The Empty Throne

by Cayla Kluver

  Luka departed, and I sat down on the bed next to my cousin, aching to wrap my arms around him. But I hesitated, afraid of aggravating his injury, finally giving him a rather awkward hug. He winced, then pulled me closer, apparently of the opinion that this embrace was worth the pain.

  After a moment, I released him, struggling to find a way to express the thoughts chasing around in my head—I had witnessed his arrest, execution, and miraculous resurrection—but nothing would come together in a coherent whole. Instead, four rather lame words emerged from my mouth.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He laughed. “Like my shoulder’s on fire, but that’s better than the fevered feeling that my entire body’s burning. I have to say the Sale is working wonders.” Pointing to my wrist, he segued, “Dare I ask what happened to you?”

  “I broke it— How isn’t really important. It was set by a doctor, though, so it’ll heal just fine.”

  “Too bad I can’t share a drink with you.” He gestured toward the flask on the nightstand, and his expression sobered. “Thanks for showing up, by the way. The Sale is just what I needed.”

  His gratitude, so casual yet earnest, caused my throat to tighten, and guilt flared within me. I might have arrived in time to save his life with Sale, but if his execution had been real, we would not have been sitting together. It hadn’t been my actions, but the quick, deductive reasoning of Luka and the Governor that had brought my cousin’s real identity to light. I swallowed hard—I did not deserve his thanks.

  “Zabriel...” I murmured, but words again deserted me. How did I begin to apologize for my mistake in trusting Shea, my ineptitude at determining where the Constabularies had taken him, my utter inability to come to his rescue? In the end, I simply confessed, “I thought you were dead.”

  I picked at the bedding, afraid to meet his eyes, afraid to see judgment on the face I thought I’d never gaze into again, but he wouldn’t let me escape. I felt his hand under my chin, gently pressuring me to look up.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and tears sprang to my eyes. “So sorry for what you’ve been through.”

  “What do you have to be sorry for?” I choked, swiping at my cheeks, hating how vulnerable I felt. “I’m the one who failed. I should have tried harder—”

  Zabriel deftly moved his hand from under my chin to cover my mouth.

  “Shut up, Anya. I’m not going to let you take the blame for anything that’s happened.”

  I pulled his hand away but did not release it. Instead, I clung to it, trembling, besieged by memories of the last time Zabriel, Illumina, and I had been together—the haunting experiments we’d found on Evernook Island; the feel of the brain matter and blood upon my skin after he’d ended the suffering of the horrific human–Fae hybrid we’d found; the sky iron bullet fired through his shoulder and wing by Hastings in order to take him into custody; the raging fire from which Illumina and I had fled. Why had it all gone so wrong? I knew exactly why, even if he didn’t.

  “Zabriel, you don’t understand—it is my fault. If I hadn’t brought... If I hadn’t trusted...”

  His brow furrowed, exhaustion clouding his features. “What are you talking about?”

  “Shea,” I spat, the name like a bad taste in my mouth. “She told the authorities where to find you.”

  His eyes widened in shock, vindicating my own bitterness; then he shrugged.

  “Well, that’s a surprise. I knew we didn’t hit it off the best, but I never thought she’d try to get rid of me.”

  I gaped at him, his reaction incomprehensible to me. “This isn’t funny, Zabriel.”

  “You’re right, it’s not.” A colder edge had entered his voice, though his expression remained deceptively blithe. “Why did she do it?”

  “What difference does it make?” I sprang from the bed to pace the floor, anger escalating, some of it now directed at him. How dare he be so nonchalant about what Shea had done, as if the betrayal she had dealt him was no worse than cheating at a game of dice? “I took her with me, believing her to be my friend, trusting her. Worse, I told her who you were and brought her to Sheness with me. And she repaid me with the worst kind of treachery.”

  “I’m really the one she betrayed, so I think I have the right to know—why did she do it, Anya?”

  He reached for the flask of Sale, pain flickering across his face, and I hastened to hand it to him. He took a long draught, and I wished my hurt and rage could be so easily swallowed.

  “Her father was in debt to the Governor. Rather than going to prison when he couldn’t pay, he took his family on the run. Under the laws of the Territory, his wife and children became collateral—any of them could be made to serve his sentence.”

  “So she turned me in for the reward money in order to pay her father’s debt?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “What?” I exploded, jerking the flask from his hand and slamming it down on the nightstand, willing to blame the drink for his poorly functioning brain. “She could have gotten you killed, would have gotten you killed if not for your dual identity. And you’re not upset?”

  He sighed and rested back against the pillows, setting off a round of self-reproach within me. He was still battling for recovery—clearly he didn’t have much extra fight in him.

  “I don’t generally go in for betrayal,” he at length rejoined. “But it seems she had a good reason. If I thought there was no other choice, I’d have done the same in her position. I’d be willing to wager you would have, too. Family first, Anya, always.”

  My emotions swung wildly again, and I glowered at him. His easy dismissal of the confession that had been weighing on me ever since it had slipped through Shea’s lying lips was like a slap to the face.

  “That’s hilarious coming from you! You haven’t put your family first in two years!”

  “My family has gotten along just fine without me.”

  In a flash, my mind went to the vial and syringe I had been using of late to get along just fine without him. Did he think so little of himself, so little of his family? The aftermath of what I had believed to be his death had nearly destroyed me. And he had the gall to say we would all be just fine without him. If not for his injury, I would have punched him.

  “You don’t know,” I started shakily, unsure I even wanted to start down this road. Then my pent-up emotions broke through my defenses, and I assailed him with a full-bore rant. “You selfish bastard! You don’t know what I’ve been through, what it was like to see you die. Don’t you understand? I saw you on the plank, saw your damaged black-and-turquoise wings, saw you plunge into the ravine—and at that moment, part of me died, too. And now because you’re feeling better, you think everything’s fine. Only it’s not fine!”

  My pulse raced as I got closer and closer to admitting to him all the terrible things I’d done, to admitting my affinity for a particular smoke-filled pub and the brand of comfort it offered. Taking a deep breath, I sat down beside him, gazing into his dumbstruck face.

  “Zabriel, when I thought you were gone, I had nothing—nothing to hold on to, to believe in. I did things...things I’m not proud of, things...”

  But he didn’t let me finish. He leaned forward to once more pull me close, tucking my head beneath his chin in a crushing embrace that bespoke an emotion I couldn’t at first name. Then I became aware of the fierce pounding of his heart—it was fear.

  “Shut up, Anya,” he repeated, more firmly than before. “You did what you had to—we all do what we have to—you, me, Shea, all of us. Understand? All that matters is you’re here, and you’re safe, and you don’t need to say anything more. I don’t want to know anything more.”

  There was a desperate inflection in my confident, headstrong cousin’s voice, and it came to me that I wasn’t the only one who had bee
n forced to change, to adapt—that I wasn’t the only one who had suffered.

  I eased away from him, and he cleared his throat; then he switched to a subject that was more comfortable for both of us.

  “Where’s Illumina?” he asked, his voice mercifully returned to normal, filling me with relief. “What happened to the two of you after I was taken?”

  “We escaped the island and went back to Aunt Roxy’s place. Thinking you’d be brought to Tairmor, we came here. I’ve been in the city ever since, but Illumina went back to Chrior.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “So when will my mother arrive?”

  I hesitated, surprised that Luka or the Governor hadn’t already given him the information. But there was no point in hiding it.

  “I believe she’s expected the day after tomorrow.”

  “I see. Just what I need—something unpleasant to look forward to.”

  I opened my mouth in an automatic urge to chastise him, but he cut me off.

  “Calm down, Anya. Remember, I agreed back in Sheness to see her, long before I became a guest in this fine establishment. If necessary, I’ll accompany her back to Chrior—although that doesn’t mean I’ll remain there.”

  I nodded, somewhat mollified. But mention of Sheness brought another more gruesome subject to mind.

  “There’s something else we need to talk about. What we found on that island.”

  Zabriel put a finger to his lips, forestalling anything else I might have said.

  “Not here, Anya. Too many ears. That discussion will have to wait until we have some real privacy.” He took another long swig of Sale, then leaned back against his pillows.

  I studied him, a part of me still afraid he might disappear before my very eyes. “So how is the Governor treating you?”

  “Quite well. He spent part of the afternoon telling me about my father and hasn’t pushed me for any information. Frankly, that surprises me. You’d think he’d want to know just how bad a person I am.”

  “Maybe he thinks he can judge that for himself.”

  Zabriel shrugged. “Perhaps. I know I’m trying to figure him out.”

  “And Luka?”

  The door opened, catching us off guard, and the subject of my inquiry strode into the room.

  “I’m right here,” he said, making it clear he had overheard my question. “And I’m more than willing to answer any questions you may have about my personal life and beliefs. Government business is, at this point, off-limits. But such things can wait until tomorrow. I’m here to escort you to your room, Anya, so that our patient can get some rest.”

  I came to my feet, appreciating for the first time how tired my cousin looked. I hoped I had not overtaxed him.

  “I’m afraid you’ll be afforded only one more day to recuperate before duty calls,” Luka continued, addressing Zabriel. “We’ve received word that Queen Ubiqua will be arriving the day after tomorrow with a Fae delegation. She wants to see for herself that you’re in good hands, my boy.”

  Zabriel groaned, his reaction garnering Luka’s notice.

  “Not on the best of terms with your mother?”

  My cousin’s jaw tightened—he looked like he was steeling himself for an interrogation.

  “No,” he testily said. “But I think the reasons are my own business.”

  Luka smiled. “I quite agree. No need to get defensive.” Shifting his attention to me, he extended an arm. “Shall we?”

  “Good night, Zabriel,” I murmured; then I allowed Luka to escort me from the room. I was beset with nervousness as we proceeded down the stairway in the west turret, afraid that he might pursue an answer from me to the question he had asked his nephew. Upon reaching the second floor, he did open a conversation, but it wasn’t the one I expected.

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever played chess, Anya, but I suspect you’d be good at it.”

  “I’ve heard of the game. What makes you say that?”

  “It was an excellent move to ask about the boy—I believe he said his name was Frat—at breakfast this morning.”

  I smiled, feeling rather self-satisfied. “I’m a royal—diplomacy and political savvy are bred right in.”

  “I’ll remember that in the future.” He cast me a sideways glance. “There’s another person who would like to see you. Tom Matlock wanted to talk to you the night we located you, but I prevented it. He wasn’t in the best frame of mind, you see. But now he would like to meet with you.”

  “I’m not sure,” I mumbled, anxiety prickling my skin. On those occasions of late when I would catch sight of Tom within the mansion, my innate reaction was a smile, quickly followed by a hollow feeling of dread. It was like eating something sweet and washing it down with something sour. I’d have to talk to Tom eventually about my drug use, but I wasn’t ready yet. In truth, I wanted the friend I had found in a phial and syringe back in my life.

  “Oh?” Luka persisted. “I thought you and he had formed a friendship. Am I wrong?”

  “No, that’s not it. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.”

  “Give it some thought. But it can certainly wait until after the Queen arrives.”

  I nodded, though his reminder of my aunt’s visit sent my thoughts to dark and uncomfortable places. I would soon see Davic, for he would have insisted on joining my aunt’s entourage. And I would have to face the Queen shrouded in shame, but without wings or the Anlace. I took a heavy breath—my father would likewise be disappointed, thinking me irresponsible. The sad truth was that I didn’t even have an argument to the contrary—I had failed everyone in some way.

  “Is something troubling you, Anya?” Luka inquired as we reached my bedroom door, sensitive to my change in mood.

  “I’m fine, though lacking in sleep.”

  “Then I hope you get the rest you need.” He considered me, a sympathetic smile gracing his features. “There is just one other request I must make of you. While you are staying here, you are both our guest and our responsibility. I ask that you not leave the grounds of the estate without checking with me first. And it is imperative that no one else with whom you are acquainted be told Zabriel and Pyrite are one and the same person—Pyrite is dead and must stay that way if Zabriel is to live.”

  “I understand.” I suddenly felt clammy, uncertain if Luka was issuing a warning or a threat. “I would never do anything to jeopardize my cousin.”

  “Then I bid you good night, Princess.”

  “Good night to you, as well, Lieutenant Governor.”

  He laughed, then strode off down the hallway. Feeling more and more like a bird in a beautiful cage, I entered my bedroom, the space seeming less comfortable than it had at first. It felt violated by Galina and Tom’s unauthorized visit, my privacy lying defiled and shredded on the floor. Nonetheless, I removed a nightgown from the armoire and changed out of my clothing.

  After turning out the lamps, I sat on the bed, but the minute I did, my body tensed and my senses came alert. Though my talk with Zabriel had eased a number of my worries, reliving my experiences had left my nerves raw and exposed, and every sound in the darkness made me jump. I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to still my mind, to no avail, for the wind was picking up outside, rattling the windowpanes and bringing memories of Sepulchres to the forefront. I fought the urge to look under the bed, afraid of what I might find. On a conscious level, I knew I was safe, but the conscious level wasn’t what ruled my nighttime.

  Growing increasingly agitated, I glanced around the room, seeing danger in shadows—a deathly gray creature with luminescent skin slithering across the floor, propelled by glowing spearlike fingers, its emaciated body and webbed legs following waif-like behind. I grabbed my pack and slid to the middle of the bed, tucking my legs under me while I frantically searched through my things for the pendant I’d taken off Hast
ings—from what I knew, it had served its former owner by warding off the creatures he tormented. I hung it around my neck just as the thing reached the coverlet. Then its head appeared, slowly lifting to a level even with mine, the shredded skin adorning its face looking like bruise-colored scars, its eyes pupil-less, nothing more than phosphorescent orbs of sickly green. Worst of all, it had no mouth or nose. The vision seemed so real, so lifelike, that I vaulted over the footboard of the bed with a muffled scream and raced into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. But still I didn’t feel safe, for I found myself confronted by an expansive mirror and the memory of my hideous scars.

  Despite how tired I was, I began to pace, heart loudly thrumming, fearing I would not be able to sleep without something to calm my nerves. I scratched a nonexistent itch on the inside of my forearm, beginning to feel a profound craving for the Cysur Tom had confiscated, exponentially stronger because I no longer had access to it. While the visions that came to me in the green haze were at times disturbing, they were no worse than my own imaginings, and the peace and euphoria the drug could bring were worth the risk. On occasion, it even allowed me to fly.

  The solution seemed simple: I’d have to get more, damn Officer Matlock’s interference and disapproval. He didn’t know how I felt, how much pain lay just below the surface of my skin. Besides, I could quit whenever I wanted—I would quit, just as soon as I’d made it through the upcoming reunion with the Queen and my family, just as soon as I no longer needed an anesthetic. And just like it never hurt to have a flask of Sale handy, it wouldn’t hurt to have a phial of Cysur.

  But how was I to obtain it? Luka had just told me to stay within the walled confines of the Governor’s estate, confirming my suspicion that I was under watch. I tugged on my hair, knowing there had to be a way but too agitated to get myself to focus on the problem. And no plan I could come up with would help me get through this night. I drew up short, remembering the wine decanters in Luka’s study—he had offered a glass to Shea and me the first time we’d met with him. Though I didn’t much care for the taste of human alcohol, I was familiar with its effects, having seen my share of inebriated souls, including Shea, during my travels. And even a few sips of the substance could make me feel a bit woozy. Wine just might do for now.