No.
Fury boiled through my body. I yelled, charging the four Morts in front of me. They were down in under a minute, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I wouldn't—not until every last one of them paid for this with their lives. I hacked and beat and kicked, my body working on impulse, and then a wall of light rammed into me.
The light hit with such force I flew back a few feet before colliding with the ground. My body ached everywhere. I rolled to my side and tried to stand, but a net of light spread over me from head to toe, pinning me to the ground. I grunted and strained against the mesh of light, but it wouldn't give. Morts stepped aside as the pykan approached, its yellow, cat-like eyes focused on me as it held the spell in place. I writhed and pushed, but the pykan's magic held firm. I wasn't going anywhere, and the pykan knew it.
The pykan smiled, showing off pointed black teeth. "His majesty said to bring you alive, but there are many things worse than death, young prince." He hissed that last word and crouched at my side. His breath smelled like rot. "I suggest you come willingly or—"
There was a whoosh of sound followed by a wet snick-snick-snick. The pykan toppled backwards. Two arrows with bronze fletching protruded from its chest, and a third stuck out of its forehead. Arborennian arrows.
The pressure on top of me evaporated. More bronze arrows shot from the trees, not ceasing until every last Mort had fallen. Quick footsteps crunched and a figure crouched over me.
It was Ehren Venia, champion and prince of the Arborenne.
"I heard the commotion and came as fast as I could." He extended his hand, which I took. "Are you all right?"
He helped me up.
"Yes, but…" I bolted for the fallen tree…where Thaddeus stumbled out from under it like a drunken man. My footsteps slowed to a bewildered stop. Thaddeus and Vera had chanced upon a natural depression in the ground, and the tree had fallen over them with only a few inches to spare. Thaddeus had more lives than a cat.
"Quit gawking, would ya? I need help with V."
I hurried to his side and helped him pull Vera out. Her eyes were shut, her breathing labored, and her lips were tinged blue. I touched her forehead; it was cold as ice. Thaddeus and I exchanged a worried glance. I'd learned some things from my mother, who was a gifted healer—enough to know this was beyond my abilities.
"Poison?" Ehren asked.
I nodded grimly. "This is beyond me. Can you do anything to help her?" I stared down at Vera's still form. It didn't matter what my mother had said about Vera's choosing to follow me on this mission. If Vera died from this—under my care—I would never forgive myself. By the looks of it, Thaddeus wouldn't either.
"I will do what I can." Ehren crouched at her side. He had to ask Thaddeus to move out of the way—twice—before he began. Still, Thaddeus hovered right behind him, peering over Ehren's shoulder while Ehren touched Vera's forehead, lips, and the space behind her jaw. He frowned.
"What's wrong? Why are you frowning?" Thaddeus asked, and when Ehren didn't answer, Thaddeus looked up at me. "Why is he frowning?"
Ehren tilted his ear to her mouth.
"What are you doing?" Thaddeus asked. "Why are you just sitting there listening to her breathe? She is breathing, isn't she?"
Ehren leaned back on his heels and shifted to examine her leg wound. "Patience," he said.
"She's about to die from shadowguard poison, and you want me to be patient?" Thaddeus shouted.
Ehren's hands hovered a few inches over the gash in Vera's thigh. It wasn't very deep, but the blood there had turned black. Ehren looked up at me, his gaze marked with concern. My chest suddenly felt very, very heavy.
"She's not breathing," Thaddeus said, leaning over her. "She's not breathing!" He put his fingers into her mouth to check her airways.
"Alexander, please get him away from me," Ehren said with an edge of irritability. It was the first time Ehren had shown any real emotion since finding us. That wasn't a good sign.
Thaddeus placed his hands on Vera's chest, preparing to give her CPR.
"Stop," I said, grabbing his wrist. "He can't concentrate with you going on like this."
Thaddeus jerked his hand back. "Yeah, well, while's he's sitting there concentrating, she's dying!"
"Thaddeus, dammit, I know! Get back and let Ehren work!"
Thaddeus fell back on his rump and sat there staring at Vera with a wild look in his eyes. Ehren's eyes were closed now, his expression blank as he mumbled something in his tongue. Suddenly, Vera's back arched. She gasped, sucking air as though she'd resurfaced from being underwater too long. Thaddeus grabbed her hand and held it tight as her body relaxed. He kept holding on to it, even after her breathing settled into something normal. Her eyes remained shut.
"Why isn't she waking up?" Thaddeus asked.
Ehren cast him one sideways glance, and he stood to his feet.
"The poison has gone too far," Ehren said. "I was able to slow it down, but we need my father for this."
"What do you mean, too far?" Thaddeus asked. "She's going to make it, right?"
Ehren didn't respond.
"Right?" Thaddeus repeated.
"I don't know." Ehren looked at me. "I'm assuming you're headed to Imbdell?"
"Yes, but…" I hesitated. "Is there enough time?"
"It'll have to be enough time. There's no one between here and my father who possesses the skills necessary to heal her."
Thaddeus paled.
"I'll escort you." Ehren waved his hand, and his guards emerged from the trees. There were more of them than I'd realized. They blended in to the forest too well with their bronze and green armor. Ehren instructed a few of them to carry Vera, but Thaddeus insisted he help. Ehren obliged and soon we were on our way.
I'd been to the Arborenne with my father a few times. I'd never been to this part of the forest—and never to Imbdell. Still, the Arborenne was known for its deep layers of green. Layers so deep a person could easily lose themselves, and many had gotten lost, never to return. The vegetation was as deadly as the creatures lurking inside, but the forest wasn't green now, at least not in this part of the woods.
The ground was barren in all directions, littered only by fallen needles and dead leaves. There was no underbrush. There were no layers of ferns or flowers, no blankets of moss or hanging vines. The trees were naked and exposed—like the skeletal remains of what was once a magnificent creature—and the only sound was the crunch of our boots over the forest's rot and decay. A thin mist had settled in the empty spaces, rising from the ground like steam, as if some sentient and evil being possessed the land.
"You feel it," Ehren whispered.
I glanced sideways at him, but his gaze was fastened on the trees. "I feel…something," I said.
"The Arborenne is dying," Ehren said.
Dying. My gaze returned to the forest. "For how long?" I asked.
"We're not sure. One of our sentinels first noticed it about a year ago, though it was contained to this area until just a few weeks ago. It's halfway to Imbdell now."
I frowned. "Eris?"
"Perhaps. The boundary between Mortis and Gaia is thin—thinner than I have ever felt it—which permits many creatures of shadow that should not be here to pass through."
I thought of the barghests my family and I had encountered with Daria in this very forest six or seven months ago. If the boundary was as thin as Ehren alluded, no wonder the pykans had been able to draw barghests through the boundary. No telling what else they'd drawn through.
A soft grunt sounded behind me. Ehren and I glanced back to see Thaddeus, reluctantly, handing Vera to one of the guards. They were trading off carrying her, but no matter who carried her, Thaddeus kept by her side.
"What business do you have in Imbdell?" Ehren asked, drawing my attention back to the trail.
I tightened my lips. "I need Lord Dommelier's help."
"If this is about involving him in the war, you know you might as well never have come."
"It'
s not about that." I hesitated. I wasn't sure how to answer his question. It wasn't that I didn't trust Ehren—he was one of the few men in this world I did trust. My problem was that I didn't know where to start. I pulled the black cloth from my pack and held it between us. Ehren took it from my hands and gingerly unfolded the cloth as we walked. When he lifted the last corner, his step faltered.
His gaze went wide staring at the object in his hands. "Is this…?"
"Yes," I said. "My mother kept it hidden at our home on Earth. I only found out about it a few days ago."
He looked sideways at me, inquiring.
"I need Lord Dommelier to reforge it," I said.
Ehren looked back at the shattered remains, then refolded the cloth and placed the flat of his palm on top of it. "The blade wouldn't be all he'd be reforging."
"I know," I said. "But I can't see any other way, Ehren. The territories are fractured, the castle is surrounded by shadowguard. We don't stand a chance against Eris unless we unify the people. Our king is debilitated, and Prince Stefan, who's acting in his place, is a prisoner in his own home. He can't rally the people from behind the castle walls.
"The people need someone to stand with them, and this"—I gestured to the broken sword—"will at least give me the right. They won't follow an aegis to war, but maybe they'll follow someone of blood."
"Even if that blood belongs to an Estroian?" he asked.
"I'm not arrogant enough to think the people will follow me, but I am desperate enough to try." I paused. "My…fear is the people will forget the reputation I've earned as an aegis and see me only for the Estroian I'm claiming."
Ehren extended the wrapping toward me, and I took it from him.
"I would follow you anywhere, Alexander," he said. "I hope you know that. But I can't speak for the people of the Arborenne, let alone the people of this world. It's been a very long time since they've fought together under one cause, united under one man. For our part, you'll have to convince my uncle, and you know he's loathe to involve himself with Gaian politics."
"But the enemy is already invading his borders." I gestured to the dying forest.
"I know that," Ehren continued. "But my uncle has overseen the safety of his people for generations, without any help from the territories. I'm not sure the pleas of a new prince—no matter how honorable your intentions—will make him change his mind."
It took us about an hour to reach Imbdell's wall. As Ehren had said, the mist cleared halfway there, and the trees boasted life and verdant overgrowth once more. Our path ended in a wooden stair with wooden railings that curled and twisted like vines. The climb took longer because of Vera. Whatever Ehren had done had helped stave off the poison's progression, but her condition remained critical. She was bone white and gaunt, and every time I looked at her, I was overcome with guilt. She had to pull through. I wished we could walk faster.
The stair ended in a wooden bridge that stretched through the tree canopy, and when we descended again, the great wall of Imbdell spread before us. The wall stood about twenty feet tall, blanketed in moss and ivy, and the only point of entry was a pair of broad iron doors. Guards in bronze armor patrolled the wall's heights. There had to be at least two dozen of them, though I could feel many more eyes in the forest around us. There would be no leaving this city without Lord Dommelier's permission.
The guards at the gate recognized Ehren at once. A metallic click sounded, and then the twin iron doors rotated inward, joints groaning and creaking from strain. We followed Ehren through, and the gate groaned to a close behind us.
A few guards approached. Ehren said something in their tongue, gestured to Vera, and one of the guards bounded off down a narrow path and into the forest.
"I told him to alert my father of her condition so he can ready his ingredients," Ehren said to me. "I suggest we go ahead to my uncle. He'll know you're here, and he'll want to speak with you immediately. My men can carry Vera to my father so he can get to work."
"No." Thaddeus shook his head. "I'm staying with Vera."
Ehren frowned. "It's better my father work alone while her condition is critical."
"Then I'll be quiet," Thaddeus said. "I'm not leaving her."
Ehren looked at me to intervene.
Thaddeus's expression challenged me to tell him no.
"Thaddeus can stay with her," I said. "I'd like at least one of us to be here when she wakes. He'll stay out of your father's way." I wanted to stay with her too, but Ehren was right: Lord Dommelier probably already knew we were here, and he'd want to know why. It didn't make sense for Thaddeus and me both to stay with Vera. And I'd rather not have Thaddeus with me when I spoke with Lord Dommelier.
Ehren fastened sharp eyes on Thaddeus. "Don't interfere with my father as he works. It could mean her life."
Thaddeus swallowed, eyes fixed on Vera. "I won't," he said. He was serious.
Thaddeus took Vera in his arms, and the guards escorted them down the path, in the direction the first guard had gone.
Once they were out of hearing, Ehren asked, "Are you sure about him?"
I stared after Thaddeus for a long moment, watching him walk carefully with Vera in his arms. "Yes," I said. "Yes, I am."
12
DARIA
The world was darker today. The grounds were muted and blurred by an eerie blanket of thin haze. My view had changed, now that I'd been moved to the Dragonstone suite. The hedge garden was gone and in its place sat a very large and lonely pond, smooth as glass, reflecting the dismal charcoal palate of the world around. Naked trees rimmed the water's edge, black branches twisted and knobby like an old man's fingers, as though they were waiting for living souls to pass by so that they might snatch them from the face of the earth.
With a heavy sigh, I turned away from my window. This Dragonstone suite wasn't at all like my other room. According to the book I'd been reading about Orindor's mines, dragonstone had been named as such because of its resemblance to dragonbone. Of course, I'd never seen dragonbone before, but apparently both materials looked like pearl. Dragonstone was rare, too, and all known and operational mines were well within Orindor's borders and heavily guarded.
The room's opulence made me feel out of place. Everything was too glossy and opalescent and bright. All the furniture had been painted in pearlescent white, accented by dragonstone clocks and figurines, dragonstone knobs and other odd trinkets, and all the upholstery was fashioned in a rich blood red fabric, so the combined effect made me think of bone marrow. Not the intended effect, I was sure.
There was one figurine that had bothered me so much, I'd thrown a towel over it in the middle of the night. It was shaped like a dragon, and it reminded me of the white dragon I'd seen in Gesh, from the Shattered Plains. The one that had risen from the mountaintop and rescued us from the gargons. The little figurine was pure white, each scale and talon intricately carved, wings curled and body arched in the shape of a crescent moon. But it was the eyes—ruby red eyes that followed me wherever I went. Even in my bed, I felt it sitting there, watching me, as if it were expecting me to do something. So it got the towel.
I hadn't seen or heard a word from a dragon since Karth, not that I'd had the chance to search. But even if I could search, what would it accomplish? It wasn't as if I'd bring dragons to Orindor. As if I'd give Lord Pontefract access to that kind of power. In fact, their absence was making me doubt my own access to that power, whatever that power really was.
There was a light knock on my door. Lady Pontefract would be here any second. That was probably her now.
The person knocked again.
"Yes?" I pulled the towel off the dragon figurine and shoved it in a drawer.
"It's me," Danton said from the other side. "May I come in for a moment?"
I shut my eyes and gripped the edge of the dresser. I'd already spent breakfast and lunch with him, and with each social engagement we shared, my chest felt tighter and tighter. It was all too much too fast, as if he was bound and determ
ined to pretend I already loved him.
"Daria?"
"Sorry…coming…" I hurried to the door, opened it, and smiled at him.
He'd tidied up well for the banquet, but as I stood there thinking on it, I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him un-tidied. His suit had been pressed to perfection, showing off his lean frame but lending a bit more breadth to his narrow shoulders. He wore a red sash across his torso and a red cape over one shoulder, secured with what looked like an oversized gold coin. In fact, he looked liked he'd just stepped out of one of his regal family portraits. Except he was smiling—broadly.
He was very handsome—there was no denying that—and deep down I knew my betrothal could've been so much worse, but I didn't want to think about Danton in that way. It would've been easier feeling sorry for myself if he'd been ugly.
"I was expecting your mother," I said.
He didn't respond, because he was too preoccupied letting his eyes slide over my body, as if it were time for dinner and I was the main course. The desire simmering inside of him made me so uncomfortable, I fought the urge to hide behind the door, and after much too long, his eyes settled back on my warm face.
"You wear Orindor well," he said in a tone that made me feel as if he'd started eating.
Anna had chosen a blood-red dress for me with black lace trimmings. The dress was fitted from head to toe, with little cuffs for straps that rested right on my shoulders, and in place of sleeves, I wore long, black, lace gloves. It was the neckline I'd had a particular problem with. It plunged in a low "V" in front and was completely open in back. Way too much visible skin to flaunt around his promiscuous lordship. A translucent black veil fell from my waist in back, spilling on the floor behind me in a train, beaded all over in black swirls that shimmered when they caught the light. It was a beautiful gown, and I might not have minded wearing it had the man standing across from me, looking at me like that, been someone else.
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