by Mary Weber
So far nothing.
The sounds of horses being shoed and armor being moved echo off the white stone walls, as do the voices of the children and nursemaids who’re slowly being moved up to find quarters inside the Castle gates. Carts of vegetables and cured meats follow them up while wagons full of ale make their way down toward the collections to be taken to the battlefield.
Priorities. I snort and scan the sky for airships—Draewulf’s or Kenan’s. But it’s as empty as the roads leading to the Castle.
I wonder if Eogan’s awake yet.
“What’s wrong with that crabby one—Lord Myles?” Kel asks after a particularly fierce throw.
“You’ve seen him. He’s suffering from a form of magic. Why do you ask?”
“’Cuz I heard him having another of those visions last night. It was . . . eerie. They had to summon Princess Rasha to calm him down.”
Rasha?
Except the tone Kel’s just said it in, I know he, in fact, believes it fascinating. I smirk.
“Could he always do that?”
“Since he was younger and his abilities began to show, I believe. But not as strong.” I turn to look at the boy. “He enhanced them a number of years ago, and then recently enhanced them more, as you saw.”
“But how’d he do it? The first time he enhanced them?”
“Don’t even think about it—it doesn’t work on non-Uathúils.”
He juts his chin out, but the look in his eye proves my warning was well warranted. “You don’t have to tell me not to do anything dangerous. I was just wondering, that’s all. Like where did he get them from—how’d you and him absorb it?”
“A witch.” I’m pleased when his eyes show a hint of startled fear. Good. “Draewulf’s old wife. Not a very lovely person, if you must know.”
He shivers and scuffs his feet over the carpeted floor. “You think he’ll die soon?”
“What is with you and people dying?” I start to chuckle but stop when my throat softens and my gaze strays beyond him, as if I could see his thoughts drifting to his father.
“He’ll be back soon,” I say softly. “And he’ll be safe.”
The boy nods but continues to look worried. “But what about Lord Myles?”
Why does he—? Oh. He must’ve seen Myles suffering in his room. “You should really stop eavesdropping, you know.”
At which he grins and sets down the knives he’s retrieved from the door. “If I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you that Lady Isobel’s powers might be coming back.”
I stare. Wait, what?
And after a moment stand and stride over to put a hand on his chin. “What did you just say?”
He pulls away and widens his proud smile. “Just that Lady Isobel’s powers might be reemerging.”
“That’s impossible.”
He nods. “That’s what the guards think too. But I heard her muttering about it, and when she didn’t know I was watching, I saw her try to use it against a rat in her cell.”
I freeze. “Did it work?”
“Couldn’t tell. It might’ve. Or it might’ve just gotten scared to death by her personality. Either way, it squeaked loud-like, then dragged its body off like it was hurt bad.”
Litches.
I swallow and run a hand over my memorial tattoos. Feeling the familiar bumps and lines fanning down my left arm.
“You think the witch enhanced them for her too?”
I frown. The witch? Then shake my head. “No. Her mother doesn’t live around here and wouldn’t have access to her anyway.”
“I know. I meant when she was back in Bron with us.”
Oh. “No. I think it’s more likely the power that stole her abilities before entering Myles perhaps didn’t actually steal them. Maybe it just blocked them like Draewulf did to my own. I don’t know—maybe it even absorbed some of what Draewulf did to me and then mimicked it.” I inhale and shut my eyes. Then open them. “It doesn’t matter. I need to see for myself.”
I stride for the door. “Stay here—”
“No way. I want to see this.”
“Kel—”
“You’re supposed to be watching me, right? Well, what if while you’re gone I decide to . . . you know . . . get myself in trouble?”
“You little—”
“You owe me for not letting me see the bolcranes.”
I swear I can’t help my grin when he winks at me.
“Since when did I turn into someone who’s bossed around by little boys?” I mutter as he follows me from the room.
“Since you met me, that’s when.”
I turn on him, but the blasted child slips his hand into mine and looks up so innocent-like I can only sigh and squeeze his small fingers. “Fine, come on.”
Tannin is nowhere to be seen and neither is Rolf or Eogan, so I let Kel drag me to wherever they’re keeping Lady Isobel.
The outer rooms aren’t fancy but are still nicer than those the peasantry own. However, they’re apparently for the guards’ comfort since, when I look past them and through the inner doorway, the setting is more what I’d expect for a criminal. The room holds a large metal-bar cage with a stone floor and small slits for windows high in the wall. Although no one could say King Sedric is one to mistreat a lady. He’s allowed her a velvet couch, a cot, and a cherry-wood washbasin.
Two guards step in front of us to block the doorway. The elder eyes Kel. “Back again, I see. Well, young master, like we told you the last time, you’re not permitted near these rooms.”
“And like I told you last time, I just want a peek.”
The guard snorts, then nods at me in respect. “Can I help you, m’lady?”
“I wish to speak with the prisoner.”
“Forgive me, miss, but while you are allowed in, the boy needs a letter of permission with the king’s seal.”
“He’ll wait out here.” I tip a smile to Kel.
The boy gripes but after a second slinks to the floor. “Fine.”
“It’s not as if you won’t be able to hear us,” I whisper.
I stride past the guards and straight to the center of the adjoining room, within a hand’s reach of the metal cage. And thump on it with my fist.
Lady Isobel turns from her spot on the cot and sits up. And smiles a look I’m not prepared for.
“I was wondering when you’d get around to it.” She flits a hand and stands. “Seems I’ve seen everyone else who’s anybody in this place. I’d begun to think you didn’t care.”
“I was gone.”
“And now you’re here.”
I hold out a hand. “Show me.”
She giggles. “What, may I ask, are you wanting to see?”
“What you did to Eogan when he was younger. How you turned his heart to stone and yet kept him alive.”
Her mirth reaches her eyes as she moves toward me until the bars are the only separation between us. “I’d love to, trust me. But I’m not quite certain how that would make a hulls of difference to you or him, or anyone else about to die.”
“I want to know what he felt for you,” I whisper, as if it’s really true. But then, perhaps a part of it is.
She jerks toward the bars. “You want to know what he felt? Lust. Love. Hunger. All the things you only hope he feels for you. Except without being diminished by extended feelings for others.”
I refuse to flinch at her words. I’ve no doubt they’re true.
“If that’s the ca
se, then how is it you lost him? What’d you do that caused him to reject you so fiercely?”
She scowls and pulls away. And says nothing.
“The way he told it, he grew tired of your control,” I say gently. “It’s not quite love if you have to manipulate a man to keep him, now, is it?”
Her mouth tightens. “What is it you want?”
I reach a hand through the bars. “Tell me what made him so special. What is it exactly his ability can do? What did you want him for?”
“Ask him yourself.”
“As you know, he’s rather silent about certain things. But he must’ve had something you craved. Or was it simply love?”
She opens her mouth. Shuts it. Finally, “He was more my counterpart than you can imagine. Even in ability. Where I can destroy . . .”
“He can—what?”
Her lips clamp shut again in an expression that says I’ll not get more. “At least help me understand what you and he had together.”
She scoffs. “So you can have something similar? Or perhaps in your pathetic mind—better? Trust me, darling, neither of you will last long enough to find out.”
I keep my hand through the bars as a sign I mean no offense. Because suddenly I don’t. If anything, the only thing I feel is compassion. For the fact that every love she’s known has eventually left her. Or is about to.
“About that . . . Do you think we’re the only Uathúils left your father needs?”
“After the Cashlin queen, yes.”
I lean in. “And that’s what you think—that he’ll come for me once he’s consumed them?”
Her mouth twists along with her gaze, but there’s a hesitancy behind it.
I swallow and continue holding out my hand. “Because it seems to me there’s one missing factor you may have overlooked.”
She turns and flicks a hand up as if uninterested in my speech even as her body tension says she’s straining to listen.
“Your father needs each royal Uathúil from all five kingdoms. Except, who’s the one from your land? Aren’t the Mortisfaire tied to Drust?”
She stops and, from the side, I see her face pale so slowly I almost miss it, but the ash color emerges. Stealing the color from her cheeks, her lips, her throat. She turns.
I nod and slide a finger down the bars to her cage. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Uathúil was your mother.”
“The Mortisfaire he consumed was head of our order. She was the first he took for power.”
I shrug. “Interesting.” And start to turn. “Only . . . don’t you think—?”
“Don’t I think what?” she growls.
I flip around. “I was merely wondering if he’s ever shown you those abilities. Has he been able to do what you can do? Or what your mother can do, for that matter? Have you seen him turn a person’s heart to stone?”
“Go to hulls.”
But the undertone is so tight, so slick, she might as well be confessing I punched her in the gut. Oh litches. She’s really never thought of this. I peer closer at her and see the fear slowly register. The confusion.
“I only hope for your sake he takes your mum instead of you.”
She lunges at the bars, grabs my shirt, and shoves her hand against my chest. Then starts to yank away, but not before I feel the thing I’ve been probing for. Her ability. It’s there. It’s already reacting to my own blood in her attempt to harden my veins.
I don’t move. Just let her sense the beat beat beat of my heartpulse that feels nothing more than pity for her in this moment.
Her mouth goes straight as she pulls her hand back. “If my father didn’t need you, I’d have killed you by now.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and my voice cracks the slightest. For the life she’s about to lose. “Mercy grows hearts more than bitterness, Nym.”
Her face softens. Her hand against my skin weakens. She pulls away and looks at me with eyes full of fear. Of grief.
After a moment she turns and says quietly to the wall of her cell, “Have Princess Rasha focus Myles in on his innermost thoughts, not on interrupting the images. Those are merely the consequences, not the root. Tell her to train him at the root.”
“Did you just—?”
“Yes, and you’re welcome. Now please leave me.”
I am about to reply with a thank-you when Kel’s voice rings out above the steadily growing whirring sound of engines. “The airships are back! My father’s returned!”
CHAPTER 31
KING SEDRIC, ROLF, THE LUMINESCENTS surrounding Rasha, Eogan, Kel, and me, along with a number of councilmen and guards, are waiting in the War Room when Kenan arrives.
He enters with a few soldiers. The air in my lungs catches at the sight of his haggard face. “Your Highnesses.”
A quiet gasp beside me indicates Kel’s seen his father, and then he’s running for the large man who, rather than giving the characteristic gripping of the boy’s shoulder, actually stoops to hug him.
I look away.
“It is with much relief and joy I find you returned and well.” Eogan bounds over to pat Kenan on the back and, with that movement, expresses what the rest of us in the room feel. It’s as if the tension hanging over us for days is given a slight reprieve and the men within visibly relax.
Sedric offers the room’s available chairs.
“I’ll stand, thanks, or I’m likely to fall asleep.” Eogan’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“As will I,” Kenan says. “I assume the fact that we’re all here means we each accomplished our missions.” He’s looking at Eogan when he says this and is rewarded by a nod from his king.
“We found Rasha,” Eogan murmurs.
“And in good health, I see.” Kenan bows to the princess. “And what of other airships? I’ve brought a few back with me, but have any more crossed the channel?”
“Only those Nym took down and the one Eogan returned on,” Sedric says. “Although we clearly expect more now that they appear to have targets in mind and their forces in motion.” He eyes me. “Although, aside from Nym’s watchfulness and skill with the sky, I’m not sure what defense we have from them. If they will, in fact, be Draewulf’s first offense.”
“They will. I’m certain of it.” Eogan peers over at me. “It’s what I would do were I him.”
“How much time do you think we have?”
Eogan glances at Rasha, to which she answers, “Three more days at the most.”
He nods. “I know his forces were chasing me, but I assume they also purposefully took out our warboats in order to ferry his forces over using boats from Cashlin.”
“Then Nym should head for the coast to stop them as they come.”
“They’ll have innocents in them.” How I know this is beyond me, but my mouth goes dry at the awareness of it. I turn to Sedric. “It’s what I would do. And Draewulf knows me too well.”
Eogan nods his agreement. “We may not have much of a choice, though.”
I raise a brow and stare him down. “There’s always a choice. I believe you’re the one who used to teach that.”
“Eogan’s right,” Sedric interrupts. “They’ll all be dead sooner or later if we don’t act.” He glances at Rasha for confirmation.
“I believe so, yes.”
I bite back my comment. How could they be so matter-of-fact about it? At least show a little remorse before making such a decision.
“I believe the sooner we can get you to the coast, the better.” Sedric waits for me to look at him before continu
ing. “Can you be ready to leave within a few hours? You should take whatever you’ll need since . . .”
Since I won’t be coming back.
I nod and try not to look at Eogan.
“However, before you go . . .” Sedric turns to the Bron king. “Can you brief us on the situation in Bron? And will there be more soldiers or airships on the way?”
His tone is so hopeful it almost drags the tension back into the room.
Kenan runs a hand over his unshaved face and peers across the war map at Eogan. “First off I should tell you that Lord Percy and Lady Gwen are still alive, albeit locked in small quarters. Aside from that, I don’t know whether this is a positive or negative, but my going to Bron has set off an underground war.”
He looks at Rasha. “I fear because of this I was unable to bring back anything more than the two extra airships and all the soldiers they could hold.” Then he turns to Sedric. “My apologies, Your Highness, but if Eogan’s people were to stand a chance at forming a resistance movement, they needed all the manpower they could get. I was able, through meetings and influential sources, to give them the motivation and freedom they needed to pursue such a task. But I could not in good conscience take more from their needed numbers.”
“No apology necessary,” Sedric says, and even I can tell he’s trying to keep the sound of defeat from his voice. “Your people are your king’s priority and it is as it should be. What will come will come.”
Eogan bows his head, says, “Thank you, Kenan,” then looks at me. “Any luck with gathering forces among Faelen?”
“Not so far.”
“But they’ll come,” one of the council members butts in. “One way or another. We’ve just sent out runners and enforcers an hour ago.”
I turn to the man. And again that sensation of being appalled while totally understanding his stance washes over me. It makes me feel ill.
I clear my throat and set a hand on the giant map before interrupting the kings. “In the meantime you should both know Isobel’s ability is returning.”
