Serpent's Blood (Snakesblood Saga Book 6)

by Beth Alvarez

  “May I be frank, Vicamros?”

  Vicamros held that breath a long time before he spoke. “The temple answers to you, Firal. If you have an opinion on the matter, I beg you to share it.”

  She nodded, a stray curl bouncing beside her ear. Rune fought the urge to tuck it back in place. “I believe your champion speaks the truth,” Firal said. “I have seen that sort of power only once before, and then, a long time past. Even if we were capable of overpowering her, our mages combined could not hold her captive for long. Whatever is done, it must be a quick strike.”

  On the east side of the table, Lord Survas cleared his throat. “May I speak, Your Majesty?”

  Rune struggled not to groan.

  Vicamros granted permission with a flick of his fingers.

  “I am a mage, as you know, with the blood of the Aldaanan strong in my veins,” Survas began.

  “So strong he adheres to the common ignorant pronunciation of Alda’anan,” Sera whispered. Again, she squeaked when Stal poked her ribs.

  Rune covered his mouth to hold back a bitter laugh.

  Oblivious, Survas sat taller and lifted his nose with a lofty sniff. “For mages to kill other mages is absolutely frowned upon.”

  “Which is precisely why Envesi needs to be put down.” Stal motioned toward Kytenia with an open, upturned palm. “Already two Archmages have been turned out of their schools and barely escaped with their lives. We have fared better than the leaders of the Grand College. We did not ask for this fight. She brought it to us. Are you to accuse us of being soul-blighted for destroying a murderer?”

  Survas gaped. “I said nothing of the sort! Merely that—”

  “That you would show her pity?” Firal challenged. “And do what, bow to her? Kneel at her monstrous feet?”

  Rune twitched at the choice of words.

  Beneath the table, Sera placed a reassuring hand on his thigh.

  “They are right in this situation, Survas.” Vicamros rested an elbow against the table and tapped his lips as he spoke. “You will find I’m much more diplomatic than my grandfather. What he couldn’t do with words, he achieved with his sword. But the time for words has passed. This woman comes at my people like a rabid dog and, as Stal said, she will be put down.”

  The sharp-faced councilor shrank in his seat, though disgust was clear in his expression.

  “How do you propose such a thing?” the woman representing the Royal City mages—Birna, Rune thought her name was—lowered her voice as she spoke. Her eyes darted to the people standing around the outer edge of the room. She would have preferred they meet in privacy, it seemed. Rune felt the same.

  He drummed his claws on the table. “Isn’t it obvious by now? Rhyllyn is needed here. He’s the only one who can work with the barrier. He has to stay here.” Rune needed him to stay. The idea of the seal on his power being unraveled was tantalizing, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. “There’s only one other mage in the Triad—or the southern trade kingdoms—who can deal with the kind of power she has at her disposal.”

  Firal met his eye and for a moment, he swore she looked sad.

  Kytenia shook her head. “While it does seem she hasn’t yet mastered her new abilities, going against her as you are is foolhardy.”

  “Right now, I’m the best chance you have,” Rune snapped back. “Otherwise you’ll all be cowering under the mage-barrier until Rhyllyn is old enough and capable enough to challenge her on his own. Foolhardy or not, I was already sent to Elenhiise to die. If that’s what it comes to, the only difference between this and why I was dragged off in chains is I get to die a hero.”

  The room fell into a hush. He smirked. “Sounds like a much better way to go, I think.”

  “You can’t possibly think you have a chance against her,” Kytenia protested. “With the seal on your power—”

  “Strength is only one part of this,” Rune interjected. “She has less control now than I did when I left Elenhiise thirty years ago. When it comes to raw power, she does have me outmatched. But I have precision she can only dream of right now, and all it will take is getting close.”

  “She’ll strike you down the moment she sees you,” Vahn said.

  Rune shook his head. “She won’t.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Trust me,” Rune murmured. “She won’t.”

  Vicamros nodded, then spread his hands. “Well then, ladies and gentlemen. It seems it’s time for war.”

  18

  Trade

  “Are you certain?” Kytenia’s voice came as little more than a whisper. One last invitation to change his mind.

  Rune ignored it. “Better this than scouting the southern continent for weeks.” Better to do something. To act and achieve. If nothing else, when all of this was over, he’d have fulfilled his obligation to Firal.

  Obligation. That was a funny word to cross his mind. Not that long ago, he would have resented the idea he owed her anything. Now his duty to her seemed as tight-woven into him as his Gift itself. Perhaps it had always been there, buried beneath his resentment. The longer he’d been in her presence, the closer to the surface it had come. Now, when he thought about dying for her, it didn’t seem so bad.

  There was a time he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Sacrifice on her behalf had been second nature, and his responsibility, besides. He’d been her husband. For all that he still carried her in his heart, she deserved to have him act like it.

  The mages stood in an arc around the archway used for Gating, awaiting the order. His party was small, but he didn’t need much. Kytenia, Temar, Anaide, and two of Vicamros’s mages would escort him to Ilmenhith. If all went well, they’d return, too. He worried most about Kytenia, but it was as useless to try and talk her out of it as it was for her to do the same with him.

  Across from the mages, his friends waited in a line. He turned to face them with a steel resolve.

  “Seems we only just did this,” Garam muttered as he clasped Rune’s arm and gave his shoulder a slap. “Hoped I’d never have to do it again.”

  Rune managed a smile. “You can only cheat death so many times. I trust our agreement still stands?”

  Garam glanced farther down the row and nodded.

  Rune nodded back and moved down the line.

  Sera raised her hand as if to slap him. Stal caught her arm, but not before Rune flinched. Then they laughed and embraced.

  Most of his farewells were swift; a handshake for Redoram, a silent embrace for Alira. None of them liked the plan the king had laid out, but they recognized they had few options.

  Vicamros clasped his arm like Garam had, though his grip was tighter and his face laden with grief. “If you decide you need assistance after...” He trailed off, then set his jaw and did not finish. He didn’t need to.

  “It’s been an honor to serve you. As it was an honor to serve your father.” This time, Rune couldn’t quite seem to smile. “I’d like to think that if Ilmenhith’s crown had fallen to me, I’d have been a king like you. But I think we both know I would have fallen short.”

  Vicamros laughed aloud. “Snake-heart. They should have called you silver-tongue.” He clapped him on the shoulder and then shoved him away.

  Rhyllyn stared at his feet, his jaw set and his shoulders tense as he tried for all the world to remain stoic. Rune stood in front of him in silence as he unstrapped his sword belt. He wrapped it around the scabbard, then held it out. Rhyllyn’s eyes went first to the jeweled hilt of the kingsword, then flashed to his brother’s face.

  “Don’t think I’ll need it again.” Rune grinned. “Just promise me you’ll give Redoram the chance to study it.”

  Rhyllyn took it and blinked hard.

  Now Rune had only one more treasure.

  He stood longest in front of Vahn and Firal, looking between them, unsure what to say. There was something cold and guarded in Vahn’s eyes again, something Rune couldn’t put a finger on. Hesitance, maybe. Or fear.

 
Rune couldn’t blame him for that. Their friendship had been forced to change the moment Vahn promised to look after Firal. Outside the council chamber, they hadn’t spoken. They’d barely exchanged words within it. And even then they weren’t words of friendship or so much as conversation, merely traded snippets of information to aid Vicamros in forming his plans.

  It was no wonder it made things awkward now.

  “Thank you,” Rune said at last, holding Vahn’s gaze as his eyes sparked with surprise. “For keeping your promise.”

  Then he turned to Firal. Expecting no words and sharing none, he lifted the strap from around his neck and pulled it off overhead. The rings he always wore chimed sweetly together, muted when he caught them in one hand.

  Firal’s lips parted with the beginning of a question, but Rune shook his head. Too long he’d held on, clinging to the past while the world moved on without him. He lifted her hand, pressed the rings into her palm and folded her fingers over them. He allowed himself one moment to savor that touch, her skin blessedly warm beneath his scales.

  Then he pulled away. “Open the Gate.”

  With her head bowed, Kytenia turned to face the archway. Power filled Rune’s senses as the mages linked, drew energy through a court mage’s access stone, and began the elaborate workings of what had always come so easily to him. Rune watched them work, envisioning the effort they put into it.

  Kytenia led the opening this time, while the other mages going on this voyage stood back. They needed to preserve their strength if they were to open another Gate to allow their escape. Rune could only help so much without arousing suspicion.

  Fragments of the air fell away to reveal the familiar Gating parlor in the palace, now devoid of mages.

  “Ready?” Kytenia asked.

  Still silent, Rune strode into the Gate.

  Envesi’s power lit up like a beacon in his senses the moment he was through. There was another presence, brighter and closer, but telling them apart was easy. One was pure energy, the kind of concentrated power he’d felt in Gate-stones and in the armillary at the Spiral Palace. The other was shadowed, sickly, with a note of chaos thrumming underneath. The nearer presence was his daughter, he assumed. He waited beside the door and tried to shut out her presence while the mages filed through the Gate behind him.

  “Do you think she’ll feel us coming?” Temar asked as the portal closed at her heels.

  Rune didn’t reply right away. The others weren’t as powerful, their presence—even in a group—barely a prick at his consciousness beside the others. It was like comparing stars to the two moons. One bright and constant, the other shadowed and shifting.

  “I don’t think so,” he murmured. “But once I start pulling power, she’ll certainly feel me.”

  “It’s not too late to turn back,” Kytenia said, earning herself a glare.

  “You have a job. Do it.” Rune strode ahead. His eyes searched the nooks and crannies of the halls as they walked. Only days before, the palace had been bursting with life. Now he didn’t see a single member of the staff. He didn’t feel anything, either. Giftless people didn’t put off much presence, but he could still feel their life force when they were nearby. The halls here were as dead as the catacombs beneath the ruins.

  “There she is,” Kytenia murmured as they neared the throne room, the rest of the group finally close enough to feel the impression of power.

  Rune nodded. “Seems she’s decided the throne room is a good place for her. We’ll go the long way and come in the front. Gives us more room in case you need to run.”

  “The queen would be sorely disappointed if we return without the child.” Anaide was pale as the soldier moon, but she kept her head high. Her mouth was pinched with a look of disapproval Rune decided was permanent.

  “No promises,” he said. “This way.”

  The lamps in the service passages were long since extinguished. He drew a small stone from his pocket and passed it to Kytenia, since she was closest. “Make light.” It was a minuscule task, but they couldn’t do anything that risked exposure of the limitation on his power. Not yet.

  Kytenia obliged, though she turned the stone between her fingertips and traced the shape etched into its surface. “What is this?”

  “A rock.” Rune smirked at the grumble behind his back. “And I want that back before you leave. Never know when I might need it.”

  She grinned. “You always were a mystery, weren’t you?”

  He led them unerringly through the narrow passages, down branching corridors and past shadowed doorways. For all the times Rune had used these hidden halls to escape the palace, he’d never expected to use them to get back in.

  They passed the throne room and descended a narrow staircase to emerge into a small front parlor. Though the palace appeared well-maintained at first glance, the finest traces of dust on the dark, polished wood table between couches betrayed the lack of service.

  Vahn had been gone for two days. In that span of time, either Envesi had sent the staff away, or they’d fled. Either way, it pointed to one cause. Whatever reason they left, the staff didn’t think their king would return.

  Perhaps they weren’t wrong.

  “Do not speak to her unless you must.” Rune paused outside the doors to the throne room to be sure the mages listened. “This is between the two of us. And if she frightens you, keep your head down.” His eyes settled on Anaide.

  She scowled, but did not object.

  Rune exhaled and opened the doors.

  It was not the triumphant return he’d always imagined. He’d never been given to fancy, but the thought of returning home one day was one of few dreams he’d allowed to persist. But there was no one to line the walkway, no one to cheer him or curse his name, regardless of the reason for his return. Save one woman in white, the throne room was empty. And despite her remarkable power, she was small.

  Envesi strode to the edge of the dais. That she’d been on the throne was no surprise, and that she refused to step down to meet them wasn’t, either.

  “Always one for a grand entrance, weren’t you?” Her voice echoed in the still, lending her more presence.

  “I’ve had few opportunities to walk these halls in my own skin. After so many years, I thought I deserved the chance to enjoy it.” Rune stopped at the foot of the dais. Even with the steps, she stood a scant few inches above him. He didn’t even have to lift his head to look her in the eye.

  Envesi had always resented her small stature—something Firal inherited from her, he supposed—but where Firal still managed to appear regal while standing eye to eye with him, Envesi only succeeded in looking angry.

  “I’ll be frank,” she said after a time. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Seems to be a common misconception. Unfortunately, I’m not that easy to kill.” He would have forced a smile, but her gaze wandered to the mages behind him. He cleared his throat. “I’ve come with a proposition. A trade.”

  Her eyes snapped back to him and she snorted a laugh. “What could you possibly offer me that I don’t already have?”

  Rune spread his hands with a shrug. “Me.”

  Envesi’s amusement faded.

  “I understand you have my daughter,” he said, turning to pace lazily in front of the dais. “And I imagine by now you’ve discovered the same problem I had with free mages. A connection with just one more mage and you’d be virtually unstoppable. One more person to draw through would give you every edge you need. But their power is too clean. It refuses your touch. Doesn’t it?”

  “An inconvenience,” she agreed, though her eyes narrowed. “Impossible to say, however, if my experiences with you would be any different.”

  He answered with a push of energy, a silent invitation to tie her Gift with his.

  Envesi’s lips pursed. Her eyes darkened with thought. Linking with him when he’d been the one to seek it would put him in command of the bond. A risk, if he turned against her. And vital for keeping his secret.

/>   “What’s the matter?” He smirked, knowing it would goad her. “Afraid you’ll be rejected again?”

  A spark of color flashed in her eyes and she seized his offering, interlacing their energies. The world came alive in his senses, all the flows around him open to his call once again. He pulled through her on purpose, stirring the wind and making streamers and tapestries flutter, forcing her to feel their combined strength.

  Then he snapped a barrier down between them, cutting her off and sheltering himself from her energy.

  Her lips curled back in a wordless snarl.

  “Bring me the girl,” he growled. “Let me send her to Firal. She’s already willing to make the trade. So long as I give her the girl, she won’t return. Ilmenhith will be mine. And I’ll be yours.”

  Envesi teetered at the edge of the dais and scowled. “You’ve never been what anyone would call compliant. What reason do I have to believe you’ll be cooperative now?”

  “Because we both know I’m not strong enough to overpower you now. We might be closely matched, but you have a lot more experience than I do.”

  Her scowl softened until the faintest traces of smug approval curved her lips. Then she caught it and wiped the pleasure from her face.

  “Besides,” he went on. The color in his eyes flickered. He let it. “This benefits both of us. You want the power to perpetuate our abilities. I want my father’s throne. Right now, we’re in a position to make both those things happen.”

  He climbed the steps and crossed to the pair of silver thrones behind her. He drew a claw over the sapphire set in the taller of the two, meant to represent a star over the ruler’s head. “All it takes is giving over a child who is useless to your cause.”

  Envesi’s jaw tightened and she eyed him, considering.

  Rune curled his claws into his fist and lowered his hand. “You think Firal will fight me for it.”

  “I think you’re weak,” she said. “Especially when it comes to that woman.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that anymore. She hates me. She even said as much.” He allowed himself a small chuckle and bowed his head. “I suspect she always has. She was only interested in me after she knew who I was. At the first opportunity where she could free herself, she had me sentenced to death. Less than a month later, with me out of the way, she remarried.”