The Stone Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 3)

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Since meeting with Sharai a week ago, Nora had channeled her anxiety about Ovrun into an intense focus on training and strategy. She’d encouraged Krey and the others to do the same. But her tension—from Ovrun’s absence and the very real stress of planning a revolution—remained. This party, she was convinced, was more a necessity than an indulgence. Surely some real fun would give her the energy to keep going.

  The barn was filled with nearly a hundred people—Nora and her rebels, plus the farm families who were hosting them all. Dozens of hanging lanterns cast golden light around the room. Tables covered in cheerful cloth held a stunning quantity of food and beverages. A few members of farmers’ families played music at one end of the room. Herb-scented candles swathed the room in a mild, pleasant scent and kept biting insects away.

  Despite the music, only a few people were on the dance floor. Sarza was one of them; it seemed she’d gotten the dancing bug after the party in Deroga. But most of the partygoers were eating and chatting. Nora found herself swept into a conversation with a militia member while Krey headed for the food tables.

  Some time later, Nora and dozens of others were sitting on the freshly swept wooden floor playing a raucous game of Guess What. A New Therroan crawled on all fours in front of the group.

  “Orsa!” someone from his team shouted.

  “Yes!” The New Therroan stood and scanned the left side of the room, where the other team sat. His eyes lit up, and he bellowed, “Your Royal Highness, you’re up!”

  Nora groaned but followed it with a smile. She felt surprisingly free tonight. She’d stayed away from the barrel of beer one of the farmers had brought, but now she wondered if the tart punch she’d gulped down was alcoholic. Stepping over knees and feet, she made her way to the front of the room, where she leaned close to the previous contestant so he could speak in her ear.

  “Wind,” he whispered.

  She straightened, giving him an incredulous look. “You get orsa and you give me that?”

  He shrugged, and everyone laughed. When he went to his seat, Nora began by blowing, letting her cheeks puff out.

  “Blowing out a candle!” someone from her team shouted.

  She shook her head. I need another tactic. With a shrug, she moved as if the wind were blowing her, leaning one direction, then another, then twisting, letting her dark hair whip around.

  Her team shouted a few guesses: “Dancing!” “Turning!” “Drunk!” That last one, which applied to more than a few people in the room, made everyone laugh.

  Nora continued leaning and twisting. It did feel a bit like a dance, and she found herself moving in time to the music, her eyes scanning her team. Out of forty people, none of them could guess this?

  Her gaze found Krey. He sat at the edge of the group, watching her, mouth slightly open, head tilted. It was an expression she’d seen on him before, though it had been months—and back then, he’d directed it at Zeisha. But the look couldn’t mean what Nora had always assumed it did, because back then, she’d interpreted it as . . . no, it couldn’t be.

  There was no way Krey West was looking at her with desire. Right?

  Whatever the expression signified, it was gone in an instant. Krey sat up straighter, closing his mouth, a hint of sarcasm in his slightly lifted brow.

  Nora realized she’d frozen in place. Refocusing, she tried to channel the wind. She moved more violently than before, attempting to literally shake off the odd feeling Krey’s expression had given her. Thirty seconds later, she was opening her mouth to forfeit her turn when Krey shouted, “Wind!”

  Nora stopped moving. “Yes!”

  He gave her a half smile.

  She scanned the other team and chose a female militia member as the next contestant. Mind muddled by the oddness of whatever she’d seen on Krey’s face, she leaned close and whispered the first word that came to mind: “Farmer.”

  Nora eyed the place where she’d been sitting, but she didn’t want to step over everyone to get to it. Better to find a spot at the edge of the crowd. Her mind a little fuzzy—surely that punch was spiked—she found a spot, not realizing until her butt hit the floor that she’d walked straight to Krey and was now sitting next to him.

  “Good job,” he said quietly.

  “Thanks.” She tried to pay attention to the game, but Krey, who was looking straight forward, drew her gaze. They’d spent a lot of time together lately, poring over books and considering strategies. Nora tried to keep her emotional distance, as she did with everyone else.

  But that was difficult with Krey. She was too comfortable with him. Sometimes late at night, when sleepiness overcame her anxiety over Ovrun and her studied professionalism, Krey said something that got her laughing so hard, she had to smash her hand against her mouth to stay quiet. A couple of times, they’d fled his room to go outside and give their late-night giddiness free rein.

  As much as Nora tried to keep up walls, as much as Sharai told her to remember who she was, sometimes all she wanted was to relax into the relationships she’d spent months cultivating. She missed Ovrun’s friendship constantly. Nothing would feel right until she knew he was safe. But she couldn’t deny the distinct comfort her other friends brought her—especially Krey.

  Friendship. That was all she’d seen in his expression. She was sure of it now. He’d probably been holding back laughter; she knew she’d looked like a fool.

  Everyone started clapping. The game must be over. Krey turned, too quickly for Nora to pretend she wasn’t staring. One of his eyebrows arched as a small smile played at his lips. “What?” he asked.

  And maybe it was the punch, or the atmosphere, or Sharai telling her to let loose. Whatever the reason, Nora allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. “I’m really glad you’re my friend.”

  A dizzying mix of emotions flashed across his face. She thought she read disappointment there, and more of that look that couldn’t possibly be desire, and maybe some relief. A confused smile settled on his lips. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

  Partygoers were walking all around them, streaming to the food tables and dance floor. “What do you mean?” Nora asked.

  “You’ve seemed . . . like your old self. Less uptight.”

  There was that word again. Nora felt heat enter her cheeks. “I’m trying to figure out how to be a crown princess while also planning to take down my father. Pardon me if I look like I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t.”

  He held his hands up in surrender, but he was smiling. “You’re doing better than I would.”

  It was too nice of a night to stay annoyed. “Yeah,” she said, “you’d make a crappy princess.”

  They both laughed, then sat in silence. Nora’s gaze wandered the room, and when she spoke, she kept her voice low. “I can’t be carefree like I used to be. Since Ovrun’s capture, it’s been even harder to let loose. You know that as well as I do. But Sharai said I need to let people see me having fun every once in a while.”

  His voice turned thick with incredulity. “This is all Sharai, isn’t it? She’s forming you into the leader she thinks you should be. And tonight, the only reason you’re having fun is because she told you to! Has she given you written permission every time we laugh late at night too? As long as you read for three hours straight, you’re allowed to have fun for five minutes?”

  She scowled. “Don’t be an ass!”

  “I’m just calling it as I see it.”

  “You don’t get it, Krey!” A harsh sigh exited her chest in a huff. She’d just told him how glad she was to have his friendship. Now here he was, reminding her he didn’t understand her better than anyone else did. And why should she expect him to relate to a future he’d play no role in? She took in his stiff shoulders and tight mouth. He’s mad. Well, good. So am I.

  Finally, he spoke. “You shouldn’t listen to anyone who says you have to turn into someone else to be a queen. You’re smarter than that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I sai
d.” Pushing herself to her feet, she looked down at him. “If lecturing me is on your agenda, move it to another night. There’s music and food, and I’m gonna enjoy myself if it kills me.” She stomped to the dessert table. Sugar could fix anything.

  As she loaded a plate, footsteps approached behind her, and somehow she knew it was Krey. He stood close enough that she felt his warmth all along her back. She stood still as a statue as he leaned in and spoke in her ear.

  “I’m really glad you’re my friend too.”

  Her anger vaporized. Every muscle in her body loosened, and emotions she couldn’t identify flooded her heart. She turned to find Krey watching her, his eyes intense. A corner of his mouth turned up in a hopeful smile.

  “I’m about to eat way too much cake,” Nora said. “Then, I seem to remember you promising you’d dance next time you had a chance. I let you off the hook when we had our little goodbye party in Deroga. So are you up for it tonight? Or were you planning to brood in the background again?” She lifted her chin, challenging him with her gaze.

  He laughed. “I’ll dance, since you asked so nicely.”

  “Great. We’ll both dance like fools. And tomorrow, if anyone asks why I was acting so un-queenlike, I’ll blame it on the spiked punch.”

  Krey’s smile turned confused. “The punch is nonalcoholic.”

  She blinked. “How . . . weird.” Maybe the slight giddiness she’d felt all night was just hunger.

  One way to find out. She dug into her cake, laughing at the look Krey gave her.

  The Stone Eater: 5

  Ulmin stood before one of the two cells in the security office, staring down at Ovrun Kensin.

  The young man had been here for over a month. Captivity hadn’t been kind to him. His dark, wavy hair was shaggy and tangled, and he stank, despite occasional sponge baths and weekly laundering of his clothes. His muscles were less prominent, not for lack of exercise—according to the guards, he performed frequent calisthenics—but due to his restricted calories. Shadows under his eyes testified to his lack of sleep.

  Then there were Ovrun’s hands, which had suffered through many interrogation sessions. However, Ulmin had quickly realized that, while pain had its uses, relief did too. All Ovrun’s fingers had been broken repeatedly, then healed by a blood lyster Ulmin brought in every few days. The healer always did her best, but sometimes she couldn’t fully mend the bones. A couple of the boy’s fingers were now crooked.

  According to the guards, Ovrun’s fear had grown more and more palpable. He knew how much that hammer hurt and how good healing felt. Yet he still insisted on lying every time, until he was in too much pain to resist telling the truth.

  Ulmin hadn’t wanted to resort to torture, but Ovrun hadn’t given him a choice. His mind was different in some inexplicable way. Ulmin couldn’t feel it when he controlled it. From the start, he’d known this was likely a fluke. No one in the world could match Ulmin in magical strength. An ordinary boy like Ovrun, who wasn’t even a lyster, couldn’t hope to resist the pull of his king’s mind. But just in case, Ulmin had tested his prisoner. As Ovrun’s hands turned puffy with swelling and purple with bruises, Ulmin became convinced that the stories Ovrun told while being controlled were true. He’d last seen Nora when she flew away on a dragon. And he had little information on the resistance.

  Ulmin could’ve told the guards to stop the torture. It was no longer necessary. But he’d grown so impressed by the young man’s strength . . . and more determined than ever to break him. How marvelous it would be if Ovrun, a young man with supreme mental and physical strength, became truly loyal to his king?

  So their conversations had shifted of late. Ulmin had been looking forward to this one all day. He’d consumed more brain matter than was strictly necessary before walking into the building. Magical strength was fairly rushing through his limbs and, more importantly, his mind.

  Smiling at Ovrun, he said, “Come close.” When the boy obeyed, Ulmin wrapped his scarred hand around the boy’s fingers. Due to his inability to sense Ovrun’s mind, Ulmin always established a physical connection. His smile grew wider when Ovrun’s face slackened. “Tell me what you feel,” the king said, “when guards come to interrogate you.”

  “I get scared.” Ovrun’s voice was flat. “I know how much it’ll hurt.”

  “I’m so sorry. If you told them the truth the first time they asked a question, they wouldn’t need to harm you.”

  “I know.”

  “Have you considered that?”

  “Yes.”

  Ulmin paused, brows raised. He’d asked that question a few times. Ovrun had never answered affirmatively. “You’ve considered telling the truth? No pain required?” His lips curled into a small smile.

  “Yes.”

  “That would make me quite happy.”

  Ovrun nodded.

  Ulmin licked his lips, gazing thoughtfully at his prisoner. Sometimes if he planted an idea in someone’s mind while controlling them, the thought remained in their subconscious when they came back to themselves. “The more you speak the truth, the more I’ll trust you. Eventually, I would like you to live in the palace dorms instead of this prison. I would like you to work for me. To work with me.”

  Another slow nod from Ovrun.

  “Would you enjoy that?” Ulmin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want more than anything, Ovrun?”

  “I want to stop feeling pain.”

  “I can do that for you. I can protect you like no one else. Do you believe me?”

  The young man’s tired eyes stared at Ulmin. People being controlled rarely hesitated in their responses. When they did, it was because their minds were busy working out new truths. Ulmin waited.

  “I believe you,” Ovrun said.

  Ulmin did his best to release his control over his prisoner’s strange mind. He knew it had worked when Ovrun sat up straighter and looked around in confusion.

  “Ovrun,” Ulmin said, leaning toward the bars of the cell, “where is my daughter?”

  Ovrun’s head bowed. His shoulders slumped. He stood there for a long, silent moment, before lifting his chin to look in the king’s eyes. “The last time I saw her,” he said, his voice rough and tired, “she was flying away from Deroga on a dragon. It was a week before I got arrested. She said she’d come back when she was ready to lead her rebels. She wants your throne, Your Majesty.” He swallowed hard. “There’s . . . so much I regret. I never should’ve worked with her. If I knew where she was, I’d tell you.”

  Ulmin nodded and gave the young man the most fatherly smile he could muster. “I know you would.” He released his control of the guard’s mind. “Have someone bring in a tub so this young man can take a proper bath. Get him some meat too.” Turning back to Ovrun, he said, “No hammer tonight.”

  Ovrun buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with sobs.

  15

  Ulmin and I went on a carriage ride after chapel services again. This time, he sat across from me in the carriage, barely looking at me. When my knee bumped his, he jolted, like I’d shocked him.

  After half an hour of no conversation, I couldn’t stay quiet. “What happened to you? Yesterday, we shared a beautiful moment. Today, you’re as cold as the snow.”

  His shoulders slumped, and when he looked up at me, I saw real fear in his eyes. “What happens if this doesn’t work?” He grabbed my hand and held it tight, like I was his anchor. “What I feel . . .it’s stronger than I anticipated, and I can’t expect you to reciprocate.”

  I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his. “What if I want to reciprocate?”

  He stood in the jostling carriage and sat next to me. Then he held me in his arms so tightly that I could feel his racing heart.

  -Letter from Ambrel Kaulder to Dani Kaulder

  Dated Centa 31, 180 PD

  Krey had been awake for at least an hour when dawn’s light crept through the cracks between the shutters. With a quiet groan, he s
at up. It was useless to try to get more sleep; his mind was too awake. It didn’t help that outside, birds were grumbling loudly, like they wanted everyone else to join them in rising early.

  He slipped on some loose pants and opened the shutters, then padded over to the desk. This room was way smaller than the one where he’d stayed in Joli’s house, and there was no electricity. But having a space to himself was a worthwhile tradeoff. Most of the time. On mornings like this one, when his thoughts scurried like shimshims through his mind, he wished he still had a roommate to distract him. God, protect Ovrun, he breathed, as he did every morning.

  Sighing, he opened a book full of exhilarating accounts of battles and started reading where he’d left off. He’d gotten through two paragraphs before he realized he wasn’t retaining any of it. He raked his fingers through his tangled hair. I made a fool of myself last night.

  Nora had caught him staring at her during that damn game of Guess What. He’d tried to wipe the slobbery, dopey look off his face, but he knew she’d seen it. Then she’d told him she was glad he was her friend. The only thing worse would’ve been if she’d said she cared for him like a brother. He let himself chuckle at that, though it wasn’t really funny.

  Crisp memories from the rest of the night sparked in his mind. They’d argued, and he’d told her he was glad she was his friend too, and she’d thought the punch was spiked (what the hell was that about?), and they’d danced. And danced. And danced. Certain he couldn’t handle holding her close for minutes on end, he’d made sure they were dancing in a group of friends, keeping it light, changing partners frequently. Still, he’d found himself gazing at her longingly again, like some pathetic character in a romance story. And he was pretty sure she’d caught him doing it.

  Yep, he’d made a fool of himself. Hopefully she’d assumed he was drunk. He knew the truth—he hadn’t touched the beer.