Idiot wolf, she’d say. Let Me handle this.
If only. Instead I surveyed the group watching me with confusion and bitterness. I’d lost them their queen. Of course they hated me.
“What kind of weapon and define serious damage,” Brenda said.
“A vurgsten device,” I clarified, “with enough power that I can kill Anure with it if I get within a reasonable distance.”
“Hmm.” Percy tapped a long nail against his lip, both painted dusky violet to match the mourning clothes he wore, eyes sharp on me. “No plan to rescue Her Highness first?”
I decided against pointing out that he was the one dressed as if his queen were already dead. Ibolya had asked if I wanted the violet mourning clothes, but I declined and put on my usual black. She’d smiled, making me think she approved.
I also slept—fitfully and not long—on the couch in my dressing room. I couldn’t face the bed I’d shared with Lia. “The weapon would be for after that. If I can get inside the citadel, maybe I can get in the same room with Anure and take him out. But rescuing Lia would be top priority. It’s just that…” I doubted she or Sondra would be alive. “I have to get to Yekpehr first.”
“How do you propose to travel there?” Brenda asked. She sat back, arms crossed, a black scowl etched onto her face.
“Sailing ship, unless you have another suggestion.”
“You’re still days from having one seaworthy,” she replied, not surprising me that she knew.
“The shipbuilders are working as fast as they can,” I said, reining in my impatience. She and Percy exchanged a look. Lia probably could’ve interpreted it, but I couldn’t. I ticked off the points of order on my hands. “Once the ship is seaworthy, I can sail to Yekpehr, get into the citadel, attempt to locate Her Highness, and assess—”
“And Lady Sondra,” Brenda inserted.
I met her gaze and nodded solemnly, appreciating that she’d said so. I hadn’t wanted to rank my friend and lieutenant with their queen. “And Sondra. If they’re alive, I’ll see if they can be extracted. I don’t know how that will go as no one here has ever been inside the citadel and—”
“I have.” Agatha’s thin voice shouldn’t have had the volume to interrupt me, but her statement acted like a blade, cutting me short, and stunning the gathering.
“I didn’t know,” Brenda said quietly, stretching a hand toward Agatha, but the slight woman only huddled deeper into the colorful shawl drawn around her shoulders, avoiding the touch.
“All this time, all those boring days with nothing to do, you’ve hoarded a story like that?” Percy exclaimed. “I’ll never forgive you.”
Agatha actually smiled, though it was wobbly, and immediately faded when she looked at me. “I can guide you to the prisoners.”
“Good,” I said. “You can draw me a map.”
“No, I’ll go with you.”
Brenda muttered something darkly. I had to agree, looking at the enervated slip of a woman. Agatha threw Brenda a defiant glare, then returned her gaze to me. “Her Highness saved my life, and Sondra has become a friend. We don’t have any idea where the two of them will be. I have friends there, on the inside, and they will know. No map can substitute for that.”
I nodded, unwilling to argue, especially when my own judgment had turned out to be so very bad. I was the last person to turn down help at this point. “If the queen and Sondra are alive, we’ll find them and get them out,” I said.
“Even if Her Highness is dead, you must bring Her back to Calanthe,” Dearsley said, speaking up for the first time. Lia’s old adviser sagged in his chair, nearly broken by these events, and peered blearily at me. “Her body cannot remain in Anure’s hands.”
“Lord Dearsley.” I frowned at him, not in small part because the idea of seeing and touching Lia’s lifeless corpse was nearly more than I could contemplate. “I can try, but—”
“You must,” he insisted. “Even if She’s been buried. Dig up Her body and return it to Calanthe. It’s critically important. Please, Conrí.”
“I will do my best then to see that her body returns to Calanthe, if the queen cannot be saved.” I’d hedged my promise there. If Lia was dead, there was no reason for me to return. The surest way to kill Anure would be to detonate the weapon on my body. Maybe my death could be more effective than my worthless life had been.
“So what are you thinking for this weapon?” Brenda leaned forward, capable hands knotted. “A ‘reasonable distance’ could mean a lot of things, and no one is letting you that close to Anure. You’d need enough to clear a good-sized throne room, and we don’t have a lot of vurgsten left. Mostly the small amounts you lot gave us to experiment with.”
“He doesn’t need much,” Percy pointed out, toying thoughtfully with a piece of his costume. “He wouldn’t need to annihilate the entire room. All he needs is to get near Anure and have easy access to a trigger—like that device Agatha’s been working on—and boom!” He fluttered his long nails dramatically.
“It could work,” Agatha allowed. “I can refine it on the ship, then set it up with Conrí, once we assess the options. But, Conrí, I don’t know that I can add an effective delay. You’d maybe be too close to the device when it went off.”
“If Lia is dead, that part won’t matter,” I said flatly.
They sat in silence, contemplating me. “And if she’s alive?” Brenda asked.
“I’ll figure something out.”
She met my gaze, and finally nodded at whatever she saw there. “I can help you, too,” Brenda told Agatha and Percy. “But the ship still won’t be ready for days.”
“Well…” Percy drew out the word, raising his brows at Brenda.
She looked surprised. “Would you?”
Percy shrugged. “Her Highness is our dear queen. How could I not? She saved my life, too,” he added, looking at Agatha.
“I’m impressed, Percy,” Brenda commented drily. “I thought you were irretrievably selfish.”
“I am,” Percy snapped. “Don’t tell anyone—you’ll ruin my reputation.”
“Does someone want to tell me what we’re talking about?” I asked with considerable patience, considering the drumming of my heart.
“I have a life raft,” Percy admitted.
“We’ll need something bigger than that.”
“A big life raft.” He stared me down with a glittering gaze, daring me to make something of it. “The Last Resort. A yacht, really. Not huge, but top of the line. She’s fully stocked and ready to go. Call it a … habit of paranoia. I like knowing it’s there.”
“So you can run away,” Brenda said, though without rancor.
“To live another day and all that, yes, darling.” He looked at me again. “Take it. Bring them back.”
Agatha stood. “I’ll pack my things. We leave today?”
I glanced at Percy, who shrugged. “Leave in an hour if you like. The ship is ready and the tide is good.”
Brenda stood, too. “I’ll get everything together. Agatha will have to take the pieces with her.”
“Conrí?” Ibolya stepped up as I turned to go. She’d come along to serve refreshments, unobtrusively faithful to what Lia would have expected. “May I come with you?” she asked when I raised a brow at her.
“It won’t be an easy journey.”
“I don’t plan to leave the yacht, Conrí,” she assured me. “But if you retrieve Her Highness, either way, she’ll need tending. It’s my duty to be there.”
“All right.” I nodded as I said it. “Either way, I think Lia would appreciate that.”
* * *
As they had for the last several days, the Imperial Guards had chained and then carried me to the wizards’ workrooms, leaving Sondra locked in our cell. I loathed those workrooms, and every day, as I weakened more under their determined torture, my terror of them grew. All part of their strategy, of course. But knowing that didn’t make me any stronger.
“Your Highness.” The wizard who always wo
re red, and had turned out to be the most senior, greeted me with a bow. The other three hung back in a circle around a polished slab with ominous runnels carved into it, likely for carrying blood to the urns perched under each corner. This was new. So far they’d focused on extracting the secret of the orchid’s transfer from me.
“I hope You’re feeling recovered from yesterday’s experiments?” the wizard asked, his gaze fastened on the orchid at my wrist.
I nearly laughed in his face. The “experiments” had involved them trying to force their way into my mind while they applied various tortures to try to break my mental guards. My father’s training had finally served me well, though, and even they hadn’t been able to melt the ice I’d walled myself in with. Fortunately, they couldn’t afford to torture me too much, for fear that, in my weakened state, I’d die on them. That was all that had saved me so far.
They’d given me two days at first, during which I mostly slept, drank water, and then ate what Sondra coaxed me to. We saw no one other than the Imperial Guards who replenished our food and water—both in plentiful amounts. Sondra turned out to be quite the effective combination of martinet and nursemaid. She didn’t care if either of us was hungry. Until we made the decision to die, she declared, we would take the opportunity to strengthen ourselves as much as possible.
It had gotten so she pushed food in front of me with such regularity that I finally suggested if we survived this—which of course we wouldn’t—and she needed a new job, she could be a walking timepiece.
Not at all bothered by my irritated remark, she’d taken to making ticking noises when she set another plate in front of me.
But no, I was far from recovered, and they knew it, predatory gazes glittering over their false smiles. I was the weakest I’d been, despite Sondra’s best efforts—and close to breaking, all a result of the wizards’ meticulous assaults.
As I hadn’t replied, the red wizard stepped aside, gesturing to the slab and giving me a clear view of it—and of the tray of wicked-looking instruments and other alchemical devices. This would be very bad indeed. I already sagged in the grip of the guards, not strong enough to stand on my own, but it felt as if all my bones went to water.
“Queen Euthalia, You must understand what You face here,” the red wizard said. “It would be in Your best interests to cooperate. We cannot be certain You will survive this procedure.”
And there it was. The orchid on my wrist sizzled in response to the magic of the four assembled wizards, as it always did. But though I took comfort in its tangible magical presence, I still had no idea how to use it to help myself. Sondra had nagged me to death—ha!—about that, too. Obviously it was a powerful tool, as these wizards wanted it so badly.
I had tried to communicate with the orchid, making wishes and pleading with it until my bones ached from exhaustion and my stump burned with such an itching fire that Sondra had to tie my other hand down while I slept so I wouldn’t tear off the bandages and reopen the wound with my furious scratching. My jeweled nails had long since fallen off, but the natural ones on my remaining hand had grown extravagantly quickly in the last few days. Like rose-colored thorns, they curved into wickedly sharp tips. If only I could wish poison into them.
I could wish for many things.
“Does His Imperial Majesty know of what you plan to do to Me?” I inquired haughtily as possible for a woman dangling helplessly in the grip of two Imperial Guards, a last gambit. I would die on that slab, I felt it in my bones, and without putting a scratch on Anure. “I’m still Queen of Calanthe. He needs Me.”
The red wizard assumed an expression of regret. “I’m afraid He doesn’t, Your Highness. Once His Imperial Majesty understood what the Abiding Ring can give Him…” He lifted his hands and gave me a cold, cruel smile. “Between us, He was in quite the rage that He waited so long to claim Your hand in marriage, only to discover it had never been necessary at all. Thus, my colleagues and I have been given full permission to do whatever it takes to recover the Abiding Ring. Give us the secret of transference, and You might live. If You refuse, I guarantee nothing. It would be a terrible waste to destroy a creature of Your particular nature. We appreciate You, even if His Imperial Majesty doesn’t. Cooperate and You can stay with us. We’d take excellent care of You.”
The other wizards nodded, smiling warmly. The avid gleam in their eyes made me think they’d keep me captive to explore my “particular nature.” Through that lens, living sounded less attractive all the time. “Syr Wizard,” I said in my most regal tone, though my voice was as cracked as Sondra’s from screaming, “as I’ve repeatedly explained, the orchid transfers itself.”
“Upon the wearer’s death, yes. We have some ideas there.”
He waved for the guards to put me on the table. The big men lifted my slight and heavily chained self without effort. Hoping desperation would have a galvanizing effect, I made a final attempt to free myself—or at least take some of them with me—and tried reversing their energy. Once second nature for me, that skill had disappeared with my connection to Calanthe. Away from Her, I’d been reduced to nothing. Death would come as a relief, to be honest, a true surcease, and not just from physical pain.
The stone was cold and hard against my barely fuzzed scalp, and chilled my skin through the thin gown they’d given me when they took away everything else. The guards locked me onto the table, then withdrew at the black wizard’s command.
I stared up at the ceiling as the four wizards gathered around me. The guards had strapped down my left arm with several bands and the wizards peered at the orchid, greedy curiosity sharpening their faces.
“Our plan, Queen Euthalia,” the red wizard informed me, as one of my scholars might discuss an interesting text, “is to bring You as near death as possible, to determine if we can trigger the artifact into transferring itself. I can’t promise it will be completely painless, but we have no wish to torture You. Not anymore.”
I had to suppress a sarcastic remark at that. Amazing that I still had the spirit for it. I supposed that was all I had left: my twisted sense of humor, an array of regrets, and the hollow, aching emptiness where Con had been.
The purple wizard fiddled with something outside my peripheral vision, then nodded to the other wizards. The blue and black wizards took up sharp instruments and made quick slices at my good wrist and both ankles. It hurt, but nothing like what I’d already endured. Being punched in the face had been more alarming. That spoke to something about my fears and my instinctive lack of judgment in determining what sort of injury should truly capture my attention. My blood dripped into the urns with a steady cadence, almost musical, and loud in the otherwise quiet room. Then I felt the dread—far too late, I chided my instincts—as the blood loss registered. Nausea rose up, thick and oily, and my heart thundered, trying to keep up.
“We’re capturing Your blood,” the red wizard assured me, his hand grasping my left arm, conveniently near the orchid, “just in case this experiment doesn’t work the first time. This apparatus is quite ingenious.” He dipped his chin at something I couldn’t see, which was just as well. “Using it, we can replace the blood in Your body and bring You back to life again. We realize that finding the exact trigger for the transference might take several trials to get correct.”
Stars pricked my vision, blackness overtaking me, a terrible weakness saturating my limbs.
“We’re using magic to keep You balanced on the knife-edge of life and death,” the wizard continued conversationally. “So You might feel Yourself passing back and forth over that barrier as we attempt to pinpoint the exact condition for transference. Feel free to share Your observations, which might be excitingly unprecedented. We are taking extensive notes. Also, if You talk, we can better assess Your state of mind.”
I didn’t reply. Even if I could find the strength to speak, it would be to spew obscenities to match these foul men’s souls. And as it looked like this would be the end of me and I hadn’t broken yet, I needed all of
my concentration to keep it that way. I kept thinking of Con, though, of the fire in his golden eyes, and the strength in his scarred body. How he’d held me and learned to be tender …
The red wizard tapped me sharply on the forehead. “I’m disappointed, Your Highness. You have such a reputation for sponsoring knowledge and research of all kinds. Your interest in attracting a wizard to Calanthe spread far and wide, within certain discreet circles, of course.” He gave me a conspiratorial wink. I could only count myself and Calanthe lucky that this vile magic worker hadn’t turned up on Our shores. “Surely You would want to contribute to this grand experiment. It could be Your last contribution to the world. We could name it for You! The Euthalia Method.”
I swam in a miasma of darkness and blazing heat. I hadn’t expected blood loss would make me so hot. Or perhaps that was the magic. The wizards fell into discussion among themselves, at least leaving me alone. A pinprick in my throat announced that they’d decided to add my own blood back in, a glow of magic accompanying it. The stump of my wrist itched and ached with distracting fury. Absurdly, being unable to scratch at it bothered me almost more than anything.
A convulsion wrenched through me, agonizing to my battered body and alarming the wizards. Good. Maybe I would die. The prospect seemed more restful than frightening now. Sondra would be freed of her vow, and hopefully the orchid would die with me, without transferring. I’d been careful not to think anything that would will it to move, just in case it would respond to my thoughts. I’d failed to take Anure to face Yilkay’s judgment with me, but at least I’d kept the artifact out of the hands of these wizards with their terrible scorpion stingers.
At least Con hadn’t come after us. It helped to know he, at least, would live.
Smiling at the wizards’ voices raised in consternation and accusation, I reached out to Vesno with the last of my life energy. Though I hadn’t been able to feel his mind lately—I’d been too weak, and the walls of the citadel too thick and poisonous—I prayed to Ejarat that the wolfhound could still hear me. I gave Vesno all of my love for Con, and for Calanthe, hoping to pass that message along.
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