Lodestone

by Katherine Forrister

  “Father,” Serj said. His face was slack with horror and dismay.

  “What?” Melaine said, but she jolted as Actaeon aimed his wand at the doors and bombarded them open.

  Melaine had never seen a more opulent room. It put every room within Highstrong Keep to shame. The vaulted ceilings were painted with lofty, extravagant murals of heroic deeds from royalty past. Each rib was coated in shining gold, sculpted with golden flourishes and silver leaves. The walls were of white marble, lined with columns that were gilded with silver and gold scrollwork. Arched indentations in the walls housed decadent objects on display—busts of nobility, sculptures of graceful animals, porcelain vases—many of which Melaine suspected contained Insights of immense value.

  The floors were gleaming, polished marble, and a lush, purple carpet ran from the door where she stood to a lustrous golden throne sitting upon a dais that anchored the room.

  Actaeon lunged inside. She darted after him, followed closely by Serj.

  King Malik stood beside the throne with the most beautiful woman Melaine had ever seen, trapped in his arms. Her back pressed against his chest as he held a dagger to her breast. Her brown hair was wavy with half-unraveled braids, her blue eyes watery with tears. But her expression was resolute and held bold courage as she faced her imminent death.

  The third man in the room was of dark brown complexion and had his textured blond hair swept back in a ponytail so that all of his confident, sneering features were on display. He looked like an older, sharper version of Talem, and he wore the same Luxian symbol on his blue and white robes. His symbol was freshly embroidered and threaded with lustrous gold, ornate and shining compared with Talem’s faded relics.

  Both Nazir and King Malik turned with sharp attention to the door as Actaeon ran at them, wand raised.

  Malik plunged his dagger into Queen Adelasia’s breast.

  “No!” Actaeon yelled. He blasted Malik away from the queen with a golden explosion of magic that Melaine recognized as the rathmor tooth Insight’s spell she’d learned, but his was far more intense than any she’d been able to perform. Malik hit the back wall and fell to the floor.

  Actaeon rushed to Adelasia. She looked up at him with round eyes that matched his own. They were soft in a way that Actaeon’s only became when he looked at Melaine.

  Adelasia’s face paled, and her eyes dimmed as blood leaked from the deep wound in her chest. Actaeon slipped his hand under her head.

  “Actaeon,” she mouthed, but her voice was no more than a choked sound.

  Actaeon’s grip on his wand loosened. “Mother,” he said.

  Adelasia’s mouth turned in a small, soft smile. Then she was gone. Her body went limp in Actaeon’s hold.

  King Malik stirred by the wall, struggling to stand.

  “You murdered her,” Actaeon whispered. Malik stiffened. The king swallowed and tried to cover his twitching fear with a tall stance of fortitude.

  “To keep her from a grisly death at your hands,” he countered. “You’re the would-be conqueror, are you not? The leader of this messy…this brutal…”

  “You murdered her!” Actaeon shouted, raising his wand and pointing it straight at the king’s heart.

  “So that I could have the satisfaction of ending her before you had the chance! She shamed me,” Malik said. “She is my queen, and I can do with her whatever I want. She deserved worse.”

  He looked down at Adelasia’s vacant face. Blood dripped from the dagger in his shaky hand.

  Salma was right when she’d spoken of the queen. Adelasia was beautiful, with an innocent yet strong aura that would never again shine or dance down the streets of the White City with flowers and music. Melaine had seen plenty of the Stakeside poor waste away in the streets or get stabbed in the dark. She’d always felt a sympathy that she’d tried to stifle, but she’d never felt it so acutely as she did now. It seemed such a horrible waste for a woman like that to die.

  Blood continued to bloom from Adelasia’s heart like rose petals. Her dress was light blue satin, embroidered with dainty silk flowers, the color of a sunbeam. The style and rich quality of the bodice and lace-trimmed gown matched many of the dresses Melaine had worn since arriving in Highstrong. She took a shaky breath, feeling like a tiny but strong thread tied her to the perished woman in Actaeon’s arms along with a hope that maybe, one day, Melaine could be as strong and self-sacrificing as she.

  “Now, conqueror, leader of the rabble,” King Malik said, dagger raised. “Are you going to kill me and take my throne or not?”

  “You don’t deserve to be there,” Actaeon said. “Just like Vasos doesn’t deserve to rule his kingdom. Cowards and murderers, both of you. My mother deserved better. Your people deserve better, Malik.” He stood and took a step toward the king, wand still aimed. “You failed them. Just like you failed her.” His voice choked up once as he glanced at his mother.

  Malik raised his dagger as if its narrow blade could protect him from Actaeon’s wand and wrath.

  A shout and loud bang erupted from the corridor beyond the throne room. The sounds of battle were growing closer. Actaeon flung a spell at the throne room doors. They slammed shut, and a heavy magical bar appeared to keep them in place.

  “You’ve earned a long, torturous death, Malik,” Actaeon said, returning his attention to the king. “But I would rather keep this between us. I hope your blessed Luxian afterlife brings you everything you deserve.”

  Actaeon sent a new powerful blast of magic at the king. This time, an unfamiliar spell hit with an invisible impact. King Malik’s high-pitched scream tore at Melaine’s eardrums as he writhed in intense agony, but his pain didn’t last long. He fell to the ground and rolled off the dais. He lay still, his eyes vacant and his face frozen in a tortured mask.

  “They’re dead,” Nazir said. Melaine and Actaeon looked his way. Melaine had forgotten the Luxian advisor was still in the room. “You killed them both.” His voice rose loudly enough to penetrate the doors, so all beyond could hear. “Murderer!”

  “No, Father,” Serj said, watching his father with soft disbelief. “Lies. You knew the truth.”

  Actaeon raised his wand, but Nazir cast a speed spell of his own and fled through a side door. The door swayed, un-warded, but Actaeon looked too weary and overcome by grief to follow. He took the few steps necessary to reach his fallen mother again. His shoulders slumped, and then he collapsed to his knees.

  He looked like her. He had the black hair and birthmark of his father, but the rest of his features were all from his mother.

  “I know you banished me to the scullery to hide me,” he murmured. “I know you did it to save me from my father. And from him.” He tilted his head at the fallen King Malik. “But I wish you would have told me. Spoken to me. Just once.”

  He lifted her head off the floor and onto his lap. He stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in time.”

  Tears watered Melaine’s eyes, and one fell as she looked in surprise at a woman who emerged from the shadows of the throne room, where she must have been lurking in secret the entire time.

  “Actaeon,” she said.

  Actaeon startled and looked up, drawing his wand. The woman held up her hands in defense, showing they were empty. He kept his wand trained upon her but didn’t stop her from taking a few steps closer.

  “My name is Karina,” she said. “I am…was Queen Adelasia’s handmaiden.”

  Melaine’s lips parted. The woman spoke true—she was younger, for sure, but there was no mistaking her for Karina.

  “I spoke with her not an hour ago,” she said, fighting a tremor in her voice. “Before they moved her here from the East Tower. Actaeon, she asked me to tell you how much she loved you and that the only reason she ever parted with you was to protect you—from King Malik, King Vasos, and the Luxian order.”

  Actaeon frowned deeply, his eyes narrow as he searched Karina’s face for truth.

  “I saw you the night you allowed King Vasos to live
as he escaped the city,” she said. “I knew what I was risking, but I told Queen Adelasia what I saw. She told me everything, Actaeon. She told me that you are her son. And I kept her secret. I would never betray her for the world.

  “She knew it was you who led the army into the city today. She told me, should she die before she could speak with you, that I was to convey how much she loved you. That I was to beg for your forgiveness on her behalf for never telling you the truth. And that I am to look after you as she never could. Those were her last words, Actaeon, before the king took her from the tower. I thought I could follow her here and stop him, but…” Karina’s voice caught in her throat, and she cleared it to keep her composure.

  “I should have been here,” Actaeon said, seeming too tired to question Karina. He lowered his wand and dropped his hand to his side. He looked back down at his mother’s face. “I should have gotten here sooner.”

  Karina stepped forward and rested a hand on Actaeon’s shoulder. He didn’t cast her off.

  “Actaeon,” Karina said. “You did all you could. She would be proud of you. She always was. She believed you were and would always be the rightful heir to the throne. She chose to never bear another child who could challenge your place. In one form or another, this is always what she wanted for you, Actaeon.”

  Actaeon shuddered and was silent. Karina watched him for a moment and then squeezed his shoulder and stepped back.

  “Now,” she said, adopting the strict demeanor Melaine was so familiar with. “You have work to do. You’ve just won a war, Actaeon. You have a throne to sit upon, a city to rebuild and maintain, and people who will follow you. I urge you to remember that you have convinced your people to despise royalty. I am now the sole person in this kingdom who knows who you are—that you come from a royal bloodline and that you did not kill Queen Adelasia. Given the circumstances,” she paused, convincing herself as well, it seemed, “I think we ought to keep it that way.”

  Actaeon looked up at her in confusion, but then a light in his eyes dimmed, and a mask as hard and cold as stone took its place. He nodded once and laid his mother’s head gently down to the floor. He stood and looked at the throne.

  He stepped over the dead king and onto the second level of the dais, running his hand along the throne’s golden arm. He didn’t wear the glorious look of triumph Melaine had always imagined when she’d pictured this moment in his war. He sat down, pressing his wand, coated in residual magic, against the gold under his hand.

  “Open the doors,” he ordered Karina. She gave a grim nod and obeyed.

  The scene blackened with ink, which then sucked Melaine in a strong pull that brought her back to reality and knocked her off her feet. She cried out as she hit hard stone. When she looked up, Karina—the real Karina—grabbed her arm and yanked her up with painful force.

  Melaine caught a glance of the open book on the floor of Actaeon’s study, and she saw Serj crumpled against a wall before all of her attention was forced onto Karina’s furious face.

  “You prying minx,” Karina said. “You’re supposed to be finding a way to save Actaeon, and here you are wasting precious time on things that don’t concern you. To think, I almost trusted you.”

  “Karina,” Actaeon said with more force than Melaine had heard in quite some time. Karina released Melaine’s sleeve, but anger still flared in her eyes.

  “It fell off the table,” Melaine said. “The book. We didn’t open it on purpose.”

  Karina scoffed. Melaine winced. She knew it did sound like an excuse.

  “You dare pry into his personal things—”

  “Karina, stop,” Actaeon said. His voice was weaker this time. Melaine and Karina both looked at him. He was leaning against a wall, pale and haggard. Karina had laid a warm cloak over his shoulders, but it looked oversized and heavy as lead as it hung from his skeletal frame.

  His eyes were on the book that held his memories, still open like a wound with painful, mangled insides. “There’s no point in secrets any longer.” He looked at Melaine. “I’m relieved that someone knows. Before…”

  He tried to take a step but staggered. He found a wooden chair and sank into it, holding his body upright with both hands on the edge of the seat. His face beaded sweat and his eyelids fluttered with pulsing dizziness.

  “No,” Melaine said. She darted to him and knelt at his feet. She took his hand and rested her other on his knee.

  “Please,” she said, tears burning her eyes. “Don’t give up. You’re the first person I’ve ever been terrified to lose. The only one I’ve let in that deep. Dammit, Actaeon, don’t make me lose you.”

  “You can’t mean that,” he said.

  “I do,” she said. “It’s stupid, I know. But…I’ve always fought to survive. And now, I…I don’t think I can live without you.”

  Actaeon laughed, harsh and bitter. Melaine’s brow pinched, and she reached up and pressed her palm against his cold cheek, digging her fingernails into his stringy hair. He met her eyes, and she didn’t budge.

  Actaeon silenced. His stone visage was cracked with deathly fractures, worry and exhaustion lines, and shrunken skin shriveled from the Sateless’s teeth. But a light in his eyes, once smothered, now sparked.

  Melaine nodded and released him. She let out a slow breath through her lips and stood.

  “That book,” Serj said, shoving himself off the floor. He looked shaken. “That can’t be true. You write lies.”

  “Insights can’t hold lies,” Karina said, nodding to the book. “Even the simplest of idiots know that. You may not be worthy of the truth, but you have it, I assure you.”

  Serj leaned against the wall. He stared at the floor.

  “I knew my father was…a fanatic. But I never thought he was capable of…” He shuddered and ran a hand through his wild blond hair before looking at Actaeon. “So, you fought against the corruption of King Malik’s reign…the Luxians.” He cleared his throat as if trying to shake himself into reality. “And then Vasos. Your father. He attacked Centara anyway, didn’t he? He couldn’t stand seeing you on the throne.”

  “And he thought I was weak—that my reign was weak,” said Actaeon. “Vasos attacked with a massive army, but my Followers and I fought them back, taking on most of the fight so the people wouldn’t have to.”

  “You were outnumbered in soldiers, then,” Melaine said. “You had to resort to ruthless tactics to win.”

  Actaeon nodded, his mouth a grim line.

  “Everything you did was to protect your people,” she said.

  “He didn’t have to commit the atrocities he did,” Serj said. “He chose that path. That’s on him.”

  Actaeon smiled, a wry lift of the corner of his mouth.

  “My only regret is that I didn’t get to kill my father myself,” he said. “He died outside the city gates. Everything else”—he looked hard at Serj—“everything else, I did for the sake of my people. I wanted our city to be perfect—an ideal, peaceful place without the taint of religion or dictatorship. That’s why I instigated the overseers so I wouldn’t be the sole ruler. I cut us off from other kingdoms, so war wouldn’t strike, and their corruption couldn’t bleed into Dramore. I fought for our economy to be self-reliant, so we would never have to depend on the evil whims of another tyrant to get resources. I sought to protect everyone.”

  “By letting your corrupt overseers lead?” Serj said. “You fought so hard, sitting in your study, playing with magic.”

  Actaeon winced.

  “I made a mistake in trusting them,” he admitted. “I never…wanted to rule. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to help the less fortunate. I wanted to weed out corruption. But the everyday tasks of ruling…” He looked up at Melaine.

  “I am so sorry,” he said, tears watering his eyes. Her heart ached for him, he looked so mournful. “I won a war so children would never have to grow up as you did, so no one would ever know the hunger and squalor you’ve endured. And I failed. I thought we could be independe
nt, but we don’t have the means to feed everyone, to clothe everyone. And the more I realized that my idealistic kingdom might never exist, the further I slipped away—the more I let my overseers manage Dramore. I convinced myself they could do a far better job than I could. Please. Forgive me, Melaine.”

  “You ask for her forgiveness?” Serj jeered. “And what of my brother? Can you ever ask Talem for forgiveness?”

  Actaeon laughed. “I would kill Talem again if given the chance.”

  “You—”

  “Your family,” Actaeon said, his voice rising like a crackle of lightning, “is more responsible for the fall of this city than I. Your father urged Malik to murder my mother. And then he ran. Nazir spouted lies about me and rallied a fanatical religion and a rebel force, urging them to lurk in the filth of the sewers instead of benefiting from my reign. Even at the beginning while I was still doing some good.”

  “He died in those sewers,” Serj said, his teeth grinding as he struggled with the words. “You murdered my father as much as you murdered Talem.”

  “And you’ve taken your revenge,” Actaeon said, lifting an idle hand into the air. “Be at peace, dear, noble rebel. You’ve succeeded in your quest to foil the evil sorcerer. You’ve even done the virtuous deed of risking martyrdom, dying for your cause.”

  Serj’s face flickered with fear.

  “No one has to be a martyr if you two stop bickering,” Melaine said. “It’s time to focus on what’s happening now.”

  Serj swallowed. “Yes,” he said. He took a breath and pushed himself off the wall. “Let’s send this monster back where it came from. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and the Sateless will take you with it, my lord.”

  Melaine sighed in exasperation.

  “Melaine,” Actaeon said. He nodded toward a stone structure at one end of the room that looked like a well, covered by a thick stone lid. “That’s a purifier for residual magic. If it’s possible to find what ancient knowledge this castle holds, the magic channeled from below should be the best place to look.”