She took it to Nassore and placed it on his finger before bending to kiss it. “Long may you reign,” she said.
Others in the room echoed the sentiment, but their voices were flat, with the exception of Zain, who proclaimed loudly, “Long may you reign.” He bent and kissed Nassore’s hand, lingering a touch too long.
When Zain raised his head, he met Octavia’s gaze. “You,” he muttered. “What are you doing here?”
“His highness Emperor Jorek sent for me,” she said.
“For what purpose?” he demanded.
Octavia was taken aback that he would dare give orders in the new emperor’s presence, but Nassore raised no objection. “I don’t know, Zain,” she said. “I only just arrived, and it is too late to ask him.”
Nassore stepped forward. “Do you dare make light of my father’s death?” The double-tenor of his voice had disappeared.
“Of course not,” Octavia said, her eyes drifting toward the ground where Jorek lay. “I was fond of your father. He shall be greatly missed. The empire will weep for his loss.” She fought to keep her composure as shock, grief, and anger wracked through her.
Zain put his hand on Nassore’s arm, and the touch seemed to calm him. Ignoring the outburst, he stared hard at Octavia. “I do not understand you,” he muttered.
She felt a wave of power reaching out toward her, but it didn’t touch her.
“I do not understand at all,” he repeated.
Nassore scowled. “If I had not witnessed my father’s misfortune, I would suspect her of being complicit in his death. We will not be as tolerant as he for those who deny the Spirits of Light and Shadow. They must be purged from the empire.” His eyes flashed black.
Octavia shivered at the evidence of his possession. Her nightmares were coming to pass.
Zain tutted. “Of course, your highness,” he said, “But first we must grieve the loss of your father. Today is not the day to enact your plans. There will be time to deal with heretics.” He paused. “And this one is not without some power. I find it... intriguing.”
Nassore lifted his face and sniffed the air in Octavia’s direction. As though speaking with two voices again, he said, “Yes. My sister Braetin spoke of the power of these servants of Eurmus, but I had not sensed it for myself before now.”
No one in the room dared speak. Korbin squeezed Octavia’s shoulder.
Zain frowned. “No one should leave the palace,” he said, keeping his gaze squarely on Octavia.
Dula Merria said, “But there are arrangements to make. The senate must be informed and Prince Nassore’s ascension to the throne of Talmor blessed by all eight temples.”
Octavia knew Zain’s proclamation was for her, anyway, but she had no intention of running. He had to be stopped, him and his mother, who now hunkered in the body of the boy emperor. She gave him a small nod to show that she understood.
Zain flashed an unseemly smile as though he’d won. “Yes, of course. Call to the heads of all eight temples and the senate. They must confirm Nassore. Tonight.”
“All heads of the temples except my father,” Korbin said. “He was arrested tonight for the murder of Seba Wenriov, prisoner of the empire.”
Zain threw back his head and laughed. “Seba is dead? At Graiphen’s hand?” He turned with a broad smile to Nassore. “But you will pardon him at once, of course.”
“At once. Yes.” Nassore’s voice warbled with Pang’s pleasure. He turned to a guard. “See that the Ultim Qardone is released immediately. I wish to see him.”
“Surely tomorrow is soon enough for an audience. After your confirmation,” Zain murmured.
“Of course. Release him and tell him to see me tomorrow. I will be busy, of course, but I will make time for someone so devoted.” Nassore’s smile was sickly and unpleasant.
The guard bowed. “At once, your highness.”
Zain touched the prince gently on the shoulder. “We should retire. The shock of your father’s death has taken a toll, and we must let someone attend the body.”
Nassore looked down as though he’d forgotten his father lay dead beside him. “Certainly.” A flurry of mixed emotions crossed his features, and Octavia wondered if the real Nassore was still within somewhere, or if Pang had taken over so completely that there was no hope of returning for him. She wept for the boy he had once been, no matter his sins against his father.
She reflected that Graiphen had once been possessed and he’d recovered, so that gave her hope. Plus, Zain’s guidance and influence showed that Nassore was inside, making at least some of the decisions. Still, the longer this possession continued, the more Nassore’s true mind would retreat into the darkness.
Octavia breathed in and pressed her eyes closed. She had to act quickly. If only she knew how. Part of her wanted to rush at Nassore now, but to what end? To kill him with her bare hands? No. Even if her heart would allow her to murder the boy, she’d never reach him, not with Zain beside him. Seeing the creature that lurked within him, she was tempted. The thought that one of these creatures could control the empire sickened her. But no, her best bet for saving them all was still the portal, far away in Vol. She only hoped the empire would survive long enough for her to figure out how to do that.
The guard tasked with delivering the news of Graiphen’s pardon left quickly, and others were ordered to send word to the senate and temples. In the commotion, Octavia and Korbin were temporarily forgotten. They managed to slip out unnoticed.
In the corridor, Korbin said, “We have to get out of the palace. It’s not safe for you here.”
Octavia looked at him sadly. “With Jorek dead and Nassore possessed by Pang, it’s not safe for anyone in Talmor.”
Chapter 29
Back in her chambers, Octavia allowed herself time to grieve. She wept, finding it difficult to even talk, sleeping only a very little as Korbin held her through the night. When he woke early in the morning, before dawn had broken, he saw that she had risen and changed into fresh clothing. He sat up and watched as she washed her face in the basin and brushed her hair.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
With some effort, she nodded. She looked tired and anxious, but her mouth was set in a thin, determined line.
“We need to find you a way out. Perhaps my father can help,” he said softly.
Octavia ignored his comment and held out her hand. “Do you still have the poppet I gave you last evening?”
“Certainly.” He reached into his pocket and fetched it for her. It felt strange and soft in his hand.
“It will work better if we add your blood.” Removing a knife from a round table near her basin, she sat on the bed beside him, took his forearm, and pushed back his sleeve.
Her voice was tight. “I knew trouble was coming, and I hoped to see Jorek last night. I made one for him as well.”
Her grief hung heavily in the air. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.
Octavia pressed the blade to his skin until a rivulet of ruby formed next to it. Working carefully, she dribbled the blood over the poppet. “That’s enough,” she said. “Clasp your hand over the wound.”
He did as he was told while she fetched a small cloth and urged him to cover the wound with it. “You will learn how to connect with the essence in your blood and the power of the One, to slow bleeding and heal more quickly. Some conduits are better at this than others.”
With her thumbs, she worked the blood into the wax as though it were dough. It melded easily in her hands. “Blood contains life, and if you know how to see the life within, you can manipulate it. It can be heavy as earth or as ephemeral as mist. The essence is both light and darkness.”
After a moment of working, she glanced up at him. “Sit. Close your eyes. I know this may not seem a good time, but we must begin sometime, so I see no reason not to do it now. We have at least a day before Zain thinks to come for me. For now, he and Pang believe themselves safe and are focusing on making sure Nassore’s succession is not question
ed.”
Korbin rose and found a spot on the rug where he sat cross-legged, knowing this was the beginning of his training. He worried he would fail, that his talent wasn’t up to the task, that he was too old to learn, that his lack of Kilovian heritage meant he would never grasp the nuances she would try to teach him.
“Stop worrying,” she said. “You’re only going to make it harder.”
Taking in his breath, he nodded and closed his eyes.
“The first thing you have to learn is to sense your own blood, because through it you have the strongest connection to the One. Your blood is your life. It contains your spirit and your consciousness. It is the river that feeds your mind and your heart.”
He listened, but he didn’t sense anything special.
“As you breathe in and out, you renew your blood, cleansing it. With each breath, you take in more of the One and expel the self. Every time you inhale, you purify your body. Every time you exhale, you release worry, doubt, distraction, pain, even grief.”
He sensed her sitting down across from him. She continued to speak, guiding him through a process of breathing, something he’d taken for granted. When she was satisfied with his breathing, she discussed his heartbeat, then the flowing of his blood.
Soon, he lost track of her voice and was watching every function of his body as though it was its own world: his flesh the earth, his breath the wind, his blood the rivers and seas. As he pictured it, he saw other things: life and light and fire. Every organ in his body was working to nourish, to purify, to promote life.
After a while, he felt her touch on his arm. “Korbin,” she said, her voice distant. “Open your eyes.”
He did as she told him, and the world looked hazy. Everything seemed soft: the ground below him, the light from the candles, even her face. She looked sad, he realized.
“There’s someone at the door. You should stand.”
He complied without a word, almost as though he’d forgotten how to speak, but with each moment, colors were becoming sharper, her voice more normal and true. He glanced around. The sun had risen and the room was bright with the morning light.
“You did well,” she said quietly before going to the door. “Yes?” she said to the person on the other side.
“We have no time to waste,” Graiphen said, striding into the room. His features were haggard and the lines cut deep. Korbin felt as though he was truly seeing his father for the first time since he was a child.
The thing that struck him immediately was the darkness in Graiphen’s eyes. “What happened to you?” Korbin said. “Something is wrong.”
“I spent half the night in prison,” Graiphen said. “The other half in devotions.” He tilted his head oddly, as though listening to someone in the distance.
Devotions to Braetin? Or Pang? Korbin looked to Octavia, who nodded to him, silently confirming that she too sensed something was wrong.
“Why did you attack Seba?” Octavia asked. “Did Pang order you to?”
“Pang?” Graiphen laughed unpleasantly, and Korbin found the sound grating in his open-minded state. “I do not serve Pang.”
Octavia sighed. “You are not alone. I can sense the presence of your goddess, but it is not as before. What have you done?”
Graiphen frowned, looking uncomfortable. “I did what I had to do.”
“You allowed her to possess you, and now she knows what you know. She sees what you see.” Octavia scowled. “But this possession is not as the one before. I don’t understand.”
“Yes, she knows of your plan to rid the world of her kind.” He twitched strangely. “But I will offer you protection and redemption if you come to me. None can stand against the Spirits, but help me destroy Pang and I will give you a place of honor and power. None will dare speak against you.”
Octavia shuddered. “I can help you,” she said.
Korbin couldn’t believe his ears. “Help her? You don’t believe her, do you?”
She glanced at Korbin. “Help him.” She looked at Graiphen.
“I have chosen my path. I will never be free.” His features contorted. “And I do not wish to be.” Grimacing as though fighting an inner battle, he whispered, “I would have killed myself. I would do it now, if I thought she would not pursue me even across the threshold of life.” A sudden wince caused him to slam his eyes closed.
Seeing his father in such pain made Korbin’s gut hurt. Despite all the wrong choices, he couldn’t help but see Graiphen through his mother’s eyes and remember the patience and understanding with which she had spoken of him.
Sadness in her face, Octavia nodded. “Why are you here then?”
“I go to see Pang’s new vessel and confront her about her betrayal. My own vessel requires protection. She and her son are strong.”
Korbin grimaced upon hearing his father speak of himself as though he was merely an observer. It was difficult to decide sometimes which words were his and which were the words of the Spirit herself.
“Of course,” Octavia said, but her expression betrayed her reluctance. She fetched the third poppet, the one she had made for Jorek. “I need your blood.”
“That will not be a problem.” He pulled open his robe and showed her a newly cut wound on his chest. Korbin saw the strange circle over his heart and saw similar nubs embedded in the flesh at his wrists.
“Why did you submit to this?” Octavia asked, then waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter. You made your choice.”
“I made the only choice I could,” Graiphen said, his voice strained.
Octavia nodded as though she understood, but Korbin did not. He watched helplessly as Octavia took Graiphen’s blood just as she had his own, and she melded it into the third poppet. She incanted as she worked, adding a bit of twine around it and working the blood throughout. “I know you are in there. I see you are not completely possessed of this Spirit. She is using these thorns as anchors. If you ask me to, I will remove them. I can set you free.”
Graiphen’s face twisted in pain. “I will never be free. There was never a chance for me, even from the beginning. I have belonged to her from the moment she chose me.”
Korbin stepped forward. “What would happen if we pull them out?” He cast Octavia a worried glance.
“I suspect it would kill him,” she said.
I can set you free. Korbin shuddered when the understanding dawned on him. Death was the only hope of freedom for his father.
When she was finished with the poppet, she offered it to Graiphen. “Keep it close.”
“Thank you,” he said tiredly. But when he touched the poppet, he screeched and pulled his hand back as though he’d been burned. “What is this betrayal?”
Octavia frowned. “It is a protection talisman, just as the one I made for myself and for Korbin.”
“Liar!” Graiphen whipped his head back as though he’d been struck. “Betrayal again!”
“In truth, I was afraid this might happen,” Octavia said, “but I wasn’t certain. You can either go in alone with this as protection or bear the eyes of your goddess within your own, but you cannot have both.” She sighed.
“His life belongs to me,” Braetin said through Graiphen.
Anger welled up in Korbin. “Maybe it would be best just to pull the thorns out,” Korbin said. “If we cannot save him, we can at least thwart her.”
“No. It would do no good. Braetin is rooted in this world in a way Pang is not. Removing the thorns would kill your father but accomplish little else. I would not do it unless it was his own desire.”
“You’re going to let him live in the hope he will kill Pang?”
“Your father chose his path. He is choosing it still. It won’t be the first time we made a pact with their kind.” She spoke as though choosing her words carefully. “If they expend themselves battling each other, what harm does it do to our aims?”
“Our hope lies in his weakness?” Korbin asked.
Graiphen closed his robe. “So it seems.” His
voice betrayed exhaustion.
Korbin sighed. This was never going to work.
∞
Graiphen twitched, pain radiating through his body. Although Braetin’s presence felt more distant than when he had been possessed of her directly, she could send agony through the thorns, into his joints and even his heart.
Her anger burned through him relentlessly, setting each of the thorn points alight.
“Father?” Korbin frowned with concern. He touched Graiphen lightly on the shoulder, and something in his skin made Graiphen cry out with pain as though the boy had worn a glove of acid.
“Step away from him,” Octavia said quickly. Korbin did as the witch commanded.
I want her, Braetin said in Graiphen’s mind. Take her. Give me a child as you did Pang. But our child will also have the blood of Eurmus. She will be unstoppable.
“Father, no!” Korbin said and Octavia backed up a few steps.
Graiphen put his hand to his head to try to block the pain. Had he spoken aloud?
I have already taken three Children of Eurmus in Vol. One has borne me a child this very day, and soon, she will do so a second time. I have chosen two more to bear the seed of my most devoted acolytes. These four children who will build my army will soon control the city of Vol. These four will become four hundred, then four thousand. But the one born of this one’s blood will outshine them all. Her lineage is strong.
Now Graiphen understood why Braetin had kept the conduit Pendra alive and why she’d been so angry that Graiphen had ordered her released. She had been planning to use Seba to impregnate her, to blend the blood of two conduits with Braetin’s own power. And now, it seemed, she had gathered the other conduits sent recently by the Sennestelle and was using them as breeding stock.
Graiphen swallowed a mouthful of his own vomit. These horrific creatures had turned him and presumably others into rapists. The pain of what he had become hurt worse than the pain wracking his body as he tried to resist.
“I won’t let you hurt her,” Korbin said, his features contorted with fury.
Born Of Fire And Darkness (Book 2) Page 23
