Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4)

by Barbara Kloss

  The Arborennian lord wore a natural frown, as though he were bored with the world and all it had to offer. He wore heavy robes of green, and his long white hair was decorated by a thin band of bronze resting confidently upon his brow. He touched the tip of the quill to paper, scratching with aggressive strokes, intent on whatever it was he wrote, even though I knew that he knew we were there. After a few more seconds of furious scratching, he set the quill back in its vial with a soft plink, sprinkled dust atop his work, then rolled the sheet into a scroll.

  The three of us stopped at the foot of the dais, where two more Arborennian guards stood armed with bronze spears. Laena remained quiet.

  Lord Dommelier used the small candle on the podium to melt wax onto the scroll and sealed it with his ring. It was then he dragged his gaze upward. His eyes were a dark purple, like clouds before a storm, and they brought all the chill of winter with them. "Ehren. I wasn't expecting you so soon, nor was I expecting you to bring…company."

  Ehren bowed his head in deference. "Yes, my lord uncle. I have with me Aegis Alexander Del Conte."

  "So I see," the Arborennian lord said, examining me from head to toe. He then snapped his fingers and one of the guards standing at the base of the dais hurried to his side. Lord Dommelier handed the scroll to the guard, murmured an order, and the guard rushed off, scroll in hand. Another guard took his place. Then Lord Dommelier swiveled on his feet, robes flaring, and ascended the dais to sit on his throne.

  "Laena, my darling, you may leave us," he said.

  Laena dipped into an elegant bow, and with a turn of silk, hair, and heady perfume, she left the room, but not before casting me a long glance.

  Lord Dommelier threaded his hands together and placed them in his lap. "Ehren, why have you brought me an aegis of the crown?"

  By his tone, I didn't think Lord Dommelier thought very highly of the crown, or its aegises.

  "He was already on his way to see you, my lord, so I thought to provide him with an escort."

  The Arborennian lord moved his hands to his knees, long fingers curling over the bend. "You're fortunate my nephew found you. It's almost impossible to reach my city without an escort—or an invitation, for that matter."

  I kept quiet. It was better to say nothing at all than to say the wrong thing when dealing with a man like Lord Costa Dommelier.

  "Did you come alone?" he asked.

  "No, my lord. There are two more aegises with me."

  "Where are they now?"

  "They are with my father," Ehren replied.

  Lord Dommelier looked curiously at Ehren, then me. "And why are they with Lif Venia?"

  "Because one of them is suffering from shadowguard poison," I replied.

  Lord Dommelier's expression turned flat. Eyes, lips—everything. "How did that happen?"

  I hesitated. "There were Morts inside the Room of Doors, my lord."

  His eyes narrowed. "And just how did Morts get inside the Room of Doors? Isn't that your family's specialty? Guarding that room?"

  This would be very, very tricky. "My parents are a little preoccupied with a war, at the moment. I believe the Morts entered the Room of Doors with the help of the pykan who was with them."

  Lord Dommelier leaned forward as if to get a clearer view of me, his fingers drumming on the end of his knee. "There was a pykan in the Room of Doors, and yet you continued through to my forest?"

  "Yes," I said, matter-of-fact.

  His fury ignited before my very eyes. "And did they follow you?"

  "They did," Ehren answered before I could speak, "but they are all dead now, including the pykan, and the portal door is sealed."

  Lord Dommelier stopped drumming his fingers, his expression livid. "As guardian of, perhaps, the most critical portal in both worlds, I would've expected more discretion from you, yet you opened Imbdell's front door to the enemy. You brought them with you through my gates, putting the people of Imbdell in danger…Aegis." He hissed that last word.

  "My lord," I continued. "It was never my intention to put your people in danger, and I am truly sorry for that. I swear to you we waited until we'd dispatched every last Mort inside before attempting to open the portal, but the pykan brought reinforcements much faster than I'd anticipated—"

  "And you let them through!" He slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. "You broke a major violation, Aegis Del Conte, and at the very least should be stripped of your position! I'd notify King Darius at once to have him deal with you, if he weren't currently incapacitated by grief."

  I ground my teeth, trying to quell my anger. Vera was in critical condition, the world was at war—I didn't have time to fight over technicalities with the Fairy King of Hubris. I also knew arguing with him would get me nowhere. I took a deep breath, steeling myself.

  Lord Dommelier leaned back in his chair, once again drumming his fingers over his knee. "What could have possibly propelled you—a man I know to be of sound character—to risk so much in coming here?"

  I made sure my anger was in check before answering him. "I have a favor to ask of you," I said, reaching behind me.

  Metal clicked and I froze with my hands behind my back, acutely aware of each guard patrolling the room. There were about a dozen I could see, a few on the lower tiers, but most were on the upper tiers bearing crossbows aimed down at me. I moved my hands out in surrender, staring only at Lord Dommelier. "I need your help in mending something that's attached to my belt—which is what I was just reaching for."

  His eyes narrowed. "Ehren?"

  Ehren looked at me.

  "Go ahead," I said to Ehren.

  Ehren unhooked the black bundle from my belt, walked up to the dais, and delivered it into the hands of the Arborennian lord. I, however, was still the target of at least a dozen arrowheads. I kept my hands raised. Lord Dommelier unfolded the fabric with swift movements, until the fragments appeared. Fragments of what was once a great dynasty that now lay vulnerable and broken in his lap. Lord Dommelier's entire body stilled as he stared at the object in his hands. He paled then lifted his gaze to me, looking as if he'd just seen a ghost. "Where did you get this?"

  "It has been in my family's possession ever since the Great War."

  He inclined his head. "Go on."

  I told him everything, hoping he would see why we needed his help. When I finished, I said, "Lord Dommelier, the reason I'm here is because I intend to lead the people with that sword—through that sword—and I know you are the only one in this entire world with the skill necessary to reforge it."

  His eyes stormed. "That is not all you're asking of me."

  "You're right. I'd like for you to stand behind everything it represents as well, but I know I can't expect that."

  "Where does this claim of yours place King Darius and his heir?"

  "If you're thinking my goal is to displace His Majesty or Prince Stefan, you misunderstand me, my lord."

  "What other aim can you have?" he asked, his tone trenchant. "You're using the weak and broken state of this world to claim that traitor's blood so you can rise to power. Clearly, being an aegis of the crown isn't enough for you."

  "That is not why I'm doing this," I said through clenched teeth. "And my ancestor was not a traitor. He was betrayed by—"

  "The Draconi?" He scoffed. "No doubt you learned that tasty morsel of misinformation from those meddling Draconi priests during your short stint in Gesh."

  I pinched my lips together.

  "The histories are contradictory for a reason, Aegis Del Conte," he continued. "They are filled with bias, and they are tainted by the corruption of those who scrambled to pick up the scepters of the fallen."

  My patience wore thin. It infuriated me that I was forced to argue history while Vera was back at the Venias', suffering on my behalf. "Then, as you've just said yourself, your account is nothing more than your bias against theirs—"

  "I have every right to be biased, Aegis. I was there." He stood from his chair, his voice like winter. "Yes, I am tw
o hundred and fifty-seven years old. I was there during the battle. I watched thousands burn alive with dragon fire—entire cities incinerated in a matter of seconds. Certain members of the Draconi may have been responsible for the destruction reaped upon this land, but it was at the command of your many-greats-grandfather, Galahad Estroian. A man I supported. A man, much like yourself, who stood before me as you are now, beseeching my help in a seemingly hopeless battle against Mortis's agents, who were trying to tear down the veil and free Mortis just as they're doing now. I conceded to help him because I respected him—trusted him. Too late I realized he was using the war against Mortis as a distraction. Too late I realized his true aim was to steal power away from the lords to strengthen his own rule, and he planned to use the Draconi to do it. It was due to the sacrifices of a few brave Draconi and many of my own men that turned the tides of that war, but we suffered severely for it. I will not make the same mistake again."

  I flexed my fingers at my side. "You’re already making a mistake. Do you really believe the Arborenne will be safe from Eris? He's already brought the war through your borders, and I'm not referring to the few agents who followed us through the portal. Your woods are dying, Lord Dommelier. Even you can't deny that."

  By the look on his face, I knew he'd agreed and he hadn't wanted to.

  My anxiety to get back to Vera pressed me on. "I can't begin to understand what you went through during the Great War or the sacrifices you made, but it doesn't excuse your complacency now. You're the lord of the Arborenne—the king of this forest. Your people expect you to protect them, but you're using an event that happened a few hundred years ago to excuse the fact that you're hiding in the trees while the world burns to the ground."

  A guard on the upper tier moved in my periphery, weapon ready, and a shadow passed over the Arborenne lord's beautiful and terrifying face. "Careful."

  "With all due respect, my lord," I continued, "you have your opinion of my many-greats-grandfather. I accept that. But I am my own man. I may have inherited his blood, but I did not inherit his sins and I won't take ownership of them. I will only take ownership of my actions. The only reason I'm claiming his bloodline now is because of the title it gives me—a title that allows me to have a voice in a kingdom I don't have as an aegis, no matter how hard I've tried. Surely you understand that, Lord Dommelier."

  The great hollow was silent. Lord Dommelier stared at me, shoulders tensed as he drummed furious fingertips on the arm of his chair. And then his chair creaked as he leaned forward. "All right." His tone was low and even. "Say I mend the sword. You truly believe the people will follow you, just because you carry it?"

  "No," I admitted. "But I intend to use it to give them hope, starting with Alioth."

  "Alioth is lost," he said.

  I shook my head. "The people of Alioth may be afraid and scattered, but they are not lost. They're a hardy people, and all they need is someone to lead them. Someone to help them take back their lands. Lord Tosca can't help them do that right now—I'm not even certain he's still alive. I don't hold that kind of sway as an aegis, but I might as the descendant of royal blood. But that's not…becoming king is not why I'm doing this, my lord. That's not even something I want. What I want is to save this world from Eris and his evil, and I will use whatever gifts Gaia has given me in order to do that."

  Lord Dommelier regarded me a long moment. "You look like him," he said at long last. "I'd always wondered if the Estroians had truly died that day, as everyone had claimed, and perhaps if your predecessors hadn't hidden themselves away in Pendel, I might have known the truth much sooner." He stood and stepped down the stairs of the dais, halting right before me. A ring of indigo rimmed his irises. "I still remember the very first time I saw you in Valdon, during one of the festivals. You were standing with your mother and father in the great hall during the opening ceremony, and I thought I'd seen a ghost. You were the spitting image of him. That was the day I knew." He paused, glancing down at the bundle in his hands. "I will mend this sword for you. But I will not help you fight this war."

  16

  DARIA

  I crept over to my door and listened. The hall was quiet, though I could feel the guards outside my door as if I were standing at the edge of a fire, feeling the pulse of its heat. There was no way I could get past all of them without alerting the staff, and if the staff found out, they'd tell the Pontefracts, and then I'd never escape.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the balcony doors, the closed draperies taunting me with what lay beyond. No doubt Lord Pontefract would've stationed more guards on the grounds near my balcony (which magnified my wonder at how the brooch got there in the first place), and then an idea clicked into place.

  I walked about my room, snuffing out the candles so they wouldn't illuminate my balcony. It would've been easier using magic to snuff them out, but I didn't want to waste any of my energy. I was still getting used to the costs of using magic, and I'd need all my strength to get out of here. I left the candle in my bathroom lit, because I thought it might look suspicious if all my lights were out, and maybe they'd think I'd gone to take a bath. Besides, the window of my bathroom was small and wouldn't cast too much light on my balcony.

  With one last glance around my darkened room, I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the balcony door and pressed it down. It unlatched without sound, and I eased the door open a crack to listen. Frigid air slipped into my room, making me shiver, but the night was quiet except for the occasional howling gust of wind. I shut my eyes and let my senses drift, slipping through the balustrade, farther and farther down, searching for signs of life…

  There. I felt three points of warmth, faint as breath, but they were stationed beneath my balcony. I crouched low and opened the door just enough to slip through, and then I shut the door behind me. I waited and listened. There were no voices and I couldn't sense any movement below. My shoulders relaxed with a breath, and I crept to the corner of the balcony opposite my glowing bathroom window. I snuck a peek through the squat stone columns of the railing. I couldn't see the three at the base of my balcony, but when I scanned the grounds farther out, I could make out two—no, three more human figures. It was too bad Lord Pontefract had made me move from the Garnet Suite; I could've used the cover from the hedge garden. Here, most of the trees were bare skeletons—not something I could hide behind. There were a few pines and shrubs, but they were sparse and intermittent, clinging against the outer walls as if huddled there for warmth with nothing but yards of space in between.

  The snow fell harder, swollen and puffy like balls of cotton, blanketing my balcony fast. It also obscured the landscape and visibility and would definitely cover my tracks, and I threw up a silent thank-you to Gaia for stepping in to cover me—literally. I was about to set my plan into action when my senses brushed against something.

  It was so subtle I doubted I would have noticed it if I hadn't stopped to thank Gaia. It was a good thing I noticed it, too, because as I investigated, I realized there was some kind of energy field running the perimeter of my balcony like an invisible fence. A magical motion sensor.

  I smirked. Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for my dear Lord Pontefract, I'd had plenty of experience with motion detectors over the years. It didn't matter if the sensors were wired or magical, because they all had something in common: an anchor, or magical point of origination, in this case, and I just needed to find this one's and dismantle it without alerting the good lord himself.

  My senses drifted along the edge of the energy field, slow and steady, probing here and there, but careful not to press too hard so I didn't set off alarms. I felt around for anything unstable or fuzzy, like touching the edge of frayed fabric. Back and forth I trailed, focusing so hard my jaw ached from clenching my teeth. Whoever had set this here was good—too good. I couldn't find the smallest speck to suggest—wait. There was a slight ripple, like a spot of low pressure, drawing my senses into it. Satisfied this was the anchor I'd been looking for,
I sat back and shut my eyes, pressing against that spot, easing it wider and wider, moving slow so I wouldn't disrupt the rest of the field, until finally I'd opened a hole large enough for me to crawl through. If Lord Pontefract had known I'd had my magic, he never would've left me unattended in my room, and he most certainly would've had the foresight to use magic-binding cuffs on my wrists.

  Who's overestimating himself now? I thought.

  I crouched against the balustrade, gripped the railing, and glanced down. My room was on the second story. Not too high to jump, but there'd be no silent landing from this height. The heavy snow might help muffle the sound, but I didn't want to risk it. I'd need a second or two to regain my footing after a jump like this. Plus, I had a better idea.

  I took a deep breath and let my senses drift once more, farther and farther across the lawn, then let them wrap around a thin, brittle tree branch. On one end of the branch, I applied pressure in one direction while simultaneously applying opposite pressure on the other end. It was a lot harder than I'd anticipated, moving in two directions at once. Sort of like rubbing your head and stomach in opposite directions at the same time, but I eventually got it right and held it long enough, and the twig snapped with a crack. Snow fell and a crow cawed, startled, and fluttered out of the tree.

  Curiosity pricked me from below. "Hear that?" a voice asked.

  "Yeah, sounded like a crow," replied another. "I hate crows."

  "I'm gonna check it out. Something must've startled it."

  "Go right ahead. I'll wait here."

  Great.

  I was preparing myself to do it again when a bubble of frustration touched me from below.

  "I'll come with you," said a new, irritated voice.