Blood Mercy (Blood Grace Book 1)

by Vela Roth

  Solia’s pendant had swung out of hiding as Cassia had changed and now swayed at her neck as she knelt before the fireplace. She clutched it in one hand, and ivy leaves pressed into her palm. A whisper of awareness teased her skin. Another memory rose in her mind unbidden.

  A lady always keeps ivy.

  As Solia tucked the last strands of her hair under the net, Cassia caught sight of the talisman on her sister’s chest. Ivy leaves peeked at her through the fabric of Solia’s tunica. Her sister saw her peering at it and knelt at her eye level, pulling out the symbol. She set it in Cassia’s hand. Cassia shivered as if she’d jumped in a warm bath. The wood felt nice, like a handful of good dirt that had been sitting in the sun. She peered at the scratchings around the ivy symbol. “Are those letters too? Can I learn to read them?”

  “They are a very, very old kind of letters. Even I don’t know what all of them mean.”

  “Mage King letters?” Cassia had asked, wide-eyed.

  “No, his queen’s letters,” Solia had whispered. “It’s a women’s secret. Just between us.”

  Cassia had grinned in delight. She loved all the secrets her sister shared with her. She loved being trusted.

  A lady always keeps secrets.

  Now Cassia looked at her sister’s secret pendant in the afternoon light, and although she still could not read the words, she had a new appreciation for what they might mean. The Mage King’s wife had been a powerful sorceress in her own right. A Silvicultrix, wise in Lustra magic, ancient power that could not be Ordered. The old magic of plants and beasts was a lost art like the letters on the ivy pendant, unless you believed the tales wizened village alchemists told in the back corners of the kingdom to give their great-grandchildren a scare.

  The Changing Queen might have needed her own garden once she left the wilds and consented to live in her husband’s halls of stone. Cassia could only wonder if these chambers had not always been given to the king’s eldest daughter. Rooms and their purposes had a way of changing in that much time. There was no way to know. But she knew what the aspiring queen of her time had taught her.

  A lady always honors the queen.

  “Baat, Knight. I need you to stay here and watch my back.” She heard him flop onto the carpet behind her, as if even after all these years it were the most natural thing in the world. Not that anyone would sneak up on her in here. But it felt good to know Knight would be waiting for her when she came back out.

  She stepped into the fireplace, and ash shifted under the slippers that were too big for her. She put her hands out before her and braced them on the hearth’s back wall. She ran her fingers over row after row of stone, feeling for an opening, tracing paths in the soot.

  “A lady always keeps secrets,” she breathed. “A lady always keeps ivy. A lady always dresses correctly. A lady always honors the queen…”

  What did Cassia know about the Changing Queen, besides the lost words that now hung about her own neck? All she had to go on were a lot of overwrought ballads.

  “The Changing Queen. Also sung of as the Life of Tenebra. The Hawk of the Lustra. The Mage King’s Mage. The Sun’s Wife. The Warrior’s Heart.” Cassia dug her nails into the mortar between two blocks that would not budge. She plowed the depths of her memory for any other name, title or honor that might apply to the ancient queen.

  “There’s one thing none of her epithets mention. It’s associated with her, isn’t it? It’s in the garden, on the fountain and the pendant, even on the throne…ivy. Hedera.” Cassia smacked her palms against the stones. “But the Changing Queen’s people would have called it something else, wouldn’t they? That old word rural Tenebrans still use, which so confused me when I was learning their ways of gardening. Ebah?”

  Cassia’s hands sank through solid stone into empty space.

  Cassia’s Treason

  Cassia walked through the stone at the back of the hearth as if it were one of Lio’s illusions. The moment her entire body was on the other side, all daylight disappeared.

  She turned around. In the gloom, she could just make out the solid wall that cut off her view of Solia’s bedchamber and Knight and the sun. Her hand darted out as if of its own accord. She watched it disappear into the stone. It felt nothing like moving through the ward around the Summit pavilion. In fact, she couldn’t feel the wall at all.

  When a familiar nose snuffled the tips of her fingers through her glove, she grinned in relief. She could get back through, and Knight would be waiting for her. She reached far enough to give him one last pat on the head, then pulled her hand back and faced the tunnel.

  What little light there was came, she realized, from her. She glanced down. Solia’s odorous tunica gave off a faint, soft glow like a gentle fire. Flametongue indeed.

  Cassia moved forward as hastily as she dared in unfamiliar territory. But she found no soot, no rats and no side passages down which she might become lost, only an inaudible whisper everywhere. Magic. In the pendant at her neck, she felt…an answer. As if it were a plant turning toward the sun.

  A sensation of heat made her slow her steps. She put a hand near the wall beside her, careful not to push through. Warmth radiated from the stone. The wall behind a hearth should feel hotter than this, but through Solia’s glove, it was merely pleasantly warm.

  Cassia pressed her ear nearer the wall and listened. The rumble of male voices, at least half a dozen. She picked out the timbres she recognized. The king’s soldiers. This must be one of the antechambers that served as a guardroom. She was getting closer.

  Soon the tunnel did bring her to a side passage, which led to the left. She made a mental note of where it was and stayed in the main tunnel. Before long, she came to a right-hand passageway. She must take care not to become lost.

  She tried to keep the layout of the royal wings in her mind as she proceeded, but she was familiar only with Solia’s rooms and the king’s solar, which left gaps in her mental map where Caelum’s and the late queen’s chambers were. The truth was, in this strange, magical non-hallway, inside the palace but apart from it, Cassia was not entirely certain the usual logic applied. This was the old magic. Was up still up and down still down? Were left and right where they had been a moment ago?

  A lady always tries to understand what’s going on.

  Cassia paused to consider how best to navigate and how she might mark the passages she had already explored. In the silence devoid even of her footsteps, the sound of a familiar voice drew her attention. It was moderate in volume, as always, but she would know those measured, nasal tones anywhere.

  She followed Amachos’s voice around a corner and to a place against the wall where she could best hear it. She could not make out his words through the stone, only the timber and modulation that characterized his way of speaking. When abrupt words joined his, Cassia did not jump. She felt only satisfaction. That was the king’s voice. She had found him.

  His secrets were hers for the taking.

  A lady always listens carefully.

  Cassia leaned near the wall, and heat flushed her skin from without and within at the knowledge of her own brazenness. Shutting her eyes, she eased her body sideways through the thick layer of stone.

  Amachos’s muffled words became distinct sounds she could hear over the crack and snap of a fire. Her ear was through. The mage spoke in the Divine Tongue, not with the formal cadence of a prayer, but the naturalness of conversation. With whom?

  She held still, uncertain whether she should pass any further through the barrier. The knowledge that she stood with most of her body inside a wall disoriented her, and she kept her eyes shut. She had no desire to open them and find her vision filled with stone, even though she knew it could not bury her.

  She felt half deaf without facial expressions and body language to reveal to her the other meanings of the conversation in the solar. She couldn’t even see to whom Amachos was speaking. But if she went any further through the wall, wouldn’t they see her? How much protection did the mag
ic offer?

  A lady can walk through fire.

  Cassia could not afford caution. She had made that decision already. She had come here today to risk everything.

  Her heart pounding, she tucked her elbows against herself, turned toward the room, and leaned. Forward…just a little more…

  When she opened her eyes, she found herself face-to-face with a member of the royal guard.

  He looked right at her, but his eyes did not meet hers. His gaze slid over her and away. He crouched and turned to the side, reaching for something next to the hearth. A stick of firewood, which he tossed into the flames. Cassia jumped as a shower of sparks leapt up at her.

  The guard stood, dusted off his hands, and returned to his place at the wall.

  Could it be this easy? She took a deep breath and stepped out of the wall.

  A fire roared at her feet. Flames bathed her body in warmth, and the soft linen of Solia’s tunica swayed against her skin like the rippling air. It was ticklish. Cassia felt the wild urge to laugh.

  The king sat a mere pace away in his great oaken chair, holding real court on his true throne, and he could not see her. As Cassia watched him, he leaned back against the padded leather and gazed into his fire.

  He was gazing at his own worst enemy.

  Cassia had seldom felt so certain of anything in her life. Here and now, she promised herself. This was the first step, but only the first. She would not stop. She would not be stopped.

  She, Cassia, would defeat the king.

  He glanced across his desk, and she followed his gaze to the royal mage. Amachos stood with his head bent, in conversation with his apprentice. The young man listened, nodding. Then he swallowed.

  On Amachos’s other side, a soldier waited. He turned to give the mages a steely glare, and Cassia saw his maimed eye. The prison warden.

  “He’s beneath your concern, Your Majesty,” the jailer said.

  “Not a living creature or a single corpse in my domain is beneath my concern.”

  “His leg went bad, Your Majesty. He was mad with pain and fever from the moment he came in. Too ill to notice anything or give it credence if he did.”

  Cassia’s gut clenched. Callen.

  Amachos lifted his head. “You are certain?”

  “Yes, Honored Master. No room in my line of work for being uncertain. I make sure dead men die. I make sure they don’t talk, either, except to us. As you know, I make them talk a great deal to us.”

  “I have instructed my apprentice to take care of the guard, if necessary.” Amachos leveled his gaze at the young mage. “This would be a valuable opportunity for him to test his skills—and prove them.”

  “Not necessary.” Lucis delivered his verdict. “The guard was Hadrian’s before he came under my direct command. The girl he wants for a wife is also in my service. Regardless of what he saw, he knows better than to speak out of turn.”

  Cassia exhaled, and her veil rippled before her face.

  Amachos pursed his lips. “Very well. Even if this Callen were lucid enough to see anything and fool enough to repeat it, what would others make of such wild tales? A half-dead guard ranting about a respected mage from Namenti? Who would take his word over mine?”

  Cassia smiled.

  “His only visitors since he got out have been the future wife and his new lady.” The warden snorted. “Doubt he’d make himself a laughingstock to the two females about to start giving him orders.”

  Snickers came from another part of the room. Cassia peered in that direction. The guards at the door.

  Her smile widened. Of course, she and Perita were just a couple of foolish women, the new bane of Callen’s existence. Not a threat in the least.

  “That is all,” said the king.

  Amachos muttered something else to his apprentice.

  The guards tramped out of the room, and the young mage slunk after them. The soldiers and the apprentice had left the master and the king alone.

  “So, Honored Master Dalos,” Lucis prompted.

  Cassia reasoned the mage’s ruse would not be complete without a false name. Amachos from Namenti was really Dalos from Cordium.

  “I have sufficient evidence to proceed,” the mage stated. “The confessions of the prisoners I interrogated and especially the inside information from my trusted source are more than enough. It is time I apprehended the remaining Eriphites and took action against those who have harbored them.”

  The Eriphites? Those were the heretics he was after?

  Dared Cassia believe Cordium had sent him for that reason? It seemed too much to hope he would go after human prey when he had the greater prize of the Hesperines before him.

  Could it be that the Cordian Order of Anthros was not ready for war? Perhaps their lackey Dalos, when faced with seven of Hespera’s Gifted, was simply too afraid to challenge them. Too weak in magic to stand against their power.

  Perhaps everything would be all right after all.

  The king picked up the jeweled goblet in front of him and took a swig. “A trivial matter.”

  “Beneath me, in fact. To think, from the entire Cult of Eriphon, there are only two dozen survivors, and all of them children.”

  Cassia’s mouth went dry. It couldn’t be.

  “The concerned parties in my Order would say that left untended, they will prove ample seed to grow the corrupted vine anew. If even a single sprout of a virulent weed is not put to the pyre, the infestation will return, and so forth. Your own magistrates will tell you they are thieving brats who will grow into violent bandits. In some of the free lords’ domains here in Tenebra, isn’t it still legal to hang thieves, regardless of their age?”

  “No need to sentence them in my courts. It is a matter of temple law, which I leave in your hands.”

  “Excellent, Basileus. I will deliver them to the Temple at Namenti as I promised the Prismos there, as my payment for his cooperation with my appointment. It’s astonishing the Eriphite cult has resisted the Tenebran mages of Anthros for generations, yet I have succeeded in tracking down every last one of them in a matter of fortnights.”

  “Once I fully open my borders to the Cordian Orders, I am certain the competency of Tenebran mages will improve under your guidance.”

  “Their competency and their obedience. Beginning with the nearby Temple of Kyria. It is an outrage they have been harboring the brood of heretics all along. Such a thing would never occur in Cordium. This is what comes of too much self-determination, especially among females.”

  “Who is your source inside the temple?”

  “A mage called Irene. At least one of the women there knows her duty. She took it upon herself to investigate suspicious activity in the temple and discovered the Prisma’s crimes. Irene is clever to take advantage of the opportunities I have the power to promise her, rather than tie her future to the insubordinate. She will be useful when I enact my reforms.”

  “You have succeeded in cultivating supporters already, I see.”

  Cassia clenched her hands into fists. Irene. How could she do such a thing to the women with whom she’d spent her life? They were her temple family, who had cared for her and tried to help her be happy in the life she had not chosen.

  How could she sentence children to death?

  Cassia didn’t know. She was so glad to realize that. She couldn’t imagine doing such a thing.

  She could imagine destroying the few prospects available to the seamstress’s bastard. Bringing Lord Adrogan’s fury down on his concubine. Treating Perita with cruelty. She could also imagine what more might one day have seemed necessary, even acceptable.

  But what seemed necessary to her now was to protect the children, to stand with the women of the temple, to not squander Perita’s trust. The only course that seemed acceptable was to burn Dalos’s plans to the ground before his very eyes. The Prisma had her own useful informants, and one of them was standing here, discovering Dalos’s crimes.

  “I will remove the children and make
an example out of the Prisma and her supporters first thing tomorrow. I trust I can rely on you to ensure your subjects mount no resistance on the temple’s behalf. I gather this temple is nearly as beloved as Namenti, and most of the mages there come from the ranks of the nobility.”

  The king’s hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword. “After tonight, the free lords will not be in a position to wring their hands over the activities of the daughters they have stashed away inside the temple walls.”

  For the first time, Cassia heard Dalos laugh. There was more expression in that one cackle of laughter than in any of his recitations at dawn rites. The sound sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Your thoroughness never ceases to amaze me, Basileus. We shall work well together indeed. I have yet to meet a lord, prince or king who rejoices more in destruction.”

  “I am not a man who rejoices. Merely one who is not hesitant to act. You can guarantee the spell will be as effective as you promised?”

  “Effective? It will be devastating.” Dalos sounded self-satisfied, not unlike the king’s chief architect when he pronounced a round of renovations complete. “As I explained, I have seated the magic in the throne, which is still potent with latent power from the time of the Mage King. The Hesperines will not recognize the threat until it is much too late.”

  Oh, it had been too much to hope the Eriphites were Dalos’s real target. Far, far too much to hope.

  “I did not plan this for so many years to proceed in haste now,” the king said. “If the time since the Summit began has not been sufficient to build your spell to the necessary strength, you still have a fortnight to perfect the working. Are you certain we should act tonight?”

  “I have had plenty of time to make ready,” Dalos purred, “and it will take only an instant to release. This will be the last night of the Summit.”

  “I require you to be certain before you enact your spell. Are you absolutely confident in your assessment of the Hesperines’ power?”