The Stones of Resurrection

by Tameri Etherton

  When the girls finished their preparations, they left Taryn to rest and enjoy a quiet tea alone in her sitting room while they finished unpacking her belongings. She fingered the gems on Nadra’s crown, noticing they were the same as the stone Brandt had given her for her birthday. Moonstone and stardust. That’s what Nadra said made up the elaborate headpiece. Taryn held it aloft, letting it catch the light. The room filled with a dazzling array of colors, and Taryn gasped when she realized it was the night sky she saw reflected on her walls. Keeper of the Stars.

  She put the crown and her sword in a cupboard near the giant bed in her sleeping chamber. In the chaos of the morning, she’d hidden the seal in a cloak pocket, willing it to be weightless and invisible. It was somewhere in the pile of things in the dressing room, but she would have to wait until the others left before she could look for it. In the meantime, she placed several wards over the cupboard. Then she set her looking glass in a place that allowed a view of most of the suite.

  The day was hot and the air still, but a chill pricked the back of her neck and icy trembles ran through her. An unseen force gripped her soul, at once seducing and suffocating.

  Your time has come, Eirielle. Awaken.

  Taryn spun around, looking for the voice, but she was alone. She left her rooms in a rush, the taunting dogging her every step. Only when she reached the garden did the terrifying voice stop.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nobles wandered through the garden, remarking on the cleverness of the empress to hide a daughter while simultaneously questioning the timing of the girl’s reappearance. To hear them speak of Lliandra in such candid tones amused Valterys, as if their words were private and not to be overheard by the Overlord of the West. He pulled the shadows closer around him while following a stumpy courtier and his attractive companion. The thinnest of fabrics covered her overripe body, making Valterys swell with desire. Later, he would find her. For the moment, he needed to focus.

  Taryn had not yet made an appearance, and with each passing moment, his concern grew. She might skip the festivities, no doubt courting the wrath of Lliandra, but the girl was a mystery to him. That made him nervous.

  Zakael and Marissa walked past, oblivious of his presence as he slouched beside the palace wall, hidden from view. Shadows could be manipulated much easier than sunlight, and he’d never been fond of the heat.

  They stopped a short distance away, their voices low and taut. Valterys had to strain to hear and then only caught fragments of their conversation. Marissa stormed away from Zakael before Valterys gleaned anything of importance. The shadows drifted away slowly, making it appear he’d been standing there the entire time. Zakael approached, a smile on his face.

  “What do you think?” Zakael asked. “Will you take her?”

  Valterys watched Marissa bend low toward some noblemen, exposing most of her breasts. “Are you tired of her already? I thought your desire for the crown princess knew no bounds.”

  Zakael followed his gaze. “And you are immune to her charms?”

  “Hardly, but she is of no use to me. I leave you to your amusements with her. Does Lliandra know?”

  “Should I care if she did? It was she who tossed me from her bed, if you’ll recall.”

  Valterys remembered well the reason for Zakael’s banishment from the Crystal Court; his abuse of Lliandra had left her close to death. Her single crime had been miscarrying Zakael’s child. The only reason Zakael still lived was that Valterys had pleaded with his former lover for his son’s life. The venom Lliandra spewed that day, not just about Zakael but about Valterys as well, bore deep into his core.

  The memory hurt—far more than he cared to acknowledge—and therefore, he ignored it, as usual. Lliandra had waited less than a season after their own child’s death to take Zakael into her bed. He assumed it was to conceive the Eirielle with him, but once he learned of Taryn’s existence—well, the woman could be cruel.

  “I meant Lliandra’s next born,” Zakael cut into his thoughts. “From what Marissa tells me, she has very little power and never uses it. I don’t see how she can be the Eirielle.”

  Valterys had heard the same thing. Never had he known someone with ShantiMari to withhold using it.

  Lliandra stepped in front of them with a slight curtsey, as befit their station. Zakael and Valterys bowed in unison, sweeping their arms out to the side and then kissing her outstretched fingertips. When they rose, each still held the delicate fingers of the empress. Valterys tamped down a rush of jealousy. Although it had been ages since either he or Zakael had bedded Lliandra, the competitive need to best his son never ended. A fact he was certain she used against him.

  Her smile was nearly brighter than the sun. “What are you two planning over here? Should I hide my jewels?”

  “I don’t think you left any in the treasury, Your Majesty,” Valterys joked. Even in the heat of summer, Lliandra wore full gowns with gems dripping from her elaborately coiffed hair to the tips of her silk slippers. She wore the wealth of her position on her person as much as possible. It was a ploy to intimidate, and so he consciously dressed as minimally as possible, wearing only black. His austerity achieved the same results Lliandra sought.

  Zakael razed Lliandra with a look that suggested he’d happily resume his place in her bed if she were to ask. “Empress Lliandra, you look more ravishing today than you have in many seasons. The return of your daughter certainly agrees with you.”

  Lliandra’s eyes flashed a moment before the smile returned. “Won’t you join me in a tour of the garden? There are so many people to receive. It would be a shame to greet them alone when you are here, and many of them long to speak with you.” She held her arm out to Valterys, who took it with a look of triumph cast at his son.

  She made idle talk while they strolled through the crowd of nobles, giving nothing away, but then he really hadn’t expected her to brazenly confess her plans to him. When Taryn arrived, a buzz of excitement spread through the crowd and several nobles clapped at her entrance. Valterys paused in his greeting to an old acquaintance to admire his daughter. Lliandra gave a small gasp, her grip on him faltering. He tightened his fingers over hers, and she smiled gratefully.

  Taryn stood in the doorway of the palace, surrounded by people, but apart from everyone. Wary. Alert. Prince Rhoane approached, and Taryn’s face softened with the same look Lliandra used to have when he himself would enter a room. Whether Taryn knew she was in love, he wasn’t certain. She looked shy and unsure of herself. But when Rhoane placed his hand on the small of her back to lead her through the crowd, she stood taller.

  Verdaine’s prophecy held little credence in the West, but Valterys wasn’t so ignorant. Taryn’s fate was tied to the Eleri prince. If he were to succeed in freeing Rykoto, he needed to break their bond.

  “Valterys, are you listening?” Lliandra hissed.

  “I’m sorry, my darling, what were you saying?” The words were out before he could stop them, and Lliandra regarded him with a bemused smile.

  “Never mind.” They moved on to other guests, greeting them or reminiscing about the old days. For a few bells, he was Lord of the Court once more, with Lliandra on his arm. The two greatest powers on Aelinae united as one.

  When Lliandra shyly suggested they retire for a bit of rest, he followed her without complaint and spent a pleasant afternoon in her bed, reliving the delights of her body. Only afterward, when Lliandra scratched a finger down his back, did his senses return, and he remembered the emotional pain she’d caused. Never again, he’d sworn. Yet there he was, in her snare once more.

  When she dismissed him to ready herself for dinner, he was grateful for her brusque manner. If it were a ploy of Lliandra’s, he needed to be clearheaded and ready for her next move. She hadn’t asked him to her bed out of any sense of love for him. That was folly. He meandered through the crowd, as inconspicuous as possible, half shadowed out of habit.

  An argument between two of Lliandra’s courtiers caught his
attention. A fat little man with sausage fingers and spittle at the corner of his mouth was gesticulating wildly to an attractive woman Valterys remembered seeing with Marissa on several occasions. Interest piqued, he cloaked himself fully in darkness and hovered near enough to hear their words.

  “You should’ve told me, you stupid cunt. You’ve jeopardized everything.”

  “Calm down, Herbret. So what if the Offlander cow has a tiara? It changes nothing. Stick to the plan.” The woman placed her hand on the man’s plentiful cheeks, smoothing the ruddy skin. “You’ll have your Summerlands whore. Have you located Kaldaar’s stones?”

  The mention of Kaldaar set off alarms in his mind. The legends of the banished god were murky in his memories, but he knew one thing—Rykoto would not be pleased to learn his brother was involved in Aelinae’s future.

  The man, Herbret, shook his head. “We need access to the oracles, but Lliandra won’t grant them to me. You must see if Marissa will help.”

  “And have her get involved? I don’t think so. It’s bad enough you keep begging her to intervene with the empress. Grow some balls, man. Fight for your petition to claim Sabina.” The woman tapped her finger on Herbret’s cheek. “Actually, I think I know a way to gain access to the archives.” She removed her hand and wiped it on her gown, a look of disgust flitting across her face. “Do try to be a brave boy while I do all the work. Again.”

  She left before Herbret could reply. He muttered a slur and headed in the opposite direction, his stout little legs moving with surprising speed. Valterys followed the woman.

  She stopped to chat with a couple, and Valterys learned a name to put with the pretty face: Lady Celia. She hummed beneath her breath as she danced through the rose garden, as if an unseen lover swayed with her. Still cloaked in shadow, Valterys moved in step with Celia, embracing her from behind. Her startled expression at the empty air pricked his desire. The weak minded were far too easy to fool.

  He stroked his fingers down her soft arms then interlaced his hands with hers. She moaned and rested her head against his chest. “My lord, is that you?”

  Her words, whispered in a breathy rush, excited him. He knew she thought him another man, but the temptation to play along was too strong. “Yes, my darling. You’ve done well.”

  “Have I?” Her eyelashes fluttered up to where she thought his face would be, missing the mark by a hand’s width. “I had hoped, but how is it you are here?”

  Valterys ushered them to a secluded corner of the garden, where he could see much of the party, but they would be concealed. His fingertips pressed between her legs, and she jumped. “It is your devotion that allows my presence.”

  “I had hoped, dreamed of this day, my lord.” She spun around to face him, groping in the air for Valterys’s face. “I have done what you asked. The vessel will be secured, and your seed will flourish once more.”

  Kaldaar’s seed. His mind spun with old wives’ tales and forgotten myths. “Excellent, my darling.” He bent and kissed her, a savage taking of her mouth that left her breathless.

  “Kaldaar, my lord, my love,” she murmured against his lips. “Kaldaar.”

  “Celia?” Marissa’s sharp tone cut the air like the crack of a whip. Valterys stilled, pulling his shadows tighter. “Ohlin’s cock, Celia! What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

  Celia froze and then a calculated demeanor overcame her. Docile, compliant. She coyly turned around to face the princess. “I was practicing for a play Herbret and I are working on. It’s a surprise for the empress and her daughters.”

  The young woman wasn’t as daft as he’d originally thought.

  “Then do it in the privacy of your room. You look a fool out here alone, groping the air.”

  Celia straightened her skirts and nodded. “You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking?”

  They moved off, and Valterys heard Marissa ask in that sweet tone that meant danger, “Did I hear you mention Kaldaar?”

  “Kaldaar? Not at all. I was saying kal daresh. It’s a loose translation from Ullan meaning horse master.”

  Before they disappeared completely, Celia cast a last glance to where he stood, fanatic desire in her eyes.

  He wandered the maze, sloughing off his cloak of shadows, and mulled over what he’d learned. Celia was no doubt bright, but her ready belief he was Kaldaar concerned him. Someone was directing the girl toward an end Valterys couldn’t allow. But who would want the banished god returned? Who would have the most to gain from spreading the seed of the Black Brotherhood? More questions simmered in his mind and he made mental notes on how best to thwart this new enemy’s plans.

  A snap of twig startled him, and he glanced at the orchard, not quite knowing how he had arrived there.

  Taryn stood not more than three paces from him. When their eyes met, trepidation crossed her face, as if she debated turning from him. He held out his hand to stop her. “I was hoping for a chance to speak with you.” He motioned to the courtiers milling around the garden. “It’s difficult to hear one’s thoughts with so many people. I thought I’d seek solace here. How fortuitous you did the same.”

  A moment of hesitation, then she curtsied. “My lord.” Her glance flicked to where Baehlon stood a short space away.

  “Don’t worry, your man is nearby. I just wanted to talk—to get to know you.” He sat on a bench, patting the seat beside him.

  Taryn perched on the edge, her slippers set to run if need be. “There’s not much to know. I was raised by Brandt. I thought he was my grandfather, and I had no idea who I was until the empress told me last night. End of story.”

  “Dearest Taryn, there is much more to your story than that. Where have you been this whole time?”

  She kept her face pointed toward the garden, only glancing at him once. “Did your son tell you he murdered Brandt?”

  Valterys shouldn’t have been surprised, but her forthrightness caught him off guard. “I believe he sought to defend himself against Brandt’s attack. He felt terrible for the loss of the high priest, you must believe me.” She stiffened, and he quickly added, “This is not how I envisioned our first meeting. Just as you knew nothing about me until last night, I knew nothing of you until today. Now that I know I have a daughter, I would very much like to know this child of mine.” He kept his voice sincere, his eyes soft and placating.

  “Lliandra truly never told you?” Her eyes searched his. They were blue, like the depths of the sea. Like Lliandra’s.

  “Not until the throne room this morning. Nadra bade me come to Talaith for reasons she would not divulge. In all honesty, I thought Lliandra wished to lure me back to her bed.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

  Taryn glanced over the crowd, settling on Marissa. “This is all new to me, but I’m learning there are those adept at presenting themselves to the world as one thing when in private they are quite another. Take the crown princess, for example.” Her gaze shifted to him, and he did his best to look innocent. “The courtiers adore her. She is the life of the party. Yet what do we really know about her? What is it she does in the privacy of her own bedchamber?”

  “I would think what most people do—sleep.”

  Taryn’s eyes became hard bits of blue granite. “What about you? Are you really as charming as you’d like me to believe? You come here with your offer of friendship, but there is more to you, Lord Valterys, isn’t there?”

  “Why is it you bear me such ill will? I’ve done nothing to deserve your scorn.”

  There was strength in the girl; determination shone from her eyes. “Your son killed the one person who meant the most to me, and you hung a sword over my friend with every intention to kill him. Yet you say you’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I like your honesty. It’s refreshing. I’ve already explained that Brandt’s death was a tragic accident. As for young Hayden, he was never in any real danger.”

  Taryn’s jaw tightened. Her back went rigid. “I’m sure the poison you wrapped around the sword
was harmless?”

  Poison? That wasn’t part of the plan, and it vexed him Marissa would do such a thing.

  “My dear, one does what one must in times like these. That sword should be mine. Besides, I’ve heard you were there to rescue him, so it all worked out in the end, yes?”

  In a strained voice, she said, “I feel it unnecessary to continue this conversation. I don’t want to be your enemy, Valterys, but if you continue to seek what is rightfully mine, I will have no other choice. Good day.” She swept away with the grace and dignity of a princess.

  Taryn walked with her protector along the seawall until they reached the Eleri prince and others of her group. The air vibrated around her and Valterys watched her with keen interest. Beneath her anger, he could tell she fought to control vast amounts of ShantiMari—Light, Eleri, and Dark—which could only mean one thing.

  He rose in a languid fashion, smoothing out his tunic before strolling away from the orchard. If Taryn wouldn’t submit to him of her own accord, he would have to find another way to contain her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Taryn sat upright in bed, the nightmare chasing through her thoughts. She threw off the covers and padded around the huge apartment, willing the dream to dispel. The image of Zakael holding Rhoane’s still-beating heart stayed fixed in her mind, the scent of his blood in her every breath. The rich food she’d eaten at the feast and the wine—too much wine—threatened to make a repeat appearance. Taryn poured herself a glass of water, taking small sips to keep the nausea at bay.

  She’d been in Talaith just a few days, but it seemed like she’d lived a lifetime since Paderau. Too many changes, too much responsibility thrust on her in too short a time.

  She stood in the darkness, inhaling the salty tang of ocean air, letting the last fragments of her nightmare dissolve. Even the sound of waves crashing on the cliffs and the cool morning air did little to ease the accelerated beating of her heart. She checked that the sword was safe and then retrieved the looking glass.