Lifemarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 5)

by David Estes

  Whisper held up her blade. “The only problem: No one knows of your challenge, auntie. Who’s to say you ever issued it?”

  The deadly promise in Whisper’s tone sent a chill through Raven, and she was certain her sister would kill their aunt in cold blood if she had the chance. Oh, sister, I am sorry I couldn’t protect you from the harsh reality of this world.

  “I have an associate,” Viper said. “An associate who will make public my claim in two days hence. So if I’m dead…”

  Her aunt didn’t need to finish the threat. She knew how seriously her people took the law. If Raven or Whisper were involved in the unlawful death of one who’d made a lawful claim on the throne, their lives would be forfeit too. Then again, any of Viper’s soldiers from the fighting pits who were loyal to her had also been imprisoned. Unless one or more of them had pretended to turn against her…

  “Fine,” Raven said. “I shall contact Citadel and get an answer. If I must, I will fight you. And I will kill you.”

  For the first time in days, Whisper offered her a smile, full of a harsh beauty that, Raven had to admit, was becoming on her.

  Viper, however, only laughed, the sound echoing after them down the corridor.

  Whisper said, “Now what?”

  “We wait,” Raven answered. They sat in a small, deserted library, flipping through rarely read tomes full of dust. The citizens of Calypso weren’t exactly scholars, save for the ones who traveled to Citadel to study. Like Raven’s other aunt, Windy. Giving voice to her thoughts, she said, “I wish Windy were here. She would know the answer.”

  Raven had already sent an urgent stream to Citadel, and hoped one of Windy’s students would be able to find the answer swiftly. Sending a stream to her aunt in Phanes was impossible—they no longer had any inkreeds from the canyon city, and she hadn’t thought to harvest any before they left on dragonback. Perhaps I am a fool, like Viper says, she thought.

  “We must do something,” Whisper said.

  “I agree,” Gwen said. “But you might not like my answer.” The Orian had joined them shortly after they arrived, and Raven had told her everything, much to Whisper’s chagrin. For some reason, her sister couldn’t bring herself to trust the woman, even though she’d done everything in her power to help them escape from Zune and reclaim the empire. Now, Whisper raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  “Tell me,” Raven said.

  “She could be bluffing about having an associate,” Gwen said, her dark pupils tightening into catlike slits. The gold band around them was so narrow it could barely be seen.

  “Or not,” Raven said.

  “Either way, leave it to me to find out who it is.”

  “And then what?”

  Gwen didn’t respond, only looked at Whisper, who nodded.

  “No,” Raven said. “I won’t allow it.”

  “Are you listening to yourself, sister?” Whisper said. “Viper tried to kill us. Why show her mercy now?”

  “If she’s right about the law…”

  “The law doesn’t matter. The world has gone mad. All that matters is that you sit the dragon throne and that we face our enemies in full strength.”

  Raven couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t change the answer. “We will wait for a response from Citadel,” she said.

  Across from her, Gwen tapped the table. “At least let me determine the identity of her associate,” she said. “I won’t harm whomever it is. But the information could prove to be…valuable.”

  It was a fair compromise, Raven knew. Plus, the Orian was right. “Fine,” she said.

  Someone cleared their throat from the doorway, and all three women turned sharply toward the sound. Gat Vaid stood before them. Leather straps crisscrossed over his muscular chest and abdomen. His narrow, Phanecian eyes gave no indication as to the thoughts churning through his head. Raven had granted him immunity after he’d turned against Viper, claiming she had made false promises to him; namely, that she would help the Teran slaves, a promise she never intended to keep.

  “Vaid,” Raven said. “Your sister is here, in Calypso.”

  His eyes widened slightly, giving away his surprise. “Sonika?” There was awe in that single name. Raven knew how long he’d been separated from his sister, though she didn’t know all the circumstances behind their separation.

  “Yes. She’s looking for you. Goggin was supposed to find you.”

  “I—I haven’t been easy to find.” He took a step forward.

  “So it seems,” Raven said. Why is he not running off to locate his sister? Why is he here at all? she wondered.

  “I—you do not need to search for Viper’s associate,” he said. He took another step forward, drawing the dual short blades from his hip scabbards.

  Gwen was on her feet in an instant, knocking her chair over. Whisper too, her own weapon already out. Raven, however, remained sitting, staring at the man. Not once since turning on Viper had he threatened her—and he’d had plenty of opportunities. She didn’t trust him exactly, but she didn’t fear him either. There was something about him that spoke of loyalty and honor, though she knew those qualities were rare and rarer in these times. Still…she owed him the opportunity to speak his mind.

  “Why not?” Raven said. “Do you know his identity?”

  He dropped his blades. “Yes. It’s me. And I’ve already passed the information to a dozen others. You will fight Viper in the arena.” There was sorrow in his every word, most of it packed into the final two. “I’m sorry.”

  “You bastard,” Whisper growled.

  Forty-Six

  The Southern Empire, Calypso

  Gwendolyn Storm

  Gat Vaid had been chained and taken to the dungeons.

  The stream from Citadel had arrived not an hour later, confirming the truth of the traditional law granting Viper the right of challenge for the empire.

  The hits just keep coming, Gwen thought, feeling bad for Raven. The woman—who was nothing like Gwen had expected her to be—had been through a lot in her short life. But she’d endured, a quality Gwen could appreciate. She wanted to help her. If they didn’t secure the dragon throne now, the Horde might destroy the Four Kingdoms before they had a chance to muster a defense.

  “I can find those he told,” Gwen said now. “I can find them all. No one will know Viper challenged you. No one will remember some old law.”

  There was no fear in Raven’s eyes as she turned to meet Gwen’s. “I will know. I will remember.”

  Whisper was gone, muttering threats under her breath, leaving them alone in Raven’s personal quarters. The large, luxurious space was open to the breeze, privacy provided only by a curtain of threaded guanik bones, which rattled against each other from time to time. An enormous bed filled the center of the room, while a roofless washing area was lit by the sun on the opposite side. Raven sat at a small table, while Gwen stood, pacing.

  She stopped now. Faced the empress. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I must.”

  Gwen marveled at the change in her opinion of the Calypsians. Yes, there were those who met and exceeded her preconceived notion that they were a bloodthirsty, savage people—Viper, for example—but so many were kindhearted, strong, courageous…

  Like Raven, who even in the face of her potential death appeared as stolid as the nearby pyramids. How different the world might be if everyone broke bread with their enemies once in a while…

  “I will support your decision either way,” Gwen said. “Though it shall be difficult not to intervene.”

  “You cannot,” Raven said sharply.

  “I know.”

  “Promise me.”

  Those two words were not spoken with the command of an empress, but with the fervor of a friend. Is that what she is to me? Gwen wondered. A friend? Could an Orian ever be friends with a Sandes? Yes, she thought, and that simple answer, she believed, would’ve made Roan proud of her.

  “I promise,” she said.

  Ra
ven nodded in thanks. “There’s something else I must ask of you, and you’re not going to like it.”

  What now? “Speak and it shall be done.”

  “If I’m ever gone, care for Siri. She trusts you.”

  “What? No. What are you talking about?”

  Instead of answering, Raven asked a question of her own. “How much do you know about dragons?”

  I know they are dangerous. I know they have killed my people. I know it felt good when I killed one back in Ferria. She shook away her dark thoughts, because they could not be applied to every dragon, and certainly not to Siri. “Not a lot,” she admitted.

  “What do you know of their lifespan?”

  Raven seemed to be going somewhere with the line of questioning, so Gwen did her best to answer. “They mature relatively slowly compared to other creatures,” she said. “Almost at the same rate as humans.

  “Correct. And their longevity?”

  This one was harder to answer. She knew dragons lived long lives, like Orians, maybe even longer. But she also knew there were many rumors about them, not the least of which was what happened to them as they outlived their human soulmates, growing multiple heads and losing their minds. “All I know is based on rumor and gossip,” she hedged.

  “Let me enlighten you,” Raven said. She spoke not with condescension, but with knowledge gained through trials and tribulations. “Dragons are vibrant creatures, their minds deeper than most people know, like enormous cavern systems, full of intricacies and wonders that one can only imagine. I’ve been down many of Siri’s tunnels, and yet have only scratched the surface of her complexity.”

  It was all very interesting, but… “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because when a dragon bonds with another, like me, they don’t know how to separate themselves from the one they’ve bonded with. Siri thinks of me as her soul, as I do of her. The only difference is that if I lost her, I would be heartbroken and lost, but I would heal. Time would heal me. The opposite is true for dragons. All her caverns, her tunnels, are connected to mine. They support each other. If mine crumble, then hers will too. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but eventually time will break her beautiful, intricate mind into rubble, leaving only one path that leads to a great chasm.”

  Gwen was trying to understand, but it all sounded so…surreal, intangible. She understood the ore that flowed beneath Ironwood because she could see it, feel it. But the mind of a dragon…it was like trying to fathom the galaxies. “What chasm?”

  “When dragons lose their souls,” Raven said, pausing to take a breath, “they bridge the chasm that leads to madness.”

  “How do you stop it?”

  “You can’t.”

  “I don’t understand. How can I promise to care for Siri if there’s no hope?” Was she actually considering doing what Raven asked?

  “I didn’t say there wasn’t hope. You can slow the spread of madness. You can encourage her to give whatever sliver of her soul that remains intact to you, but you must offer your entire self in return. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but—”

  “I will,” Gwen said quickly, before she’d fully considered what it meant. And then, more slowly, “I will. I swear it.” She placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder.

  Just then, a commotion arose from outside, and a familiar, booming voice said, “Stay here. I will see if the empress is willing to—stop!”

  The bones rattled as a large form burst through, grappling with several smaller forms. Sonika Vaid scrambled past, skidding to a stop, her dark eyes flashing. One of the strings of bones snapped free, spilling guanik femurs and ribs across the floor.

  “Your Highness, I tried to stop them,” Goggin said, still trying to hold two of the Black Tears back. “But they fight like my fourth wife…dirty.”

  “It’s fine, Goggin,” Raven said tiredly. Though Raven hid it well, Gwen had spent enough time around the empress that she was beginning to be able to read the subtleties in her expression and tone of voice. “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to see my brother.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Raven said. “He—”

  “Goggin told me what he did. Let me talk to him. There must be a reason for his actions, however terrible. My brother is not a bad person. At least, not the brother I remember.”

  Raven’s eyes darted to Gwen’s, and she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride that the empress would value her opinion on matters such as this. “It will do no harm,” Gwen said. “But only you, and you must leave your weapons…”

  “Done,” Sonika said, beginning to empty her leather straps and scabbards. Knives, swords, multi-edged stars made of steel…all clanked and clattered at her feet.

  “Collect them,” Raven told Goggin, who’d released his hold on the other Tears. “Keep them safe and return them to her when we’re done.”

  “I will do this thing,” Goggin said.

  “Come,” Raven said. “Let us speak to your brother together.”

  The reunion was strange. Gat and Sonika rushed to each other, hugging through the bars with a fierceness that spoke of shared loss and forgiveness and time apart and—

  Sonika jerked back suddenly and slapped him across the face hard enough to make an audible crack. “Why?” she said. “You had your freedom. I was here. The slaves are free, Gat. We could’ve gone home together.”

  Gat didn’t so much as rub his cheek, which was now bright red, the distinct imprints of fingers stretching up to one eye. The slap was a mercy from a formidable woman like Sonika, Gwen realized. If even half the stories she’d heard about the woman were true, slapping was the very least of what she was capable of.

  “She saved my life,” Gat said, gripping the bars in both hands. “I owed her a life debt.”

  “You would fight for her?” Sonika said.

  “Once I thought I would,” Gat said. “But Viper Sandes isn’t the woman I thought she was.” There was utter sorrow in his voice, and Gwen, despite his betrayal, felt sorry for him. She knew what it felt like to be betrayed by one she cared about. One didn’t live a single lifetime without being betrayed, and Gwen had lived more than one already. Gat continued: “But now my debt is paid.” He turned to Raven, who hadn’t said a word, standing off to the side. “I truly am sorry. I hope you defeat her.”

  Raven said nothing, just nodded once.

  Sonika whirled around. “What will you do to him?” she asked. There was a challenge in her tone, and Gwen was glad she’d insisted the rebel leader leave her weapons behind.

  Raven said, “Release him.”

  “What?” Goggin said. “You can’t be serious, Your Highness.”

  “I am. I already granted him immunity for his role in the rebellion. And he has broken no law since.”

  “But what he did was treason,” Goggin insisted.

  “No. He was only upholding the law, which is the same that I would’ve eventually done. I have no reason to hold him. Go with your sister, Gat Vaid. May you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

  In that moment, despite everything Gwen had been through, all those she’d lost at the hands of Sandes men and women, she knew she would fight for this woman, this dark-haired Raven of the desert.

  And, if necessary, she would die for her.

  Forty-Seven

  The Southern Empire, Phanea

  Roan Loren

  Dust motes filled the air as Roan turned the pages of a book older than anyone in the room.

  Though his frustration was growing as the information he desired eluded him, there was something calming about the research. It felt like that time before he learned the truth about the Western Oracle’s grand plan, when he was just a man with ideals searching for knowledge. Rhea would probably tell him he was wasting his time when he should be focusing on repairing the broken alliance of nations, but he wanted to help Lisbeth with her newfound power. No, he thought. It was more than that. His instincts told him such a power could prove invaluable in
whatever was to come.

  He pushed the book aside and picked up another, frowning at how the stacks of books they’d already reviewed was growing while the remaining, unstudied tomes were dwindling.

  “I am certain the Citadellian Archives would have the answer,” Lady Windy mused. She sipped her tea daintily, her small finger in the air. Her regal air was ironic next to her unkempt hair and tea-stained frock that Roan was certain she’d been wearing yesterday.

  “We aren’t in Citadel,” Roan said, feeling a fool for having to point out the obvious.

  “Mm,” Windy mused. “We could be there in a week by boat…”

  “No,” Roan said. “The battle could begin any day now. Because of the disruptions in the stream network, no one knows the exact location of the Horde.”

  “Men and their battles,” Windy muttered.

  Roan was affronted. She knew as well as anyone that Roan wasn’t the bloodthirsty type. He loathed war as much as anyone, but that didn’t mean he could pretend it didn’t exist. Or that it wouldn’t happen. Battle was inevitable. They had to be ready.

  Yela said something without looking up from the book she was reading, her brow furrowed in concentration. Neither Windy nor Roan noticed her, however, focused on their conversation.

  And Windy wasn’t done yet. “We’ve been here for more than two weeks already. The Horde is taking its time, murdering and pillaging and all that.”

  “Try not to speak about such things with too much compassion,” Roan said sardonically. “One might think you have a heart.”

  Windy smiled wryly, her lips stained brown from the tea. “I have studied a hundred battles; after a while, you must try to see the bigger picture and close yourself off from the individuals involved in them. Or you might go mad.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “This is all about the individuals involved,” Roan argued, speaking over Yela, who had once more tried to say something.

  “We need more scholars, not more strength,” Windy said. “And all the individuals you speak of think war is the answer to every problem, from a broken shoelace to a cannibalistic army of barbarians.”