‘Hel, wake up. Come back to me.’ He touched his bare hands to hers, then to her face. She felt cold. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Her body shuddered against him and he realised that she was crying. ‘Heliora?’
‘Ash,’ she said in a small voice, choking on tears. ‘Ash, I can’t see past Saturnalia.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Those futures. You and she—I couldn’t see past this winter coming. Sometimes the blackness sets in earlier, around autumn. Sometimes as soon as Lucina. But Saturnalia is the last I saw. I can only see the futures within my own life span—if I can’t see it, that means I’m going to die.’
‘In which future?’ he demanded.
‘All of them. It doesn’t matter who the Power is, or whether the city falls or not. Something’s coming for me, and I can’t see it. Can’t see anything else either.’
Ashiol was holding her so tightly that his hands were numb. ‘I’ll always save you, Hel, you know I will. Tell me how.’
‘You don’t,’ she said. ‘In all of those futures—every single one of them—you don’t save me.’
He couldn’t breathe.
Heliora’s body was shuddering more violently, and not from her tears. She clung to him as the shakes got worse. Her pupils were snapping back and forth. ‘Too fast,’ she gasped. ‘I see her and you, so many of you!’
‘Come back, Hel. The futures are closing in on you.’
There was no easy way to turn off the flow of visions. Sometimes the seer would keep receiving image after image, future after future, in a stormy rush until she lost her mind completely. Unless someone broke her connection.
‘So many S-s-saturnalias,’ she stuttered. ‘So many bad things. So many skyfalls, so many battles, one after another…the sacrifice of the King…so much pain!’ Her eyes were wide but she didn’t see him any more. Her body twitched madly as the futures collapsed in on her. ‘So much everything!’
Ashiol kissed her, forcing his mouth hard on hers. She struggled against him for a moment and then surrendered to the kiss, devouring him hungrily, her hands clawing for the warmth at his face and neck.
‘Make it stop,’ she begged him as their mouths came apart for a moment.
‘I will,’ he promised, and pushed her back onto the floor, his body hard on top of hers.
Heliora’s eyes rolled back in her head. ‘Bring me—’
Ashiol’s hands were under the purple gauze now, stroking up and inside her thighs until his fingers curled into the hot, wet heat of her.
Heliora started babbling—this was the good stuff, the meat of the futures that she would never tell him when she was in her right mind. Details of Ashiol the monster, of the deaths of people he loved, even Heliora’s own death, when it was lingering enough for her to know what was happening to her. Ashiol could have held off, listened to her spill out her visions until he knew exactly which course was the best for all of them, but he had a promise to keep. He covered her cunt with his mouth and drowned out the futures with long sweeps of his tongue until she howled into incomprehensible sounds.
It wasn’t just sex—but then, it never had been between Ashiol and Heliora. At the age of thirteen, as soon as she developed something resembling a woman’s body, she had staked out Ash as her man, the one who would make her a woman in all senses of the word. He, sixteen and not a complete idiot, had thought he knew better. Their uneasy friendship turned into an elaborate game of cat and mouse that went on for years, thoroughly amusing the rest of the Creature Court.
But then Hel the sentinel had found a new calling as the seer, and the rules changed.
Ashiol moved positions now, kissing her mouth and letting her taste herself on his lips even as he pulled at the lacings of his leather trews. This was familiar, and he pushed his cock inside her with a fierce rhythm. Most of Heliora was still wrapped up in the millions of futures that warred inside her head, but part of her was here in the present with him. She gasped and moaned as her body responded to him.
The first time Ashiol made love to Heliora had been a desperate attempt to bring her back from the futures, grinding her against a wall in a bizarre form of chivalry. If he hadn’t done it, Ortheus—the Power and Majesty at the time—would have ordered someone else to do the job. Someone Heliora didn’t like nearly as much. Hard to go back to being just friends with a woman when you had screwed her in front of the entire Court.
In the end it was Hel, obsessed by the new power she wielded, who had broken off the chance of anything serious between them.
She was back with him now, entirely in the present as her body flexed hard against his. Her eyes showed a different kind of urgency, and Ashiol was there himself, spilling over and into her as she cried aloud.
Catching her breath afterwards, half-collapsed under him on the itchy Zafiran rugs, she laughed. ‘One of these days we’ll have to find out what it’s like to take it slow!’
Ashiol was still numb from his release, absorbed with the scent of her skin. ‘Why mess with a system that already works?’
Hel tilted her head at him, a cynical expression taking over. ‘Same old Ash, always in a rush. Any minute now you’ll be buttoning up your breeches and running off to stop some invasion or catastrophe, to save the world or a damsel, and I won’t see you for months unless you need my help.’
He was a little light-headed, but he honestly couldn’t think of anywhere he needed to be for the foreseeable future. He scooped her up in his arms and dragged her into bed. ‘Hells with that. Let’s see what it’s like when we take it slow.’
20
It was warm, up on the roof. This spring had been a cold one, but the sun was working a little harder as they moved towards summer, and the year was picking up.
Macready soaked up the sunshine, nestled against the tiles of the sloping roof. Kelpie could be trusted to keep an eye on things, and to nudge him awake a second or two before Crane returned so he could pretend to have been awake and alert the whole time the lad was gone.
Kelpie had taken over Crane’s observation post so that they could send him for luncheon supplies. It was a long-held tradition that younger sentinels performed such tasks for the elder ones, and there was no reason to change it just because there were only three of them left and only one young enough to count as a junior.
While Crane was gone, Kelpie and Macready settled into their usual habit of companionable silence. There was no reason to fill the air up with banter and one-upmanship, as they did when the lad was around.
A musky, familiar scent woke Macready from his doze. He glanced across to Kelpie, whose troubled eyes told him that she had caught it too. Ferax.
‘And a pleasant morning to yourself, Lord Dhynar!’ Macready called out in a singsong voice, not moving from his comfortable position.
Kelpie squinted along the roof, and Macready could guess by the angle of her gaze exactly where the young Ferax Lord was standing. Good to know.
‘I thought you’d still be licking your wounds,’ said Kelpie. ‘A little early to invite a second helping, wouldn’t you say?’
Dhynar’s light, supple footsteps moved towards them. ‘And where’s that King of yours now to defend your honour?’ the young Lord asked in a teasing voice. His foot hit the tile closest to Macready’s head. He made no move of aggression, but he smelled of threat.
Macready rolled into a defensive stance, sliding Tarea—the skysilver sword, his favourite lass—out from where she had been hidden at his side. Kelpie moved too, stepping forth as she drew one of her Sisters, so that Dhynar was faced with two sentinels and two long, sharp skysilver blades. The sword tips danced close to his throat.
The young Lord swallowed. ‘Ashiol gave your swords back, I see.’
Macready smiled pleasantly. ‘And fine pieces of work they are, these lovely blades of ours. Not a speck of rust on them, would you believe, after all this time?’ His left hand was free to unsheathe Jeunille, the skysilver dagger that was a pair with Tarea. ‘Not just the swords,’
he added helpfully.
Dhynar stepped back.
Kelpie’s smile was fierce. ‘Did you have something to say, my Lord? A message to pass on to our Power and Majesty perhaps, or something important to discuss with his loyal sentinels?’
Dhynar moved another step or two out of range of the blades. ‘He is our Power and Majesty? I’d heard otherwise.’
Macready saw Kelpie’s knuckles whiten a little on the hilt of her sword. He nudged her with his hip and she nodded, lowering her blade as he did. All very well to pose in dramatic fashion, but standing in attack stance for more than a minute took its wear and tear on the shoulders.
‘Did he give you any reason to think he wasn’t up for it?’ Kelpie demanded.
Dhynar had his grin back, though it was less cocky than it had been earlier. ‘Not me, demoiselle. His performance was very impressive. But if our Ashiol is so keen to lead us, where is he? Why hasn’t he marched into the Arches and declared his intentions? If he is so certain about staying, why is he consulting the seer right at this moment?’
Now that was funny. Macready smirked. ‘Have you been scrabbling about in the gutters and alleys, following our boy about his morning chores? I would have thought it beneath your dignity, my Lord.’
This was how to get the young coves. Attack them in the ego.
‘I have people to do that for me,’ Dhynar said defensively.
‘I shouldn’t think your courtesi were up to much after that beating Ashiol gave them,’ said Kelpie.
‘Think what you like,’ said Dhynar, recovering his composure. ‘Interesting things have been overheard this morning. A word here, a sentence there. It is your precious Ashiol who is scrabbling to find some alternative to getting stuck here as our Power and Majesty. A menagerie, he called us. Monsters and clowns. I’m not saying he’s wrong…’
‘Sounds like a fair assessment to me,’ said Macready. And my, it was fine to have the freedom to be rude to Lords of the Court again.
Dhynar backed up slowly until he reached the ladder. ‘Ask yourself, if Ashiol Creature King is ready and willing to be our Power and Majesty, why does he have his most valuable servants on a roof in the middle of nowhere spying on some shabby little dressmaker?’
It was a valid point, and one Macready had been trying not to think about. ‘Spit your poison somewhere else, my Lord. We have no time for you here.’
Dhynar’s face twisted into something ugly. ‘We know what he’s doing, this King of yours. If you think we’ll let him get away with it, you’re more stupid and loyal than I ever thought possible.’
Macready let out a long breath after Dhynar was gone. Then, very solemnly, he kissed the blade of his sword, then his dagger. ‘Nice to have you back, my lovelies.’
‘I’ve had a nasty thought,’ said Kelpie.
‘Just the one?’
‘When Dhynar says “we”, who does he mean?’
‘Feck! An alliance?’
‘That’s what it sounds like.’
‘How could we have missed that?’
‘We’ve been preoccupied since yesterday.’
‘You think it’s that recent?’
‘Dhynar’s scum, and he’s a child. None of the other Lords gave him the time of day before now, even when he took on his fourth courteso. He wasn’t worth anything when Garnet was Power and Majesty, but the landscape of the Court changed yesterday.’
Macready shook his head. ‘They think he’s a little maggot. Not one of the Lords would lower themselves to ally with him.’
‘Unless he suddenly has something that’s valuable,’ said Kelpie, thinking it out. ‘Dhynar joined the Court only a year before Ash’s exile, right? He was Livilla’s message boy, but had barely come into any powers. Ash was spending less and less time at Court, and when he did he was tied up with Garnet’s power games.’
Macready nodded. It was all horribly clear now. ‘Dhynar is the only one of the current Lords who’s had few dealings with our boy. Poet, Priest, Livilla, Warlord—Ashiol knows them all too well, inside and out.’
‘Dhynar’s the only Lord that Ash doesn’t know exactly how to handle. That’s worth something to whichever of the Lords is smart enough to see it.’
‘As if the little pip wasn’t powerful enough already. An alliance will make things messy, so it will.’
‘Of course, if all they want is for Ash to take his place as Power and Majesty, we shouldn’t have too much of a problem,’ Kelpie said hopefully.
Macready just looked at her.
The ladder creaked behind them as Crane bounded up, carrying a parcel of food. ‘Who was it?’ he asked breathlessly.
The other two looked at him. ‘Who was what?’ Macready asked.
‘The man who came to the dressmaker’s door with flowers and sweetheart tokens.’ Crane’s face changed as he took in Kelpie’s and Macready’s blank expressions. ‘Weren’t you watching?’ He pushed past them both and practically threw himself over the parapet. ‘He’s gone!’
‘We were a mite busy,’ said Macready.
Crane glared at them both. ‘We’ve been sitting here for fourteen hours waiting for some evidence of a man linked to this household, and you missed it?’
‘Lucky you caught a glance of the cove, is it not?’
‘I turned my head away so the dressmaker wouldn’t recognise me,’ Crane said between gritted teeth. ‘I thought you’d be up here getting a good look and preparing to follow him. Too much to hope that you could pay attention to a job for ten minutes straight…’
‘Getting a little full of yerself, are you not, master spy that you are?’
‘At least I take our work seriously!’
‘Will you both shut up,’ Kelpie snapped. ‘Crane, it doesn’t matter about the man.’
‘But Ashiol wanted—’
‘I said it doesn’t matter.’
Macready was watching her face. ‘And now we’ve gotten over the joy of those shiny distractions you brought us, my lovely, and our blades are settled back in their rightful places, will you tell us exactly what it is you know that we don’t?’
Kelpie looked uncomfortable, but motioned for them both to sit down. ‘Ash wanted to know if there was a man attached to the household, yes? Last nox, he thought the dressmaker was in league with a hidden King, one that came into his powers late, or has been hiding his powers. He might have been her brother, lover, whatever. Someone close to her. But this morning, Ash realised he had been looking at things the wrong way. The reason we’re still up here, keeping an eye on that shop across the road, is that Ash thinks she is the hidden King.’
Macready blinked. ‘That bit of a lassie?’
‘One of the three demoiselles in the house, yes. But most likely the dressmaker herself. Ash felt the King’s animor in the rose dress and the clothes in the workshop.’
‘A lass as a Creature King,’ said Macready, thinking it over. ‘Thought it wasn’t possible.’
‘Just because it’s never happened before doesn’t mean it’s not possible,’ said Kelpie. ‘Ash went to the seer to find out for certain. But from what Dhynar said—I think she must be. Somehow, Dhynar knows about it. Probably whichever Lord he’s allied with knows it as well.’
‘Why is Ashiol so interested in this woman?’ interjected Crane. ‘She’s not a threat to him. If she’s belonged to the daylight world this long, it’s unlikely that she’ll suddenly rise up out of nowhere and challenge him.’
Macready rolled his eyes. ‘Will you explain it to our innocent here, Kelpie my love, or shall I do the honours?’
‘Be my guest.’
‘Laddie-buck, our man Ashiol isn’t worried that the dressmaker will rise up out of the daylight to challenge him as Power and Majesty. He’s worried that she won’t.’
Crane’s face fell. ‘He really wants to leave us.’
‘That’s his plan,’ said Macready. ‘Can you blame the man? I’d leave us if I could.’
‘And the question is,’ Kelpie said. ‘If Dhynar and
the other Lords are planning to force Ash into staying, do we help or hinder them?’
Macready tilted his head at her. ‘Lass of mine, that’s not even a question.’
Kelpie sighed in agreement. ‘Our loyalty’s not to the city or the Court. It’s to the Creature Kings.’
‘Both of them,’ said Crane, looking back across the parapet and, down at the little dressmaker’s shop.
The delivery was for Delphine, of course. Velody didn’t know why she bothered opening the door on sweetheart days.
‘Is she in by any chance?’ asked the suitor in a hopeful voice, hanging on to his armful of flowers, sweetmeats and love poems.
Velody slid her eyes sideways to the kitchen door, where Delphine stood shaking her head wildly.
‘Apparently not,’ Velody said to the suitor, relieving him of his bundles.
‘They’re not all from me,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Some other lads put a few tokens in—they were too bashful to come themselves.’
Velody grinned at him. ‘And you thought being the only one brave enough to come to her door might earn you an extra point or two?’
He smiled back, unconsciously charming and oh, so young. ‘You’d think.’
‘I’ll tell her which are yours,’ she promised him.
‘The poppy posy and the sugared almonds,’ he said all in a rush. ‘And that note there, on the peach-coloured paper. I’m Simeon of the Alexandrine, Via LaChette.’
‘I’ll tell her,’ said Velody, stepping back so she could close the door in his face.
She carted the armful of sweetheart tokens into the kitchen and let them fall onto the table. She and Delphine hadn’t spoken to each other all day and this was as good an excuse as any to make amends. ‘How do you do it, Dee? There’s a whole army of Aufleur men madly in love with you, and not one of them knows a thing about you apart from your address and your favourite hem-length.’
‘If they did know me, they wouldn’t be in love with me,’ drawled Delphine.
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