Iron Crowned ds-3

by Richelle Mead

  “Because real guards would already know anything else we wanted to ask,” he replied. “Asking where the dungeons are would definitely be a tipoff that something was up.”

  “And I already know where they are,” said Imanuelle.

  Both Kiyo and I looked at her in surprise.

  “Downstairs,” she added.

  “Dungeons are always downstairs,” I pointed out.

  “Have you been to them?” asked Kiyo.

  She nodded and crooked us a grin. “Powerful leaders aren’t the only ones with prices on their heads. Sometimes important prisoners need to disappear too.”

  I grimaced at her amusement but was grateful when she got us turned around. With a clear purpose, I grew more and more tense. This was it. What would we find? No one was giving us a second glance up here, but in the dungeons, we’d attract attention—especially when we busted out one of their prisoners.

  Our castle façades might have been different, but Katrice and I possessed similar dungeons. Dark. Gloomy. Gray stone walls and torches. It was such a stereotype, but I supposed it helped dampen the hopes of any prisoners.

  Imanuelle led us confidently down flights of stairs and into a long, wide corridor. Jasmine’s cell was easy to spot because six guards stood outside it—again, reminiscent of her earlier conditions at my place.

  “Good luck,” said Imanuelle, falling behind us. She was apparently holding true to her word that this was all on us now. The guards on duty were sharp-eyed and naturally noticed our approach, but none of them reacted with wariness or alarm. A couple displayed curiosity, wondering perhaps if orders had changed, but that was it.

  Kiyo and I had discussed several strategies on our journey and finally decided swift and surprising force would be the way to go. When we were still several feet away, I sent my magic out, pulling in the air like a deep breath and throwing it back at the guards in the form of a gale-worthy wind. It ruffled our hair and brushed our skin, but the blast literally threw the guards off their feet. There were cries of shock, and two went down right then and there from the impact of slamming against the corridor’s end.

  The other four were up on their feet, three drawing copper swords. Fire appeared in the hands of the fourth. I should have expected Katrice would put magic-users on Jasmine, along with brute force. There was no other time to ponder that, though, because the guy suddenly hurled a fireball at us. I instinctually drew on the surrounding air again, along with its moisture, disintegrating the fire with little effort. Kiyo surged forward then, attacking one of the guards. I ran forward as well, my attention focused on another guard as I created a vacuum around him, pulling all air away from him. His eyes widened as he gasped and clutched his throat, trying to draw an impossible breath.

  I held the magic as one of his colleagues tried to attack me. I dodged the sword, largely because the iron dagger in my hand was making him keep his distance. The guy in the thralls of my magic finally passed out from the lack of oxygen, and I released him, letting him collapse unconscious to the floor. Before I could even deal with the other soldier by me, Kiyo leapt out and tackled him to the floor. I took this to mean Kiyo’s first opponent was out of commission, leaving me with the magic user.

  Not having learned anything the first time, he hurled another fireball at me. I admired his control; too much would have incinerated everyone in the hall. But with my magic, swatting the fire away was an afterthought for me. He had no weapon out, and I stepped forward, pushing my athame to his throat. He cried out at the sting of the iron, offering no fight as I began drawing away his oxygen too. A realization glinted in his eyes. Illusion or no, he must have figured out who would wield air and water so easily—and hold onto iron.

  “Thorn Queen …” he gasped out, as the last of his air left him. I saw unconsciousness seizing him, but just before it did, he managed a weak flutter of his hand. No fire came, but I felt an intense wave of heat spread out. It didn’t hurt me, but there was a physical power within it, one that rippled the air and made the walls tremble slightly just before he too collapsed to the floor.

  Kiyo and I stood there among the bodies—dead or alive, I didn’t know—and glanced at each other and our surroundings carefully. Imanuelle still stood back but looked impressed.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked.

  “I’m guessing an alarm,” she said.

  “Fuck.”

  I turned toward Jasmine’s cell and saw her huddled in the farthest corner, regarding me with large, wary eyes. Water was her true specialty; she had only slight control over air. Nonetheless, she would have felt the strength of the magic I’d used. Like the guard, she knew there were few who could do what I’d done—but her vision told her it wasn’t me standing there. I was still under Imanuelle’s illusion.

  Kiyo was already searching bodies and soon found a key. We opened the cell, but Jasmine didn’t move. She didn’t look too worse for the wear, but I knew some of the most terrible behaviors rarely left a mark. There was a small tear in her dress and a bruise on her arm that looked like the signs of a struggle, probably during her initial capture. I also noticed they’d left the fine iron chains on her that Girard had created to stunt her magic. My own safeguard had undoubtedly been useful for her captors.

  I gestured to the door, uneasy about what Imanuelle had said about an alarm. “Jasmine, come on. It’s us. Me and Kiyo.”

  “And by me,” said Kiyo, pointing in my direction, “she means Eugenie.”

  Jasmine hesitated, looking between our faces. “How is that possible?”

  Imanuelle, who’d been watching the hall’s entrance, turned hastily toward the cell. “How do you think? With magic. Look at yourself.” Jasmine’s features rippled, and soon, we were staring at another Rowan soldier. Jasmine studied her hands in astonishment. The illusion showed no chains, but she would still be able to feel them.

  “Your iPod’s playlist sucks,” I said when she continued to hesitate. “Would a gentry guard say that?”

  “Come on,” urged Imanuelle. She’d been confident she could get herself out of any danger here, but those odds were better if she wasn’t in a hall that could easily be blocked off if a regiment came tearing toward the entrance.

  Jasmine must have decided this new development could be no worse than her present fate. She jumped up and left the cell, following as the rest of us made for the stairs. We reached the main floor without opposition, but once there, all was chaos. Soldiers were running in the direction we’d come from, and I wondered how long it’d take them to realize we were the only ones not going toward the dungeons.

  Except … it turned out that wasn’t the case. In the confusion, no one stopped us from exiting the front door, but the inner grounds were packed with soldiers. They were cramming terrified refugees into one well-guarded section, and the gates in the outer walls had been shut.

  “Fuck,” I said again. It still seemed like the only adequate way to sum up this situation.

  “We could jump to the human world,” said Kiyo. “Imanuelle can get out on her own.”

  I considered this. It was true. Imanuelle could change into a peasant or whatever and escape detection until an opportunity for escape popped up. Kiyo’s abilities allowed him to transition with relative ease through the worlds without a gate. I could do it—but not without difficulty. And I needed to use an anchor to draw me back. I had a couple back in my home, but Jasmine had nothing like that. She probably couldn’t jump at random from the Otherworld. I wasn’t even sure if she could with an anchor—and the iron chains made it worse. We could both end up doing serious damage to ourselves.

  “We can’t,” I said. “We’ve just got to hide out.” I turned to Imanuelle. “How are you doing? Can you turn us all to peasants again?”

  She nodded. “We’ve got to get out of sight, though.”

  Her confidence was a small blessing, at least. Imanuelle was keeping up four illusions now, and her strength had been a concern in all this, that and someone who would b
e able to see through—

  “It’s her! It’s the Thorn Queen!”

  The shrieking voice that suddenly drew all eyes to us didn’t come from the soldiers. It came from an old woman among the huddled refugees. She reminded me of Masthera, with white hair and wild eyes. She was pointing at us, and there was something in her gaze … some piercing quality that made me believe she could see straight through the illusions to us.

  “Damn,” said Imanuelle. There was both fear and hurt pride in her voice. Although this had been a possibility, I knew she’d secretly felt her powers were too strong for detection. Maybe the four of us had stretched her magic thin.

  Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought that one shout would be enough to pull attention to us, not in the chaos out there. Yet, the woman’s voice brought silence to those nearby. They turned to stare at us, and soon, others who hadn’t heard her noticed the reactions and fell quiet as well.

  “Hush,” snapped a guard, finally breaking the confused silence. He was one of the ones keeping the civilians out of the way. “We have no time for this.”

  The old woman shook her head adamantly. “Can’t you see? Can’t you see them? It’s the Thorn Queen and her sister! They’re right there!”

  The guard’s face darkened. “I told you, we—”

  His jaw dropped because that was when the guards who’d been on gate duty earlier approached. They came to a standstill, staring at us in complete shock. If we hadn’t panicked over the alarm, one of us probably would have thought to change the illusion so we looked like the unconscious soldiers, not the ones we would have to pass by again. It was a bad, bad oversight, and now everyone could see us and our mirror images.

  The guard yelling at the old woman might not know what was going on, but he knew something was going on. “Seize them,” he said. He glanced uneasily at his true colleagues and decided to cover his bases. “Seize them too.”

  Other soldiers moved toward us unquestioningly. I sized up the numbers. We were good, but I didn’t think Kiyo and I could take that many in melee. Jasmine came to that same conclusion.

  “Blow them up,” she said. “We can blow our way out of here.”

  By ‘we,’ she meant ‘me,’ and I knew she was talking about storms, not explosions. Some part of me had already known that was the answer. Barely even realizing it, I summoned all my magic, making the beautiful, sunny day in the Rowan Land quickly fade. Black and purple clouds tumbled across the sky at impossible speeds, lightning flashing so close to us that the ground trembled. Humidity and ozone filled the air, wind rising and falling.

  It had come about in a matter of seconds, and the approaching soldiers halted. The old woman’s crazy claim was no longer so crazy in light of that magic. They were all realizing that no matter what their eyes said, the possibility was now very good that Eugenie Markham truly stood before them. And I might be a wartime enemy, one they needed to capture, but I was also Storm King’s daughter, and that was not a title taken lightly. They knew what I could do, and it was enough to freeze up years of training.

  “Let us pass,” I said. I began slowly moving toward the gate, my three companions following a moment later. “Let us pass, or I’ll let this storm explode in here. It’s already on the edge. One breath, and I can let it go.” Thunder and lightning crackled above us, driving home my point. There were small screams from some of the crowd. “Do you know what that kind of storm will do in an area this small? To all of you?”

  “It will kill them,” a voice suddenly said. “Horribly.”

  I looked over toward the castle’s entrance and saw Katrice herself standing there. Guards hurried to flank her, but she held up a hand to halt them. It had been a long time since I’d seen her. All of our antagonistic contact had been through messenger and letter. She looked like she had at our last meeting, black hair laced with silver and dark eyes that scrutinized everything around her. She was in full regal mode too, in silver-gray satin and a small jeweled tiara. But no … as I studied her, I saw a slight difference. She looked older than the last time we’d been together. Leith’s death and this war had taken their toll.

  I stared her straight in the eye, my adversary, the cause of so much recent grief in my life. I needed no storm around me because one was breaking out within, winds of fury and anger swirling around and around inside me.

  “Drop the spell,” I said to Imanuelle, without looking at her. I wanted to be face-to-face with Katrice, and honestly, it wasn’t like my identity was a secret anymore. I felt another tingle, and a few gasps told me I wore my own form now. A small, tight smile crossed Katrice’s lips.

  “Yes,” she continued, “you could unleash a storm here. You could destroy a large part of this wall, this castle. You could most certainly destroy all these people—which is what you’re good at, right? You put on this lofty pose about protecting lives, yet somehow, death always follows you. You leave it in your wake, just as Tirigan did. But at least he had no delusions about what he was doing.”

  The comparison to my father increased the anger in me. The weather mirrored my reaction, the sky growing darker and the air pressure intensifying.

  “Go ahead,” said Katrice. “Show me your storm.”

  “You don’t have to kill them,” said Jasmine beside me, voice low. “Just her.”

  Was she right? Was that all it would take? I could kill Katrice, no question. One unexpected bolt of lightning, and she’d be gone. If memory served, her magic was similar to Shaya’s: a connection and control with plant-life. As a queen, someone with the ability to conquer a land, Katrice possessed that power to levels that dwarfed Shaya’s. It was probably why the trees and plants here were so beautiful. It was also probably why we hadn’t been attacked yet. This inner courtyard around the castle was cleared land, hard-packed dirt that facilitated travel for guards, merchants, and other visitors. If we’d been outside the walls, I would have likely had a forest marching on me by now.

  “You can do that too,” said Katrice, still trying to bait me. I couldn’t tell if she was simply attempting to prolong her life or trying to catch me off guard for some other attack. “Kill me in cold blood. Just like you did my son. It’s in your nature.”

  “It’s not cold blood in wartime,” I growled. “And your son deserved it. He was a weak, cowardly bastard who had to lie and drug women to get what he wanted.”

  This made her flinch slightly, but she didn’t hesitate to return the arrow. “But he did get what he wanted. He got you. He couldn’t have been that weak.”

  Those words stung, but before I could respond, a young man slipped into place beside her. His resemblance was so strong to her and Leith that there could be no question of his identity: Cassius, her nephew. The rage within me doubled. Seeing him reminded me of what he’d most likely done to Jasmine. My reason was slipping, replaced by pure fury.

  “You should have let this go,” I told Katrice, my voice perfectly level. “You should have accepted Leith’s death as punishment for what he did. An even slate. Lives have been lost because of you. More will be now.”

  One bolt. One bolt, and she was dead. Hell, I could probably take out Cassius with it too.

  “Eugenie,” said Kiyo. “Don’t. Don’t do it.”

  “What else am I supposed to do?” I breathed, out of the others’ earshot.

  “I warned you before there would be consequences. Please listen to me this time,” he begged. “There will be again.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” My voice was louder. I didn’t care who heard. “This is wartime. I kill their leader. I win. Otherwise, I let hell loose in here, and these people die. Which do you want, Kiyo? Pick—or else find another way.”

  He didn’t respond, but Katrice’s tight smile grew at seeing dissent within my ranks. “No options but death. You are Tirigan’s daughter. I’m glad now that Leith didn’t get you with child. His plan seemed wise at first, but it’s better my exalted bloodline isn’t mingled with yours—though the gods know how much Leith trie
d. He told me about it. Often. Ah, well. I suppose we’ll know soon how Cassius fared …”

  Her gaze lingered slightly on Jasmine beside me. Imanuelle had dropped all our disguises.

  “Eugenie—” Jasmine tried to speak, but I didn’t want to listen.

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I demanded of Katrice. Each word was harsh, almost impossible to get out. I was changing my mind about the lightning. I was remembering how I’d killed Aeson, literally blowing him apart by ripping the water from his body. There were so many ways to kill her, so many ways to bring about humiliation.

  Katrice gave a small shrug, and despite that smug attitude, I saw a pang of regret in her eyes. “I have a feeling I’ll die one way or another today. I just want everyone to know the truth about you before I do.”

  I froze. I’d told Kiyo to give me another option, and he’d had none. But there was one other.

  “The truth,” I said slowly, reaching toward my backpack, “is that you aren’t going to die today. But you’ll wish you had.”

  I can only assume what happened next was born out of pure emotion, out of the anger and despair her words about me and Jasmine had evoked. Situational adrenaline probably played a role too, and … well, maybe there was something in my genes after all.

  I pulled the Iron Crown from my backpack. Katrice turned white, all cockiness gone. Those who recognized the crown displayed similar fear, audible and visible. Others just stared curiously.

  “No,” she gasped. “No. Please don’t.”

  I think until that moment, she hadn’t truly believed I had the crown. I also think that had I demanded it, she would’ve named whatever terms of surrender I wanted. But I didn’t want simple surrender. I wanted suffering. I wanted her to suffer, just as I had.

  So many ways to bring about humiliation …

  I placed the crown on my head, and somehow—maybe it was part of its magic—I knew exactly what to do. The iron athame was still in my hand, and I crouched down with it. Katrice dropped to her knees too, but it was in supplication.