guests will be there? Where the hell will they come from? I know no one but Arria.” He scowled at another thought. “And Gamgee better not be on the list.”

  Despite this, he decided dressing up would be nice anyway. Arria had said they would paint their faces for the occasion with colors that symbolized their position. “Or position one is working towards,” she had added with a pointed look in Riah’s direction.

  But Riah had no idea what that meant, so he sat before the mirror with a black and gold uniform placed on a footstool beside him. On the table, before the pearl mirror were bottles of various paints made purposely for the skin.

  He glanced at himself in the mirror before picking up a rather dull knife. Dark, curly locks fell to the floor one by one as he sheared them from his head. It had been far too long since he had even decided a haircut was needed. And a good shave. It looked good enough, he decided when he had finally finished.

  He reached for the paint, and instead of using a brush, he dipped his finger inside one colored a dull shade of purple. The shimmering shade looked as though it had been mixed with ash. With two fingers, he swiped the paint down one cheek and then the other.

  The next dip, he took more and proceeded to smear the purple paint across his face. At the edges and at the curves of his nose and eyes he deepened the shade to a dark purple. “Like the sky at night in which the dragons wander. Dark purple like one of the dragons itself. Dark purple like the dreams of my mother…” he thought.