Bairam led them into one of the courtyards festooned with torchlight. The fountains held floating candles, and each of the tables contained glowing braziers letting off fragrant smoke, which helped rid the air of the biting insects that loved this time of night.
“Friends!” Bairam called out, his arms out as he took in the crowd. “May I present you with my guest of honor? The true king of the Five Realms—King Rodan!”
Gasps and murmurs greeted the announcement as the people closed in on all sides, perfumed lords and ladies of Visantium, dignitaries from other provinces and kingdoms, and a stately elven dignitary who gave a cool nod of approval. Maeve grasped his arm and pressed tightly against him, her eyes a little wide at the sudden influx of nobles.
“King Rodan, a pleasure—”
“May I offer my support for your quest? Sebastian is—”
“What wonders you must have seen on your journey here! Tell us, what—”
“Who is this by your side?”
“Is that Maeve?”
“Maeve Almeida?”
If possible, her fingers dug deeper into the arm of his coat, until he almost heard the creak of the fabric over the chattering of the guests.
Rodan raised a hand, and silence descended among the dozens of upturned faces. He stood, quite easily, as the tallest person in the room, his only competition the willowy elven lord who stayed apart from the gathering that pressed around them.
“You honor me,” Rodan said, smiling at the assembled crowd. People trickled in from the other courtyards and rooms of the palace while he spoke, carrying goblets of wine or clutching each other’s hands. “It is true, I am undergoing the trials to regain my crown. Maeve,” he said, as several people erupted in gasps and whispers, “is back in our world to help me achieve this goal.”
Maeve licked her lips and glanced up at him. He placed a hand on hers, over his arm, and squeezed it a little.
“Please, I will talk with each of you if there is time. For now, let us enjoy the gathering and the fine food and drinks our host provides to us.” He gave a nod, hoping this would be enough, and they would disperse.
Bairam had other plans.
“What of Maeve, your grace?” he asked, his dark eyes sparking in the torchlight. He stood among his sons and daughters, adding to the throng. “She is back to help you win the throne? Is that what she told you?”
Silence fell, thicker than the last, and Rodan narrowed his eyes at his old friend. “It is fact.”
“She was the reason you lost your position in the first place,” Bairam continued. “Why should you trust her?”
“I trust her,” Rodan replied, his voice ringing out in the stillness, “because she proved she holds the needs of the citizenry of the Five Realms above all else. She fought by my side to free the people of Ishtem from the chimera, to rid Nucifera of a curse, to battle against the Nyx in Karst. Everything she does, she does for the good of the Realms.”
Murmurs followed this pronouncement, and Maeve cleared her throat, color high in her cheeks. When she spoke, her voice carried, though it remained soft. “I made a mistake, the last time I came here. A lot of mistakes. Sebastian convinced me I did the right thing. I learned this was an egregious error, one I’m working to correct now.”
Bairam gave a nod, though the glimmer in his eyes remained.
The crowd thinned a little, and Rodan moved to Bairam’s side, Maeve following him, “What was that about?” he growled. “You would insult Maeve in front of all Visantium?”
“I would learn why she stands by your side as an equal,” Bairam answered, his tone cool, “when we all call her as she is: a traitor.”
Alexis, one of Bairam’s wives, stepped forward and took Maeve by the arm. “Come with me,” she said, her voice a little higher than it should be. “I never showed you around the palace.”
Rodan glanced at Maeve, who offered him a thin smile before turning to her guide and following her from the courtyard.
He stepped closer to Bairam, looming over the smaller man. “We need to talk.”
The Sultan gave a small nod, not taking his eyes from Rodan’s, and turned, his children parting like curtains before him, watching as the two powerful men strode away from the party festivities.
Bairam took him through several outer courtyards and corridors, until they climbed the steps of the central spire, containing the private rooms and suites of the Basu family. They stopped outside a set of double doors guarded by three men with pikes and long swords. Bairam turned to Rodan. “There is something I wish you to see.”
Rodan gave a nod, and Bairam motioned the guards away, opening the double door to a room flooded in light.
Unlike the torches that courted shadows down below, this light was magical in nature, as bright as the light bulbs from Maeve’s own world. No shadows flitted in corners or rested under tables. All shone stark, white, clean light.
There sat the children.
Some of them Rodan recognized from the time he spent with Bairam’s family, but so many more than that filled the room. Dozens of them. The room, enormous, encompassed all one floor, with toys and beds and cushions scattered throughout. Some children slept in one corner while the rest of them, almost silent, played quiet games with nursemaids who read them stories or stroked their hair.
A few glanced up as Bairam and Rodan strode into the room, and one of the little girls rushed to her feet and leapt for her grandfather, who passed her a sweet before patting her on the head and telling her to be on her way.
Rodan wanted to strangle the man.
“These are the children of Visantium,” he said, his voice pitched so as not to carry across the room. “These are not all your grandchildren.”
“No,” Bairam agreed, “they’re not, but they may as well be. I can ensure they’re safe, that they won’t be taken like the rest. You see, my friend,” he said, giving Rodan a slight smile, “you asked if anything were the matter with my city, but there is not. I have everything well in hand.”
“You stole children,” Rodan countered. “You took them from their parents and placed them here, or with other rich families. Why?”
“For protection,” Bairam reiterated. “Who better to provide for them than us? If they remained where they were, they would have disappeared like the others, to the gods know what fate. The Shadowkin are voracious in their hunger for our young ones.”
“Shadowkin?” Rodan asked, then, “Ah. The Nyx.”
“Is that what you call them?” Amusement sparked in Bairam’s eyes.
“That’s what they call themselves,” Rodan corrected. “They identified themselves to me in Attica, and to Maeve when she confronted them in Karst.”
“Maeve,” Bairam spat. “I do not understand why you do not kill her for what she has done.”
Rodan’s blood flashed hot, and he glanced at the room of children. “Privacy,” he demanded. “Now.”
The Sultan smirked but led Rodan back out through the double doors and into the hallway. They climbed another flight of steps before Bairam flung open a door to a library lined with shelves bursting with books and scrolls. A desk sat on one side of the room, two chairs before it and more scattered around where one might read or study near the fire or by one of the floor to ceiling windows. Tables were set up, too, where one could spread open dozens of books or maps for comparison.
Bairam threw himself into the chair behind the desk, kicking his feet up and tapping his fingertips together, looking at Rodan over the peaks. “You’re protective of her. Why?”
Rodan shook his head. “You do not know her. You do not understand—”
“I don’t,” Bairam agreed, interrupting. “She nearly killed you when she last walked your Realms. Everyone who is anyone knows it. They know her to be the true power behind Sebastian’s victory. That she disappeared meant she lived, for if she had stayed in this land, I would have killed her for what she did to you.”
“She was misled. She did not know—”
> “That is a lie she spins to have you close to her,” Bairam snarled. “I hear she was crowned beside you in each of the Realms you visited before ours. So, she is a contender for the throne. She has it in her sights, as she always has. She will take it from you, like Sebastian, and this time she will ensure the killing blow befalls you. You won’t live to witness her rule.”
“Enough!” Rodan roared, stalking to the desk and slamming his hands down upon it. Bairam’s cool composure shattered, and he pushed away, rising, his eyes big as saucers. “You do not know her. You do not understand her. I do. She does not desire the throne. She is only crowned because to reject it would mean the Realms would reject her, and I cannot have her flung back into her world while she aids me in this quest!”
“Aids you? How? You are Fae. The mightiest creature in all the Realms. How can she help you?”
To confess to Bairam, to tell him what he suspected, would be a mistake. Rodan understood that. The fewer people with knowledge of his suspicions, the better.
To the Fae, an untapped source of power meant something to be grasped and controlled. If, by some misfortune, one of the Fae at court caught wind that Maeve may be one of them, she would be taken from him. He did not lay a formal claim on her. Could not, unless she accepted the bond. So far as he was aware, no one in the Five Realms held contact with the Fae court other than him, but it seemed best not to leave these things to chance. If even a whisper of untapped Fae magic reached those ears, she would not be offered a choice. She would be bonded to find out if she did possess power.
He would not let that happen.
“She is worth more than you know,” Rodan said, his voice dangerous with warning. “At the end of this trial, I will take her as my queen.”
Bairam’s eyes widened, and he stepped forward, the move looking involuntary. “You mean to take that traitor to bride? I have known you for my entire life. My family has been your ally for centuries. We always knew—always suspected—that you would wed one of ours. If you held no intention of doing so, why did you take such an interest in us? How are we, your most loyal friends, to be usurped by someone who tried to kill you?”
Rodan pulled away, his heart pounding and his head swimming. Was this his doing? Did he lead them to believe he would place one of their daughters upon the high seat next to him? When had he made any kind of motion to this end? Some things started to make sense now. The way the women always smiled and batted their eyes at him. He thought them harmless flirts, but perhaps each in turn through the generations attempted to ensnare him?
“I never intended to take one of yours to wife,” Rodan said, the words coming slow as his mind whirled. “I have always loved your family. You have all been most kind and welcoming to me, but I am not a prize to be won.”
Bairam laughed, his head thrown back but his eyes hard as steel. “You are a fool. The seat beside yours has been sought after for as long as you ruled as king. You took lovers, and where do you think they came from? If not from me, then from the heads of the other kingdoms, you can be assured. They were sent to you intentionally. Everyone is vying for that position. Everyone.”
Rodan pursed his lips, thinking back on the women he took to bed over the years. They might not have been the only ones at court vying for his attention, but they were the ones he favored. After a while, had they not used similar tactics to stand out in his presence and have him notice them? Perhaps the old groomed the new, passing down secrets on the path that would take them to his bedchamber.
He clenched his gloved hand. Thankfully, only two people in the Five Realms had knowledge of the bond, and what it would mean. Maeve and Pike. He counted himself lucky, now. How often had he slept sound beside a woman who might slip off one of his gloves and put a hand on his?
A chill ran down his spine at the thought. Most of those women were gentle and pleasant, in their way, but none of them what he sought after for long term. Until he met Maeve, he had no knowledge of what he truly desired. Now, Maeve remained the only person he envisioned by his side.
“I did not realize our friendship was built upon this scheming,” Rodan said, turning away from Bairam. “That you stood among those who sought to grasp at power. I thought we understood each other, that those who ruled Visantium were among the only people who might understand what it is to rule an empire.”
He started to leave. He won his confession. Bairam admitted responsibility for the kidnapping of the children. His magic, quick to call and roiling beneath the surface of his skin, bubbled and hissed at the thought of release.
“Wait,” Bairam called, “my friend.” His voice grew soothing. “A thousand apologies. I am—I am shocked by your news. That you would take Maeve to be your wife.”
Rodan turned back, but stood in the middle of the room without moving.
“Has she accepted you? Does she feel the same? Of course she does,” the Sultan answered his own question. “What woman would not? But—” His tone lowered, and his next words became a near whisper, “how can an immortal love someone so—fragile?”
Rodan’s heart gave a mighty lurch, and he moved before he thought twice about it. He grasped the front of Bairam’s robes and lifted the man off his feet, snarling into his face, “Where is she?”
Bairam’s teeth showed in his smile, and his words, strained around the choke hold, contained a kind of manic glee which Rodan would never forget. “You’ll be too late. It’s already done.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Maeve
ALEXIS LED MAEVE AWAY FROM THE GATHERING, up into the spire, which reached hundreds of feet into the sky. The staircase spiraled up between the windows and the inner walls, and the stones radiated warmth from the sunlight that beat down hours before. Maeve trailed her hands along the smooth stone as they climbed upward, Alexis telling her a little about this and that feature as they passed.
The older woman wore a blue and silver sari, her embroidery fine and delicate. Vines and flowers blossomed across the silk fabric, clustered in greater numbers around her bodice and the waistband of her skirt.
“Visantium is the oldest city in the empire. Did you know that?”
Maeve pulled her attention back to what Alexis said. “No, I didn’t. I knew it was old, but—how old is it?”
“Over twelve thousand years,” Alexis said with a hint of pride. “It may be my adopted home, but it is home now, and I am grateful to have born my children here.”
“Where was your first home?”
“Ishtem,” she said, her nose wrinkling as she flashed a smile. “I believe you’ve been to Ishtem? Such a crowded city.”
“Yes,” Maeve agreed. “It is penned in by the mountains. Here, you have all the desert to expand into. If it weren’t for the sand worms,” she added as an afterthought.
“They don’t like our stomping feet,” Alexis laughed. “They stay away.”
They stopped on a landing and gazed out over the city. Glass towers jutted from stone buildings. People milled in the streets, going to market or moving to and fro between work and home. Torchlight lit the streets, making them glitter like stars or—
Maeve let out a choked laugh, pressing her hand against the warm glass.
“What is it?” Alexis asked.
“Nothing, I just—” Maeve hesitated, then barreled on, “In my world, we have automobiles—horseless carriages that take people from place to place. It is how we travel, and at night the streets are lit up with their headlights—like lanterns affixed to the front. Now it—it looks a little like that down there, with the torches...” She trailed off, then whispered, “It reminds me of home.”
“You miss your home? Not like me.” Laughter echoed in the woman’s voice. “Though I might miss those horseless carriages. They sound fascinating.”
“There’s a lot to miss,” Maeve murmured. “Aspirin. Hamburgers. Cell phones.”
“You told me a little of these things, the other night,” Alexis said. “Your world must be a beautiful place.”
/> Maeve turned to the woman. “It can be,” she said. “But, like here, it has a dark underbelly. We don’t have magic in my world. We have technology. Sometimes, I think it’s worse.”
A servant appeared from above, bearing a tray with two goblets of wine. Alexis took them and handed one to Maeve. “I should like to hear more. Come, I wanted to show you my chambers. It is not often I have a woman friend to share with. There are the other wives, but we rarely mingle outside our duties.”
Maeve sipped the wine as they ascended the stairs still further. A nice, dry red as she liked. She took another sip and followed Alexis through ornately carved wooden doors set with semiprecious stones, not unlike the walls of the formal entry below.
Inside, a sunken seating area took up the bulk of the room, covered with pillows and enormous, tasseled cushions. Bright reds and golds and blues coated the space, softening the look of the plain white stone.
Alexis snapped her fingers, and a servant appeared bearing a tray of sugared almonds, dried apricots, and soft, sweet dates. Alexis took some almonds and Maeve plucked a date from the tray, giving the servant a nod and a smile. “Thank you.”
“It’s curious to me, that you would thank the servants,” Alexis said, before the girl disappeared back through the door from which she came. “Why is that?”
“There are no servants in my world. Or, at least, in my country. There are people who provide services, but they are paid, and they live separately from the work they do, typically. It is just—it’s polite to say thank you when they do something.”
“Isn’t it their job?” Alexis popped an almond into her mouth and sucked on the sugared treat.
“It is,” Maeve agreed. “I used to work that kind of job. As a waitress. It was before I wrote my books.”
“You’re a scribe?”
“Yes. I wrote about the Five Realms. About my adventures here with Sebastian and Troy and Pike. Now I write for a living instead of working as a waitress.”
Alexis frowned. “What is this? This—waitress? What does the word mean?”
Catching Pathways Page 33
