by Lee French
Enion climbed up her shirt and draped his body around her neck. He reached up and touched her cheek. “Try again.”
“What for?” She kicked a rock on the sidewalk and watched it bounce into the gutter.
“The man in the Palace.”
“What? Which one? Am I supposed to be showing Djembe how much I deserve to be a Knight?”
“The Heart!”
Claire squinted at the ground, trying to figure out why that guy would matter. Nothing came to mind. “What about him?”
Enion modulated his voice so it approximated that man’s, only high-pitched, as if he’d sucked on helium. “Tenacity. Strength of will. Courage.”
Had he only wanted to see if she stood up again after being knocked down? Claire tugged the blade out of her waistband. Raindrops bounced off the gleaming silver blade. That man had granted her this weapon as a badge of proof. She deserved to be a Knight.
“Over there. Try that one!” Enion pushed her face until she saw a dumpster. Beside it sat a decrepit old cloth couch with fraying upholstery in faded blue and green.
Claire squared her shoulders, tucked her dagger back into her waistband, and marched to the couch. It reminded her more of Justin’s couch than any of those soft, new ones at the store. She glanced around and saw no one. Focusing her will, she sat on the couch that smelled of wet cat and fell through into her empty bedroom. She hit the stone floor hard enough to smart. Then she grinned at her success and hopped to her feet.
“Now that I know I can do this outside of home, the first thing I want in here is a cushion on the floor.”
“I like cushions. They make falling better.”
“Yeah. Exactly.” She strode into the corridor and jogged up the hall then down the stairs. Once in the Thoroughfare, she concentrated on the kitchen and found it right away, but on the left side this time. She hoped she’d eventually understand this place.
One step into the kitchen, she stopped and regarded its single occupant. As before, Djembe stirred a steaming mug, the aroma of coffee inviting her into the room. He glanced at the door and saw her.
“Who are you looking for?”
Claire looked at him and saw an opportunity. He’d been reasonable yesterday. While she doubted she could ever befriend him, she could keep his hostility down, and maybe even discover why he had that hostility in the first place. In time, she could possibly prove him wrong.
She took a deep breath. “You, actually.”
Pausing in the act of taking his first sip at his mug, he raised his brow and gave her a once-over. “And why would you look for me?”
“I…” She groped for some reason to offer that wouldn’t be a complete lie. Looking away, she rested her hands on her hips and found her dagger. As a perfect excuse, she carefully removed it from her waist and held it up for him. “I wanted to show you this. It’s my first weapon.”
“Ah.” He set his mug on the counter and approached her. The swagger in his step made her want to turn and run. “This is complete?” He plucked the dagger from her hand and held it up.
Her mouth ran dry and her heart pounded in her chest as she imagined him stabbing her with her own blade. At least she could let her hand fall so he wouldn’t see it shaking. “Yeah. I met the Heart. Thing. Guy. Worthiness test. Thing.”
“And he judged you worthy of this.” Djembe turned it over and flicked the blade. The clear, metallic ring sang of perfection for one long second.
She croaked an answer, then cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes.”
“Mm.” He tossed the dagger in the air, flipping it end over end, and caught it by the blade. Presenting it to her, he said, “It’s not a sword.”
She took it, making an extreme effort to avoid cutting his hand until he let go. “No.”
“Mm.” Returning to his mug, he picked it up and sipped at it.
“Uh.” Claire gulped. “Do you know how to fight with a dagger?”
“Yes.”
Of course he did. To learn properly, she’d have to come to him and hope he cared more about the mission of the Knights than anything else. Other Knights probably also knew the skill, but she’d have to find one. Until then, Djembe would be her best bet. “Oh. Uh. Would you, um, that is, do you have time to show…Justin how to train me?”
After a long pause, during which he sipped his coffee and kept his face blank, he said, “I can teach you directly. It would be simpler.”
“I, uh, I’ll think about it.” Claire stepped out of the room and tried not to flee. She walked away, teeth chattering and limbs wooden while her mind churned through the conversation. Nothing about that exchange had been terrifying. He hadn’t threatened her or called her names. When she let him hold her dagger, he’d never once held it like he wanted to stab her. He’d even offered to help her.
She wished he’d shouted in her face so she had a reason to quake in her boots. Would she fear him so much if he hadn’t tried to kill her the first time they met?
“I don’t like him,” Enion said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Neither do I.”
He pressed his face against her cheek. “Everything is okay.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Chapter 11
Claire
After wandering up the Thoroughfare for a while, Enion having dozed off around her neck, Claire noticed the side rooms came in different sizes and shapes. She passed a small, round room with several men eating and laughing. In a large, rectangular room with mirrors for walls, four men sparred with wooden practice swords. Several cozy square rooms held men talking.
One medium room had more mirrors, but in this one, an older man stood at the front and demonstrated ballroom dancing on a hardwood floor. Though she had things to do, curiosity drove Claire to peer around the jamb and watch. Music filled the room without an instrument in sight. The men, in casual, loose clothing, watched and mimicked the teacher with stern, serious discipline.
The older man noticed Claire and his face lit up. No Knight other than Justin or Rondy had been happy to see her before now. “Ah! La fille,” he said with a thick French accent. “Come in, come in.”
“Oh. Uh, I was on my way—”
He hurried to her, took her hand, and led her into the room. “Do you know how to waltz?”
“Uh, no?”
“A shame, that. Come, like this.” The instructor arranged her, took her hands, and whisked her around. “Un, deux, trois,” he repeated as she stumbled over her feet, trying to keep up.
She’d never danced before, unless jumping up and down to a throbbing beat counted. The fourth time he started his count, she caught on to the rhythm, and by the eighth, she moved her feet the way he did. So long as no one interrupted, she could keep this up.
“Ah, look! You are dancing, mademoiselle. You see, messieurs, this is how it is done with a partnenaire. I signal with my hand, and she knows we turn to the left. We move together. Not the same, but complémentaire. Each half has a role and must play it for both to succeed. Then you practice and can do things more complex, more élaboré.”
Claire grinned up at the man, pleased she’d picked this up so fast. He waggled his eyebrows and spun her around, which made her trip over her feet. Without him holding onto her, she would’ve fallen. Laughter rang in the room, and she blushed.
“Um, I actually have, uh, someplace to be. Thank you for the lesson.”
The teacher bowed to her as he let her go. “Avec plaisir, mademoiselle. Join us sometime for a full lesson.”
Not sure if she wanted to or not, Claire bobbed her head and rushed out. Although the sidetrack had been fun, she needed to find Rondy. She didn’t know which room was his, so she chose to check the library. She found it within a few minutes of making that decision and grabbed the iron ring like she’d seen Justin do. When she pulled, nothing happened. Justin had made it look heavy, but not this heavy. With a grunt, she yanked on the iron ring again, and still had no luck. She panted a
nd tried one more time, to no avail.
“Do you need help?” This Knight had an Australian accent and wore black biker leathers with patches of skulls, lightning bolts, and angry horses. He smirked at her, but she’d take whatever help she could get.
“How do I open the door?”
“Just like you do anything else here, rook.” He touched the tip of his pinky finger to the iron ring. The door swung open.
“Oh.”
The Knight rapped the top of her skull and walked away laughing.
“Sure. Obviously,” Claire said with a sour smirk. “The way you open a door is to think at it. Anyone should be able to figure that out. Duh.” She rubbed the top of her head even though it didn’t hurt. “Jerk.”
When she and Justin came here before, Rondy had dominated Claire’s view. She’d barely noticed the massive shelves of books stretching to the thirty-foot ceiling. Wide ladders on tracks reached from five feet up to the top and she watched a Knight slide across a bookshelf halfway up a ladder.
Nearby, a Knight ran his fingers across a shelf full of spines. When he tapped one, he disappeared. Claire recoiled and looked around. No one else reacted, and at least two men ought to have noticed. She decided to avoid that shelf in case it randomly ate Knights and spat them out elsewhere.
She walked past the shelves, peering down each aisle. The huge room curved to the right until she felt certain it had taken her in a complete circle without going up or down. At the end, she stopped and stared at an enormous, intricately carved and painted mural depicting a dozen different scenes.
The Heart of the Palace, mounted on his white horse, led a small army of similarly dressed men into battle against dragons the same size Enion had been in their test. Unicorns, giant squid, and other creatures Claire recognized from Greco-Roman mythology also showed up in various sections. All seemed more monstrous than the usual depictions.
The center drew her eyes more than anything else, though. One woman in a bone-white toga-style dress had been depicted with precise care, her image sculpted from the wall. Though the lines of her face had been stylized to a degree, Claire recognized this woman as a near-copy of herself. Even the skin, eyes, and hair all shared the same coloring as hers.
Given the Heart’s reaction to her, Claire guessed this woman must be Iulia. She couldn’t understand why such loving care had been taken with this depiction. If Iulia was a witch, Claire expected her portrait would show a monster, or at least an ugly hag. She hesitated to apply the term “beautiful,” given it would also apply to herself, but Iulia certainly wasn’t unpleasant to look at.
Curious about the woman, Claire reached out and touched the mural, brushing her fingertips across the smooth stone of Iulia’s cheek. The world spun around her until she stood at the verge of a ridge overlooking farmland and orchards. Late afternoon sun in a clear, bright blue sky bathed her in gentle warmth and sparkled on the surface of a distant lake.
She turned around on the spot, dazzled by the view. Behind her stood a white stone structure similar to a gazebo built with scalloped columns. Its dome rose twenty feet into the air with a stone wave at the apex, sculpted froth and bubbles curving in an upward spiral to point at the sky. Its eight gleaming marble columns rested on a layer of wide, square stones set a foot above the rocky ground. From fifty feet away, she thought a design had been carved into the center but couldn’t see it well enough to make out the shape.
Clopping horse hooves drew Claire’s attention to the cliff at her feet. A narrow path zig-zagged up the near-vertical rock face, bereft of any vegetation. The Heart’s white horse carried him and someone else under his russet cloak to the top of the cliff, its hooves sending tiny sprays of dirt tumbling to the ground at least a hundred feet below.
At the top, the horse stopped in a majestic pose while the Heart tossed his cloak open. They cut a more striking figure than Justin and Tariel when they preened. Iulia straightened from her perch under his cloak and touched the Heart’s hand at her waist.
Claire remembered watching her parents on her father’s horse. They’d sat the same way, leaning into and trusting each other. The Heart clearly loved Iulia, making his reaction to Claire all the stranger.
Since they ignored Claire, she assumed they couldn’t see her. This had to be an echo or imprint of someone’s memory, or perhaps a recreation of an event wholly from the magic animating the Palace.
The Heart climbed down from his horse’s saddle. “I told you we’d arrive in plenty of time.” He reached up and lifted Iulia by her slim waist to set her gently on the ground.
Iulia touched his dark beard and smiled at him. “Yes, you did. Erefel is at least as remarkable a beast as you claim.” She took a deep breath, reveling in the fresh air full of pine and rich earth.
He untied a saddlebag from the horse and carried it to the temple while Iulia stood and watched the sun sink lower in the sky. Behind her back, he laid his cloak on the stone floor, covering the symbol. Iulia looked over her shoulder as he unbuckled his sword belt and set it aside.
She grinned and took a step to the side so she cast a shadow over him, the sunlight shining around her head in a halo and revealing the curves under her dress. “Build me a house here, Caius.”
Caius laughed as he retrieved a wine bottle and two wooden cups from his saddlebag. “This place is sacred. It’s also too high for mortal men to carry stone as fine as you deserve.” He yanked the wine cork out with his teeth and poured for them. After setting everything on the ground, he returned to his horse. He and the horse held a quiet conversation Claire couldn’t hear as more than murmurs.
Iulia hurried into the temple while Caius spoke to his horse, casting furtive glances over her shoulder. She sat beside the wine with her back to them. Claire saw Iulia’s lips move and heard a droning sound like a swarm of bees. Brown eyes glowing emerald green, Iulia picked up both cups of wine. She sipped from one, swirled the mouthful, and spat it into the other cup. The glow faded, and Iulia’s face flashed with a disturbing grin. She set the second cup down and kept the first in her hand. With care, she arranged herself and her dress for Caius’s viewing pleasure.
Caius set the horse’s saddle on the ground and patted its flank as it walked away. He stood and took in the sight of Iulia before joining her on his cloak. As she sipped from her cup, he picked up the one she’d set aside for him.
“Don’t drink it,” Claire whispered. She watched him take a gulp and swallow, his gaze on Iulia. “You’re an idiot!”
Caius took another drink before pulling Iulia into his lap. “I’m glad you like the view, my love.”
“It’s impressive. If men didn’t build it, how did this temple get here?”
“By the grace of the gods.”
She leaned against his chest, letting him support her. “I thought this new title you hold in secret gave you godly powers.”
“Some, perhaps.” He took one more drink from his cup before setting it aside.
“What kind of temple is this, anyway?”
Caius tipped her head to the side and kissed her exposed neck. “Who knows? It’s been here for centuries already, and will stand for centuries more.”
Though he sounded sincere, Claire knew he lied. Caius knew exactly what purpose this temple served and that it hadn’t been here long. She thought the story explaining it might be in one of the other pictures. In this one, she only knew he’d worked hard with other Knights to build it for an important reason.
“You would ravish me in an unknown temple?” Iulia raked her fingernails through Caius’s hair as he trailed kisses down her shoulder.
Having a fair idea of where this scene seemed to be headed, Claire blushed. No one would judge her for watching, though, and curiosity gnawed at her. Besides, why include a memory like this in a prominent place in the library if something important or interesting hadn’t happened? It had to show more than a private picnic.
When Caius raised his head, his eyelids drooped. His movements as he brushed his l
ips across Iulia’s reminded Claire of Justin this morning, trying to soldier on despite deep weariness.
“I would…” He took a long time to blink. “…ravish…” Trying to keep a hold on Iulia, he leaned back to lie on the cloak. His lips moved, but only mumbles came out.
Iulia suddenly moved with firm purpose, all signs of love, care, or seduction gone. She grabbed the cloak and used it to drag Caius’s unconscious form off the stone slab.
Claire rushed forward, eager to see the symbol on the stone. To her surprise, it seemed to match the one on her locket. She flipped the pendant out of her shirt and compared the two. Where her locket had been made in a heart shape, the one carved into the stone was a circle. Otherwise, she saw no difference—it had all the same whorls and dots in all the same places. That had to mean both came from the Palace, or something within the Palace, or whatever force had created the Palace in the first place.
Iulia’s dress swished into view. Claire looked up to see the woman holding Caius’s sword, free of its sheath. Iulia grinned with cartoonishly evil glee as she plunged the blade through Claire and into the symbol.
Claire screamed and stumbled back. Though she recovered swiftly from the illusionary stabbing, she gaped in shock at Iulia’s sudden, bizarre shift. Aside from doctoring Caius’s wine, she’d so far given the impression of a woman in love who planned something she knew Caius wouldn’t approve of, not a demented supervillain bent on carrying out some maniacal plan.
The ground rumbled. Claire dropped to one knee to avoid falling. Dark clouds exploded out of nowhere overhead and came together in a swirling spiral. Iulia left the sword lodged in the stone and backed off the slab. Snapping thunder battered Claire’s ears and great cracks split the slab in half. Blue and white streaks of light shot into the sky, stabbing through the center of the vortex.
Caius stirred. Iulia huddled over him, her eyes still alight with mad joy. Her lips moved, but Claire heard nothing of what she said. More cracks formed in the stone. Chunks and fragments exploded outward. Iulia cowered away from the rain of stone and Caius woke enough to shield her with his body.
