The Stones of Resurrection

by Tameri Etherton

“Aye, she was with the old man. Very fair of face and dressed in strange garments. I could not discern where she’d been all these seasons, but if I had to guess, it would be with the Eleri. Perhaps with a lesser clan, on the outskirts of the Narthvier.”

  Valterys leaned back, thinking. “We will have to assume Stephan knew nothing of the girl. For now. I don’t want war with the Eleri until the end.”

  “This can be a huge bargaining tool, if necessary.” Zakael ate his food between sentences, taking care not to spill anything on his tunic.

  Valterys looked away. It was a habit that irritated him. “What happened in the cavern that you did not return with the Eirielle?”

  Zakael started slowly, spinning a tale about his confrontation with Rhoane, the arrival of Brandt and the girl, and the subsequent fight. “They were gone before I recovered. There’s more, Father. The Shanti Brandt used against me…it felt wrong. I know the priest. He would not willingly kill. She didn’t use her power, but I suspect the girl had a hand in helping the old man defeat me. The raw strength of his attack was clumsy.”

  “Marissa tells me the priest died in the cavern.”

  “What?” Zakael looked genuinely flustered. “Not by my hand. My Shanti was enough to stun, nothing more.”

  Valterys took a long drink of his wine, savoring the delicate taste of Geigan blood in the mixture. “No matter. Brandt was an inconvenience, that’s all. While you were otherwise indisposed, I went to Ravenwood to retrieve the sword.”

  A flash of excitement crossed Zakael’s face. “Where is it?”

  “Myrddin was there with that giant knight of his. Come to think of it, Glennwoods was there, as well. He must’ve met up with Myrddin after the cavern.” Valterys thought hard, his mind racing over the events at Ravenwood. “I didn’t see the girl, but there was a presence that I could not explain.”

  “And the duke’s heir? Is he dead?”

  “Myrddin blocked my way, but if it is as Marissa claims, the boy is dead.”

  “Do not doubt her powers, my lord. Or her loyalty.”

  Valterys snorted. What Zakael didn’t know about the crown princess could fill volumes. “Time will tell. For now, I’ll trust in your judgment and hope Myrddin does not possess the sword.”

  “Impossible. Only one of the true Blood can wield it.” They looked at each other in alarm, Zakael voicing their shared thought. “Nadra’s tit,” he swore. “If the Eirielle is at Ravenwood, that means they are in possession of the blood and the blade.”

  “Now that we know she is out of hiding, we can proceed with our plans.” Valterys went to the balcony, resting his arms on the railing. “She will be of age soon—that is why Lliandra has chosen to reveal her now. Very cunning. It must be a public declaration, but when?”

  “There is the duke’s ball, but I doubt she would present her there. She will wait until they are at the Crystal Palace and the seat of her power before announcing the return of her long-lost daughter.”

  Lliandra needed the sword to convince the court the girl was her true daughter, yes, but if she wanted them to believe she was the Eirielle, Valterys must also acknowledge the girl. Even though his daughter could not inherit the Obsidian Throne, he needed her to further his plans, which meant he had to publicly claim her.

  He slammed his glass on the stone railing, sending tiny shards spraying in every direction. Blood seeped from several cuts on his palm.

  “If I’d known she was at Ravenwood, I would not have left so quickly.” Valterys cursed under his breath. “Still, I could not fight them all, not alone. We must make haste to Talaith. If Lliandra plans to present my daughter to the world, I should be there.”

  “Give me a day to rest and see to my work, and then we’ll do as you wish. But first, we should pay your cousin a visit.” Zakael’s eyes glinted like polished granite in the firelight, his lips curled in a wicked smile. “What better way to observe the Eirielle than at a masked ball?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  After the attack, Baehlon increased not only the length of Taryn’s sword training but the intensity. Each night, she crawled beneath her blankets, exhausted and sore from his ministrations. For the next seven days, they encountered no further assaults but stayed wary as they traveled. The dark shadow tracking her movements had vanished after she killed the feiches, the flicker at the edge of her vision gone as well. Its absence should’ve made her feel better, but it only added to the many questions she had about her home world.

  On the last day of their ride to Paderau, Taryn awoke before the others and trekked a short distance to a secluded spot. Each morning, she rose early to practice her kata. The hour or so alone became her solace, a time of quiet she learned to value with so little privacy afforded by the group.

  She moved through her forms, reflecting on her promise to Brandt. At the time, it had been difficult, and her first few days on Aelinae a trial, but being with the others taught her to see the beauty of this world, not just the monstrosities. Given the chance again, she would willingly give her word that she would remain here.

  Her longing to avenge Brandt’s death thrummed just beneath the surface of her thoughts, making the hard work she put in every day more bearable. Her constant travels with Brandt meant she’d never had lasting relationships, but the others had accepted her, giving instant friendship. Each day, she felt more a part of the small group, and with that came a sense of loyalty to them. It was important to her that she not disappoint them.

  She was so completely focused that when a heavy hand gripped her shoulder, she acted on instinct, seizing it, then twisting and pulling as she thrust her hip into the intruder. He flipped over, landing on his back with a thunk. Heart racing, knees trembling with the rush of adrenaline, Taryn placed her foot at his throat, hands up in a defensive stance. It took a moment for her to register the face of Baehlon as he stared up at her, his dark eyes huge with a mixture of anger and curiosity.

  Taryn blinked down at him. “What are you doing here?”

  He moved slightly, but her foot prevented him from getting up. “Do you mind?” He indicated her leg. Taryn removed her foot and held out a hand to help him up. He eyed it warily. “You won’t flip me again?”

  “You surprised me.”

  Baehlon stood, rubbing his backside. “A mistake I will not make again.” He stretched his long body and rolled his head from side to side. “Faelara is looking for you. She wants to go over last minute details before we ride into the city.”

  “I’m sorry, really. It was reflex. If I’d known it was you, there’s no way I would have, you know…” She rolled her hands to indicate him flipping.

  “All is well. But Taryn, why didn’t you tell me you could fight?”

  “You never asked.”

  His laughter boomed through the trees, frightening several birds into flight. “Can you teach me what you just did?”

  A tickle of excitement fluttered in her belly. “Now?”

  “And risk Fae’s wrath? Not on your life. Once you’re settled in Paderau will be soon enough.”

  When they reached the camp, the others were dressed and packing the horses. Faelara’s instructions were simple things Taryn didn’t need to be reminded of but she listened out of respect. Stay close. Speak to no one except those she rode with. Keep the sword hidden.

  Faelara kissed Taryn on the cheek, holding her close. “I’ve enjoyed our time together. You are a treasure, to be sure.” Tears shone in her eyes when she pulled away.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, sweetling.” She squeezed Taryn’s hand before pulling herself into the saddle.

  Taryn glanced at Rhoane, who sat on his horse a few feet away. A similar look was etched across his face, not necessarily concern but a resignation of sorts. She climbed into the saddle and patted Ashanni’s neck, ready for the next leg of her journey.

  Beyond a large grove of trees, the road opened up. They stood on a hilltop, looking down at a valley of rolling green meadows. Nestled betwe
en two rivers, Paderau sparkled like a pearl set in a dazzling sapphire choker.

  “Well?” Hayden said beside her.

  “You told me your city was beautiful, but—wow.”

  The closer they got to the city gates, the pull of ShantiMari, its multicolored lights glistening above the walls and around the thick wooden gates, dazzled her senses. Guards stood at posts near the west entrance and even more walked along the battlements. Myrddin rode forward with the duke, and the guards snapped to attention, saluting them as they passed.

  Paderau defied Hayden’s descriptions. Taryn followed the others, taking in the sights. Wooden buildings flanked the street, some with signs hanging above doorways, others with windows that offered everything from wineskins and cooked turkey legs to cotton tunics and boots.

  Taryn had to keep from gawking at the sheer number of people who roamed the streets. Hundreds of inhabitants moved about their day. On more than one occasion, she spied soldiers patrolling the streets or standing outside pubs, keeping a close watch on everyone.

  At the first bridge they crossed, Taryn leaned over to get a glimpse of the river. Clean, clear water flowed to the south. Farther down was another bridge, and after that, the river disappeared. The duke turned the group off the main street onto a small residential avenue lined with trees. The two- or three-story homes were solid and simple. Some had ornamental gates and paths leading to attractive porches.

  The avenue opened to a square with stalls surrounding a huge fountain. Hawkers called out their wares, adding to the din. Pelts hung from the booth of a petite man with a flamboyant hat. Next to him, chickens pecked and scratched in a tiny enclosure. The square had an earthy smell to it—of sweat, dirt, and livestock. Comforting smells.

  They rode along two more avenues, each more opulent than the previous one. As their horses clomped along the cobblestone streets, the tension from the long days of traveling drifted away from the group. Their voices rose with excited anticipation. Hayden gestured ahead, and Taryn held her breath at the sight of Paderau Palace.

  The four-story palace was even more magnificent than it had looked from the hilltop, with arched windows and columned terraces. An intricate ironwork fence surrounded the gardens and buildings, with thick cords of ShantiMari snaking around the perimeter, dissuading anyone who hadn’t been invited from entering. Each corner boasted a tower with discreet arrow slits, and the roofline effectively hid battlements capable of holding several platoons of the duke’s guard.

  All those times you quizzed me about castles and palaces, now I know why. Taryn kissed her fingertips and looked up to the sky, hoping Brandt could hear her.

  She followed the others into the courtyard, where a massive magnolia tree blossomed in the summer heat. She barely had time to grab her things before a groom led Ashanni away. They entered the palace through a side door, and Taryn almost tripped over herself staring at the opulence around her. The room was half the size of a football pitch, with perhaps sixty people seated on fragile looking couches and chairs. Gold filigree edged the elaborately painted ceiling and walls. Before she could take it all in, Faelara led her away from the others.

  They went up several flights of stairs and down more hallways than Taryn could remember. “Here we are. My rooms are down the hall.” Faelara pointed to a set of large doors. “If you need anything, come and find me.”

  A rush of panic seized Taryn. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I’ll send a maid to run a bath for you, and I’ll have a tailor come by for measurements, as well.” She plucked at Taryn’s shirt. “You’ve been wearing this so long, I fear we’ll have to burn it.” She gave her shirt a sniff, crinkling her nose. “Mine, as well, I’m afraid. Not to worry, love, all will be well.”

  The older woman led her into a room with two long windows opening to the gardens. The scent of jasmine drifted up to greet her. The smell reminded her of a time not long past in another world. She inhaled the sweet fragrance with a pang of homesickness. “It’s lovely, Faelara.”

  All the decor matched in varying shades of yellow, from the soft butter walls to the floral fabric of an overstuffed chair and small couch. Vases of fresh flowers adorned the tables. It was at once homey and unfamiliar. Taryn wandered to yet another room, where Faelara tsked to herself while opening several cupboards and drawers. Her slim fingers danced along the wall until Taryn heard a slight click.

  The secret compartment hinged open without another sound. “Taryn, dear, get your sword, please.” She brought the weapon to Faelara. “Put it in here. Now, I’m going to place some wards on the sword and the cupboard. If anyone besides you tries to open it or touch the sword, they’ll get a nasty shock.” She eyed Taryn. “Do you understand what a ward is?”

  “I think so. Will it hurt me?”

  “Not you, but everyone else.” Faelara whispered under her breath while Taryn followed the flow of ShantiMari as it wound its way around the sword and through the door. When she was done, Faelara closed the compartment with a final command. “It would be best if you don’t disturb the sword, but if you should need to, make certain you close this door when you’re done. Otherwise, the wards will unravel.”

  Taryn placed her hand on the cupboard. A buzz of power ran through her and then back to the sword. Faelara’s Mari had a gentleness to it. Reluctantly, she took her hand away from the sweet feeling.

  “Come,” Faelara’s voice called from beyond the bedchamber. Taryn almost swooned when she saw the next room. A large claw-footed tub sat in the center of a bathroom. “I’m sure you will appreciate a nice bath after our ride.”

  “Oh yes, please.” Much to her surprise, there was plumbing for the tub and sink.

  Faelara led them back into the sitting room. “His Grace and Hayden have rooms on the top floor. Myrddin likes to stay in the eastern tower. Rhoane’s rooms are on the floor above us. Baehlon, I imagine, will stay in the barracks with the soldiers.” Her eyes drifted to the window, and her expression grew distant.

  “Why do you all have rooms here?”

  Faelara blinked at her question. “What?”

  “Do you stay here that often?”

  “I have a suite in every major castle or palace in all of the East. It comes with being one of the empress’s ladies.” She touched Taryn’s cheek. “You’ll have your own apartments, too.”

  “Why? I don’t work for the empress.”

  Faelara’s expression was soft, but her words held a hint of steel. “In time, you’ll understand. I’ll send in those maids. I’m sure the other girls will wish to meet you.” Again, she heard the steeliness. “Be polite, but please, do not tell them anything about where you came from. Just remember everything Hayden taught you, and you’ll be fine.”

  After Faelara left, Taryn sat on the windowsill, breathing in the scent of jasmine, hoping it would calm her nerves. All it did was dredge up memories she couldn’t share about a life she was compelled to forget. More alone than ever, she sat and watched without seeing the people who moved along the garden paths.

  A young woman dressed in a plain blue dress with a white apron tied around her waist entered with a small curtsey. “I’ve come for your bath, miss.” Another girl dressed in a similar fashion followed her. They looked to be in their late teens, but with Aelinaen years, she wasn’t sure.

  Their giggles floated above the sound of running water, and Taryn idly wondered what they found so amusing. Probably her dismal appearance. One of the girls appeared in the doorway to ask quietly whether she would like to bathe. Taryn had to keep herself from jumping straight into the tub fully clothed.

  “Do, uh…do you usually stay here while I undress?” she asked when it was clear the girls weren’t leaving.

  They held up a large towel for privacy, and she slipped out of her dirty clothes. Before they could stop her, she sank into the bath, doing her best to hide under the bubbles. Every ache she’d accumulated on the road started to melt away in the hot water.

  “What are your names?”
Taryn asked.

  They were sisters, Mayla and Lorilee. More than the slight resemblance in their faces, their dark hair and sturdy frames marked them as kin.

  “I’m Taryn.” She tried to keep herself submerged as much as possible. “I don’t normally bathe with others in the room.”

  “Lady Faelara said you might be shy.” Lorilee applied a heavenly scented shampoo to Taryn’s hair and began massaging her scalp.

  A small moan escaped Taryn’s lips, and she lay back against the tub, more relaxed than she’d been in months. When Mayla turned her slightly to wash her back with a sponge, Taryn gave in to their ministrations, her inhibitions forgotten.

  After bathing her, they rubbed scented oil into her roughened skin before wrapping her in a robe and sitting her in a chair. Taryn must’ve dozed while they brushed out her hair because a knock at the door startled her awake.

  As Faelara promised, the seamstress arrived to take her measurements. Margaret Tan was a large woman who brooked no nonsense and made Taryn stand still while she measured every inch of her body. All the while, she made little clucking sounds before writing on her pad of paper.

  After Margaret Tan left, Mayla finished Taryn’s hair and handed her a silver mirror. Taryn stared at the intricate mass of braids and curls. “Oh my God. It’s beautiful.”

  Lorilee and Mayla smiled at her while curtseying together.

  “We’re glad you like it, miss,” Lorilee said for both of them.

  Taryn kept touching her hair, amazed at what they did with the rat’s nest it had become since she’d arrived on Aelinae. “Like it? I love it.”

  The girls giggled and curtsied again. The older one, Mayla, said, “Your hair is lovely, like gold silk. We’ll be back before dinner; if there is anything else you need before then, just ring the bell.” She pointed to a tasseled bell pull discreetly placed by the window.

  Hayden arrived as the maids were leaving, and Taryn fidgeted with her robe ties, feeling vulnerable in her undressed state.

  The plain brown tunic and breeches he wore on their journey were long gone, replaced with tight fitting trousers and a brocade jacket that skimmed his hips. His blond hair gleamed in the sunlight. The effect was stunning and a bit unsettling.