Shadow and Thorn

by Kenley Davidson

  Bending down, he blinked back tears and pressed his lips to her brow. Then he stepped away and allowed Malichai to lift her into his arms. Slowly and carefully, they followed their companions out of the library and shut the door behind them.

  Chapter 17

  They did not have to go far. Their quarry stood in the entry hall, engaged in a stare-down that appeared likely to last for all eternity. Rowan’s face was pale, his blue eyes blazing with indignation, while Shadow sat sternly upright, her scarred ears pointed forward, her green eyes fixed on the man she had chosen to be her champion. Alexei hoped she was questioning her decision.

  Porfiry was nowhere to be seen.

  Rowan shifted his gaze to Alexei, sardonic smile fixed on his handsome face. “How fortuitous. You will, of course, have hoped to arrive in time to witness my triumph. But I must deny you the pleasure for a short while longer. Athven and I have some unfinished business to attend to. Excuse us while I explain why we must all have the ability to come and go as we please. No man was meant to be confined in such a space forever.”

  Alexei folded his arms and willed himself to a state of outward calm. “Actually, I had no hopes beyond watching your face when you learn what Zara did to you. Or rather, what she convinced you to do to yourself in your quest for power.”

  Rowan laughed. “You mean when she allowed me to gain control over an unfathomable source of power and knowledge? When she handed me the means to see my vision come to fruition? Or when she signed her own death warrant by foolishly choosing to believe that I willingly share with anyone?”

  Only the thought of what was coming allowed Alexei to face Rowan’s taunts without dissolving into rage. That and his conviction that the prince was lying. “I don’t think you intended for anything to happen to her,” Alexei mused. “You might claim to have done it, in order to cause me pain, but I can’t imagine you endangering the source of your power. No”—he shook his head—“you knew the risk. And I doubt you respected Zara enough to see her as a threat.” The look on Rowan’s face told him his conjecture had hit the mark.

  “It was Porfiry,” Alexei said, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. “He waited until you were bonded and then made his move, hoping you would all die when Zara did. But her bond with Athven wasn’t strong enough, so she was the only one affected.”

  Rowan wore a cruel smile. “You are more perceptive than I gave you credit for. It seems your cousin has a remarkable talent for failure, and his treachery only succeeded in handing me an even greater victory. But take heart. If it quenches your thirst for revenge, be assured that Athven took great exception to Porfiry’s actions and responded accordingly.”

  “I doubt there is any punishment Athven could have devised that would have been enough,” Alexei replied harshly.

  “You underestimate her,” Rowan assured him.

  “And you underestimate how much I cared for Zara.” Alexei felt cold and grim, and capable of anything had Porfiry been within his reach. “What, exactly, did she do?”

  “She ate him.” Rowan pronounced the words with a faint tinge of horror, though he did not permit his face to show it.

  “She…” Alexei felt faintly shocked, and yet still a little curious. “However did she…”

  He was interrupted by a shifting in the floor under his feet. In the expanse between Shadow and Rowan, the stone flowed and swirled. A man-like shape emerged, slowly rising through the rock, until the rock itself parted and ran downward to reveal Porfiry. At least his top half. The bottom half remained mired in stone, and even as Alexei took in the stomach-turning sight, Porfiry began to scream, a hair-raising sound of soul-crushing terror.

  “PLEASE!” he howled.

  The sound seemed certain to remain etched in Alexei’s memory forever.

  “For the love of Nar, HELP ME!” Almost before the last syllable of Porfiry’s plea left his lips, the stone swallowed him up again, closing over his head with a soft slap before it once more turned flat and solid.

  “Ate him,” Rowan said, and shrugged.

  Alexei managed to drag his horrified gaze from the spot where Porfiry had disappeared. He’d spent years imagining his cousin’s demise, but this… “That was… instructive,” he managed. He’d not realized Athven had the capacity for such flexibility. Or such cruelty. Whatever end he might have desired for the man who had betrayed him yet again, he would have wished such a fate on no one. “I certainly hope you are planning to take this warning to heart.”

  “Whyever would I need such a warning?” Rowan mocked. “Unlike Porfiry, I am my lady Athven’s staunchest ally. Despite our misunderstandings, we have the same goals and desires, the same interests at heart.”

  “Really?” Alexei had no need to feign disbelief. “Then you have no desire greater than to see the Erathi people restored to their former status? To see Athven herself flourish, and the land grow rich with power once more?”

  “That is part of my vision, of course,” Rowan replied smoothly. “If I indulge in dreams beyond that, I have no doubt that Athven will come to share them in time.”

  Alexei nodded. “Then I’m sure it won’t bother you at all to learn that your entire life from this point forward is tied to hers. That your bond with her is both deep and true, and should she die, you will follow her into death.”

  “Athven is mortar and stone and magic, my friend.” Rowan smiled patronizingly. “She cannot die, not with me to sustain her.”

  “Very true,” Alexei agreed. “As long as you remain within the boundaries set by her magic.”

  “Boundaries?” Rowan echoed. “What boundaries? How can there be boundaries to such power?”

  “Athven Nar is tied to the land,” Alexei said softly. “At her heart is Erath itself, and her power comes from her people. She protects her land as a thorn protects a rose, and she cares nothing for what lies beyond. She was not made to do so.”

  “I have no doubt that I can change her mind in time.” Rowan’s confidence remained unabated.

  “You cannot change her mind, because she has none,” Alexei reminded him. “Mortar and stone, remember? She is a created thing, composed of blood and magic and sacrifice. As such, she has rules. Limitations.”

  “And what has that to do with me?” Rowan asked, still wearing an easy smile of utmost certainty.

  “You are bound to her, and therefore her limitations apply to you.” Alexei smiled back. “Should you step beyond the edges of this valley at any time for the remainder of your life, you will break the tie that binds you to Athven and your bond will be severed. As you did to Zara, so it would be done to you, and you would wither and die before you took another breath.”

  Rowan’s smile faded. A faint question appeared in his eyes, which darted to Shadow, then back. “An unlikely story,” he announced, “though I admit you nearly had me convinced for a moment. I cannot imagine anyone creating a source of power that tied them so tightly to a single location.”

  “That is because you did not bother to understand the Erathi before you attempted to steal their power for your own,” Alexei said sternly. “You came to take and to destroy, but not to learn. If you had asked, if you had paused for even a moment to seek the true nature of Erath and her people, you would have known that we are tied to our land. Our hearts, our lives, our very blood sings with the love of our home. When we leave her, we are but a shadow of ourselves, and cannot be at rest until we feel her stones underfoot once more. It is no mystery that my ancestors tied their power to this place. It was the very beat of their hearts, and they would have died to protect it.”

  The exiled prince grew still, and his gaze fixed on the cat. “Is this true, my lady?” he asked in a deadly soft voice. “Have you deceived me so deeply, and tied me here in the service of your own interests?”

  “I have.” Beatra Nar had never looked more commanding, or more regal. She wore a midnight-blue dress, and a golden circlet rested lightly on her brow. “As you would have done to me. Do not forget, Andari,
that I can now see your heart and read your purposes like the pages of a loathsome book. You cannot hide your darkness from me, any more than I can hide mine from you.”

  Alexei looked around him. His companions stood wide-eyed, gaping at the vision of the restored hall. Athven had enough power now to include them all. All but Malichai and Zara.

  “You have cheated me.” The former prince’s voice sounded almost plaintive, a little boy who could not understand why his dessert had been taken away. “You swore to partner with me, to give me access to your power and knowledge. You said I was your hope for the future.”

  “I did,” Athven acknowledged. “I believed you were the only one with the necessary power, and the will to use it, and so I did what was needed to gain that power. All that I said was true, but you chose an interpretation that suited your inflated sense of self.”

  “My inflated sense of self?” Rowan’s voice rose. “What of you? You believe it is acceptable to enslave me to your own needs and deny me my freedom without my consent!”

  “As you would have done to others, given half a chance,” Athven declared. “We both entered this partnership seeking our own ends. Do not blame me if I proved better at the game than you. I have had hundreds more years to become skilled at manipulation.”

  Rowan, for the first time since Alexei met him, appeared genuinely stunned. At a loss.

  “You have gambled, my lady,” he said at length. “Gambled that I would prefer a life of servitude to the freedom that comes with death.”

  “It seems that I have,” she acknowledged. “I did not foresee Zara’s death, but even had she lived, this would have been a risk. I gambled that you lusted too fiercely after power and control, that you desired life and adulation too strongly to choose annihilation. And now that I can see into the unplumbed depths of your soul, I know that I was right. You will fight me. You will ever seek to turn me to your side. To win the advantage and take my power for your own. And to my shame, there was a time when I might have allowed you to succeed. A short while where your lies sounded tempting and sweet.”

  “And now?” Rowan watched her intently, his face shadowed, unable or unwilling to admit defeat.

  “I have seen what you are, my champion. I know what you desire, and how far you are willing to go to get it. There is much I am willing to overlook, but Zara belonged to me, and now she is dead.”

  “That was not my choice!” he protested. “That was Porfiry’s doing. You heard him!”

  “Porfiry was the one who acted, yes.” Athven did not appear to doubt. “I heard his words, but I hear your heart and your thoughts. You intended to do exactly as he did, after your power was secure and you were certain you would survive the attempt. And while I understand, I cannot forgive.”

  “Then what?” Rowan appeared confused. “We remain locked in contention, battling for control until one or both of us is dead?”

  “I believe there is still a chance for something better,” Athven replied, unperturbed by his ire. “But I swear, now, in front of these witnesses, that I will redeem my mistakes.”

  She turned to Alexei. “You were wrong, Son of Nar. I can change. I can learn. But I cannot take back what was done. What I can promise, what I pledge on my own future existence, is that Rowan Tremontaine will never leave these walls. Until he has learned to love another more than himself, he will remain imprisoned here, safe, where he cannot touch or harm the world beyond. This I do swear.”

  “And how will you stop me?” Rowan’s whisper was soft and dangerous. “Your physical form is a cat. You might have been able to swallow up Porfiry, but he had no way to resist you. You and I are bound, and as you have access to me, so I have access to you. To your power, to your knowledge, to your memories of magic. There are a thousand ways I can cheat your vow and you would never know until it was too late. Given time, I will find the way out.”

  “There is possible truth in what you say,” Athven acknowledged, “but I have sworn what I have sworn and I will not yield. As you can come to know me, so I can come to understand you. I choose to believe that we will have the opportunity to grow, to become better than we are through our years with one another.”

  “And how many years will that be?” Rowan sneered. “It will not be long before I run mad, imprisoned alone here with no one for company but myself and a cat. How can I be expected to change for the better under such conditions?”

  And then Alexei knew what the third piece was for. “Athven, if I may,” he interjected, “perhaps I can offer you a gift, wrought by Nar himself, to make those years less tiresome.”

  Rowan’s handsome face twisted with hatred, all veneer of imperturbability vanished. “Offer me nothing, Erathi. I will accept no gifts or platitudes from a man who was foolish enough to lose everything he ever cared about.”

  “I do offer you nothing,” Alexei assured him, smiling faintly. “Athven, in light of your promise, to hold Rowan Tremontaine without possibility of release until he might learn to love and be loved, I offer you this.” He held out the final piece of the Crystal Rose.

  “I thought you said it was restored. What am I to do with a broken talisman, Son of Nar?”

  “Take it,” he urged. “It is not as broken as you might think. When Nar created the Rose, he knew of our need. He intended that it be broken, just so, and I believe this piece is for you. Even broken things can have beauty and purpose, if you are willing to see it.”

  Athven reached out, then drew back. “That is a physical object,” she protested. “I cannot hold it, not once this vision is done.”

  “Trust me,” Alexei said.

  She put out her hand and he placed the final piece of the Rose on her palm. It was bigger than her hand, but Athven gripped it tightly and held it closer to her face. After only a moment, her eyes began to glow with wonder. “It sings!” she exclaimed, and before anyone could think to stop her, she thrust the piece of crystal directly into her own heart…

  The vision faded, but to the wonder of all, Athven did not. Instead she remained before them, a perfect replica of the last queen of Erath, staring at her own hands as though they represented an unimaginable miracle.

  “What have you done?” She sounded as stunned as anyone.

  Alexei blinked back lingering memories at the sight of her. She might look like his cousin, but her intonations were entirely her own.

  “I merely carried out the wishes of Nar himself,” he answered. “While you carry that piece of crystal, you will retain the ability to live as a human does.”

  “I have often wished to have the power to sustain such a life,” she admitted shakily. “To walk amongst my people and speak to them at will, but it has always seemed impossible. My power was used for other things. But this…” She gazed at Alexei in awe. “It uses so little. I will be able to sustain this avatar as long as I choose!”

  “This is your miracle? Your gift?” Rowan exclaimed in derision. “Instead of being imprisoned alone, I am now to be left with an ancient harridan who has no idea how to be human. Your magnanimity knows no bounds.”

  “No, I really think you’re right,” Alexei replied coolly. “I have made no attempt to kill you for taking the life of someone I care for deeply. Be thankful, Andari, that I have sworn to shed no blood within Athven’s walls.”

  Rowan’s lip curled. “But I have made no such vow.”

  The attack, when it came, took all of them by surprise. Gulver, meek and peaceful healer, snatched the dagger from Malichai’s belt and tried to plunge it into Zara’s heart.

  But Malichai had been too long a warrior to succumb to a sneak attack. He twisted at the last second and took the dagger in his arm with a bellow of pain. Bleeding, and unable to draw a weapon to defend himself, Malichai was still far from helpless. His booted foot lashed out and caught Gulver’s ribs hard enough to knock the smaller man backwards across the floor.

  His head cracked against the stone, but the blow did not knock him out. Undeterred, Gulver scrambled to his feet, dr
ew back and prepared for another stab.

  “Stop!” Silvay held one of her own knives poised to throw, but Alexei thrust himself between her and Gulver.

  “It’s not him, it’s Rowan,” he gasped out, just as Gulver changed his target, snarled in hatred and embedded the dagger in the back of Alexei’s shoulder instead.

  A searing pain shot through Alexei’s torso and threatened to rob him of consciousness, but he fought to remain upright. He could not fall. They needed him. He reached for Gulver with his magic, but his strength faltered.

  “I can’t fight this!” Silvay cried desperately as she looked for a target.

  “Get Rowan.” The words came out weak and rasping, but Silvay heard them, and turned. She was a fraction of a moment too late. Rowan had used the confusion created by Gulver’s attack to slip behind Malichai, who was setting Zara down as gently as possibly while his arm bled rivers of crimson. The prince snaked an arm around Malichai’s neck and tightened his hold, cutting off a howl of rage from the bearded giant.

  Zara fell to the floor as the two men struggled, her limp form twisted at an odd angle. Silvay rushed to catch her, only to be tackled to the floor by Gulver, whose dagger remained embedded in Alexei’s shoulder.

  And through it all, Athven simply watched, with a perplexed expression, as though she did not believe any of it was real. Perhaps she didn’t, Alexei realized, his thoughts fuzzy and indistinct. She had not had a human body before. Even during his aunt’s reign, she would have considered it a waste of power to maintain such a complex avatar. She had never needed one. Hands might still be an illusion to her.