Fire courses through me, rushing along the lines of ink that trace my torso, my arms, the backs of my legs, my scalp. But the worst, oh sweet mother Esiku, the worst of it is where the wings fold over my spine.
I’m being torn open in a hundred places at once, each line of my inked skin splitting like a ripe pomegranate.
Somewhere from inside the pain, white and scorching, I register the moment of imminent separation. I couldn’t stop it now even if I wanted to. And now that the rage has built, that it courses through me thicker and more life-giving than air or blood, I want to let it go.
The beast leaps from my shoulders, raking great talons across my already lacerated flesh as it takes flight.
I slump to the floor, bleeding and unable to do anything but watch, with a clinical sort of detachment, as a winged lion made of shadow lunges at the guards, claws extended. It slices limb from torso, rending hardened leather armour as if it is silk.
Some guards stand like statues, feet locked to the marble floor. Others cower and back away. The bravest prepare to fight. But their swords and spear points, even if they do connect, pass straight through.
The only prize each strike fetches is a howl of rage as the beast, part lion, part eagle, part me—
CHAPTER 41
Rakel
The guard with his blade to my throat takes a step back, his grip tightening.
Then it goes slack.
Because he’s running. Running as if his life depended on it.
The throne room erupts into chaos.
Above, a huge winged lion – ink black one moment, as translucent as smoke the next – swoops through the air, diving on the guards one by one, talons ripping and shredding with horrible wet tearing noises, spraying red in its wake.
Waves of stinking carnage swamp me – metallic blood and acid-sharp piss and panic-loosened bowls. I lurch over, hands on knees, and gag.
I glance to the Prince in front of me. He’s still unconscious. Maybe he’s a little more ashen, but his chest has begun to evenly rise and fall again. I dearly hope he’s returning from danger.
But I’m not.
And I’m not the only one.
Below the platform, halfway across the room, Ash lies splayed face down on the floor. Lacerations cover him from scalp to ankle, blood pooling on the floor around his prone body. I’m paralysed by the sight before instincts kick in. I’ve got to find a way to stop the bleeding.
I start moving towards him, crouched low, hoping the shadow circling above doesn’t decide to make me a target.
It wings nearer, then wheels away, diving on two guards standing back to back. Their shouted curses turn to the screams of dying men, until the roar of the beast cuts off their last voice.
“Rakel.” The voice is familiar. It comes from what I had thought to be another dead body strewn over the floor. There. A shock of gold-streaked hair.
“Esarik?”
Deep wounds have been gouged in the lower half of his torso, bloodied loops visible in the worst of them. The stench tells an undeniable truth. There’s nothing I can do for him.
“It’s all right,” he says through a gurgling cough. “I know I’m dying. But please. Do something for me?”
I hunker down next to him. “Of course.”
“Tell Nisai … I’m sorry.”
“What are you talking about?”
Tears of pain well in his eyes. “At first I refused. But they took Ami hostage. The fire… I thought smoke inhalation would be the worst… ”
“Who did, Esarik? You’re not making any sense.”
“Please. If he wakes, he’s in danger. The book? Where is the book?”
“Danger? From who?”
Esarik draws a ragged breath, moaning as it shifts his mangled torso. “I don’t know what they’ll do to Ami.”
“They still have her?”
The shadow beast wheels overhead and lunges for another knot of soldiers with a sickening, wet crunch.
“No time. There’s a letter. In my pocket. Take—”
He shudders and goes still, eyes staring undeniably into nothing.
Gingerly, I rifle through his robes. My fingers touch parchment.
Somebody grabs me by the arms. It’s only when they begin shaking me that I realize they’re shouting. With some effort I focus my eyes on the face before me.
Barden.
“There’s a servants’ staircase in the next room,” he says. “Behind the curtain. Get to the bottom and follow your nose to the kitchens. Take the path to the small gate where they bring in the supplies and you’ll be able to clear the walls. Find the residential sector. Go. Hurry.”
“But Ash. He needs me.”
Footsteps pound out in the hallway and more guards race into the room.
The pool of blood under Ash seeps further across the marble.
“Look at him! It’s too late. You won’t get another chance. If the guards regain control, you may live to see the dawn, but they won’t let you see many more. A trial will only be a formality.”
“Barden, I—”
“For anything we ever were, Rakel, go. Please.”
Though I want nothing more than to run to Ash’s side, he’d want me to stay the course, to keep fighting to save Nisai. Not just for the Prince, or for Ash, or Father or even me. But for something bigger. Something more important.
The chances of any of us getting out of this are slim at best. The chance of me being able to do anything to help them after today are slimmer. But there’ll be no chance whatsoever if I’m killed or taken prisoner here and now.
With one last look between Nisai and Ash, I make up my mind. Something inside me tears open, guilt flooding in. But it’s the only way.
I gather myself and give Barden a nod.
Then I run.
A great tapestry hangs in the next chamber. I don’t pause long enough to take in the scene. Sure enough, behind it is a narrow staircase, carved in stone and descending in a tight spiral. It’s lit by a series of mirrors capturing the light from a high window and smells faintly of the last time it was scrubbed down with vinegar and lemon. I take the steps two and three at a time, one hand against the curved wall to steady myself.
I descend flight upon flight, the doors that appear along the way gradually getting smaller and plainer.
Finally, the heat of the kitchens whooshes up to greet me. It bears the smell of baking Ekasyan bread. Ash’s favourite scent. The scent that he told me made him feel safe, warm, loved. Accepted for who he is.
It’s the scent that finally breaks me.
But if there was ever a time for crying, this isn’t it.
I swipe the tears from my cheeks and keep running.
CHAPTER 42
Ash
I’m not sure when I lost consciousness, but when I come to, the first thing I smell is death.
And I don’t care.
Because everything is pain.
My skin is split in so many places that each breath hurts a hundred times over. There’s another sensation, too, a more pleasant one. Like warm, soothing balm is being dripped across me in the bathhouse.
But it’s not fragrant oil. It’s blood.
The guards left standing are shouting at each other. In between, something growls and roars and there’s the terrible crunch of human bone breaking.
Then it’s quiet, quiet enough to hear nothing but the beat of huge shadowy wings. Quiet enough for me to hear my own life pumping slowly but inevitably on to the floor as my beast swoops and circles the air over me, searching for more prey.
Then there’s another shadow over me, and it’s much nearer, and it’s human. It’s that guard from the Aphorai palace. What was his name? I can’t remember. Did I ever know?
“Rakel” My voice feels foreign in my throat, as if it’s not my own. “Where is she?”
The guard’s face blanches as he looks down at me. “Gone. Escaped in the chaos.”
Relief washes over me, stronger than the pain, str
onger than the shock.
“Please,” I croak. “Please, just end it.”
He looks to the ceiling high above us, my eyes following his gaze, sure that this will be the last thing they ever register. Then he draws his sword.
The pain threatens to crowd out my thoughts.
But there’s still something beneath…
Her defiance in the face of the sandstorm. Her smile across so many campfires. Her voice guiding me from the caves and my own darkness. Our embrace at the Edurshai camp. Taking my hand as we sat on the Lautus causeway, legs dangling above the water. Warmth curled against me the night I shivered and sweated through the aftermath of testing the cure.
“Survive,” I whisper.
My chest lowers with a ragged breath.
I let my eyes close.
CHAPTER 43
Rakel
The main streets of the Ekasya imperial district splay down the mountain. From the peak, they seem like spokes of the starwheel and you’re at the centre.
When you’re not at the top, things get a lot more confusing.
I try to keep to the backstreets and away from the main boulevards. Criss-crossing my way down the slopes soon leaves me lost in a maze of shaded laneways. Balconies thick with vines block the sky, the houses crowding together. Jasmine sweetens the air, masking the unpleasant scents of the city.
But jasmine alone can’t mask the metallic stench of blood.
I come up against a dead end. How many of these blind alleys does this too-good-for-stink city have?
I cast around. Back up the alley, there’s a pile of clay sherds higher than me. Guess one of the buildings that backs on to here must be a potter. It’s a good enough place as any to hold up for a breather.
I slip behind the heap of broken clay and strip off my tunic, replacing it with the Chronicler’s linen robe I took from the Library of the Lost. That seems like turns, not moons ago. At least the change of clothes dilutes the blood stink.
In this city, even the alleys are sealed. I let myself sit on a sun-warmed paver – the few rays that make it past the hanging vines just enough to draw the chill from the black stone.
It’s quiet. Quiet enough to hear my racing heart begin to slow, to hear my own breath in my ears. The sounds of the city are still there, but they seem distant, muffled by the vegetation. In Aphorai, it’d be the kind of hush you’d only find in the most secluded of gardens.
I fish in my pocket for Esarik’s letter. The seal makes me hesitate, but any niceties flew on the breeze when Ash—
I don’t even want to think about what Ash did back there. What Ash is.
The letter is written half in what looks like Old Imperial, given its similarity to the formula scroll. The other half is in a language I’ve never seen. I slam the heel of my hand on the pavers in frustration. The movement dislodges something from the packet. It bounces, tinkling, across the lane.
A golden-brown bead.
Losian amber.
Esarik had tried to atone until the end.
What else had he said? Something about a book? Could he have meant Nisai’s journal?
I rummage in my satchel. I haven’t looked at it since the night we tested the poison, and Ash never mentioned it. I’m not sure if that’s because he didn’t notice it missing, or if he noticed and decided not to ask.
Now, thumbing through the pages, almost none of it makes sense. There’s at least three, maybe four different scripts, and I can only read the few snatches of imperial text.
Useless.
I bite back a scream of frustration. It’s been four long moons since I last saw my village. Three of them spent on the road. We heard snippets of news about Nisai the whole way, but that’s because he’s a Prince. I’ve no word of Father. And when I last saw him, the Rot seemed to be winning, eating higher and higher into his flesh…
My eyes ache with unshed tears at the possibility this could all have been for nothing.
I shake my head. If Father is gone, I’d be better off disappearing somewhere. Maybe even back to Lapis Lautus. I reckon I could make a living in the city on the sea. I’d open my own apothecary. Keep busy. Find solace in small things. I’d close up shop in the evenings and go down to the marina and watch the dolphins play. Pick up some cheese dumplings on the way for supper, the ones with the spicy sauce just like Ash showed me.
In Lautus I wouldn’t have to deal with whatever Ash and I have become. Or temples and palaces. Priestesses and princes. Poisonings and politics.
Journals in multiple languages.
Coded letters.
Shadow beasts—
Something wafts through my mind, like finally working out a complex perfume’s subtlest note after you’ve been smelling it for days.
I snatch up the notebook and flip the pages, desperate to find the right place before I lose the thought. There. Symbols. Like the ones scribbled on the formula scroll. And Nisai’s translated some of them into Standard Imperial.
I pull out the manuscript to compare with the notebook. Only two match, but it’s enough.
Shadow.
Beast.
I start pacing from one side of the alley to the other. Think, just think. There’s something I’m missing here. Something just out of reach, like trying to turn your head fast enough to see your own ear.
Then it clicks into place. Those Blazers weren’t after Nisai and the ransom he would bring when Ash and he were kids.
They were after Ash.
The Brotherhood of the Blazing Sun wanted a shadow warrior.
All the clues were there. The way Ash heals so quickly. The old pilgrim man talking about shadows. The illustrations in Nisai’s diary… Why Nisai would even want to meet alone with Sephine in the first place. Ash getting edgy when he ran out of Linod’s Elixir – I’d thought it was merely for his nerves and when he tried to explain, I’d reasoned everything away. Dismissed as impossible anything I’d not seen with my own eyes.
If only I’d smelled the forest for the pines and just listened.
I snap the book shut.
I’m only a few paces back down the alley when my nostrils flare. Huh? I could have sworn this was a dead-end.
Amber. Sweet orange. And the barest hint of tanner’s thyme.
A hand falls on my shoulder.
I slip its grip and spin around.
“Shhh. It’s me. It’s only me.”
I stamp my foot. Hard. It comes down on Barden’s toe.
He bites his lip and glares at me accusingly.
I retreat a step, my back finding the wall. “What in the sixth hell do you think you’re—”
He holds up both hands, a show of peace. “I couldn’t bear Aphorai after you’d gone. When Commander Iddo recruited extra guards to transport the Prince back to the capital, I seized the chance to go with them. I guess I proved myself, because I’ve been here ever since. Today, when the next lot of guards arrived, and we got the Prince out of the throne room, I slipped away.”
“But how did you know which way I’d gone?”
“You’re more predictable than you think, the way you move through a city, the things you avoid. I’ve always known how to follow you.” He looks as if he’s trying to smile, but it’s more like the sad look he gave me the night Nisai was poisoned. “If only I’d made more use of that, maybe we could have avoided getting caught up in all this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What if I’d stepped in sooner that night?”
I fold my arms. “Which night?”
“When you risked more than you realized. When you went to Zakkurus. I should have stopped you from even going into that place, saved you from doing something that—”
“Have you learned nothing?” It’s more exclamation than question. I throw up my arms. “You’ve always been trying to save me, like I’m a bunch of flowers to be cut and dried and kept safe in a vase for ever. You did what you thought was best for me. What about what I wanted?”
“I realize
that now. I do. But…”
“But what?”
“Just because I can’t go back and change things doesn’t mean I can’t be of help to you now. Does it?”
I eye him sceptically. “If I let you help, it has to be my way. Sure you can do that?”
Now his real smile appears, broad and white-toothed in the shade of the overhanging jasmine. “What do you need?”
“I need to get back into the palace.”
Barden huffs. “Have the stars stolen your wits?”
I hitch my satchel and push past him.
“Rakel, wait. I’m sorry. This will just take a bit to get used to. What do you need back there?”
“I have to find Ash.”
“Your partner in crime sealed his fate back in the throne room. Did you have any idea what he was going to do? Did you know what he was?” He spits the last word, horror and contempt combined.
It’s not his tone that makes me reel. It’s the word. Was.
“Is he…” My voice catches. I try again. “Ash, is he dead?”
“If he isn’t yet, he will be soon. Even if they don’t execute him, that was a lot of blood. A lot of it his.”
“But you didn’t see him die.”
“Rakel … he was in bad shape. That thing that came out of him, it…” He clears his throat, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “There was a lot of blood,” he repeats.
“But you don’t know.”
Barden takes a step back, his brows drawn together. “Why are you so… Do you have f—”
“You said you wanted to help? I need to get to Ash. He’s the key. I didn’t realize it before. But now I do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It worked before, Bar. The cure. It worked. We tested it. So why didn’t it work on Nisai?”
I pace back and forth across the alley. “It was never about an ingredient to counter each province’s poisons. The provinces didn’t even exist before the Founding Accord. It was an ingredient from each god. And the sixth ingredient was missing when I gave it to the Prince.”
“Six gods? But the Twins are as one.”
“Under the Empire, yes. But before that, there was the Lost God. Doskai.”
The Darkest Bloom Page 31
