Dream of Darkness and Dominion

by Hilary Thompson

  I am here, she prayed. Use me as you will. But keep Penna and Kosh safe, she bargained.

  Flipping over so her wings formed a blanket of warmth between her body and the cool mist of the clouds, Coren recited a prayer to the Mirror Magi, asking the twin deities for the strength she needed to fulfill the dreams of the people below her.

  And then she sank, falling faster and faster through the layers of white and gray clouds. Her body burst through the bottom and into open air, and still she fell. Screams from below reached her ears, but she didn’t stop, blind faith and spoken prayer guiding her down.

  Just when her Weshen mind began to scream against its mortality, her Vespa senses took control, and she righted herself, flapping a great gust of wind against the crowd and shooting past all of the nobility, straight up the massive stone columns, to the roof of the open-air pavilion where the coronation ceremony would be held.

  The roof was open to her through gaps in its trellis, and she darted down through the rosewhip vines, landing before the single, waiting throne with a crack of boot against stone, one knee brushing the ground and body bent in a crouch, her enormous wings drawn around her like curtains.

  The crowd in the gardens before her muttered with nervous energy, but as she rose to stand strong before them, row upon row of waiting Riatans began to kneel.

  RESH HAD NEVER BEEN so envious of someone’s power yet so bursting with pride as he watched Coren perform for the slack-jawed Riatans.

  Perhaps she hadn’t meant to perform - it certainly wasn’t her style. But he smirked to himself at the thought that maybe his own taste for theatrics had sparked a few ideas in her mind.

  Whatever it was, she was magnificent. Every eye was on her now as she rose from her crouch, shaking those gorgeous wings wide. Resh ached to run his fingers through their silken perfection. To hear the sounds that always escaped her throat when he did.

  She had chosen to be Queen of Riata, and she had chosen him, out of all the hunters of Weshen, to be by her side while she changed the world.

  When he’d prayed to the Mirror Magi for relief from their people’s curse, he had never, not in any dream, thought his pleas would lead to such miracles. When he’d felt the shadow of greatness stretch before him before, he’d never imagined it would begin like this. Clutching his prayer beads, he thanked the Magi for his little Weshen witch and all the changes they would create together.

  He and Sy hurried to catch up to Coren, pushing through the full court of Lords and Ladies who had risen from their bow, leaving their cushioned earth benches and shoving toward the open pavilion for a closer look.

  Resh threw a scowl toward a figure in black at the edge of the dais. Jyesh had taken advantage of Coren’s flight and ascended the steps to the pavilion first. He also seemed to have shifted himself an over-sized, ornate chair close to the right hand of Coren’s throne. He lounged there now, instead of standing like everyone else. His black robes spread around him, the glittering First Son crown resting at a haughty angle on his forehead.

  “He’s detestable,” Sy whispered to Resh as they edged through the crowd, looking for a place where they could see the dais. “He’s not even being crowned.”

  “He’s dangerous,” Resh corrected. “Coren thinks too much of him. Not everyone can be redeemed.”

  “I should have given him some more of Dain’s wine,” Sy said, and they both snickered. It was too late for any of that, and Resh only hoped the fool would stay silent.

  Guards in burgundy uniforms filed in around and behind the dais, and the four Generals stepped forward, flanking Coren as she sat on the throne. Resh grinned and nudged Sy when he saw that Jyesh had been blocked from view by Dain and Cusslen.

  Everyone quieted as a Riatan religious elder rose and shuffled to the edge of the pavilion. It bothered Resh that Coren was being asked to place her hands on the ruffling pages of their holy book, but he didn’t suppose it could be helped. He knew she prayed to the Mirror Magi just as he did, regardless of what prayers to their FatherSun she was currently being asked to repeat.

  There was lots of mumbling and high-octave singing and complex hand gestures that Resh couldn’t make a bit of sense of, and then, thank the Magi, the ceremony ended just before his feet fell asleep.

  The four Generals stepped forward, to the edge of the steps. In a line, they knelt at on the top step, heads bowed and necks exposed. The religious elder guided Coren before them into the sun and handed her a silver sword with a black diamond hilt.

  “Queen Corentine of Riata!” the religious elder shouted. The crowd burst into something that alternated between a roar and a cheer as the man shuffled to Coren and reached to place the crown on her head. It was a beautiful crown, delicate yet strong, though Resh caught Coren’s fleeting cringe as its weight settled onto her forehead.

  The midday sunlight made the silver twists of the crown nearly blinding, its sculpted branches dotted with darkness in the form of intricate, black diamond blossoms.

  When Coren met his gaze, Resh saw her barely-hidden desperation. She was merely grasping at calm while panic had tightened her jaw and drawn a heavy crease between her brows.

  He suddenly ached to yank her away from all of this, power and kingdom be cursed, and sweep her out of sight into the forest, protecting her from all of these greedy gazes. But he could only stare into her eyes, letting her know he was here. She had agreed to this plan, and there was no way to reverse it now.

  Coren almost seemed to hear his thoughts as she straightened her shoulders, spread her lips in a polite smile, and lifted a hand to the people. They clapped and cheered as she waved.

  The elder leaned in to whisper in her ear. She glared at him, but Resh saw him insist and point her to the Generals behind her. Dain and Noshaya lifted their eyes, both nodding to Coren in assurance of whatever was to come next.

  Coren paused, then held the sword aloft, bringing it down heavily against the shoulder of General Harben, who was on the far left. He bore the blow without a sound, though Resh saw a bright glint of blood on the sword when she raised it a second time. Coren repeated the attack with each General, ending with a blow to Dain’s shoulder that Resh swore looked much lighter.

  She handed the sword back quickly, and the Generals stood, pairing up at her sides as they all faced the cheering crowd. Their uniforms were all torn at the shoulder. She had drawn blood from the four most influential people in Riata, and they had allowed it.

  “What sort of symbolism is that?” he whispered to Sy, snickering. Riatans were an odd bunch.

  “It’s strange, but it fits. Not one of them could withstand her Weshen magic,” Sy answered with a grin.

  Suddenly, shame seared through Resh’s veins, like fire over dry grass. He imagined himself up there next to Coren, just as incapable as those men. He’d never be able to protect her, either. Not without shifter magic or Sulit spells. Not without Riatan alchemy.

  Of course, he was still a Weshen Paladin with excellent training and a keen mind. But ultimately, he was not much better than the hundreds of inferior soldiers behind him.

  Resh’s teeth ground together as Coren and her four Riatan Generals passed him and began to proceed through the valley of watchers again. He and Sy followed, and Jyesh strode ahead and inserted himself into the lineup, walking regally down the black path as if it had been his own coronation.

  “Where did he get that crown?” Sy asked.

  Resh blinked. Jyesh did indeed have a crown set into his black hair. It was smaller than Coren’s and more masculine, but unmistakably a crown of Riata, with its twists of silver and black diamonds.

  Resh said a very ugly word, and Sy snorted back a laugh. Jyesh swiveled his head toward them and narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Resh raised an eyebrow at the Lord of Witches.

  “Keep playing your games,” he called to Jyesh. “None of it matters.”

  Sy nudged him as Jyesh whirled back to his imagined admirers. “Don’t provoke him. He’s not an infant or a caged a
nimal.”

  “He’s a pawn,” Resh scoffed. “All he knows is what Mara taught him. We’re playing a new game, now.”

  “He’s recruiting, though,” Sy pointed out. “Alone, he’s a pest. With a group of Lords, he’ll become a pestilence.”

  Resh considered. He still thought Jyesh would run out of original ideas very soon. “Then I guess we need to crush him beneath our boots now.”

  The brothers said nothing more down the long path, but their silence was the sort of agreement only family could have when something threatens their own.

  THE WORDS SPOKEN BY the Riatan Fatheren at the coronation had been nothing more than words.

  But the book. The book and the spelled Riatan sword.

  They were much more.

  Shadow felt the pull of her blood, coursing through the veins of her limbs like sap in a tree or currents in the sea. All of it, all of it, was connecting Shadow closer and closer to this girl and this need and this frantic pull.

  Somewhere in Riata, he felt the smooth silk of the girl’s palm as it rested on the religious book Shadow had touched once, years and years and years ago. So many years ago, when the last Queen beckoned it close enough to touch.

  Shadow reveled in the pulsing heat of her blood, just beyond reach, hidden safely by distance, and recklessly behind something so flimsy as human skin. Shadow marveled that the same sword was still in use, that the last Queen had hidden it so safely by proximity and so shamelessly in the open.

  Shadow seethed with the energy of a storm brewing as the girl hefted the sword and spilled the blood of her Generals, winding their fates with hers - inextricable and unavoidable.

  The last Queen would soon come for the next Queen, and the storm clouds would rain nothing but blood and darkness.

  No, it wouldn’t be long now.

  Chapter 17

  RESH SIGHED OUT A RELIEVED curse as he and Sy finally reached the edge of the crowded gardens. He stepped past the Generals and guards and touched Coren’s elbow gently, pulling her from shaking yet another hand. “Can I escort you back to your rooms? I could help you get ready for the ball as well as any servant.” He hoped she wouldn’t think he was too bold.

  His aim wasn’t to see her undressed. Tonight, Resh wanted to be the first one to see her discovery of the gift he’d had made for her. If Giddon had followed directions, the gift should be waiting for her now, in the freshly-cleaned Queen’s chambers.

  Coren nodded, relief smoothing her brow. He noted how tired her eyes were, and how her spine slumped. Was it from fatigue at using her magic for the coronation? Or had all the excitement and pressure drained her physical energy? Either way, Resh nearly burst with silent gratitude as Coren leaned on his arm. They made their way leisurely into the palace, surrounded by several guards.

  Dain had followed as well. “All of the guards are now sworn to protect you,” he reminded Coren, nodding to Resh and Sy. “They can show your friends to their adjacent rooms, and they will wait outside your doors until you need them. Jyesh has already been shown to rooms on this floor, and I’ve made special arrangements for extra guards. I must attend to a few things now, but I’ll see you at the coronation ball.” He bowed and strode away before Coren had even spoken a word. She blinked at Resh, and he doubted she’d processed all of that.

  “This way, please,” a young guard said stiffly, his captivated by her wings.

  When they reached the Queen’s chambers, another guard motioned down the hall. “The adjacent rooms are here.”

  Sy shrugged and followed him. “Time for a nap,” he called over his shoulder with a grin. Coren giggled, and Resh was grateful she had begun to relax again.

  The guard pulled a silver key ring from his pocket and offered it to Coren. “Whoever is stationed here will always have a key, for your convenience,” the man said.

  Resh thought that sounded more like a danger to Coren than a convenience. He made a mental note to ask Watersend about it. Coren unlocked the tall door before them, and the guard pushed it wide. He entered first, checking each corner and door before beckoning them inside.

  Uneasily, Resh wondered how much protection Coren would continue to need. He and Sy would have to work carefully to make sure the palace itself was safer for its new Queen. Coren blinked warily around the space, her arms tight to her sides. She hadn’t wanted Mara’s rooms, but there hadn’t been time yet to prepare anything else, and Dain had warned her that it was better to keep up appearances.

  If the court believed she was shunning their finery, they would be less likely to trust her, he’d reasoned. Resh wasn’t so sure about that, but he did enjoy seeing Coren in such a beautiful place. She deserved every inch of these marble floors and silk curtains and velvet carpets.

  Her worn, dirty travel pack looked horribly out of place, resting on a pristine white velvet chaise.

  “I can still hardly believe all of this is supposed to be for one person,” she said, glancing back as the guard returned to the hall, closing the door behind them.

  Of course, a Queen was never truly alone, and both cast their attention to the far wall as a girl skittered away through a narrow servant’s door. A fresh fire blazed in the white marble hearth, and the sticks of tabac incense Coren had approved had just been lit near the bed. Resh associated the smell with his own riding leathers and the scent of traveling in the woods, and he wondered what Coren thought of when she smelled it.

  He resisted asking her, though, because he was still waiting for her to notice his gift.

  The massive bed took up the center portion of the room, draped in heavy white curtains and filled with undisturbed mounds of new white pillows and satin-backed bedding. Resh smiled at the brilliant blue-green fabric draped across the white.

  Coren noticed the contrast. “What is this?” she asked, stepping quickly to the bed and running her hands over the beaded silks. She lifted a layer of pin-tucked sea-green fabric to reveal a smooth underskirt of velvet sand and, farther down, a froth of white lace.

  “It seems to be a dress,” Resh answered, leaning against the thick bedpost. His grin earned an eye roll from her, but he didn’t care. It was worth it to watch her eyes linger on something beautiful. Something just for her.

  Coren had told herself no so many times, Resh suspected she’d forgotten how to desire.

  He saw it tucked into the simplicity of her clothing, even now as Queen of the most powerful country in the land. And he felt it hidden in the shyness of her kisses.

  “Although, it is more than a dress. It’s a gift. I had it made for you to wear tonight.”

  “A gift? From the Second Son?” Coren teased. Her voice had an odd tightness that worried him, and he knew he needed to separate this from the hunts she was evidently thinking of.

  He pulled his sketch from his trousers’ pocket and unfolded it before her, pressing the paper into the white covers. She picked it up, her eyes widening at the pencil drawing and watercolor accents.

  “You did this?” Her fingers traced the lines of the dress, avoiding the gentle wave of her hair and the plump curve of her lips that he’d also captured.

  Resh nodded. Creating a likeness wasn’t a skill he often had much use for, but the palace dressmaker had been impressed. She’d even offered him a job, which he’d promptly refused.

  “This dress is something you didn’t know you wanted, but now that it’s here, you’re going to enjoy it,” he predicted, slipping the paper from her hand. He hoped she heard the double entendre in his words. He’d found something special in his Weshen witch, and the only thing Resha Havenash of Weshen feared now was losing her.

  “Can I help you try it on?”

  He expected Coren to deny him, but instead, she raised her arms, allowing him access to the side buckles of her blue leather armor.

  “This armor is truly magnificent,” she murmured, keeping her eyes down as he eased the breastplate away from the thin shirt she wore beneath.

  “Truly,” Resh managed, his breath a littl
e too short for his liking. Coren shimmied out of the leather breeches, and they crumpled on the stone floor, leaving her in nothing but the thin undershirt that reached barely past her hips.

  She turned away from him, still refusing to look him in the eyes. Her flushed skin was so beautiful. Afternoon sunlight draped her shoulders in gold as she slid the undershirt away, bare before him for the first time. Resh opened the gown and knelt before her, bowing his head to allow her to step unobserved into its filmy layers. The dress rose up her body as he rose until finally, their eyes met.

  Heat seared the room like summer sun.

  Coren broke the gaze, turning her back on him. Resh didn’t push her. She was being pushed quite enough to take this throne and make it hers. He didn’t want to be yet another obligation to fulfill.

  But he reveled in how his fingers alternated between the silk of her skin and the silk of the dress. He drew the bodice together at her back and carefully hooked each of the dozens of loops and pearls up the back. Each button pulled the dress a little tighter until her slim form appeared to curve magnificently beneath the airy fabric.

  He bent down again to fluff and smooth the skirts, arranging each layer of sand and sea as precisely as he’d drawn them. Coren turned to him just as he finished adjusting the top layer, and she caught him on his knees again. Resh’s heart stuttered for a second as he stared up into her face.

  “Perfection,” he whispered.

  She blushed and nearly glared. “I’m not one of your summer girls who needs flattery, Resh.”

  He stood, never breaking his gaze. “I never bothered to flatter a summer girl,” he answered honestly.

  He’d never needed to. They’d accepted and desired him as a well-dressed, worldly General’s Second Son. Many had even flattered him, trying to earn their way back into his bed in hopes of being the one to conceive his child. A few had even hunted him. It had been something Resh enjoyed once, but he realized now it had been at best a petty pleasure, as fleeting as a mouthful of food instead of a full feast.