by Cayla Kluver
Although Luka offered to send Constabularies to accompany the traveling party through the Fere, my father refused. Not only did such a measure of protection seem unnecessary, it could well cause problems—not all of the Fae trusted the humans, and not all of the humans trusted the Fae.
When everything was at last ready, Zabriel and I stood side by side near the gated entrance to the Governor’s estate to say goodbye to our friends.
“Take care, Anya,” Davic awkwardly said, giving me a hug.
“You, too,” I responded, some part of me thinking this might be the last time I would ever see him, for he had not enjoyed his time in human lands and I could not return to Chrior. Heavy sadness washed over me at that thought—I could handle our broken betrothal, but this felt too final, too much like another death, and for a moment, I clung to him.
“We’ll always be friends, Anya,” he whispered, then he stepped away from me to clasp arms with Zabriel.
“Stay out of trouble, both of you,” Ione admonished, her eyes flicking between my cousin and me. She took my hand and gave it a squeeze, her scolding tone no doubt an attempt to keep tears at bay.
Zabriel grinned and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I won’t get into any more trouble than usual, I give you my word.”
She blushed, looking almost faint, and I wondered if she would ever again clean that side of her face. Then she turned to me.
“I’ll beseech Nature every day to keep you safe. And I promise I’ll come back for a visit once everything is settled in Chrior.” She forced a smile, her eyes glistening. “I’ll come back so often, you’ll get sick of me.”
I put my arms around her, holding her tightly. “I know you will. And thanks.”
Our friends finally stepped toward the wagons, leaving Zabriel and me once more standing by ourselves, I, at least, already feeling lonely. Then my father approached, and a lump rose in my throat.
“These are not circumstances in which I desire to leave you,” he said to Zabriel and me. “There may yet be danger to both of you, and I fear you may not fully appreciate that fact. While I implore you to be careful, I’m also putting my faith in Luka to keep you safe. Promise me you’ll listen to him and heed his advice. He knows Tairmor and its risks better than anyone.”
“Yes, we will,” Zabriel and I murmured as one.
“Good.” My father then clasped Zabriel by the shoulders. “Take care, my dear boy, and stay well. Your people are counting on you—I’m counting on you.”
My cousin nodded and clenched his jaw, and I wondered what emotions he was attempting to control. I had only recently learned that the Lord of the Law had long been watching over him and keeping his secrets. For that, I was grateful; Zabriel no doubt more so.
At last my father turned to me, giving me a long embrace. His voice was husky when he spoke.
“I would stay with you if I could, Anya. Someday I will gladly join you, but right now, it’s more important than ever that I carry out my duties.”
“I understand, Father. Please, don’t worry—I’ll be fine.”
He nodded, gazing into my green eyes that were so reminiscent of my mother’s as though storing up the memory. “I’ll stay in touch until then, often.” He reached out to brush my cheek before turning to join the rest of the Fae delegation.
Zabriel moved closer to drape an arm companionably around my shoulders, and together we watched the caravan depart. The guards closed the gates once the last member of the Fae party had passed through, leaving us just inside the stone walls that felt more like a prison than a fortress.
“What now, Zabriel?” I asked, turning to walk back toward the mansion with him.
“We figure out what’s going on in the Warckum Territory.” He kicked at some loose pebbles on the drive. “Nothing will make sense until we do.”
I nodded, my mind flipping through the mysteries we faced as if they were pages in a book. Who was behind the Fae abductions and the sickening experiments we had discovered on Evernook Island? And what was their objective? Who was the Wretch, and what part did he play in all of it? How could we “save” the Sepulchres? How did Falk’s son end up with the Anlace, and who granted him entry to the mansion? How could we recover the Queen’s dagger from the Lieutenant Governor and see it safely returned to Chrior? And, perhaps most important of all, who would ascend to the throne in the Realm of the Fae?
I stopped dead in my tracks, an image of Illumina rising before me: she was occupying the Queen’s throne of twined roots, the Laura nestled in her hair, elemental gifts from her adoring subjects decorating her seat. My heart pounded, and cold sweat trickled down my back. Zabriel needed to be told.
“What is it, Anya?” he asked, swiveling to examine me, having walked on a few paces. “You look like you’ve seen a Sepulchre.”
“There’s something you don’t know, but it’s something you need to know.”
“I’d say there are a lot of things I don’t know.” A bemused expression formed on his face and he backtracked to my side. “But all right, out with it.”
“It’s about Illumina.”
“Illumina? Not the topic I was expecting, but go on.”
I hesitated, trying to line up the words in my head, and he impatiently twirled his hand in the air.
“Are you planning on taking all day? Oh, let me guess. She betrayed me, too.”
I gasped, for though he had been joking, he had come shockingly close to the truth. He paled, and a note of urgency entered his voice.
“Tell me, Anya.”
“She didn’t betray you. She betrayed me.” Now that I had confessed the core of my belief, words tumbled from my mouth. “She was there at the Bloody Road on the night my wings were taken. She knew I would be coming after you, and she was there with the hunters. She orchestrated it, Zabriel. I know she did.”
The misery in his eyes was heartrending, and I longed to offer him comfort. Remorse filled me—I shouldn’t have hit him with this now, not right after his mother’s death. But once said, the words couldn’t be taken back, nor could their impact be softened.
“Are you certain?” he finally asked, words clipped, bespeaking carefully controlled anger.
“Yes—and I’m not just relying on my memory. She drew a picture of the attack in her journal. I have it in my room because we accidentally switched our travel satchels when she left for Chrior. She was there, Zabriel, and she memorialized it in minute detail as though it’s some kind of special event.”
I finished with a shudder, and his eyes locked on me. I knew in that moment that he not only believed me, but grasped the significance of my disclosure.
“This is not something that can be forgiven.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, his words resonating in the still air. Then he turned and continued on toward the mansion, and I hastened to keep pace.
“What about the promise you made to my father to listen to Luka and heed his advice?” I asked, drawing abreast of him.
He shrugged, and I had the feeling he was shrugging off his anger to focus on the more pressing issues at hand.
“I don’t trust him, but I have no doubt he knows Tairmor and its risks. For that reason alone, I’m more than willing to listen. He may even be able to provide us with some useful information.”
I put a hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you this, but we’re not alone anymore. Shea came to see me in the hospital.”
He gave me an approving nod. “That’s good, Anya. I’m glad you’ve made peace.”
“We did, but there’s more. She and Spex have been busy gathering information.
“Tiny?” He laughed in disbelief. “He’s still around?”
“Yes, and he’s helping us now. I guess he took the things you said to him in Sheness to heart.�
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Zabriel nodded. “Then our numbers have doubled.”
“All the way to four.”
“We also have Gwyneth as a resource. Never underestimate what a good group of people can do.”
His attitude was surprisingly upbeat, and I decided to venture one more piece of information.
“We’re actually six strong, Zabriel—I told Tom.”
I tensed, half expecting him to explode, but he gave me a wry smile.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a crew. I think it’s time to do a little pirating.”
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460341445
The Empty Throne
Copyright © 2015 by Cayla Kluver
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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