by Cayla Kluver
Servants removed our plates, and the Governor dabbed at his mouth before neatly folding his napkin. Then he turned to me.
“There’s much for us to discuss. I believe Luka has told you that your family, including Queen Ubiqua, is en route to the capital. The most recent word we’ve received is that they will arrive the day after tomorrow. I thought you would benefit from a night of relaxation and recuperation before learning the reason.”
My meal roiled in my gut, and I concentrated on the pattern of the lace tablecloth to block out emotion and sensation. I knew all too well why the Queen was coming to Tairmor, and what she would learn upon her arrival. Was I going to have to deliver the news to the Governor that he had executed his own grandson? I twined my hands together beneath the table, trying to come up with a reason to excuse myself, desperate to escape the room before anything more could be said.
“Anya.” It was Luka who had spoken, his voice soft and coaxing, and I inexplicably fought back tears. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time, but not to arrest you. We wanted to ensure your safety, and we needed to tell you something important, something that will doubtlessly shock you.”
I glanced between the two men in bewilderment. Fi had said the Constabularies were looking for me to keep me safe, but from what danger? And what could be more shocking than Zabriel’s execution?
Luka stood and walked around the table to sit next to me, and my apprehension grew. Something was wrong, and I steeled myself against it. How much more bad news could I handle?
With a hint of a smile, he picked up my uninjured left hand, holding it between both of his. “Anya, your cousin is alive. We’ve been looking for you to tell you he’s alive, trying to spare you the grief you’ve been going through.”
My breathing picked up, and my eyes went to Luka’s. They were dark blue but clear, honest. I saw no deception within them.
“We know who he is, that he’s the Prince, and we didn’t execute him. Queen Ubiqua and her Court are coming here to see him.”
“B-but I saw him...” I stammered.
“A convict, disguised,” Governor Ivanova supplied. “We turned the condemned criminal into William Wolfram Pyrite to prevent speculation and bring that chapter of Zabriel’s life to a close. The pirate is dead. The Prince is alive.”
My pulse raced, and the blood pumped so hard in my temples that I wanted to cry out. Their words should have elated me, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around them. What sort of trick were they playing? Or was I hallucinating again?
“His w-wings,” I tried again. “And the b-bullet hole.”
“We hired an artisan to replicate them.” Luka was again speaking, though his voice seemed to come across a long distance. “We have access to the originals, after all. We connected them to the condemned criminal’s back with a harness and covered the apparatus with a cloak.”
I searched his face, desperately wanting to believe him but afraid of opening my heart to the possibility. And all I had were words, nothing more than words. Words could be false. Humans weren’t like the Fae; humans could lie.
“Let me see him.”
My demand startled even me. My tone was steady, forceful, and uncompromising.
Luka glanced at his father, who gave a curt nod, and the three of us stood, chairs scraping against the hardwood floor. I numbly followed the Lieutenant Governor through the labyrinthine mansion and up a flight of stairs, the Governor behind me with Konstantin padding silently alongside him. Had I spent the night on the same floor as Zabriel and not known? And how could such a volatile secret be kept with so many servants roaming the halls? Then it became clear. The mansion was designed with two turrets, and Luka led us to the door of the westernmost one, unlocking it with a key he took from one of the pockets of his gold brocade dress coat. We entered, and he secured the door behind us.
We continued to climb, the stairs spiraling in a manner similar to the ridge that ran along the inner walls of the Great Redwood the royal Fae called home, though more tightly wound. Windows let in the sun at intervals, and birdsong echoed, reminding me of the Queen’s loft, with its vine-laden floor and dizzying downward view. Eventually, the steps leveled out and we entered a parlor-like seating area. Across from us, double doors beckoned, and I stared at them, watching them grow and shrink, taunting me with what lay beyond.
Once more Luka took the lead, pushing the doors open and waiting for me to enter. Trembling, I stepped across the threshold into a luxurious suite that was clearly reserved for important guests. Half expecting a trap or a trick, my eyes snapped to a magnificent four-poster bed. I cautiously approached, every inch of my body on alert. Underneath a deep red comforter, his silver-blond hair in disarray across downy pillows, lay a familiar young man.
I gasped, then burst past Luka. With no thought to propriety, I launched myself onto the mattress, landing on my knees beside the still form.
“Zabriel,” I whispered, touching his cheek, his forehead, his shoulder, afraid to believe what my senses told me. The Governor claimed to have fooled everyone at the execution, but what if that had been real and this was the sham? I slid my hand partway down my cousin’s back, feeling along the base of his left wing where he had tried to hack it off, searching out the slight but highly distinct scars. The raw, empty feeling inside me abated—impossibly, unbelievably, Zabriel was alive.
Alive but not well. His dark eyes were closed, and his arms lay limply at his sides; his cheeks were flushed against skin that was otherwise as gray as the rugged stone outcroppings of the Fere.
I cupped my cousin’s face with my good hand and turned it toward me, finding some relief in the furrowing of his brow.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Luka, who had materialized next to me at the side of the bed.
“He’s sick. He was shot through the shoulder when he was arrested, and he hasn’t been able to overcome the injury, despite the efforts of our private physician.”
The Governor made a slow walk to stand opposite us, eyes on his ailing grandson. At a snap of his fingers, Konstantin hopped onto the bed to curl up next to Zabriel’s feet.
“The bullet was made of sky iron,” I choked, not about to lose my cousin all over again. Sky iron was the one substance in Nature that was harmful to Fae, robbing us of our strength and our elemental magic. “Have you given him Sale?”
“Our doctors don’t keep it.” The Governor watched Zabriel pensively, hands clasped so tightly behind his back they turned white. “We have, however, employed all medical treatments available to us.”
“He’s part human,” Luka murmured, giving the whole truth. “Whether Sale is at our disposal or not, we’ve been afraid it would worsen his condition.”
We’ve been afraid it would kill him. The sentiment rang unspoken in the air. My cousin was half human, and Sale, the drink that ran from the trees in the Faerie Realm to nourish and strengthen my people, was deadly to humans.
“Sale won’t hurt him. I’ve seen him drink it.” I glanced between father and son, trying to gauge who was truly in charge, finally directing my plea to Luka. “You have to give him some—it’s the only thing that might help him.”
“Sale is illegal in the Warckum Territory,” Governor Ivanova declared, his words laced with regret and uncertainty at his own principles. “Its possession is banned, and those who break the law are severely punished.”
I clutched a handful of Zabriel’s bedding, my mind churning. I’d always carried a flask of the substance hidden inside my pack when traveling in human lands. But after I’d lost my wings and magic, becoming less Fae and more human, I’d been afraid to consume it, only to have it stolen by a Sepulchre.
Then another possibility came to me. Hastings had planted a small phial of Sale in my pack after Shea and I had sought forged travel papers in Oaray, enabling the Sepulchres he controlled and abused to track us,
though we had not come to the grisly end he intended. Since the brutish man had been the one to shoot my cousin, it seemed oddly fitting that his earlier action might lead to Zabriel’s recovery.
I scrambled off the bed to land beside Luka, and the dog emitted a low, warning growl. Though I wondered if the Governor’s reaction to my upcoming confession might be similarly hostile, I was sure his son would take a more practical view.
“I might have some in my pack.”
Luka was headed for the double doors before I could process his reaction, and before the Governor could object. Admiration for him filled me, followed immediately by panic. I couldn’t let him rifle through my things—Sale wasn’t the only illegal substance he’d find.
“Wait,” I called, rushing after him. “I’ll go with you. I know exactly where to find it.”
He didn’t slow, forcing me to jog to keep pace, and I trailed him down the winding staircase and through the second-floor corridors until we stood outside my bed chamber.
“I’ll be but a moment,” I told him, not wanting him to accompany me inside.
He nodded and started to pace the hallway. I slipped through the door, closed it firmly behind me, and took a step toward the bathroom. But I moved no farther, my feet sticking to the floor as though it were coated with glue, the blood draining from my face. Galina stood in the center of the room in disobedience of my wishes. Worse, Tom Matlock was with her. Worst of all, he held my syringe and vial of Cysur Naravni in his hands. My secret vice was secret no more.
Chapter Thirteen
THE MAGIC OF SALE
“Anya,” Officer Matlock greeted me, raising one eyebrow. He stepped toward me to display the items he held in his hands. “Care to explain?”
My face grew hot, then the warmth spread throughout my body like a creeping rash, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Instead, I glared at Galina, furious with her for entering my room after I’d forbidden her to do so—if I’d been a Fire Fae, she’d likely have burst into flames. I gritted my teeth, trying to control my reactions, for none of these things mattered at the moment. At the moment, I needed to find the Sale, and I needed to return to Zabriel.
“Not now,” I barked, striding forward to pick up my pack. “And keep your voice down. Luka’s outside.”
He frowned. “Perhaps this is something he should be told.”
“I think you’ve already carried more than enough information about me to Luka.”
My tone was sharp, and I thought Tom winced. But I didn’t apologize, even though I was being unfair. I needed to keep him at arm’s length; I’d fall apart if I had to deal with his concern and criticism in addition to everything else.
Pushing past him, I shook out the contents of my pack on the bed. I rifled through the sprawl, then angrily swept the comforter clear with my arm, sending my possessions clattering to the floor. Where was the Sale? I took a deep breath, forcing myself to think, and the answer became plain. I wouldn’t find the phial Hastings had planted in my satchel because this wasn’t my satchel; it was Illumina’s. Why couldn’t I keep that straight in my head? Still, I should have found a flask of some sort. I had told my cousin to carry an emergency supply with her into the Territory. Had she used it? Neglected to bring it?
“What are you looking for?” Tom asked, coming to stand at my elbow.
“Sale.” My voice was soft, and I cast a guarded glance at Galina, who had moved to the armoire, unnecessarily straightening the tidy clothing stored inside it.
“Is it for—”
“Yes.” I knit my brows, perplexed. “How do you know about...?”
“I work alongside the Lieutenant Governor, remember?” He placed a hand on my arm, drawing me closer, his touch like a jolt to my heart. “But I didn’t know about your cousin until very recently. At the time I let you... I mean, I didn’t know then, or I wouldn’t have let you...” He trailed off, plainly haunted by regret for not delivering me to Luka the day before Zabriel’s execution—or rather, the surrogate convict’s execution.
“It’s all right. You made the best decision you could at the time—that’s all any of us can do. And I didn’t exactly volunteer to go with you.”
He nodded, clenching his jaw, then returned to the pressing matter at hand. “I can get some. Just go with Luka, and I’ll join you shortly.”
I hesitated, gazing into his earnest face, unable to imagine him engaging in illegal activities.
“You can get...what we need?”
“Yes, though not in the way you’re thinking.” His voice had an edge of disapproval, and my tetchy nervous system responded with superfluous motion—I chewed on my lower lip, twining my hands while I shifted from foot to foot. “But I arrest people who do. So rejoin Luka, and I’ll be there shortly.”
With a hand on my back, he escorted me to the door. Despite the urgency of my mission, I stopped and turned toward him, searching his eyes for a clue as to his thoughts and desperately wanting to offer an explanation or an excuse. But he didn’t give me time for either.
“Out you go,” he said, grabbing the handle. The brusqueness of his manner confirmed that he was disappointed in me, and served to spark the irritability that seemed to always lie beneath the surface of my skin.
“You’re not my father,” I snapped.
He gave me a tight smile. “I’m glad you noticed. Otherwise, I’d be forced to rethink certain highly enjoyable aspects of our relationship.” I blushed, and he added, “I’m not about to ignore what I found here, Anya. I’m just putting off the conversation until later.”
I held his gaze, then stepped into the corridor, leaving him to deal with the potential problem represented by the maid.
“Now, Galina,” I heard him say, “I must impress upon you the delicate nature of...”
The door closed behind me, the sound immediately garnering Luka’s attention.
“Well?” he called, striding toward me from halfway down the corridor.
“I don’t have the Sale. I must have lost it somewhere on my journey.”
The hope that had allayed the lines in Luka’s face vanished like morning mist. “We’d best tell the Governor. It’s been extremely difficult to get him to consider the use of Sale, and I’m not sure where this leaves us.”
“At breakfast...is that what you and your father were arguing about?”
He didn’t seem surprised by my question. “Yes, it’s a discussion we’ve had several times over the last few days. Although I could easily get my hands on Sale, the Governor is steadfast in his belief that we shouldn’t violate the law. The supply you volunteered to retrieve took him by surprise and appeared to resolve the issue. Now, I’m not sure.”
Though I wanted to ease his worry and tell him about Tom, I couldn’t bring myself to do so. How would I explain Officer Matlock’s presence in my room? And my confession wasn’t necessary—either way, the young man would arrive to save the day. Then my breath caught. How would he explain his errand to find the Sale? But that was not my problem. I needed to get Luka away from the door to allow Tom the opportunity to obtain what we needed.
Luka and I returned to the west turret to find the Governor sitting in a well-cushioned armchair next to the bed, applying a wet compress to his grandson’s fevered forehead. He looked up at our entrance.
“Do you have the Sale?” A disdainful expression flickered across his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was going to overlook the use of an illegal and deadly substance.
Luka met his father’s eyes. “No, Anya was mistaken about having a flask with her. But you and I both know I can obtain some.”
“That is not open for discussion. We must set an example in all things—my chief law enforcement officer cannot procure an illegal substance.” The Governor rose to his feet, his grim bearing enough to chill the air. He had no doubt
been a fierce warrior in his younger days. “Perhaps we need to accept that if it is the boy’s time to die, our job is to ease his passing.”
“No,” I contradicted, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. “He lingers because it is his will to do so. We must support him in any way we can.”
I crossed to the side of the bed opposite the Governor and touched Zabriel’s arm, fear rising within me like a snake. There was a light sheen of sweat on my cousin’s forehead, his cheeks were gaunt, and his lips looked parched—there was a fire raging inside him that needed to be quenched, and soon.
“How long has he been like this?” I murmured, not specifically addressing either of the older men.
Luka answered. “When he was initially brought here, he was in pain but coherent. Then the fever took hold and he gradually worsened. We’ve been managing to get water down his throat, but he’s had little sustenance in the last couple of days.”
“How did you know who he was?”
“His ring and his manner told us many things, despite his belligerence. We learned the rest when the sickness took him and his defenses went down. At times, he was quite restless, both in body and mind.”
“I don’t understand why sky iron is having such a significant effect on him,” I murmured, and Luka came to stand next to me. “My cousin has no magic, no elemental connection. Sky iron has no special effect on humans, so it shouldn’t necessarily harm him.”
“Zabriel presents a number of interesting contradictions. After all, even with no elemental connection, he can safely cross the Road. And you said he can drink Sale, though I must assume that you yourself cannot, or, more precisely, can no longer.”
I cast him a quizzical glance, wondering how he had reached that conclusion.
“Your fresh injuries and the loss of your wings, Anya. I assume you would have healed yourself if you could.”
