“They have a right to know,” she said gently.
Denan hesitated before hauling his shirt over his head, revealing his chest, darkened with black tined lines. Larkin had seen his blight before, but still, she winced. Aaryn shot to her feet, her ball of yarn unraveling as it rolled across the floor. Mytin’s throat bobbed up and down.
“The weir failed,” Gendrin stated the obvious.
“It’s holding for now.” Larkin fought the tears rising in her eyes.
“That’s why you pushed this decree,” Mytin said.
Denan eyed Larkin with an unfathomable sadness in his eyes. “It’s just a precaution.”
“But the pain . . .” Aaryn said.
Denan gave her a small smile. “I have something to make it bearable.” He didn’t mention that Magalia had said it would eventually kill him. “Now, the next group of Idelmarchians are due to replace the first this week, with one group arriving every week afterward.”
Larkin would be relieved to see the druids go back to the Alamant, though she felt sorry for the pipers who would have to go with them to train them on how to use their new sigils.
“Now that the ardents have been taken care of,” Denan went on, “we need to shift our focus to training the Idelmarchians to use their sigils. Sela has indicated that we have nine or so months before the White Tree dies. I believe we can be ready to invade Valynthia in five. All our energies must be directed toward this endeavor.”
No more was said about Denan’s weir. Instead, they went over the logistics of stationing and training an army of thousands of druids. Then moving both armies across mulgar-infested territory.
Their last-ditch effort to save mankind before the wraiths destroyed them all.
Nightmare
Sometime in the darkest part of night, Larkin woke drenched in sweat. Without the breeze coming through the panes, it was unbearably hot. She bent over her drawn knees and pushed her hair out of her sticky face, trying to banish the last vestiges of the dream. But the darkness, the taste of rot, lingered on her tongue. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly, horribly wrong.
As if to echo the feeling resonating inside her, a low, mournful horn sounded. The magic panels shivered like the lake in a hailstorm. Larkin swore she felt that vibration deep in her bones.
“Queen Larkin! King Denan!” West called from outside the doorpane. “The warning horn is sounding!”
That must have been what had woken her. “What’s going on?”
“We don’t know yet,” Maylah answered.
“Give me a moment.” Larkin stood and made her way to the nursery to wake Denan, but the panel was already down. Denan panted and writhed in the bed, as if he, too, were trapped in a nightmare. She shifted her gaze to the panes around her—all the milky color of impassibility. The only way this pane could possibly be down was if someone in the main room had taken it down.
She spun, her sigils flaring to life and driving back a bit of the darkness. From the shadows at the edge of the room, Maisy’s face came into view, her right shoulder crusted with black blood—a wound Larkin had given her.
“You.” Larkin spread her shield before her. “West! The ardent is here!”
Pounding on the doorpane. “You have to let us in!” West cried.
To do that, Larkin would have to leave Denan undefended. “Break in!”
West and Maylah called for reinforcements and hacked at the supports with their swords.
Behind her, Denan moaned.
“Denan?” Larkin called, not daring to take her gaze from Maisy.
“You stopped my task.” Maisy inched toward her. “I’m glad of it, and yet it must be done.”
“What have you done to my husband?” Larkin cried.
“You’re not listening! I’m trying to save you, save him, save everyone!”
“By turning him into a mulgar? How does that save anyone?” Larkin asked.
Maisy had the gall to look wounded. “Because then you will finally be willing to do what you must.”
“What does that mean?”
Beyond the panels, light revealed dozens of shadows. They’d found an ax and had managed to cut through one of the supports.
“I was the reason you went into the Forbidden Forest after your sister,” Maisy said. “The reason you received magic and a piper. I was the one who convinced Bane to go after you. I was the one who made you a queen!”
By killing the king. Light, could it all be true? The sinking sensation in Larkin’s gut said it was. How many other strings had the woman pulled to maneuver Larkin into this position? Did Maisy really think she was helping Larkin? Judging by the fanatical gleam in her eyes, she did. Larkin’s lips twisted in disgust—at Maisy for the monster she was and at herself for ever believing she could be anything different.
The guards’ hands appeared, wrenching at the wood.
“Why has the alarm horn sounded?” A couple more steps, and Maisy would be within reach.
“They’re distracted,” Maisy whispered.
Just like Maisy to layer riddles within riddles. “What are you talking about?”
Maisy lifted a dagger. “You’re still not listening!”
Larkin never should have let Maisy escape that that night. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
Larkin pulsed, sending Maisy careening into the opposite pane. Both hands above her head, Larkin swung down hard. Maisy moved, faster than humanly possible. Her knife deflected Larkin’s blow, so it sailed harmlessly to the side. Braced behind her shield, Larkin rammed into her, sword jabbing from below. Maisy rolled sideways, their blades locking, tips scratching the floor.
Larkin strained, trying to gain the advantage. Maisy was too strong. Larkin twisted, her sword slicing Maisy’s calf. Unaffected, Maisy finished her rotation, coming up behind Larkin and shoving her.
Completely unguarded, Larkin staggered forward. Maisy’s next blow would come from above or below. Knowing she was as good as dead if she didn’t do something, Larkin thrust her sword behind her. It sank into flesh and then bone. Before Maisy could retaliate, Larkin rolled forward onto her shoulder, wrenching her sword from Maisy’s gut, and bounded to her feet, shield back in place.
And instantly realized her mistake.
She’d left her husband unguarded. Moving preternaturally fast, Maisy darted inside. Larkin ran after her and stopped short in the doorway. Maisy had one hand behind Denan’s head; the other held a knife to his throat, her glittering eyes locked on Larkin.
The ardents, the wraiths, the curse—all of it had taken too much. Larkin would not let it have Denan. Never him. She gathered her magic, preparing to flare.
Maisy’s hand tensed. “Don’t! I don’t want to kill him!”
Larkin’s magic buzzed painfully under her skin, a river of light begging to be released. She drew her magic slowly, painfully, back into her sigils. Maisy didn’t seem to notice the black blood soaking the middle of her tunic.
A dozen guards finally rushed into the room, coming up behind Larkin. She motioned for them to stop. West realized what was happening first and physically blocked the others.
Larkin dared not move. Barely dared to breathe. “Not him, Maisy. Please.”
Maisy held perfectly still. “You have to save him, Larkin.”
That’s what she’d been trying to do for months! The very thing Maisy and her cursed wraiths were trying to prevent! Larkin swallowed her angry words and held out her hands, palms up in supplication. “Tell me what to do.”
Maisy’s eyes widened, and her head swiveled to the south. “I’m out of time,” she muttered to herself. She shot Larkin an exasperated expression. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You are the light.”
Nearly the same thing Sela had said. How can that be? Larkin thought.
Maisy licked her lips. “Trust me, Larkin. Just one last time.”
If Larkin hadn’t trusted Maisy in the first place, Denan would have never been corrupted. “You s
wear you’re telling the truth?”
Maisy nodded.
Larkin sighed and reached out a hand. “Then I’m sorry for ever doubting you.”
“Larkin,” West hissed.
She ignored him.
Maisy smiled then, the brilliance cutting through the madness like light breaking through dark clouds. She eased Denan back onto the bed, crossed the room, and reached for Larkin’s hand.
Instead of taking it, Larkin flared her sword and thrust it into Maisy’s chest. Maisy looked down at the gleaming, magical blade disappearing in her ribs. Her expression was devastated—betrayed.
Larkin fought a twin knife of guilt that pierced her center, just as her blade pierced Maisy’s. This moment would cost her dearly, but she had no choice. “Can you hear me, Ramass? I’m not falling for any more of your tricks.”
Larkin pulled back her sword. Maisy jerked and coughed, blood spewing from her lips. The ardent looked down at Denan—still close enough she could throw her knife.
Instead, she opened her hand, the knife clattering to the floor. “I’ve always been your friend, Larkin. Always. And when the time comes, you’ll remember that.”
“I’m sorry,” Larkin choked. She drew her sword back, twisted her hips, and swung her sword through Maisy’s neck. The woman’s head hit the floor. Black blood pooled toward Larkin’s feet. She staggered back. Not fast enough. The sticky warmth seeped between her toes before cooling on her skin.
West gripped her arms. Called her name. She couldn’t answer. Because Maisy was dead. And Larkin had killed her.
No.
Not killed.
Executed.
Wearing his nightclothes, Tam knelt beside Denan—he must have been one of the guards to rush into the room. She was suddenly glad he’d decided to move into her tree. Except then maybe Alorica wouldn’t have been stabbed and her baby wouldn’t have died. But that wasn’t right. Alorica was stabbed because the wraiths wanted to destroy Denan’s weir. Larkin laughed at how silly she was.
The guards kept sneaking surreptitious glances at Larkin.
Tam was suddenly in front of her. “Larkin.”
Her laughter switched to broken sobs. “I killed her, Tam.”
Denan started shouting.
Tam leaned toward West. “Get her out of sight and cleaned up.” He hurried to help the guards restrain Denan.
West swore and hauled her toward the bathroom. He pushed her fully clothed into the shower and turned on the water.
She gasped at the shock of cold and turned her face to the stream. Leaning against the wall, she sagged to the floor. She gulped in one breath. Then another. Her head began to clear. “The warning horn?”
West took a washcloth and wiped her arms, heedless of the water soaking him. “We still don’t know.”
She closed her eyes and tried to still her dark thoughts. “Is Denan all right?”
“Does it matter?” West said through gritted teeth.
Shivering though she wasn’t cold, she shot him a glare. “He didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly! He lay on his bed while an ardent tried to kill you!”
Maisy had never tried to kill her. “This isn’t about Denan. It never has been. This is about your guilt for keeping me prisoner.” West went an alarming shade of white and leaned against the bathroom wall. She gentled her voice. “That wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know what the druids were doing.”
“I knew,” he whispered. “I swore I wouldn’t let anyone or anything else hurt you ever again. I mean to keep that promise.”
Something crashed in the other room. Grunts and moans. Denan was awake and fighting the guards. West moved to leave.
“You’re hurting me now,” she called after him.
He froze in place.
“You’re undermining my orders. Undermining my husband.”
West’s fists clenched. “I’ll do what I have to.”
How could the man not see he was making the very mistake he was trying to atone for? “Then I’m going to have to reassign you.”
He whirled on her in surprise. “You can’t mean—”
She pushed to her feet. “I do.”
He strode toward her and gripped her arms. “Larkin, don’t do this.”
She knew he cared about her, but the very fact that he was fighting her now—squeezing her arms so much they hurt—was confirmation she was making the right choice.
She flared her sigils in warning. “Go to Gendrin. Ask him to reassign you.”
West’s face went rigid. He took one step back and then another. “Larkin . . .” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t find the words. He turned and left.
For half a breath, she felt as if a weight had been lifted.
“He’s awake,” Tam called from outside the doorpane.
The tight, clipped way he said it told her all she needed to know. “He’s fighting them?”
“He’ll come out of it.” A pause. “What happened with West?”
“What had to happen.” She took the soap and scrubbed between her toes. “Have one of my enchantresses bring my clothes.”
“Right.”
She pulled off her sopping nightgown and kicked it in a corner. She scrubbed her shaking hands over her skin to remove any lingering blood—no time for more soap. The water ran out before she was completely done. It would have to do.
She stepped out and toweled herself off. Moments later, Atara came into the room with Larkin’s clothes.
“You missed your shoulder buckle.” Larkin slipped the undertunic on, the quilted gambeson over it.
Atara fixed her shoulder strap, while Larkin settled the tasset over her hips.
Atara watched Larkin solemnly. “The mulgar army has been spotted on the shore.”
A sick, wrenching feeling tore through Larkin. She buried her head in her hands. They were supposed to take the fight to the Black Tree. They were supposed to have more time. She was supposed to face this with Denan beside her.
“We’re not ready,” she murmured. I am not ready.
Atara settled Larkin’s breast and back armor over her shoulders and tied the side straps. “You’re not alone, whatever you may feel.”
Aaryn, Mytin, Gendrin, Atara, Tam . . . Atara was right. Whatever happened, she wasn’t alone. She reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand in thanks.
“Speaking of alone,” Atara said. “Why isn’t West hovering?”
Larkin cleared the emotion from her throat. “I’m having him reassigned.”
Atara look surprised and then frowned. “Oh. Well. I suppose that’s for the best.”
“I thought you’d be happier about it.” The two of them clearly hated each other.
Atara shrugged.
Larkin didn’t have the time or energy to deal with Atara’s emotions. Outside the room, she found Denan sitting on the edge of their bed and tying his boots with shaking hands. Tam stood over him, and he wasn’t watching for outside danger. He was watching Denan. The other guards were gone, probably banished by Tam once Denan was himself again.
The pale, hunched man before her seemed like a stranger. A swell of pity knocked her off-balance—pity quickly followed by guilt. Powerful, unshakeable Denan had been the foundation upon which she’d built her new life. But now . . . that man was gone. She felt adrift. Lost. And betrayed. She couldn’t trust Denan anymore. Wasn’t sure how much of her husband was even left. A good wife wouldn’t have such thoughts.
Had Maisy been ordered to kill Denan, but whatever humanity lurked inside her hadn’t allowed it?
No. The wraiths wanted Denan a mulgar, not dead.
So why had Maisy come?
Larkin didn’t know. And right now, there were bigger concerns. The wraiths might not be able to cross water, but the mulgars and ardents could. If they broke through the city’s defenses, it would be a slaughter.
With a heavy sigh, Denan lumbered to his feet. “Why attack now? Why not wait until the White Tree dies?”
He
didn’t seem to expect an answer, and in any case, no one offered one.
Farwin stepped into the room. “The ardents are launching boats.”
Ancestors. It isn’t supposed to happen this way. We are supposed to bring the fight to them. If anything, they were worse off than they had been before. Larkin pushed her helmet onto her head and hurried toward the door, Atara and Tam on her heels.
“I’m coming with you,” Denan called after her.
She halted and turned to study him. He was back from whatever nightmare had held him captive. She could see it in his eyes. “You’re not well,” she said gently.
“I don’t plan on fighting,” Denan said. “But I will be there.”
Larkin pursed her lips. He was the king. She couldn’t stop him. And even if she could, she wouldn’t do that to him. She gave a curt nod.
Denan motioned to Farwin. “Take my armor to General Aaryn’s tower. I’ll put it on there.” Because he didn’t want to waste his diminished strength carrying the extra weight.
Farwin shot Larkin a questioning look. She didn’t miss the humiliation that flashed across Denan’s face at the boy’s dismissal. Larkin wanted to sharply reprimand Farwin, but that would only humiliate Denan further. She locked her jaw around her tongue and nodded.
Oblivious, Farwin stepped out long enough to bring one of the other pages in. They each took one of the chest’s handles and waited for her.
Larkin motioned for Denan to join her, but he stayed where he was. “Are you coming?”
“You go on ahead,” he said. “I’ll catch up.”
She didn’t want to leave him. But she was needed at the wall and fussing over her husband would only embarrass him. So she gave a curt nod and left, Tam falling in behind her.
“Tam, if you would stay,” Denan said.
His back to Denan, Tam winced. Before he turned, he had his customary grin in place. “Wanting to keep the best guard for yourself, eh?”
Tam waited a beat. Waited for Denan to step into the opening he’d left. To say, If I wanted the best guard, I’d have kept Atara—or something like it.
Denan missed his cue entirely. A nervous uncertainty shivered throughout the room—uncertainty highlighted by another wail of the warning horn.
Wraith King Page 25
