Throne of Shadows

by Emma Fenton

  It’s not just any book, though, is it?

  Before Ria could argue with herself further, the entrance by the set of armor slid open. Instinctively, she grabbed the book and shoved it in the interior pocket of her cloak before the Elder Scholar could see what she’d been reading. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d approve. He might even try to stop her.

  Stop me from what? Ria frowned at her own thoughts. She hadn’t decided what to do about the spell, unsure if she should even attempt it. On one hand, it might not even work because demons were not real. But if it did work, what kind of hell would she be unleashing? The note in the text specifically warned against trying the summoning, and yet the promise that any desire could be granted was nearly irresistible. Her subconscious seemed to already be considering the summoning as a distinct possibility even though Ria herself was hesitant.

  The Elder Scholar paused in the doorway, looking down at where dozens of loose pages were scattered across the floor. He raised a brow.

  “Did you slaughter a book while I was gone?”

  Ria looked down at the mess, abashed. She’d completely forgotten about it in her haste to read the book. “The spine fell off. I was just getting ready to clean it up.”

  “I see.” Master Ameer eyed her where she sat comfortably in a chair and snorted disbelievingly. He walked over to his own workbench. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “I…well, maybe. I need to do some more research.” Ria reasoned that she wasn’t exactly lying to the man and tried to stamp down some of her guilt.

  “More research?” The Elder Scholar, oblivious to her mood, laughed dryly. “You’ve been here for hours. You need sleep, Ria.”

  That was probably true, but Ria didn’t feel tired in the slightest. The tingling of the dark magic still pin-pricked across her skin, and the prospect of a solution to her fight with Jaya—no matter how ridiculous it might have been—made her feel the most alive she had in weeks. But I can’t read this book while the Elder Scholar is here, Ria thought.

  “You’re right,” she said, faking a yawn. She stood from her chair. “Perhaps I will resume my studies in the morning.”

  The Elder Scholar narrowed his eyes at her, and Ria cursed herself for agreeing too quickly. She should have made more of an effort to argue with him as she usually did. But if the Elder Scholar was suspicious, he said nothing.

  “Rest well.”

  She nodded and slipped out through the tunnel behind the bookshelf, keeping the book pressed close. When she was safely back in the privacy of her own room, she laid the book open on her bed and stared at the summoning ritual. The ritual itself was slightly complex, but the required components were common enough. It would take her no more than a day to acquire everything she needed.

  If I do it, she reminded herself. The demon spirits of her childhood stories had been vicious things: rows of sharp teeth poking out of inky darkness and glowing eyes that could hold you trapped in a trance while the demon feasted on your soul. They were cruel, selfish, insatiable beings. The spell said any desire could be granted for a price. If the summoning worked—which was a big “if”—what would such a being require in exchange for their help?

  Nothing good, Ria thought. She wasn’t even sure if she had anything of worth to offer. She didn’t think it would want something as mundane as money or land. Given how gruesome the book was, the demon would probably ask for a sacrifice of some sort. She shuddered just thinking about it.

  Ria shut the book and tucked it under her mattress. The Elder Scholar was right; she needed sleep. If she was lucky, things would be clearer in the morning. There could still be another option. I’ll find something tomorrow, she told herself. But even as she curled up against her pillows and drifted into a light sleep, she did not quite believe herself.

  Chapter Six

  Ria could not stop thinking about the book. She’d left it under her mattress since that first night, telling herself that it was no use obsessing over something that might not even work. She had spent her time searching every relevant book in the Elder Scholar’s private library in an attempt to find something more practical that didn’t rely on calling up dark, unknown forces. There was nothing. No poison that she could get her hands on. No potion that would give her the strength to overcome Jaya.

  Her mind kept returning to the book, to the promise of any desire can be granted. It was a dangerous temptation. High rewards always came at high costs. But still the book called to her, made her wonder what victory would taste like. At night, she dreamt of a world where she was forever out of reach from Jaya’s blade. She dreamt, not of being the ship rocking on the waves, but the ocean itself. She dreamt of pulling tides underneath her fingertips, breathing a storm into existence. She dreamt of being a power so tremendous that nothing could hurt her.

  When she woke, she was still just Ria: the spare, the second-best, the weaker sister.

  There was no more time left to search for a solution. The fight would take place tomorrow, and all Ria had up her sleeve was an ancient summoning ritual that might not even work. She’d put it off as long as she was able, but when her search for an alternate means of winning proved fruitless, Ria had been forced to give in. She still wasn’t sure she could go through with it, though she’d spent most of the day collecting the ingredients for the ritual. There would be a price for what she asked—if the ritual worked—and Ria knew it would be hefty. She wanted to live, but not if the cost was worse than death.

  Although, now that Ria sat in the dining hall for the first time since the Council had announced that she’d be fighting Jaya, she was starting to wonder if there was anything worse than being dismembered by her sister. There was little doubt that Jaya would make it painful for Ria. She had only come to dinner because the Council insisted on it, but now she was regretting not feigning ill.

  Jaya sat on the other side of the table, Lord Izan at her side like a loyal watchdog. Jaya maintained eye contact as she severed the head of the salted fish on her plate as if to say, “This will be you tomorrow afternoon.” The fish’s eye stared blankly at Ria from across the table.

  “It will be a relief to put all this business behind us,” Vili was saying, either ignorant of the tension in the room or otherwise uncaring. Perhaps it was easy to forget that someone would be dying tomorrow when you weren’t directly affected. Ria envied his position of safety.

  “Indeed,” Izan said. He raised his goblet. “To moving forward, whatever the outcome of tomorrow’s fight may be.”

  It would have been almost gracious of him to include the possibility of Ria winning in his toast if not for the accompanying sneer. How typical of Izan to say all the right words and mean none of them. Though, for once, Ria could not blame him. Jaya was the clear favorite to win by both the Council and the public, and Izan had a lot to gain from that alliance. Everyone was already preparing for Jaya’s reign even if they weren’t saying so out loud. At this point, Ria’s participation in the fight tomorrow was little more than a formality.

  “We will bring Helhath into a new era of strength and prosperity,” Jaya said. She split her fish open with her knife and cut a bite-sized piece. No one bothered to tell her that she was not yet queen. There was no need. “The right way.”

  Ria couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. The right way? As if Jaya knows what that is. She will kill anyone who disagrees with her. She will hoard power. She will rule with violence and fear. Nothing good would come of Jaya’s rule.

  The Councilmen froze, undoubtedly worried about what Jaya would do, worried she might explode and kill Ria now instead of waiting for the official fight tomorrow. Jaya was glaring at Ria, a snarl half-formed on her lips. She clenched her dinner-knife in her hand tight enough to whiten her knuckles, and for a moment, Ria thought her sister might actually leap across the table. But before that could happen, Jaya settled back into her seat, grinning.

  “Don’t worry, Ria,” Jaya said, the pity in her voice belied by the sharp cruelty i
n her eyes. “It won’t be your burden to bear.”

  With more confidence than she felt, Ria smiled. “We’ll see.”

  Jaya barked a laugh. “Tell yourself whatever you want. You don’t have the skills to last more than thirty seconds against me.”

  There was nothing Ria could say against that. Jaya was right; unless Ria could perform a miracle, she would be killed before the fight had a chance to even begin. No, not a miracle. Ria chewed on her bottom lip, ignoring the food on her plate. I have nothing left to lose. Jaya will kill me, or a demon will kill me, or by some miracle I’ll make it out alive. There is no reward without risk.

  This would be blasphemy, probably. She was meddling with the gods’ plans. She was going to dabble in forces no mortal should ever play with. But what choice do I have? Was it so wrong to want to live?

  A phantom tingle of dark magic raced across her skin as if the book was calling to her. Almost like it knew she’d made her decision. She would do the ritual. And she would win tomorrow, or she would die trying.

  ***

  The ritual was supposed to be performed in the dead of night when the moon was highest in the sky, but as that time drew nearer, it became evident that Sofi was planning on sticking around longer than usual. Ria tried not to snap at Sofi—it wasn’t her fault that she was being an inconvenience; she didn’t know any better—but her patience was wearing thin. Sofi tugged Ria’s unruly hair into a tight braid, humming softly.

  “I never noticed before, but you look quite a bit like your mother,” Sofi said offhandedly as she finished the braid. She tied the end with a slim blue ribbon. “She had that look about her, too. That determination.”

  Ria was not quite sure how to take that. She had few memories of her mother; the woman was too busy being queen to be a parent most of the time, and those few times she had deigned to look after her own children herself were just a blur in Ria’s mind. The only clear image she could call up of her mother was when the woman sat tall on the throne, eyes sharper than knives, the epitome of regal strength.

  Ria looked at her own reflection in the mirror. Her dark hair almost looked acceptable now that it was pulled back, though a few strands fell loose around her face in wisps. Dark crescents rested beneath her eyes, and her skin had lost its usual copper glow. I look sick, Ria thought. Or tired. There was nothing regal about her. Nothing that reminded her at all of her mother.

  “You’d make a good queen,” Sofi said softly. She rested her hands on Ria’s shoulders and met her eyes in the mirror. Ria heard the unspoken words. Sofi did not expect her to win.

  I definitely won’t win if you keep talking to me all night long, Ria thought.

  “I should get some rest,” Ria said instead, forcing her tone to remain pleasant. Sofi nodded, and then seemed to hesitate for a moment.

  “I could stay, if you want,” she said. She gave Ria a sad smile. “So you don’t have to be alone.”

  The sentiment would have been sweet if Ria wasn’t so eager to get rid of the other girl.

  “No, that’s alright,” Ria said, shaking her head. “I think I’d actually like to be alone tonight. If you don’t mind.”

  An almost-imperceptible tension drained from Sofi’s shoulders. “Of course. I will see you in the morning.”

  Ria watched Sofi leave and then counted to a hundred before sliding on her cloak and grabbing the bag she’d stashed in the back of her wardrobe earlier that afternoon. She retrieved the book from underneath her mattress, took the small lantern off her bedside table, and snuck out of her room. The hallways were mercifully empty as she made her way down to the kitchens. She said her prayers as she slipped out the servants’ exit, grateful when she was lucky enough to see no guards around. After a quick duck through the gap in the wall and mad dash into the woods, Ria finally slowed down enough to breathe.

  Step one of her plan—get into the nearby forest unseen—was complete. Now for the hard part. She made her way through the woods until she found a space large enough for her ritual. It wasn’t quite a clearing—really, it could have comfortably only held two or three people—but the ground was flatter than elsewhere, and the trees formed a near perfect circle. She set her lantern down at the edge of the circle, the book laid out next to it, and began unpacking her bag.

  First, she took a sack of rock salt and sprinkled it in the shape of a circle. Then she slowly poured the remaining salt into the shape of a star within the circle to create an inverted pentagram. Next, she pulled out five white candles, each carved with the rune of their element—earth, air, fire, water, and spirit—and stood them at the end of each star-point. Finally, she took out a small bowl and a kitchen knife. The ritual had called for a ceremonial blade, but Ria’s options had been limited; it was either the kitchen knife or the scissors from her room.

  She glanced down at the book. All that was left to do was give a blood offering and speak the incantation. It’s not too late to turn back, a small voice in her head said, but Ria barely listened. This was her last chance. If she walked away now, she’d be practically handing Jaya the crown. If she walked away, she’d die tomorrow for sure.

  Ria took the kitchen knife and sliced the palm of her left hand. She winced at the sting of it but clenched her hand into a fist and squeezed it over the bowl. The blood dripped from between her fingers and dropped into the bowl, quiet as the first raindrop before a storm.

  “Y invokya ses spiritus uf het nocte,” she read from the book, doing her best to pronounce the ancient words correctly. I invoke the spirits of the night. Another drop of blood fell from her hand into the bowl and the air seemed to thicken around her. Dark magic tingled across her skin, a feeling she was slowly becoming all too familiar with.

  “Mutta Mayik, Y requi tes blyssine.” The tingling grew stronger as another drop of blood plinked into the bowl. Mother Magic, I ask your blessing. Or at least, that’s what Ria guessed it meant. Her ancient Helish was not very good, and she had to confess that she did not know the exact meaning of the whole incantation. A warm breeze rustled through the trees. The candles that Ria had set out abruptly lit themselves. She closed her eyes and tried not to think too hard about the fact that the ritual seemed to be working. It was too late to stop now. This was no time to second guess her actions.

  “Me ta granta tes strangha.” This one was trickier. Strangha could mean any number of things: strength and power were the more literal translations, but some scholars suggested it could mean gift, or even love, depending on the context. Grant to me your power seemed the most likely translation in Ria’s opinion given that she was invoking Magic herself to fuel the spell.

  Another droplet of Ria’s blood dripped into the bowl. Instantaneously, the candle flames flared. Their warmth engulfed her, almost like she was standing next to a pyre rather than a few candles. The very air around her thickened further, suddenly sticky and heavy on her skin. Perspiration trickled down the side of her temples and the back of her neck. She frowned. She had not anticipated there would be a physical toll for completing the ritual, but now she could feel the strange exertion on her body almost as though she had been running.

  “Me ta granta tes praetencte,” she chanted, squinting down at the smudged, inky script. Praetencte was another word with many meanings. It could be protection, which seemed the most obvious choice, although it could also mean shelter, care, or guidance. More blood dripped into the bowl, and the warmth from the candles now flooded through her, nearly painfully hot. Almost done, she told herself, gritting her teeth. Two more lines, and that’s it.

  “Me ta bindha un daemon uf strangha.” The words on the page here were blurry, clearly smudged, but Ria could make it out well enough. Another drop of blood. This was the summoning: Bring to me a powerful demon. The last part would state her intent. “Waeth tes mayik, Y adminae me wylle.”

  With your magic, I administer my will.

  The final drop of blood splashed into the bowl. A strong gust of wind swept through the forest, extinguishing the ca
ndlelight and Ria’s lantern. She clutched her cloak around her, pressing her cut hand into the fabric to stop the slowing trickle of blood. She was plunged into a darkness so thick, she was no longer sure which way was up. She was floating in nothingness, and if not for the faint glow of moonlight as her eyes slowly adjusted, Ria might have thought she’d fainted.

  It didn’t work. The night air seeped into her skin, evaporating her sweat and raising gooseflesh on her arms. Her skin prickled, the remnants of dark magic thrumming around her. Useless. Why had she ever believed she could be saved? Why had she ever dared to hope she would have a chance against Jaya? She clutched her wounded hand tighter. Believing in fairytales and superstition, Mikhael’s voice said in her mind. You can be so childish, Ria.

  A twig snapped. Ria stilled, eyes squinting in the darkness. It could be a squirrel. Or a rabbit. And then she saw it: a shadowy mass ambled in the darkness, almost indiscernible from the night itself. It moved in a circle, testing the boundaries of her pentagram. Ria took a shuddering breath. She could not make out any of its features, but the thing began to take a more solid shape: tall and narrow and human-sized. As it prowled the perimeter of the pentagram, Ria was reminded of the Boshun circus she had seen once as a child. One of the large jungle cats had entranced her with its sleek black fur and wiry muscle. Her eyes had followed the creature as it stalked tirelessly around his cage. Paavo had held her back, warning her not to get too close.

  “It is a predator, Princesza,” he’d said. “It’s born to kill, and it will swallow a little thing like you in one bite. Wild things do not like to be caged.”

  This was a mistake. Her old childhood fears that she’d tried so desperately to keep buried were clawing their way up from her stomach, dredging up bile and the acidic burn of adrenaline. She should have accepted the Elder Scholar’s offer to leave when she’d had the chance. She should have fled the country. If she’d had any sense, she wouldn’t be here now, alone in the forest with a demon spirit who possessed untold powers. She prayed her pentagram would hold. It was the only thing keeping Ria safe.