Diadem

by Kate Kelley

  Lyra’s heart skipped a beat. “All the magical creatures you’ve used as familiars? All the ones you killed, all that you banished?”

  Ganymede averted his eyes again. “I can’t expect you to understand right away. But in time, I hope you will come around to the truth.”

  Lyra clenched her fists until the half moons of her fingernails pierced her palms. “And what’s the truth?”

  Ganymede pinned her again with his dark stare. “That I’m the only one trying to save this world.”

  Lyra scoffed and looked away. “Is it a requirement of you people to be delusional?”

  Ganymede smiled softly, and rose from his seat. He approached Lyra slowly and she backed away two paces.

  Ganymede stopped, his dark eyes lighting on hers. “In time, my Darkling. See you at dinner.”

  He disappeared.

  Lyra startled and looked around her, but all that met her was white marble and pristine furniture. Her hands shook as she swept the hair back from her face, and when she swallowed it felt like she had sandpaper for a throat.

  She looked around, at a complete loss of what to do.

  No windows, no doors to the outside...How did we get in here? There has to be a way in.

  Suddenly she remembered the key that sprang to mind right before she woke up.

  A green key in a blue circle.

  She racked her brain as she paced, thinking of what it could mean.

  If I had my powers, I could blast the wall.

  She eyed the furniture again. She was strong enough to lift that chair, use it as a battering ram against the wall. She crossed to it and pulled it up. It didn’t budge, as if it were glued to the floor. She crouched next to the chair and inspected the leg. There was no seam between the floor and the leg, as if it were all one, fluid construction.

  A crawling sensation inched up her neck, and the distinct feeling of being watched turned her head. Her stomach clenched.

  A woman sat in the sofa Ganymede had vacated just moments before. She sat up straight, her hands clasped on her lap, her eyes not wavering from Lyra’s. Her hair was a pale dusty blue, waving down the length of her torso softly. Her skin matched her hair, except it was a bit paler. Her irises had no color and her face shown no expression.

  “Who are you?” Lyra asked, the crawling sensation still tickling her neck.

  The woman continued staring as if she hadn’t heard the question.

  Lyra studied her form. Her dress was black and looked heavy, something her aunt would have worn to a funeral. “What’s your name? Are you working for Ganymede or are you a prisoner as well?”

  The woman didn’t stir.

  “Ah, I thought I’d find you here.”

  Lyra closed her eyes and breathed through her nose. She didn’t turn around. “It wouldn’t have been hard to find me, seeing as there is no way out of this jail cell.”

  Edwin chuckled. “You always did have spirit. I didn’t see it at first. I thought I could domesticate you. You really were a bit too wild for my taste, after all.”

  Lyra turned and gave him her best dead stare, so as to not give any emotions away. She had no idea if her aura was still visible or not. All she knew was she couldn’t feel it, and she couldn’t see anyone else’s.

  “Why am I here?”

  Edwin inhaled noisily and crossed to the chairs in the sitting area. The woman from earlier was gone, and Edwin sat in her vacated spot. Lyra followed him with her eyes but remained standing.

  Edwin patted the seat next to his. Lyra gave no indication that she saw or understood his gesture.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you why you are here. That’s for the Master to divulge. But what I can tell you is that you are a part of something extraordinary now. Congratulations.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Edwin raised his hand, his fingers splayed, his eyes on an invisible, distant point. “The future.”

  “And you’re, what, his lackey? The dog that follows him around, and does his bidding?”

  Edwin chuckled and met her eyes. “You’re trying to push my buttons and it won’t work.”

  Lyra smirked and crossed her arms. “Well now I know what your buttons are. You always did talk too much.”

  Edwin traced his finger over the tufted white material of the chair’s arm. “When I first found you, Master didn’t believe me. He didn’t know Wasif and Rumi had had a child, you see. They had your and Alec’s birth records destroyed, did you know?”

  Lyra’s stomach roiled but she kept her gaze steady on his.

  Edwin smiled. “They tried to keep you hidden, and they did a decent enough job. Alec was protected by the court, but you...well, it was easy to find records of schools and teachers in Terra. Your parents couldn’t protect you after they died. I was waiting to for you to agree to marry me, and then I’d take you to the Master. It would be easier than kidnapping you. I wouldn’t have to worry about your little fairy brother coming after us.”

  “But then I was summoned to court, and it foiled your plan.”

  Edwin pointed a finger in the air. “It wasn’t until after I proposed that Ganymede heard Gaia’s prophecy. Abner helped me keep tabs on you, as well as the ring of course. Ganymede then instructed me to track you from afar, to not harm you, that you were needed to open the portal.” He shrugged dismissively.

  “And now what? I opened it, so why am I here now?” Lyra asked, exhausting the question. She’d ask until she got her answer.

  Edwin leaned forward, his eyes glinting. “I would have found you sooner if I’d known my calling sooner. But all things happen for a reason and in the timeline of fate, we have no choices, isn’t that right?”

  “Why Ganymede? Why work for him? What do you get out of it?”

  Edwin smiled again, the wide stretching of lips that looked almost painful. “I was a dormant mage working as a scholar throughout most of my adolescent and adult years. It wasn’t until I came across a scroll hinting at the Master and his powers that I grew curious about magic. I soon found out that dormant mages existed, and I asked my parents if they knew. Turns out, they did. They were both mages and ashamed of my inability.” His nostrils flared and his eyes took on a dangerous glint.

  “You killed them, didn’t you?” Lyra asked, though she didn’t need to. She knew the answer.

  The glint in his eye turned wild. “They claimed to want the best for me--the best education, the best social advancements. But they refused to allow me to find out about my magic. And when my magic finally did come in, well, let’s just say they weren’t proud.”

  Revulsion swam through Lyra’s veins as she watched Edwin. He showed not a shred of remorse for what he’d done.

  “I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” she said, her tongue thick with disgust.

  Edwin stood and approached her and Lyra stood her ground, refusing to show the fear that lurked in her heart. She had no way to defend herself against him.

  He stopped a foot away, his blue eyes intent on hers. “I’m glad you took a chance on me, Dear. You’ve made me a very happy man indeed.”

  Lyra burned with hatred as he winked and moved past her. She summoned her courage at the last moment before he disappeared around the corner of the hallway.

  Malice shook her voice. “You’ll never be as powerful as Ganymede. No matter what you do or how hard you try. You’re still not the best, and never will be.”

  Edwin stopped and his back tensed for a moment. Lyra’s heart thudded against her ribs as she waited for his response. She was sure he would turn and attack, so she widened her stance and loosened her fists at her sides, readying them for his move.

  Edwin continued walking, not looking back.

  Lyra stood in place for an hour or longer, she wasn’t sure. She refused to sit down and relax in this place, and she had already seen the whole castle. Eventually, she returned to her room and sat on the bed. The candles stayed perfectly lit, not dwindling or fading. When she approached them, she stood on tipt
oe and held her hand close to the flame. It didn’t even warm her skin.

  She passed her finger through the flame and felt no pain.

  Enchanted.

  She didn’t know what time it was, whether she had slept for an hour or a day after Edwin had taken her to Ganymede’s palace. There were no books to read or gardens to stroll. No one to talk to.

  The sudden crushing weight of Terrin’s death collapsed on top of her and she struggled for breath. It came in gasps, and she clutched at her chest. Tears flooded from her eyes and didn’t relent until much later. She curled around herself and shook uncontrollably, the spasms racking her body so violent, her mind tricked her into believing she was freezing to death, and she wished for it.

  She thought of the time she almost got to see her parents again, when she was at the gates of the afterlife. She wanted to see them now, see her Mama, her Papa.

  Where is Terrin? Was he banned from Vanaheimr after all?

  She prayed not. Gods, she prayed not. She clasped her hands and prayed to Gaia that he was resting in the afterlife of the Kings and the heroes. The place he deserved.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Lyra slept for thirty minute segments at a time, rising, and sitting up in bed for hours, before falling back to sleep. She dreamt of Terrin, bloody and bruised and in shackles, Gaia standing over him with wrath flashing across her face.

  She woke screaming, tangled in the covers. She leapt from the bed and curled up on the marble floor, the cold on her skin shocking her back to reality.

  She found her way to the vanity and sat, peering into the mirror. She hardly recognized what she saw. Her hair was ratted and frizzed, her face, red and splotchy, her eyes puffy from crying. Deep blue half moons painted the thin skin under her eyes. The stark white gown she wore washed out her skin tone. It was plain, unembellished, a loose sheath that hung to her ankles. Her boots sat by the door.

  Her stomach growled, but Lyra hardly noticed. She stared into her own empty eyes.

  The door opened unceremoniously and Lyra watched the intruder through the mirror, not bothering to turn around.

  An old man, dressed in gray robes, tied with a coarse rope around his waist, stood slightly stooped over at the door. He pierced her with a look, his eyes darkened under sagging eyelids. His face was deeply lined, his hair a thin puff receding far on his scalp. His mouth was down turned, as if permanently.

  Lyra’s heartbeat picked up. “What do you want?”

  The old man smiled with his lips. “Best come of your own accord. It’s time to study you.” His voice was a deep grumble of a toad’s croak, and Lyra inwardly recoiled.

  “Study me?”

  “Come with me.” The old man turned and left.

  Lyra sat, watching him leave. When he was gone, she jumped up and slammed the door closed, pressing her back into it to keep him from opening it again. She was sure she was stronger than that old man.

  “Better follow him, child.”

  Lyra jumped out of her skin at the odd, lilting voice. The woman with the dusty blue hair from the day before sat in her vanity chair.

  “How did you get in here?” Lyra cried.

  The woman stared at her, unblinking.

  Lyra approached her and stopped a few feet away. “Get out of my room.” It sounded childish and petty, but it was the only space she had that was her own, the only thing she had control over.

  The woman opened her mouth as if she forgot what she was about to say. Finally she spoke again, her lips barely moving. “Don’t struggle. It won’t hurt if you don’t struggle.”

  Lyra backed up, her brows furrowed low over her eyes. “What are you talking about? Ganymede? Did he hurt you? Are you a prisoner too?”

  The woman’s eyes swung to Lyra’s as if led by a strong magnet, and her face took on a look of strained fear. “Don’t move. He’ll hurt you if you move.”

  Fear tingled up Lyra’s spine as she watched the woman. Clearly the woman’s mind was deeply affected. Ganymede had hurt her badly.

  Is that what I’ll turn into, a shell of fear?

  “He has a sharp tool,” the woman began in earnest, her voice and gaze more clear, “when he sets it down, grab it and slice your wrists. You’ll only get one chance.” She held up her wrists and Lyra flinched at the red slashes across each one.

  “How do I get out of here? We need to work together. There has to be a way out--”

  The woman shook her head, the lost expression returning to her face. Then her head snapped up and her eyes glued to Lyra’s again. “He’s coming,” she whispered.

  Lyra’s stomach bottomed out and she spun toward the door and pressed against it with all her strength.

  The crystal doorknob twisted and Lyra pushed harder.

  A muffled chuckle sounded on the other side of the door and Lyra’s heartbeat skipped. It was Ganymede.

  “Come, now, my darkling, we just want to have a look at you.”

  Lyra pressed harder, tears springing to her eyes.

  The door swung easily, and Lyra was thrown to the wall behind it as it opened wide.

  She thought about what the woman said. Look for the sharp tool.

  Ganymede peered around the door comically while Lyra flattened her back to the wall. She glanced over to the woman. She was gone.

  How did she get out so quickly?

  Ganymede followed her gaze across the room and then looked back to her. “Come now, darkling--”

  “Don’t call me that!” Lyra screamed. She began to feel the fight returning. The Blue Lady’s words returned to her like an echo down a long tunnel, “Don’t struggle. It won’t hurt if you don’t struggle.”

  Ganymede tilted his head as he considered her for a moment, his eyes almost bored. His hand flicked out and he made a “come hither” motion. When he did, Lyra’s body lurched forward as if a string in her center was tied to his hand.

  Ganymede turned and walked out, and Lyra’s legs moved of their own accord, following him in jerky movements down the hallway. She fought it the entire way, willing her legs to stop, but they wouldn’t.

  She was completely and utterly violated, her mind and her body.

  He forced her down the hallway, down the stairs, and down a series of corridors until they came to a white door. Ganymede opened the door and gestured her in. “Ladies first.”

  She shot daggers at him with her stare as he willed her body forward into the room. She would have done anything to have her powers back, to stand equal with him and fight him.

  The room was sparse and white, only a wooden table covered with a sheet and a bed. He forced her into the bed, just a white sheet covering the mattress.

  Ganymede leaned against the wall when the old man from earlier entered the room, carrying a well-worn, black leather bag. He approached the table by the bed and opened his bag atop it, methodically removing differently shaped tools and laying them out in a precise row.

  Lyra tried to raise her arms, but they were stuck to her sides. She tried to open her mouth but it was glued shut. Sweat dripped down her brow to stain the sheet underneath her. She could still move her eyes. She watched as the old man removed a wickedly sharp tool from his bag resembling shears, and placed it on the table.

  When the old man approached the foot of the bed, Lyra made a strangled noise from her throat, an attempt to scream.

  “Shh, shh, darkling. You’ll not be harmed.” Ganymede shushed her in soothing tones, coming to stand by the head of the bed. He combed a hand through her hair, removing the sweat-soaked pieces of hair from her forehead, and Lyra screamed in her throat again, flashing her eyes at him.

  When she felt her dress being flipped up and cold air chilling her thighs and belly, she screamed from her throat again as her face burned. Ganymede continued his stroking as he looked on.

  Oh my gods, they’re going to rape me. Mutilate me. Please, someone, help me!

  The old man grabbed a circular, metal object from the table behind him and laid it flat to her lo
wer belly. His hand glowed a dull orange as he moved it around the space between her hip bones. He shook his head and replaced it. When he turned back to her, he hooked dry, cracking fingers into the waistband of her undergarment and pulled them down swiftly, baring her lower half completely.

  No! Gaia, help me. I was loyal to you. Opened the portal for you. Where are you now? Please. Someone!

  She struggled against the invisible hold Ganymede had on her, willing her mind to override it. It wouldn’t budge and she lay helpless.

  If I could just will myself hard enough, I’ll overcome this!

  The old man’s dry hands scratched her skin as he methodically bent her legs at the knees and spread her thighs. Lyra bucked her hips and thrashed, kicked, and yet she didn’t move an inch.

  I’ll sit up, grab the scissors and stab them both in their hearts.

  She screamed inside her throat again as something cold and hard was shoved against her entrance and penetrated her, ripping and stretching the dry channel. It burned all the way inside as the man cranked the tool to widen her, and she screamed and fought internally until she was sure she would die of exhaustion. Tears ran down her cheeks to soak into the sheet underneath her.

  Ganymede shushed her and stroked her wet hair as he watched the old man work.

  After several minutes, the old man finally removed the tool and pulled up her undergarment, then replaced her dress. Lyra’s heart beat out of her chest and her breath wouldn’t come fast enough.

  “This is my laeknari,” Ganymede told Lyra, his voice pleasant, as if Lyra hadn’t just been violated in front of him.

  Lyra stared at the ceiling, her body floating away from her mind as it tried to protect her from the assault she had just endured.

  Ganymede forcibly turned her head toward him without touching her, making her to look at him. Her blood screamed for vengeance. The pendant fairly burned her skin on her chest underneath her dress, though she knew it held no magic here.

  “He’s a healer. Come, let’s talk somewhere more comfortable.”

  Suddenly Lyra was able to move again. She knew the instant his hold was removed, and she darted up in the bed, lunging for the leather bag the old man was almost finished packing. The man stumbled back and fell to the ground as Lyra reached inside of the bag, her hand slicing on something sharp. She clutched it by the blade, turned and jumped on the old man, stabbing him deeply in the chest where he lay.