Apostate: Forbidden Things

by Nikki Mccormack

  “That’s…”

  She jerked a hand up quickly and he fell silent. The last thing she wanted was a crass comment that might set Yiloch off. There were now more people in the room for him to take out his rage on and most of them were ill equipped to deal with him.

  “I should be arresting him,” Caplin said in a low voice, his eyes darting to Yiloch.

  She looked over at the Lyran emperor. He hadn’t moved from his position, bowed forward beneath a misery she could feel all too well through the link, but never truly feel as he did. His beautiful hair still obscured his features. His hand, however, balled to a fist around her ring, betraying the molten fury she could feel coming off him now, the defiance. The emotions warned her that he was hungry for conflict, any outlet for the pain and hopeless rage with him. Myac called him a monster. Whether she agreed with that assessment or not, right now she was willing to bet he would be capable of monstrous things.

  “Let’s not,” she said. Relief washed through her when Caplin allowed her to direct him back down the hallway with a hand on his elbow. “Why did you come here?”

  “You said something about convincing Lord Serivar to confess. I figured you might have come here and I was concerned given the way you left.” In the Headmaster’s office, several guards stood around Serivar’s prone form looking uncertain. Caplin nodded to the still figure. “Was he also poisoned?”

  She scowled, a refreshing hatred burning up through a small fraction of her sorrow. “No. I put him to sleep. I needed him out of the way.” Even if he were poisoned, I wouldn’t tell you. Not until he was good and dead.

  She turned to stare back down the hallway. Yiloch still hadn’t moved. She could feel his every black emotion; hatred, despair, anguish, even fear. Perhaps he feared going on without the one companion who had always been beside him. Struggling against more tears, she faced Caplin.

  “You need to understand, Prince Caplin.” There was a slight stiffening in his shoulders at her formal address, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for him. He had chosen not to trust her back when it mattered most. They couldn’t be the friends they had been once. Not now. Too much had happened. Too much had changed. “Adran has been by Yiloch’s side his entire life. Myac tortured Adran to death to make Yiloch suffer. The Lyran emperor is a lethal man when angry and this would not be the best time to test him. Leave him with me and I will see that he doesn’t leave Demin until things are resolved.”

  “I should be arresting you as well, Lady Indigo.”

  She met his eyes, but she didn’t need to see the remorse in them to know he wouldn’t argue the matter, she could feel him yielding, melting under a mountain of regret.

  “Arrest Lord Serivar. It’s near sunrise. I will be at the palace with Emperor Yiloch before nightfall tomorrow to go before the king. This situation will be resolved, but first, there are the dead and those who survived them to attend to.”

  Caplin nodded. “Is there any way I can be of help?”

  She considered the offer. There were so many complications to deal with and Yiloch himself was apt to be the greatest. There were some things Caplin was in a unique position to help with though, not the least of which was their criminal status. “I could use a temporary pardon for Yiloch and myself, or at the very least, permission to move about the city as needed. A few guards to help move bodies and to act as escorts or speak in our defense should we need such would also be welcome.”

  Caplin nodded. “It will be done. I can also provide you quarters in the palace for the time being so you can both have some privacy in which to rest before you see my father.”

  She narrowed her eyes, wary of the offer.

  “As guests, not prisoners,” he clarified, understanding her hesitation. “I will arrange for proper guest quarters to be prepared for you when you’re ready and I will see that you are provided clean clothes.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was good to have his support, at least as far as this. It relieved a small bit of the burden that weighed her down. “Thank you, Caplin.”

  He nodded to Serivar. “Can you wake him? It would make transportation easier.”

  “I’d really rather not.”

  Caplin narrowed his eyes at her and she shrugged.

  “I tied off the ascard working. It will wear off in a few more hours. Given his ascard ability, I think it would be best if he were in custody by then.”

  “Take him and put him in the carriage,” he ordered with a nod to two of the remaining guardsmen. He set a hand on her shoulder then and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Please be careful, Indigo.”

  She nodded, resisting the urge to pull away, and watched in silence as he left, leaving four more guardsmen behind with orders to assist her as needed. He didn’t specifically tell them to follow her orders, however, a lack that emphasized the distance built up between them. When Caplin was gone, the men turned to her. Their regard was openly skeptical, but they would do as their prince commanded, though she had no doubt they were here to ensure she made no escape attempts as much as anything. Still, she had their assistance and protection. That was all she could ask.

  “Wait here a moment.”

  Without waiting for their response, she returned to the training room. Yiloch hadn’t moved and the turmoil of emotions creating a storm around him hadn’t improved.

  “We should move him.” The sudden blast of searing anger shocked her. She took a step back from him. “Eventually,” she added more to herself.

  Turning, she walked back to Myac and leaned down, taking the hilt of the sword in her hands. When she pulled the body shifted, but the blade stayed where it was. Glancing down the hall, she considered asking one of the guardsmen for help, then realized Yiloch might not take kindly to them handling his sword. Biting her lip in frustration, she used some of the little ascard power left in her to free the weapon from the ribs it was wedged between and drew it free, swallowing a rush of bile at the sensation of the blade sliding through flesh and bone. After sweeping it clean with more ascard, she walked over and set it on the table alongside Adran.

  Returning to the office, she sent one of the guards to retrieve blankets from the medical buildings in which they could wrap the bodies to move them. It made sense to send both bodies back to Lyra so that they could be dealt with according to the customs of their home country. However, there was still much to do here, so she would move them to the dead rooms in the west building where healers could maintain the bodies until they were ready to accompany them home. She would talk to the healers herself when they took Myac’s body to the dead rooms. That way she could express in person the need for careful preservation and respectful handling, especially in Adran’s case. Yiloch, she would give a little more time alone with Adran.

  Sinking down in Serivar’s large chair, she rested her head back and closed her eyes. She was so weary. If only she could rest for a few minutes, then perhaps things wouldn’t seem so terrible.

  “My lady, the blankets.”

  She opened her eyes and stared up at the guardsman. Had he been gone more than a few seconds? She must have dozed off. Part of her hated him for disturbing her, but none of this was his fault and there was still work to be done. She forced herself to rise again.

  “Yes. Thank you. Come with me.”

  She supervised their work, placing herself between the guardsman and Yiloch to eliminate any risk of them disturbing him. They rolled Myac over and his head twisted unnaturally, lolling so that his pale eyes stared at her even when his body faced away. The ascard enhanced slice of Yiloch’s dagger had cut more than halfway through his neck, leaving little to hold the head in place. Her stomach lurched and she covered her mouth with one hand as a guard reached over and straightened the head.

  “Are you all right, my lady?”

  She nodded hastily, averting her gaze. “Just cover him and we’ll take him to the west building.”

  The guardsman raised an eyebrow at that, but refrained from questioning
further. She followed the two who lifted Myac at a distance as they carried him from the room. The other two followed close behind her. When she continued out of the office, the two remaining guards hesitated. She looked back at them and understood the problem. They weren’t about to leave one of the fugitives unguarded.

  “Both of you will stay here. Do not go back into the training room until I return and do not let anyone else go back there either. Understood?”

  They nodded and took up positions inside the office door.

  It took a few hours to give a satisfactory account of her situation that didn’t reveal too much information to the master healers on duty in the west building. Eventually, and with the slightest touch of emotional manipulation, she convinced them to care for the bodies until the return trip to Lyra. Throughout that time, she maintained awareness of Yiloch through her link to him and the ring he still held, hoping he wouldn’t get a sudden urge to go somewhere. A quick touch along the link told her Ian had received more of the needed care and was resting quietly now. Sinking further beneath a load of physical and emotional exhaustion with every passing moment, she trudged back to the other building. The hard part was only starting.

  This time, when she entered the training room, she shut the door behind her, leaving the guards in the office and taking a few seconds to check the barriers still protecting the room making sure they would hear nothing.

  “Yiloch?” She accepted the twitch of one finger as adequate acknowledgement. “We must move Adran to the west building where they can care for him until it is time to take him back to Lyra.”

  There was no hint of response, not even a flare of emotion. She chewed at her lip. She wanted to yell at him, to strike him even, but that was her own tiredness and misery driving her. If they both gave into the storm of emotions, the results wouldn’t be pretty. A strong temptation to manipulate him with her ability nagged at her, but she resisted. If he realized what she was doing, it would only make things much worse and she was growing too exhausted to risk it.

  “Please.”

  Yiloch stood, his movements slow and deliberate. He picked up his sword, absently wiping the blade on pants that were already stained with Adran’s blood without noticing that she had already cleaned it. He sheathed it then stepped up alongside the table and carefully lifted Adran’s body. His gaze fell upon her like a splash of icy water.

  “Where?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  When they finally arrived at the palace, Caplin welcomed them himself, his manner solemn and wary. He escorted them to the rooms they could use. He never had learned to make full use of the serving staff at his family’s home. It didn’t surprise her to learn that his habits hadn’t changed now that he was prince. The rooms he escorted them to were the same extravagant rooms Yiloch and his entourage had used when they came to make an alliance with King Jerrin what felt a lifetime ago now. There were a number of guards stationed outside the exits to the common area, but the common area itself and the bedchambers were empty. She appreciated that he was at least treating Yiloch with the respect due his station even though the Lyran emperor hadn’t yet been cleared of the assassinations. The resentment and mistrust she could feel directed at him, Caplin kept hidden under a gracious facade.

  Yiloch took no notice. He hadn’t spoken a word since asking her where to take Adran’s body. As soon as Caplin offered him use of one bedchamber, he walked in and shut the door behind him.

  Indigo grimaced as the lock clicked into place.

  Caplin offered her a sympathetic look. “I have a key if you want it,” he murmured.

  She shook her head. “No, he needs some time alone. I won’t worry about it just yet.” Besides, she could open it with ascard if she wished to, though she wasn’t about to mention that to Caplin right then. His trust of her was deeply shaken already. She turned and walked toward the neighboring room. “You must give him a chance. He played no part in the murder of your uncle and his family.”

  “That remains to be proven, but he still stole your heart away. I can’t help resenting that. I would have been much less trouble.”

  She laughed, though it sounded weak and hollow, dampened by sorrow. “Possibly, but I would have been a terrible political match for you and it isn’t his fault I fell in love with him.”

  Caplin smiled. The expression looked forced.

  I can’t deal with this right now. She sighed. “You do love Andrea, do you not?”

  “I do, but not…”

  He trailed off when she held up one hand. “That’s all that matters now. I need some rest.”

  Caplin nodded. “I can see that. We’ll deal with other things tomorrow.”

  She glanced out through the opening to the terrace that overlooked the center courtyard. The sun was already below the level of the opposite roofline. The birds chattering on the roof peak were silhouettes in the spray of light that still peeked over. Where had the day gone?

  “Yes, tomorrow. Thank you again for your assistance today.”

  He walked over to take her hand and squeezed it. “We were the best of friends long before any of this madness. I haven’t forgotten that.”

  She found a smile for him, weak, weary, tempered with sadness, but a smile nonetheless. “I’m glad those memories still hold a place in your heart. No matter what comes, those memories are still ours.”

  She pulled her hand away and entered the neighboring room, shutting the door on Caplin and the world outside. A selection of clothing options waited for her, draped over the back of the couch in the sitting area. She could look them over later. Now she longed for nothing more than to strip off the blood soaked dress and crawl into that soft, enticing bed. When that was done, she closed her eyes and moved her awareness into the next room.

  Yiloch lay stretched out along the couch, she could feel him staring at the ceiling, his emotions a thick ball of darkness roiling around him. With the lightest touch, she incrementally enhanced his fatigue until he finally drifted off to sleep. Drawing back into herself, she used the last of her failing strength to tie off a working of ascard to ensure that she would wake at the proper hour and finally relented to the need for rest that had been dragging at her for hours.

  •

  It was an hour after midnight when the light tug of her own power pulled her awake. Stretching her senses, she found little activity in the palace. Quickly, she chose the darkest item among the clothing options and dressed. Adding a cloak of ascard to hide her, she moved out into the palace.

  I’m getting good at this sneaking about. Perhaps there is a future for me in thievery… or politics.

  There was morbid humor in the thought. Pushing such things from her mind, she focused on tracing Serivar’s presence to the ascard shielded prison cells under the barracks. The shielding prevented use of ascard from within the cell, but tracking from outside was easy enough. Getting into the barracks would take a bit more masking, but she was reasonably refreshed after her rest and more than strong enough to manage the task. Now, with Myac gone, there was no one she knew of who could rival her ascard strength. What place did someone with such absurd power have in the world?

  She heaved a sigh, finding she needed to refocus herself again on the task at hand. The night outside the palace walls was cool, pleasant, and very dark. The last worked in her favor, reducing the amount of power she needed to use to hide herself. There were several soldiers standing near the front door of the barracks talking heatedly about something. A moment’s eavesdropping told her they were discussing whether Caithin should make a move against Lyra now. Word of the Grey Army’s attack and Lyra’s weakened state had made it across the Gilded Straight, as one would expect of two so closely placed nations. From what she could tell, they didn’t know Yiloch was in Caithin, which was all for the best.

  This was her task, to stop any military action against Lyra before it could start. Not only stop it, but also open the door for trust to build again between the two nations. That required clearing Yi
loch’s name and exposing the guilty parties, though one of those parties had already faced his punishment. The path that had led her to this point was long and confusing, not a path she would have necessarily chosen for herself or even considered possible in the beginning. Now that she was here, there was little point in not going forward.

  She insinuated a tendril of thought into one man’s mind, giving him a restless urge to walk. The man shifted his feet, glancing around as though searching for something.

  “Come on. All this talk of war has me itching to fight. I need to walk off some energy.”

  The other three agreed with his sentiment, with a tiny touch of outside intervention, and they walked past her out toward the practice rings. She frowned after them. That kind of mental meddling gave her an unclean feeling, but it was terribly handy.

  Reaching her power beyond the door, she checked for any presence in the main room. Other than several soldiers asleep in their bunks, the room was empty and it would be easy enough to hold them in sleep. Moving quickly, she made her way into the sleeping quarters and down between the rows of beds, most of them occupied, then stepped through the open door into the room above the prison.

  Two men sat in the small musty room. A dice set lay scattered to one side of the small table they sat at, but the game appeared to have lost their interest. Their grumbled conversation focused on the boredom inherent with pulling a shift on prison watch. She shook her head, moving across the room behind them, blending herself with the ascard in the air. Boredom would be such a luxury. Too bad one rarely felt that way when they had it.

  Sneaking down the stairs that led to the prison cells, she unlocked the entrance gate with a touch of power, muffling the squeal of the rusty metal gate swinging open. Once inside she focused her power on Serivar, following the signature of his inner aspect to his cell. He sat on a small cot staring into the empty cell across from him. In this setting, after all that had happened, he no longer possessed any of the mystery and authority that had awed her when she first came to the academy. He looked frail and pathetic. She established a set of barriers around them to block sound and prevent anyone else from seeing her.