The Empty Throne

by Cayla Kluver

  “Should he not recant before we depart, I want a plan in place to bring him by force, extracting him quickly and cleanly from the mansion, the city, and the Territory. He must be back in Chrior before Wolfram or Luka are even aware he is missing.”

  “It will be done,” answered Lisian, the Captain of the Guard.

  “You cannot,” my father interjected, expressing my opinion along with his own. Zabriel had always hinted to me that his mother was capable of horrible deeds—that she had, in fact, committed unforgivable acts in the past, though he had never been forthcoming about what those actions had been. Now I felt ill at the thought.

  “You do not have to participate, Cyandro, if it bothers your conscience,” Ubiqua responded, attempting to quiet his objections.

  “What purpose can it possibly serve?” my father continued, undeterred, his anger rising to match hers. “You can force him to come to Chrior, but you cannot force him to rule.”

  “I won’t have to force him to rule. I just need him back in Fae control. Once he’s with us, he’ll come to appreciate the importance of his duty.”

  “I will not be a part of this.” My father turned on his heel and headed toward the door, jarring me to speak.

  “Wait!” I called, unsteadily rising to my feet, the sketch Illumina had made floating before my eyes. “Let them put a plan in place, Father, if that is what the Queen desires. But trust me when I say it won’t come to that. I can change Zabriel’s mind.”

  Every pair of eyes in the room fixed on me, and all the energy drained from my body. Perhaps this was how it felt to be standing on the execution plank.

  “And what will you say to him, Anya?” It was the Queen who had spoken, her blue eyes dissecting me.

  “What I will say is for Zabriel alone to know. Isn’t it enough that I’ll be able to do what you ask?”

  The room stilled, and from somewhere down the hall, a clock chimed the hour. Then the Queen nodded.

  “Yes, but do not delay. I want his commitment before I leave.”

  “I won’t talk to him until after the Governor’s Ball,” I firmly asserted. “He deserves one night of enjoyment and freedom before the full weight of responsibility falls on his shoulders.” In my head I added, And before he learns of the vile acts of which Illumina is guilty.

  “Then you will talk to him the morning after, Anya.”

  “Yes, Aunt, the morning after the ball.”

  The Queen rose to her feet, and, with a nod toward me, departed the sitting room, her Blades trailing behind. I sank once again into my chair, clinging to its arms in an attempt to stabilize myself. Though I agreed with the Queen that it was imperative for Zabriel to take over the throne in the Realm of the Fae upon her death, I didn’t view her methods as appropriate or honorable. My cousin’s decisions ought to be respected—he was no longer a child to be dragged about at a parent’s whim. Why couldn’t his mother just trust to his judgment? Why couldn’t she deign to consider that if she died, that would in and of itself be a reason for him to reconsider the decision he had made today?

  My father approached, worry making him look older, while Ione began to fan me with her hands to prevent a faint. My mind was sorting through family history—there was more I needed to know before I went to Zabriel. But the questions I wanted to ask were not for the ears of others, not even my friend and my betrothed.

  “Father, could I speak with you alone?”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  Though they cast each other puzzled looks, Davic and Ione took their leave with expressions of worry but no argument. My father immediately moved to sit in a nearby armchair, patiently waiting for me to start the conversation. I closed my eyes, gathering my courage to ask the questions that had been rising like specters in my nightmares.

  “Father, I have lately come to realize that there are a lot of things about our family that have been kept hidden from me. About Enerris, Mother’s death, the Queen, and even the role you play as Lord of the Law.” I took a breath, willing myself to sound firm and determined. “I think it’s time I learn the truth.”

  Though there was a flicker of concern in my father’s eyes, his tone when he responded was light and casual. “What is it you want to know?”

  I sighed and rubbed my temples. “How did Mother die?”

  “She was ill. Don’t you remember?”

  “I remember her being ill. But to what malady did she succumb?”

  “It was never precisely determined.”

  I suspected only I would have caught the slight hesitation in his voice, but it meant I needed to be more direct if I were to obtain the answers I sought. This was not the time for obscurity.

  “Was she poisoned?”

  He abruptly stood and walked to look out the window. He’d been attempting to evade my questions, but that tactic would no longer work.

  “That is what I believe.”

  A gasp escaped my lips. Even though I had come to suspect the same, hearing it from my father felt like a blow to my stomach. But despite my anguish, I couldn’t stop now—there was more I needed to confirm.

  “And who do you believe to be the culprit?”

  My father turned to face me, grief as fresh as the day Incarnadine had died deepening the lines in his face.

  “You must understand, Anya, we could never find any proof.” Capitulating to my unrelenting stare, he gave up the name. “Enerris.”

  I nodded and closed my eyes. It all seemed so glaringly obvious now—how could I have lived my entire life in such ignorance? And though my gut ached, and I wanted to strike out at someone, there was no changing the past. What was done was done, and the only chance we had of making reparations was to face the truth everyone had so long kept hidden.

  “And what happened to Enerris when the Queen banished him?”

  “What do you—”

  My eyes shot open, and I brought my gaze to bear on him, knowing he would yield to the mesmerizing green that reminded him of my mother. Despite my spiraling fear, I needed to know how far Ubiqua would have gone in dealing with the man who had murdered her sister and attempted to murder her son.

  “His punishment has been kept in strictest confidence all these years.”

  “Zabriel knows what she did.” Though my cousin had never said anything about Enerris’s punishment to me, I knew it with blazing certainty. It made perfect sense in light of his accusations, his assertions that his mother had taken unforgivable actions.

  “That explains quite a lot.” My father stumbled away from the window, returning to the armchair he had vacated.

  “Tell me, Father—what did Queen Ubiqua do?”

  He ran a hand over his brow, and I was alarmed to see he was shaking. “She banished him to the Warckum Territory, but before he was dragged across the Bloody Road and left to die, the Captain of the Guard cut off his wings.”

  I gagged, unexpected spasms of pain racking my back. My father immediately knelt beside me, taking me into his arms, but his gesture did nothing to calm the sudden tumult in my heart. The thought that the Queen, whom I had long admired and tried to emulate, would have taken an action forbidden by our laws—forbidden for centuries dating back to the time of the Old Fae—was almost more than I could handle. And though I hated Enerris for what he had done to his daughter, what he’d tried to do to Zabriel, and for stealing my mother’s life, I felt no vindication. His punishment—so eerily reminiscent of what had happened to me upon crossing the Bloody Road—was not something I could wish on anyone, no matter how terrible their crimes. Zabriel had been right. I didn’t know Ubiqua at all.

  “Take a sip of this,” my father said after a while, handing me the glass of water that had earlier been brought by one of the Queen’s Blades.

  I tipped my head back and took a long drink, wanting it to cool my throat, the
fire in my veins, the hate suddenly sprouting in my heart. Even though I needed this knowledge if I were to confront Zabriel about his decision to stay in the Warckum Territory, it felt as if I’d just waged a war. But I could not afford to go blind into a debate with my cousin, second-guessing everything I thought I knew in the face of his righteous anger.

  I inhaled deeply and met my father’s eyes. There was one more question I needed to raise, a matter that had been on my mind since I’d first set foot in the capital city.

  “May I ask you something else?”

  “Of course.”

  “When I came to Tairmor, I saw Zabriel’s face on a wanted poster. We have two Ambassadors here in the capital. Did they not recognize him? Did they never send word to you?”

  He looked down, and in this simple gesture, my father transformed in front of my eyes.

  “You knew! Mother of Nature, you knew all along!”

  I studied him, a new sense of respect and pride building inside me. He was a lot more independent of the Queen than he appeared to be.

  “Yes, I knew,” he confirmed in an undertone. “The Ambassadors report to me, and I pass on the information I deem important to the Queen. I always felt Zabriel had the right to make his own choices, to be his own person. And I wanted him to come back to Chrior of his own free will. So that was not news I deemed to pass along.”

  I laughed, using this unexpected turn of events to release the tension that had been building inside me. My father, the Queen’s Lord of the Law, was just as much a rebel as my cousin.

  “No wonder he respects you,” I said, and my father gave a modest shrug.

  “I’ve always wanted for Zabriel a life of his own making. I’ve always wanted the same for you.”

  “Is that why you didn’t want me to search for him?”

  “I wanted you to stay in Chrior because that was what Queen Ubiqua desired, and because I knew it could be dangerous if you pursued Zabriel.”

  “And he was never in any real danger of execution, was he?”

  My father gave me a melancholy smile, then patted my hand. “That’s a worry I wish I could have spared you. The Ambassadors would have revealed Zabriel’s identity if that had become necessary.”

  I nodded, trying to process everything I was learning. My life felt scattered by the wind, leaving me to put the pieces back together. Only they no longer seemed to fit.

  “Now, my dear,” my father said, returning to his armchair. “How are you really feeling?”

  I sighed. “I’ve been without my wings for months now, and have been forced to adjust to life without them. But it never occurred to me that I’d feel the loss all over again when everyone arrived. You’re all trying to understand and adjust to what happened, and I suddenly feel like I am, more or less, going through it again.”

  “I’m so sorry, Anya, for everything. If I could give my wings to you, I would.” He shook his head, as if trying to understand something, then added, “Fate was senselessly cruel to allow the hunters to be at the Road when you crossed that night.”

  An ache began behind my eyes, right where the memory of Illumina’s sketch of me bleeding in the snow seemed to reside. With the rise of my suspicions, this was an issue I had likewise considered.

  “I have relived that night over and over, Father, and it always seems to me that the hunters were there waiting, that they knew I was coming. But that must be my imagination because I didn’t even know I was leaving Chrior that night, and I departed immediately after I made the decision.”

  “I’m sure your memories of that evening have been affected by the trauma you went through, so I wouldn’t let it trouble you. But, Anya, if I’d been more willing to listen to my heart, I would have known you were going to head into the Warckum Territory. To those who know us well, we are all a bit predictable. My failure to stop you is a regret with which I will always live.”

  I stared at him, fear oozing from every pore in my body. Could young, sad, clever, manipulative Illumina have known I would go after Zabriel? I struggled to pull forth the memory of my conversation with her on the night before her departure, and then replayed it in my head:

  “I know you’re not happy with Aunt for giving me this charge,” Illumina said.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I thought it might be that you don’t want Zabriel to come home. Once he’s here, he’s the rightful heir to the throne, isn’t he?”

  My eyes widened, the look on my face enough to once more alarm my father.

  “What is it, Anya? You look like you’ve been struck with a sudden illness!”

  “I’m sorry—just a fragmented memory related to the loss of my wings. They come upon me unexpectedly at times...and can be very chilling.”

  I wasn’t sure he believed me, but he didn’t question me further. How could I tell him that Illumina had purposefully reminded me of Zabriel’s right to rule? That she had given me the nudge that would send me off on my own search for him, and that would lead me to cross the Bloody Road? She knew I’d never aspired to the throne, and that the Prince’s return would restore the rightful line of succession. All she needed to do was give predictable Anya a personal stake in Zabriel’s return, and I would go rushing off to find him. And that was exactly what she’d done.

  “You must be tired,” my father said, interrupting my reverie. “Would you like to return to your quarters? I’d be happy to walk with you.”

  “No, I’d actually prefer to stay here awhile longer. I don’t feel up to talking to anyone else quite yet.”

  “I understand. I feel very much the same.” He hesitated, then said the words that finally brought some peace to my heart. “I am proud of you, my dear. Though the future I had thought would be yours was taken from you, you would have been a remarkable queen. And regardless, you are a remarkable young woman.”

  “Thank you,” I choked out, and for the first time in a long time, he took me into his arms and held me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  PROMISE BONDS

  As the dinner hour approached, I took my leave of my father, heading back to my chambers to prepare for the evening meal. Many gaps in my family’s history—and in my own—had been filled in for me by the Lord of the Law, and however difficult it had been to hear, these were facts we all had to face if we were to move forward. Not only for our own sakes, but for the sake of the two races whose fates hung in the balance.

  I started down the second-floor corridor that led to my room and came to an abrupt halt. Davic was standing outside my door, arms crossed, a pensive look on his face. My first instinct was to turn around and head back the way I’d come. In my head, I understood that this conversation was inevitable, but that knowledge did nothing to ease the knots dread was weaving in my stomach.

  Before I could make a hasty retreat, Davic looked up and saw me, and I wondered if my vacillation in the hallway had drawn his notice. He smiled at me, and though it may have been my imagination, I thought it seemed strained.

  “Anya, is everything all right with your father?”

  My request to speak privately with my father must have raised some concerns in my promised’s mind, but what he and I had discussed was something I could never share with anyone else. Except Tom, prompted the voice in my head, the one that liked to get me in trouble.

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” I said dismissively, unable to make my feet move in his direction. “We just haven’t had much time alone since his arrival in the city.”

  “Neither have we.” He took a step toward me, his hand stretched out as if to take my own, but he stopped a few paces away. “We need to talk, too.”

  “I know.”

  I was still racking my brain to find a way out of this, any excuse to stop what I knew was going to be an unpleasant conversation, for the day had
already been laced with unpleasantness. But in truth, it was time. And no amount of delaying would make what needed to be said any easier. My only consolation was that I could then face Tom without reservations.

  “Would you like to come inside?” I asked, walking past him to open the door to my chambers.

  He entered after me, and I could almost feel his gaze searing into my back as I crossed the floor to seat myself upon a small sofa, resurrecting a throbbing pain reminiscent of when I had first lost my wings. Looking discomfited, he closed the door and came to stand beside me. A tiny ache started behind my ribs where my heart was located—the sofa could easily have held us both.

  “Anya, I...” He hesitated, and I could see the muscles in his face tensing, the jawline I had once found so attractive now revealing the unease he felt around me.

  “I thought you wanted to talk.” My voice was flat, the words more petulant than I intended, and Davic’s gray-blue eyes widened as if I’d slapped him.

  “Anya, what’s the matter with you?” He stared at me, then his face flushed red at the shocking insensitivity of his query. We both knew perfectly well what was wrong with me.

  “I didn’t mean... You know that’s not...” He took a steadying breath. “Anya, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just...I feel like you’ve been avoiding me, and that’s not fair.”

  “Not fair?” This conversation wasn’t going the way I had imagined it—it was much worse.

  “No, it’s not fair,” Davic continued, seemingly oblivious to the anger stirring within me. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re betrothed—we’re promised to each other. I haven’t seen you in months, and now that we’re finally together, you won’t spend time alone with me.”

  “Really? If I’m the one avoiding you, then why can’t you bring yourself to sit beside me?”

  His jaw tightened once more, but he did not address my accusation. Instead, he deliberately sat next to me on the sofa, any possibility this might defuse me negated by the shifting of his body weight away from me and into the corner.