Tanghi entered the study and took a seat, and Alaric moved to stand next to the armchair opposite him. “Do you know where Kaila went?”
“I thought she was in Tiede.” Tanghi’s tone was cold, distant. “I can try to find her if you want. Chances are, she’s snuck off to see Geir—which wouldn’t happen if you just let her go. She feels like she’s being treated like a child, and she does everything in secret to circumvent you.”
“She is a child,” Taia piped up. She was diagramming fate lines based on the latest reports. “Tanghi’s right. If you put her to work instead of fawning over her, she might actually grow up.”
“Your tongue,” Alaric growled. “Silence it.”
“She argues every decision you make,” Taia burst out. “If Tanghi did as she does, you’d have him punished!”
Alaric glared at her. “Do not concern yourself with my business!”
“It’s become my business!” she argued, walking towards him. “You promised yourself to me because you needed me to help you gain power. I’ve done nothing but obey every word, every thought you’ve conveyed, even when I thought you wrong.”
“I didn’t realize at the time,” he said, his voice low, “that there was more to existence than power. Maybe my promise was a mistake.”
Tanghi stood up, putting himself between them. “This is not the time for arguing.”
“You made a promise to me before the gods!” Taia said, her form flickering.
“What more do you want?” Alaric asked, pushing a surprised Tanghi out of the way. “I’m promised to you and I can’t break it. My body, my soul, my destiny are all tied to you. What more do you want?”
“She wants your heart,” Kaila said.
Not having seen or heard Kaila come in, they all stared at her in silence. Kaila took a hesitant step towards Tanghi, and he met her halfway, staring into her eyes as if seeking answers. She mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” and Alaric had never seen such conflict cross the Fire spirit’s face.
“Now is not the time,” Tanghi said, recomposing himself. “First the mages, then we fix this.” He indicated all of them with a sweep of his arm.
Alaric and Taia looked at each other, trying to reach some sort of temporary resolution but failing. Taia returned to the desk, and Alaric threw himself into the armchair. He could feel the darkness growing within, pulsing and pushing at his nerves. He leaned back, taking in deep breaths.
Kaila made her way to Alaric, got down on her knees before him. He sat up, then leaned towards her as if seeing her for the first time. Her hair was wet, clinging to her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were dark and solemn, the playful aqua he was accustomed to clouded over with such hurt that his instincts went on alert. Something was wrong.
He pushed her hair away from her face, and as she lowered her gaze, he could feel his heart beating harder, the demon blood churning, waiting for a reason to break free.
“I’ve kept a secret from you, my Lord.”
FOUR
Leaving Aren had been harder than Kaila had thought it would be, and it hurt even more that she had to do it so that Alaric wouldn’t kill him. She sought shelter in a lagoon near the Keep as her body was racked by sobs.
When her tears were under control, she left the tranquility of the lagoon and entered the Keep flickering from spirit to god form, drifting through the halls like a wraith, leaving a trail of water in her wake. Her work in Tiede wasn’t over. Aren still needed her help, and if she didn’t do something soon, either the monster or the Wood would kill him.
She had to laugh a little. The boy was in a world of trouble, and that was without the wrath of a jealous god on him. Her smile felt foreign on her face, but it reinvigorated her. Why was it that just thinking of Aren could lighten her mood?
She reached the study and heard the arguing well before she entered the room. Alaric and Taia were at each other’s throats, and Tanghi was trying to keep the peace.
Kaila settled on her god form and knelt before Alaric, feeling the tension in his hands, the trembling in his thighs. She did this to him. She made him worry, made him paranoid. She hated herself for it because she did love him. “I’ve kept a secret from you, my Lord,” she said. It was time to ask for help, even though it would prove that she was an incompetent child. It was all she could do for Aren now.
Alaric leaned towards her. “I knew you were keeping something from me, and I won’t deny that it hurts to know I was right.” He reached out to stroke her jaw, and she felt the cool of twilight on her face. “What is it?”
Kaila hesitated, hoping that she was doing the right thing. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “There’s trouble in Tiede,” she said. “I wanted to take care of it myself. I wanted to fix it so that you would trust me, so that you would send me anywhere you’re willing to send Tanghi, but I failed.” Tanghi took a seat and listened, his concern mirroring Alaric’s.
Alaric’s voice was steady as he prodded her for more information. “What’s going on in Tiede? Taia’s not noticed any disruptions in her spells.”
“She hasn’t noticed because Rafi placed a counter-spell,” she said. “I just found out from Geir.”
Alaric sat up and turned to look at Taia, who stood before opening another book, paging through the spells at a frantic pace.
“The mage threat has already made it to Tiede, and Aalae was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” Kaila said. “The House has been attacked; mages captured, questioned, and executed or imprisoned. What’s worse is there’s some kind of beast loose in the city. It’s been killing people, and it attacked the House.” Alaric clenched her hand, and she rushed to add, “Vir is safe. Three young men promised to Tanghi drove out the monster. They happened to be at the right place every time. Blacksmiths.”
Tanghi grunted as he nodded. “Must be Gerrit clan. Guardian blood runs in their veins.”
“Is the beast still alive?” Alaric asked.
“Yes, I tried to fight it, but…” She hesitated, then moved to lift the black, reptilian skin of her armor to expose the long scar, which was still healing. Alaric let out a hiss as he reached out to run his cool finger along the length of it.
“Kaila, what were you thinking?” he asked, raising his voice. “You could’ve been killed! This is why I didn’t send you to Trum, but apparently you can find danger regardless!”
“I got out of it just fine,” she muttered, pulling her top down.
Alaric stopped her so that he could point out the areas that still pulsed crimson. “You were infected with magic!” he said. “Taia, look at this.” She drifted over and peered at the wound. He glared at Kaila. “How did you get the magic out? You couldn’t have done this yourself.”
She looked down at her hands. “Geir,” she whispered. “I made him swear not to tell anyone.”
“I would’ve helped you,” Tanghi’s low voice cut in.
“You would’ve told Alaric,” she mumbled.
“Get to Tiede, find this thing, and kill it,” Alaric said to Tanghi. “I want its bones.”
“You can’t!” Kaila said. “I mean that none of us can kill it. It sensed my power even though I relinquished it. Our powers in combination with magic that strong will open an istoq to rival the one we dealt with in Tiede Wood”—on the night Aren found Selina, she added to herself.
“You relinquished your powers to fight? Damn it, Kaila!” Alaric said, rising to his feet so that she had to move out of his way. He took a few steps towards his desk, then turned and pointed at her. “This is why I worry. This thing could’ve killed you, and now we have to figure out how to stop it before it goes after Vir again.”
“I thought I could take care of it.”
Alaric ignored her. He said to Taia, “Check her wound. I don’t doubt Geir did a good job, but it doesn’t hurt to be thorough. Then, I want that damned spell of yours fixed.” He turned to Tanghi. “Trum can wait, I want you in Tiede. Watch the House, look for the creature. Make sure your Guardians are protecting Vir. I’m goin
g to check his fate line.”
Kaila rose to her feet feeling sad and uncertain. “And what would you have me do, my Lord?” she asked. She had a good idea of what his answer would be.
“You are barred from leaving the Keep until I say otherwise,” Alaric growled. “I could have lost you, Kaila.”
FIVE
Aren had a fitful night’s sleep. He was plagued by nightmares of plants reaching out to strangle him, moss that ate at his flesh, beautiful flowers that kissed and poisoned him. He remembered his hands around a mage’s neck, strangling. Bitter rage had consumed him, blinded him, and he wanted the bastard dead.
He remembered Selina rushing towards him, screaming at him to stop, begging him to let go of the mage. She had seen his eyes, and the expression on her face was one of fear and heartache. She threw her small arms around him, pleading for him to come back to her.
Between the stabbing pain all over his face and his inability to put Lake out of his mind, Aren was up most of the night staring into the darkness. At one point, he stumbled over to his desk, lit a candle, and began writing letters to Lake in his notebook. He wrote about the vast emptiness of the evening and how all hope had drained out of his being. He referenced passages from old texts regarding shattered stars and the ghosts of unrequited love. He had never written such a personal letter to anyone in his life, and it embarrassed him that he was pouring his heart out to her now. He had no intention of sending her his prose or having it otherwise see the light of day, but something was cathartic about scribbling his soul onto parchment. He’d bury it in the chest at the foot of his bed, then pull it out decades from now and laugh at himself. Maybe he should burn it.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook him and he dozed off naked at his desk. When he woke up, his head was pulsing, his ears were ringing, and his chest was aching from the empty void that Lake had left in his heart. Despite feeling out of sorts, he managed to draw a bath, wash up, get dressed, and pull on his black robes. He half-stumbled out of his room, and a Guard caught him before he could fall. The Guard offered to escort him to the Library, which caused Aren to laugh so hard that he doubled over in pain.
“Gods, Aren, what do you think you’re doing?” Dane asked, rushing over. He gave the Guard a nod, then helped steady Aren, who was walking like a drunk towards the Library.
“Going to get some work done before someone or something else decides to choke me,” he said, the dizziness subsiding. “Why in Aum would I need an escort to the Library? Have I been arrested?”
Dane sounded irritated when he said, “You were beaten badly, and Lord Vir doesn’t want someone trying to kill you—if only because part of him believes that mother will burn down the entire city to protect you. She’s beside herself with worry. You’re a disaster. Have you seen yourself?”
He had. And he didn’t care. “I’m sorry I made you all worry, but you can return home. I have a lot of work to do.” Aren took a deep breath, then turned in the direction of the kitchens. “I need some coffee.”
Dane stopped him. “Gryf and I saw the mage in the dungeons—the one who attacked you. How’d he get to you? He’s big but I know you’re faster than he is. What is wrong with you? The truth, brother.”
Aren refused to look at him. He felt stupid hearing these words spoken aloud. “Lake’s gone and she’s not coming back.”
“Gods, Aren. Really?” Dane dropped his head, put his hands on his hips, and didn’t say another word for several heartbeats. “How old are you?”
Aren shoved him out of his way. There was nothing like a big brother metaphorically kicking you in the balls to get you back on your feet.
“I’m sorry.” Dane caught up to him. “I know you had feelings for her, but you knew that it wasn’t going to work, that there was someone else. I liked her too, but no woman is worth you getting your ass handed to you.”
Aren glared at him. “It might not have happened if you had taken me seriously for once when I told you mages were trying to kill me.”
“You want to wallow in self-pity? Fine.” Dane met his glare. “Get back to hiding behind your books. I’ll get your damned coffee for you.”
They parted ways without another word.
By the time the kitchen delivered a carafe, Aren had managed to file a stack of books and pull more sources for his research. He thanked the young woman with a nod, unable to bother with any pleasantries. He felt terrible about his argument with Dane and sick over Lake’s absence.
The Library doors opened with their loud, familiar click followed by the deep creak and moan as the heavy wood was pushed open. Aren swore under his breath and gulped down half of his coffee, scalding his tongue and the roof of his mouth. His eyes watered, and he moved the cup containing the remaining coffee into an unused box in the very back of the bottom drawer on the left side of his desk and hid the carafe.
“I need the scroll on the treatise with Rose, the two volumes from the Illitheien medical collection on mage markers, and indices four through eight on Tiede’s war history,” Elder called out. “Now.”
Aren pushed his chair back and went to get the medical records. He had filed several Illitheien works recently and knew it would be most efficient to get those into Elder’s hands first. Elder grunted his approval, then began to page through the contents. Aren rushed to get the volumes on Tiede’s history and the treatise with Rose.
“Fighter Gryf and the Hunters can’t find the mage that ran away or that cursed monster,” Elder mumbled. “Gods help us.” When Aren returned with the rest of the material, Elder took the scroll and peeled the parchment back across the desk. “I was surprised to find the doors unlocked; I wasn’t expecting you to be working.”
“I’m well enough to work,” Aren said, using a hefty marble stone to weigh down the top corner of the curling scroll. “Lake and I stumbled on some possible links between plants and symbolism, so I might be making some headway there.”
“That’s very kind of her to help. You seem to get along very well.”
“She left last night.” The words sounded as if someone else had said them. “I know what you’re thinking: I’ll get over it.”
“You will never know what I’m thinking,” Elder corrected him. “I’m not concerned about whether or not you’ll recover from a broken heart. You will do your job as well as you always have. In fact, you’ll probably throw yourself completely into it to dull the pain. I would thank her for leaving if only I wouldn’t miss her charm and conversation.”
“I appreciate the concern,” Aren said sarcastically.
“I’m thinking there are secrets and stories that have been woven into your soul that have yet to be unraveled,” Elder said, ignoring him. “I’m thinking that you need to start figuring out who and what you are and accepting it instead of trying to hide or fit in.”
Aren fidgeted. “I saw what I did to that mage, but I swear it wasn’t me. There are a lot of crazy things about me, but I don’t have any kind of magic, if that’s what you mean.”
“Krinn a’tmor.” Elder’s voice was low, and the Old World accent came easily to his speech.
Aren’s mind raced to translate. Why did the old man like to quiz him when his brain was pulp? “Something not derived from fear,” Aren puzzled out loud.
“Truth,” Elder answered for him. “Truth for what it is, and not created from or derived from fear.”
“Meaning?”
Elder sighed with the knowledge of a thousand whispering winds. “You hide from what you are because you’re afraid. What truth are you willing to accept about yourself?”
SIX
Vir was exhausted.
He buttoned his shirt as he looked out past the balcony that extended from his bedchamber. The sea was tumultuous this morning, churning under a sad gray sky. The threat of rain hung over the House, and he recalled stories Elder would tell him about the Night god calling out to the Water goddess, trying to find her as she hid her lovers from his jealous wrath. She tossed them into the sea, turning
them into sharks and mermen, building up an army of her own so that one day she could rebel against the Night and be freed from his overzealous love for her.
Vir sighed. He had no time for stories. He needed to finish writing his reply to Rose Gaithus, telling him that Tiede, at present, could not come to Rose’s aid. Tiede had its own mage problem to contend with.
The servants continued to work in silence as he slipped on a charcoal-gray vest and black shoes. They fixed his bed, took his laundry, and laid out hot tea, cubes of sugar, and cream in the sitting area. He noted their concerned glances, heard the whispers that swept through the halls.
Lord Vir is ill. Lord Vir is dying. There is no heir to Tiede.
He took a seat as he prepared his tea. The servants put on polite smiles, exiting as he stirred, the gentle clinking of the spoon against porcelain signaling for them to leave.
Vir hadn’t planned on dying anytime soon, so while he knew he needed to produce an heir, he hadn’t been in any hurry. At first, he wasn’t sure what the problem was. He and Geyle both seemed healthy enough and still young. After a year with no success, and the House doctors baffled, he began to call on Illithe.
And still there was no heir.
Vir stared at the empty bed as he drank his tea, savoring the heat down his throat. He didn’t get to bed until near morning. The Apprentice’s brush with death had left him troubled, and he spent most of the night discussing it with Elder. When he finally did make it to bed, Geyle was sound asleep, and when he woke up she was gone.
Vir swallowed the rest of his tea and was about to pour another cup when he decided that one of Geyle’s concoctions would be preferable. His throat and lungs were irritated, and the only thing that seemed to ease the pain was the burn of liquor. He left the room without putting on a tie, wondering where his wife would be by now. He heard Geyle’s voice coming from the drawing room, but as he approached, he heard the Apprentice as well. He paused, torn between barging in to ask her to make his drink and returning to his study while the Apprentice kept his wife occupied.
Uniting the Heavens Page 33
