“Ebba-Viva Wobbles Fairisles, yer a bloody genius!” She cackled gleefully.
A cylinder sat next to the ivory box she’d stood on to reach the sword. After her tumble, the box now sat open and upturned.
Gleaming happily as though uncaring of the trouble it constantly caused was the dynami.
Twenty
She could tell by the rounded end of the cylinder it was the dynami. And if one cylinder was here, surely that meant the purgium was close by.
Ebba fell to her knees and searched under the cabinets, scanning the ground left and right. She’d just caused a racket to end all rackets. There was no way someone hadn’t heard that.
“There ye are,” she whispered, spotting the purgium twinkling on the stone floor two toppled rows over.
She swiped the dynami up, and kicked off the pinching shoes to dash around the row. Reaching the cabinet in the middle of the now not-so-orderly rows, Ebba dropped to the floor and stretched her fingers out. Her hand stilled at the painful memory of when she’d last clutched the two cylinders at once.
She’d been so angry at her traitorous pet, she’d forgotten why she needed Sally to help. Ebba couldn’t hold both of the magical tubes at once. Last time she’d unintentionally done so, white light had exploded, and she’d been picked up and thrown by an invisible force.
Shite.
Holding both of them on Pleo hadn’t worked. Maybe that was no longer true. Ebba hesitated and then set the dynami by her side before reaching to take hold of the purgium under the low cabinet. Dust tickled her nose and as she drew out the tube, she sneezed a few times.
Ebba placed the purgium next to its tarnished-silver cousin and studied them, cross-legged on the cold stone floor. Maybe she could grab Caspian, or whisk Sally away from wherever the guards had taken the wind sprite.
Maybe. . . .
Ebba scooped up the dynami and shoved it down her front, between the silken dress layer and her corset. Maybe if the magic wasn’t touching her skin, they wouldn’t react to each other. She tried to remember if she’d held both in her hands last time, but couldn’t recall.
Worth a shot. She hoped.
Holding her breath, Ebba extended her forefinger toward the purgium where it glittered menacingly.
Turning her face slightly away, she touched the purgium.
A brilliant white light exploded, and her body was lifted by the invisible force and flung backward so quickly that Ebba only just realized she was in the air a scant breath before the back of her body and head smacked into the far stone wall. Ebba cried out, clutching at the base of her skull as pain erupted there.
She toppled forward from the wall to the stone ground, her flailing legs upsetting an open chest of sparkling gems on her descent. Ebba managed to get one arm forward to stop the front of her face from striking the ground but cried out again at the bruising impact on the front of her hip bones and knees.
Ebba rolled onto her back atop a bed of uncomfortable gems, eyes wide as she attempted to suck air into her chest again.
“Ouch,” she wheezed.
She lay there until her lungs recovered from the shock and then hoisted her dress to get on her hands and knees. Ebba peered back the way she’d come. The blasted thing had thrown her halfway across the treasury. Suffice to say, her experiment hadn’t worked, but she had her answer. Ebba could hardly parade through the castle with a giant sapphire-inlaid box. The charm likely wouldn’t make her charming enough to pull that stunt off. Another person would have to help her. And that meant the prince or Sally.
Ebba stood, straightening with the help of her hands on her thighs, and limped back to the purgium. She’d take the dynami with her for now. Power would be more helpful in this situation than the ability to heal. Unless she could heal Montcroix of being a dolt. Perhaps he’d help them then.
Another boom rocked the castle, and Ebba clutched the back of her head, tensing in preparation of being flung again. The entire castle shook again, and when she wasn’t thrown back by the invisible force, her eyes tracked dislodged dust as it floated from the ceiling to the ground.
The castle was shaking from something else. Unless she’d caused some kind of damage just now. But Ebba didn’t think so.
The treasury didn’t have a window to look out of. Another blow shook the stonework, nearly throwing Ebba to the ground, and her stomach twisted with foreboding. Someone was attacking the castle. Unless King Montcroix had a number of shady dealings going on, Ebba could only think of one other person who had reason to attack the king. A person who’d long been a slave to six masters.
Her mouth dried. As the jolting shocks continued, Ebba skirted back to the door, never happier for her sea legs. She patted her chest to make sure the door key and the dynami were in place under the front of her dress before opening the door to peer left down the level.
No one was in sight.
Ebba pulled the door closed quietly behind her and set off to the grand stairway to return to Sal’s room on the floor below. There were several windows in there. She just wanted to look at the dock, just to make sure the terrible warning rippling up her spine and raising the hairs at the base of her neck were unwarranted; that the remnants of her time on Malice were driving her imagination in the wrong direction. Surely. . . .
Guards appeared at the top of the stairway.
Nearly there herself, Ebba skidded to a halt and lunged for the closest door.
“Halt!”
Ebba froze, letting go of the handle. Armored footsteps clattered toward her. Schooling her features, she turned to the guards, wondering if the charm was working. Verity had said the charm would last eight hours. That meant until somewhere in the early hours of morning. What was the time now?
Twenty armored guards milled up the grand stairway, surrounding her. Those closest to her parted, and Ebba gulped at the sight of King Montcroix in their center. His amber eyes blazed in a way that told her his next words could be, ‘off with her head.’
The soldiers stepped aside as someone pushed their way through.
“Mistress Fairisles,” Caspian blurted.
Ebba glimpsed his sister behind him, and her eyes dropped to the younger look-alike at the princess’ side. His second sister, she assumed. “Prince Caspian,” she answered, heart beating fast—not just because she’d been caught, but because of their last conversation.
His eyes were fixed on her. Was he thinking about what he’d said as well? Ugh, she’d banked on having a few months until they met again.
“I . . . got lost?” she offered weakly, her cheeks burning.
The soldiers relaxed, though the king’s murderous expression didn’t ease.
Caspian gripped her arm with his gloved hand, staring at her pointedly. “The castle is being attacked by pirates.”
“By Malice,” his father hissed.
Ebba tensed, and her gaze shifted from the king to Caspian. Her embarrassment disappeared, and she wet her lips. “Malice?” But it wasn’t Malice, not really. Not even Pockmark. Pockmark was cruel in his own right, and he could be depended upon to go after the magical tubes at all costs, but only for the pillars. And attacking the castle certainly wasn’t his style. Mercer moved through alleyways, shoving a blade into your back, not into your face in plain view. He cornered. He taunted. He poisoned. He didn’t boldly declare war on the king. No, even if Pockmark was the face of this attack, he wasn’t behind the move.
The shadows were. The pillars. They clearly felt strong enough in their shadow forms to usurp the king.
While Ebba might scoff at one ship’s crew taking down the castle, she’d experienced the creeping, suffocating evil within that ship firsthand, and had no idea what the limits of the six pillars really were. Verity had said they’d regain power fast once in shadow form, and Ebba assumed that was because the crew could now infect others with the taint. She’d said becoming corporeal would take weeks and that’s when the pillars would truly be invincible. Yet the king had said Malice was attacking,
not six shadows. And anyone in their right mind would notice that. Were the pillars still confined to the ship?
The prince shook his head, his grip on her tightening. “One of the guards heard the name ‘Pockmark’ being shouted on the other side of the portcullis. It’s Malice.”
“My Liege,” a soldier addressed Montcroix. “We must get you and the royal family into the safe room while the threat is dealt with.”
The king nodded, jaw ticking. “Caspian, leave her. One of the soldiers will take her to the ballroom to be guarded with the rest of the court.” He sure made that sound like she was a pig to be put in a pen.
“Father, I would prefer Mistress Fairisles to come with us.” Caspian’s eyes were edged and darting. He let go of her and reached out a hand to the wall to steady himself as another blast rocked the castle.
“I cannot allow that. Family only.”
Another blow rocked the castle, and his elder sister cried out. The younger one looked like she was enjoying the commotion, if truth were told.
Caspian’s gaze firmed. “Father, I intend Mistress Fairisles to be family soon.” He flashed her an apologetic look and turned to the king. “I asked her earlier if she would consent to wed. And she said yes.”
Ebba’s brows shot into her hairline. She hoped the charm was working overtime to mask her reaction. Now they were pretending to be betrothed? That veered mortifyingly close to his recent romantic confession and embarrassment flushed through her anew. He was always quick-witted, but she couldn’t help observing just how quick he’d been to offer the engagement as a solution. Heat swept up into her cheeks, and she remained mute in the face of the shocked and disbelieving faces of Caspian’s family and the royal guard.
Ebba hated to think what their faces would be like if the charm wasn’t in place.
“Your intended?” the king blurted, stepping forward.
The prince reached back and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her forward. Ebba stumbled next to him, her head still throbbing from hitting the treasury wall, but all she could feel was the heat of his arm through her dress.
“As you see,” Caspian said, jaw set, “I love her.”
He stared down at her, and Ebba glanced between his burning amber eyes, unsure what to say in reply to keep the game going. Mostly because this didn’t feel like a game at all.
“With all my heart,” he whispered.
Sink her, everyone was waiting for her to say something.
“Me too,” she grunted, feeling oddly fluttery inside about uttering such words.
Awkwardness aside, Ebba would rather be with the prince right now, even if that meant being cooped up with the king. If they had to keep up this guise for a few hours, it was no skin off her teeth. And Caspian wouldn’t hold her to anything she had to say. Though, she frowned, had Caspian thought about what he’d say when she left? If all went to plan, her crew could be out of here at first light.
Ebba latched onto the prince to hold him upright as the castle was struck again. “What are they firin’ at us?” she asked underneath the cries of his sisters.
“Cannons,” he answered. “What else? They took out the guards on the wall.”
She gasped. “They’re inside the courtyard?”
“Your Majesty, we must get to the safety chamber,” a soldier pressed.
Ebba lifted her head and found the king scrutinizing her. Ebba did her best to arrange her face into innocent lines. His amber eyes scoured her from head to toe, and a scowl twisted his mouth. “Very well, bring the woman too.”
The woman? The same woman who broke into your treasure room?
Maybe she’d keep that tidbit to herself.
“Thank you, Father,” Caspian said, bowing slightly.
Taking her hand, he pulled Ebba back in the direction she’d come. The soldiers closed rank around them, and the royal family and Ebba were herded down the right wing of the fourth level. The dynami sat heavy beneath the top of her dress, and as the soldiers ushered them down the passage, Ebba winced, wondering if they were going back to the treasury. The treasury which she’d left in an absolute mess.
“You have them?” the prince whispered low in her ear.
His warm breath caused shivers to erupt up the side of her neck. “One,” she said.
Ebba waited until the soldier on her right shifted a couple of steps away, and added, “Sally wasn’t inclined to be helpin’. I couldn’t pick them both up.”
Cosmo shifted uneasily. “Yes, about Sally. . . .”
She fixed her moss-green eyes on him. “You knew she’d turned sides?”
He winced. “I don’t think she’s turned sides as such. More that she’s enjoying what luxuries there are on offer. Almost like a vacation. With the consequence that my father has been parading her in front of his court tonight.”
A vacation? Yeah, right. “She was here for the booze. Don’t be sugar-coatin’ it. She has a problem. But Sally be magic. Won’t that mean. . . ?”
Caspian’s reply was grim. “Yes, it means Exosia is now aware that magic exists. They weren’t before, and it was hard to gauge how they took it earlier tonight. From what I can tell, there haven’t been any other magical encounters on Exosia.” He lowered his voice. “Though my father didn’t seem as surprised by her as I’d expected.”
She’d seen the king’s calm expression when he saw Sally, but had since wondered if his casual acceptance was more due to the purgium and dynami stealing his attention so completely than lack of wonder over magic’s existence.
Ebba eyed the dust and grit floating from the ceilings. “Is it safe to be up here? What if the castle falls down?”
The soldier to her right answered. “Never fear, Lady Fairisles. It is easier to defend ourselves from high ground.”
That logic was all well and good until this level collapsed to the ground. Then she could see there might be a few holes in his theory.
They were halted, and Ebba raised on tip-toes, sighing in relief when she saw they’d stopped at the chamber just before the treasury. They were ushered inside the chamber. Four soldiers entered the room with the king and searched the large sitting room thoroughly, overturning cushions that they clearly expected to be hiding Pockmark. Another guard rustled the heavy purple and gold curtains. Did they think Swindles and Riot were behind it, ready to jump out?
Landlubbers.
Apparently satisfied that the entire crew of Malice wasn’t in the room, the soldiers exited with a hushed word to the king.
“Yes, yes.” Montcroix waved a hand at the soldier. “I’m aware of the safety word.”
“Why is Malice attacking?” the prince whispered in her ear, pulling her to a chaise on the opposite side of the room.
The pillars were back, and the pillars wanted power. While the pillars could just be here to take the castle and to attempt to replace the most powerful man in the realm, she couldn’t discount that news would have spread of Felicity’s capture. Pockmark and his masters could be here for the purgium and the dynami. “I don’t know,” she answered him. “But it ain’t good, either way.”
She couldn’t believe the pillars were making such a move. For them to have gained enough strength to attack the king, their taint must have spread dramatically since she’d last seen them. Ebba didn’t want to think about the taint spreading.
Caspian beckoned his sisters to the chaise, and Ebba focused on the Exosian ruler. King Montcroix sat on a hard-backed wooden chair situated beside a small side table, directly by the chamber door. With one hand, he gripped his sword, knuckles white. The other rested on the table, calm aside from the harsh tapping of his forefinger. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His white brows had drawn together. His mouth was pinched. Ebba couldn’t decide if the king was angrier about the attack on his castle or that pirates were attacking his castle.
She shifted to look behind him. To his right, a massive painting covered the chamber wall from ceiling to floor, its width as wide as three Peg-legs standing on profile with
their guts hanging out. The scene was of an armored knight astride a gleaming black horse, a picture-perfect Exosia at his back and a shining sword held high over his head. No crown sat upon the knight’s head. That sword looked awfully familiar though. . .
Ebba wondered why the king kept the fancy sword locked in the treasury and settled for his current one, bland by comparison. Not that the sword in his belt was plain by normal standards.
The king lifted his head, and Ebba sucked in a breath, glancing away. . . .
. . . To the princesses on the couch opposite who were studying her just as hard as she’d been studying their father.
Honestly, the royal family had never held much interest for her, other than being her natural enemy, until Cosmo transformed into a prince. But Ebba could tell by looking at the princesses and Caspian that their mother must have been beautiful. Though they each had amber eyes, their faces were graceful lines and elegance in comparison to the king’s harsh face.
Ebba stared at the two girls. “Ahoy,” she greeted, absently wondering what the charm changed that to.
“You’re very beautiful,” the eldest said, clearly hearing the charmed version of Ebba’s greeting.
She couldn’t recall a thing about his sisters except that they wanted to grow up fast. “Cheers.”
The younger of the girls tucked her hand into her elder sister’s, peeking at Ebba through her thick chestnut lashes. Ebba wasn’t fooled by that look for one second. Unless she was much mistaken, the younger girl was the one to watch out for—the surviving type.
Caspian hovered his mouth by Ebba’s ear, and the princesses giggled. Ebba was certain he’d whispered in her ear before, but her body had never been so aware of his proximity.
“When does your charm wear off?” he asked.
Ebba froze. Sink her. “What be the time?”
He gestured at the clock on the wall, and Ebba rolled her eyes. Like she knew how to decipher that hunk of fancy. The sun was her watch.
“Uh, eleven. Just past eleven,” he answered, a flush crawling over his jaw.
Pillars of Six Page 18
