Cry of Metal & Bone

by L. Penelope

  “They certainly haven’t wasted any time. Then again, they’re used to things happening on a much faster scale in Lagrimar. Accusations and sentences were carried out on the same day there.”

  “Yes, and don’t they see why that’s a problem?”

  “This morning’s poll shows ninety-six percent of the Lagrimari approve of the way justice is being handled. They’re feeling seen and heard. And the number of Elsirans supporting unification is up by five points as well. Turwig was right, seeing the witness testimonies published in the papers is helping Elsirans understand more about what the Lagrimari went through for so long.” He ran a hand over his hair, and blew a breath out. “But it is fast.”

  These speedy trials and judgments—often held without the defendants even present—did not feel like justice to Jasminda. The sentences were death—nothing to be taken lightly, no matter how grave the crimes. She crossed her arms tight, the feeling of unease growing stronger in her gut.

  Jack turned her around to face him, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “The Lagrimari public trusts the Keepers and deserves closure on the painful parts of their past. In a few months, we’ll begin revising the constitution and can reassess issues like this.”

  Jasminda nodded, still unconvinced. “Their plan for the True Father’s trial sounds like a circus.”

  Jack frowned.

  The “immortal” king of the Lagrimari remained hidden away deep in the palace dungeon. Instead of a mere tribunal, the Keepers wanted him shamed publicly and humiliated—someone had even suggested weekly public floggings. Jasminda would never stand up for the True Father, but the idea of such a spectacle being called justice didn’t sit well with her.

  She leaned into Jack’s embrace, grateful for it. He kissed her temple, lingering at her hairline. She breathed in the scent of him.

  A crackling from the direction of his desk interrupted the moment.

  “Your Majesties,” Netta said through the intercom. “Captain Zivel is here with an urgent message.”

  Jack sighed, then dragged Jasminda back to his desk with him. The captain had stayed for debriefing after delivering Nirall from Yaly.

  “Send him in, Netta,” he called out.

  In a moment, the office door swung open and Jord Zivel stood there, his face solemn.

  “Has something happened?” Jasminda asked, breaking out of Jack’s embrace.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, blinking rapidly. She’d met the soldier only once, before he was deployed to Yaly, when it was clear their intelligence there had been compromised. But his rigid, officious demeanor was cracking. Something had shaken him.

  He swallowed. “I-I have heard from Miss Liddelot and Sister Vanesse.”

  “Do they have Darvyn?” Jack asked. Jasminda held her breath.

  “They do.” Relief loosened her shoulders, but Zivel’s expression did not change. He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it, then cleared his throat. “Sister Vanesse bade me give you this message. They are in the air right now, else she would have given it to you herself, but she did not want you to be caught unawares.”

  Jasminda stepped forward, eyes on the paper in his hands. “What is it?”

  He handed it to her and stepped back.

  My dear niece. The Goddess has blessed us again, and though Her ways are mysterious, we enjoy the good fortune of benefitting from them. Your father and brothers are alive.

  Jasminda’s knees weakened; she clutched the corner of the desk. Jack was there helping her into the chair. She swallowed and kept reading, with him looking over her shoulder.

  Unbeknownst to all save Darvyn and Tai, the Goddess placed them on a private mission to retrieve your family. All three are alive and well, and I have had the immense pleasure to be able to confirm it directly.

  I met Dansig, Roshon, and Varten, and we will be back to Rosira in a few short hours. May She bless your dreams and waking hours.

  Love, Vanesse

  An empty space in Jasminda’s chest opened up, threatening to suck her in. She blinked back tears and tried to grasp hold of one coherent thought.

  Papa? The twins? Alive?

  Her mouth couldn’t form words; it quivered and her eyesight blurred.

  Jack said something to Zivel, but it was just noise in her ears. Then she was being carried to the couch, nestled in Jack’s arms.

  Only a few hours until they arrived. Finally, the joy broke through the astonishment, and she smiled.

  “They’re alive,” she whispered.

  “They’re alive,” Jack repeated.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she closed her eyes.

  Alive.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “We are happy for your visit, seeker,” the desert people said. “You honor us and we will paint pictures of your deeds to immortalize your accomplishments.” Ayal shrank away, ready to flee, when Girl-With-Hands-Like-Ice stopped her.

  “No thrones, no dynasties,” Ayal whispered, and the girl nodded solemnly, turning back and convincing the people to lay down their paint brushes.

  —THE AYALYA

  The airship hit a good amount of turbulence on the way back to Rosira. It shook and swayed, slowly deteriorating Darvyn’s good mood. Kyara lay in his arms for the entire journey, sleeping soundly, while across the narrow aisle, Ydaris slouched against the window, still unconscious. Next to her, Varten slumbered peacefully.

  The ship only seated four, aside from the pilot and copilot, but Dansig and Roshon had squeezed aboard and sat cramped on the floor. Darvyn had sensed Clove’s worry over the weight of so many passengers, but Vanesse’s joy at meeting her nephews and brother-in-law for the first time overcame any protests the pilot might have made.

  Darvyn had pulled Clove aside and asked if it would be a problem. “I won’t let there be,” she’d replied. “It’s too important. A strong tailwind wouldn’t hurt, though.”

  Exhausted as he was, arriving home in one piece was vital, and so he used the last of his Song to call the wind and help push the airship along. Every fiber of every muscle in his body ached, and a throbbing behind his eyes pounded the way it did whenever he was nearly depleted.

  Those who were awake remained quiet on the trip. Vanesse kept turning to look over her shoulder. Her reaction to the twins had been intense. Her whispered words to Dansig replayed in Darvyn’s mind: They look so much like Emi. Dansig had nodded and closed his eyes. The man’s Elsiran wife had been gone for a long time.

  Varten was doing much better. He needed sleep after his healing, but Darvyn had completely destroyed the disease that had tormented the boy. Jasminda would have her family again, whole and hale.

  And yet, as the ship rocked and he forced what power he had left into the wind to keep it moving forward, his anxiety grew. He squeezed Kyara more tightly to reassure himself that she was here with him and safe. He touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, just enjoying her nearness. But fear for what lay ahead gripped him. The Poison Flame would not be greeted warmly by the Lagrimari. He hoped providing them with the Cantor would satisfy their desire for justice, but worry nagged at him.

  As the tiled roofs and colorful stucco facades of Rosira came into view beyond the mountain ridge, Darvyn perked up. This was home for now. The future would bring what it would, and he would face it the way he always had.

  Clove brought them to a smooth landing on top of the palace. Everyone but Ydaris roused and tumbled out of the airship’s carriage. A door on the far side of the roof opened and Jasminda ran toward them, her hair streaming out behind her. She wore a dress of fine blue silk edged in lace with heavy boots on her feet. Her father captured her in his arms and spun her around. Soon the entire family was locked in a long embrace.

  Vanesse looked on with tears in her eyes. In fact, no eye was dry. It was impossible not to be moved by the reunited family. Kyara gripped his hand, and he turned to her. Whatever she was about to say was drowned out by the pounding footsteps that approached the
m.

  Five Royal Guardsmen marched up, the lead man fringed in gold epaulets to indicate his high rank. “The prisoner?” he asked sharply.

  Darvyn pointed at the carriage where Ydaris still slept. “She will be out for several more hours,” he said. Two of the guards peeled off toward the old woman.

  “And the other?” the lead guard snapped.

  Kyara squeezed his hand. Darvyn shook his head in confusion. “What other prisoner?”

  More footsteps approached. This time four familiar faces greeted him: Turwig, Aggar, Talida, and Rozyl. Aggar’s eyes were wild and Talida looked ready to spill blood. Rozyl and Turwig, on the other hand, appeared dispassionate.

  “That’s her,” Aggar said, pointing a finger at Kyara. Two Guardsmen stepped forward, and Darvyn moved in front of Kyara protectively.

  “Stand down, oli,” Turwig said to Darvyn.

  “No one is laying a hand on Kyara,” he said through clenched teeth, staring down his mentor.

  Aggar’s face contorted in anger. “By the order of the Royal Tribunal of Elsira, Kyara ul-Lagrimar, the sergeant in the True Father’s army known as the Poison Flame, is under arrest for crimes against the people.”

  Darvyn cursed and reached for his Song, but his power had been exhausted.

  “Jack!” he shouted. The king strode over, and the lead Guardsman looked cowed.

  “What’s going on here?” Jack asked.

  “Your Majesty,” Aggar gritted out. “A tribunal judgment has been delivered for this woman.”

  Darvyn took a step back, forcing Kyara to do the same. Desperation sped his heartbeat. Jack appeared to understand that Kyara meant something to him. The lead Guardsman produced a sheaf of papers from his inner pocket.

  Jack stood to his full height. “Let me see those,” he said, plucking the pages from the guard’s fingers and scanning them. He sighed and looked up at Darvyn, eyes heavy. “The paperwork is in order. I signed them.” His voice was apologetic as he held the papers out for Darvyn to see.

  Darvyn made out the scrawled signature at the bottom. His chest rose as his breath quickened. Jack’s eyes were pools of sadness, and Darvyn had to look away. Kyara’s hand loosened in his, but he held on to her.

  With her other hand, she touched his arm, forcing him to look at her. “It’s all right, Darvyn. We both know this is what must happen.”

  He shut out the others to focus solely on her. “We don’t know that.”

  She cupped his cheek. “I did what I did.”

  “What you were forced to do.” He spun around to face Aggar again. “When is the trial scheduled?”

  Aggar’s expression was smug. “The trial has already been held. The Poison Flame has been convicted in absentia. The Goddess Awoken has chosen the date of her execution Herself.”

  A chill raced down his spine. “She what?”

  Talida spoke up, aiming an icy glare at Kyara. “She is guilty. Dozens of witnesses confirmed a mere handful of her kills, but hundreds more were willing to come forward. She must be executed.”

  Rage heated Darvyn’s blood until he could barely see straight.

  “I deserve it,” Kyara said, pulling out of his grip. The guards approached and clamped manacles on her wrists. “You know I do.”

  He shook his head, everything in his body rejecting her sentence. He needed to save her. If his blasted Song weren’t spent, he would tear down the entire palace to free her. A knowing look from Kyara settled him a fraction. How could she be so calm?

  “I can’t just let them take you away,” he cried, and the two guards on either side of her looked nervously at each other.

  Jack placed a hand on his shoulder, likely in warning.

  “If you love me, you must,” she said, and all the fight went out of him. The guards directed her across the rough surface of the roof and disappeared down the stairwell. His knees threatened to buckle. As if Jack sensed it, his grip on Darvyn’s shoulder tightened. It was a show of solidarity.

  Darvyn was barely aware of Roshon, Varten, and Dansig speaking up, asking what was going on and pleading Kyara’s case. His entire being was with Kyara, hating that she was once again a captive. Hating that he could not escape being stabbed in the back by those who had been like family to him.

  First the Keepers had kept him from his real family for years, denying his mother her attempts to find him before she died. Then an old grudge had resulted in someone he’d thought a friend giving him up to the True Father. Now they took Kyara from him.

  And where was Oola? He should have expected something like this from Her. Send him to rescue the woman he loves only to sentence her to death upon return. The so-called Goddess’s machinations were endless.

  He turned to Jack. Anger tightened his throat, but he should not direct it toward the king. Jack hadn’t known what signing that order would mean to Darvyn. “Make certain she’s treated well, Jack,” he said, voice strangled.

  “I promise,” his friend replied solemnly.

  “I will fix this.” He pushed past the other Keepers to go find Oola.

  * * *

  Darvyn tore through hallways, stopping every Sister he came across until he found Tarazeli, Oola’s robe mistress, whatever that was.

  “I need to see Her. Immediately.” The girl flinched, and he realized he’d been shouting. He needed to calm down. This wasn’t her fault. He took a breath and tried again. “I apologize, but it’s urgent.”

  Zeli nodded and turned on her heel, rushing in the opposite direction. Darvyn kept pace with her as she wound her way through the snarl of hallways. She ushered him outside and across the breathtaking gardens, which he barely noticed, to a spot at the base of the mountain. There, a dark-haired figure sat on a stone bench, surveying the city spread out below them.

  Darvyn felt more than saw Zeli’s retreat. He stared at Oola’s back for long moments before he trusted himself to proceed.

  “Is there a heart beating in your chest, or just a shriveled, empty hole?” His voice shuddered with bitterness.

  She did not turn when he rounded on Her. Her eyes stayed on the city and the sea beyond it.

  “Did you send me there to get her just so you could kill her?”

  Oola’s demeanor was infuriatingly tranquil. “The people need healing. They need to see that there are consequences.”

  “And so you set her execution date? You haven’t been involved in any aspect of governing for weeks, and yet you step in for this? I brought back Jasminda’s family. I’ve done everything you asked. They are all alive and well, and that family is whole again. Will you not make mine whole, too?”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “What family do you have?”

  “Kyara.” His voice broke on her name. The emotion welled up inside him, and he fell to his knees before Oola. “Do you want me to worship you? Venerate you like the others? What would it take to save her?”

  Dark eyes sliced him when She looked at him for the first time. “Do not kneel before me, Darvyn. Not you, too. You are the only one who sees me as I am.”

  “A lying, conniving bitch?”

  Her teeth unfurled from behind Her lips in an embittered smile. “You remind me of someone. Your eyes are so similar, but Yllis’s face was even more severe. He assaulted me with silence, not with curses and threats. And that silence nearly broke me. But he saw me when others saw only what they wanted to see. Someone who could save them, not someone who led them into harm’s way in the first place.”

  Her smile was nearly mad. Had She truly gone insane? Was he dealing with a crazed, omnipotent creature? Her words made little sense. Whoever this Yllis was, he must have been wise to shut Her out.

  He stared at Her with venom in his heart. “Do not do this, Oola. I know that you can stop it. She doesn’t deserve to die.”

  Oola stood and brushed off the seat of Her gown, then clasped Her hands. “In three days, Kyara will be executed. She will be hung by the neck until she is dead. The first sacrifice from the True Father’s regime.
That was the ruling of the tribunal. And that is what must occur.”

  With a gust of wind, She rose into the air. Darvyn shouted and screamed and cursed Her up one side and down again, but Oola was soon only a dark spot in the sky.

  He sat on the bench She had vacated and did something he had not done in a very long time. He cried.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Before she fled the desert, Ayal collapsed onto the sand, her skin burning and hardening. When she rose again, her body had transformed, soft flesh hardening into the form of a lizard. She coughed a flame into the air and continued on her way.

  —THE AYALYA

  As far as dungeons went, Kyara had been in worse. Kerosene lanterns from the hallway illuminated the stone walls and floor, and an elevated pallet for sleeping featured a surprisingly clean mattress. It wasn’t modern and sleek like the Physicks’ prison, but it was head and shoulders above the dungeon in the glass castle of Sayya. She would count her blessings while she still could.

  Waking from an uneasy night’s sleep, she stared at the stone ceiling, restlessness filling the hollows in her bones. For a few moments on the airship, she’d thought her days of confinement were over. At least now she had an end date. Two more days and it would all be over.

  Her back ached from lying down, so she stood to pace the cell. The scrape of her boots over the rough floor captured her attention for a little while. She could hear the murmurings of other prisoners—they mumbled or sometimes shouted in Lagrimari—but unlike in Yaly, she could not see or interact with anyone else from her cell.

  If she wanted, she could kill everyone here. Everyone in the entire castle, most likely. When the guard came with dinner, she could knock him unconscious or deliver a vomiting attack, steal his keys, and free herself. The tribunal who had convicted her had no idea of her true power. Most thought the Poison Flame used actual poison on her victims. Nethersong was virtually unknown. Darvyn wouldn’t reveal her secret, either. If the others knew what she was capable of, her two remaining days would likely evaporate. They’d do away with a formal execution and kill her right now—if she let them.