The interior was pitch black. Something moved in its depths.
“Clara,” called her mother. Her voice was warm and soft. “Clara, my dear. Come to me.”
She started to step into the house.
“No.”
It was Emmerich's voice.
“Clara, stop!”
She backed away from the door. “Emmerich! Emmerich, where are you?”
And a gale kicked up, tearing at her clothing and hair.
“Clara, leave the circle!”
Circle?
A bright, wild laugh cut through the noise of the wind and her own confusion. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
“Clara.” The maddeningly familiar voice tugged on her. “Clara, come inside.”
The laugh repeated.
“Clara. Darling. Come inside.”
“No,” she said, gritting her teeth and fought against the wind shoving her toward the cottage.
“Clara, leave the circle,” Emmerich yelled.
Erin ran toward him, his hands glowing blue. Emmerich swung the chains of the manacles at him. He caught the iron in his hand and it melted. Emmerich backed up, his back hitting the table behind him.
“Die, fool,” Erin growled, lunging at him.
Emmerich grabbed the first thing his hand landed on and flung it at the wizard. The green vial broke on landing, splattering its contents over his face. The liquid sizzled and popped. Erin's face began to melt and he fell, screaming.
“I killed your apprentice,” shouted Emmerich. “Don't you want to do something about that?”
Marduk's face hardened into hate, but he continued to chant. Emmerich ran around the circle, trying to reach Marduk, but the wind prevented him. The wind seemed to have hands and arms. It shoved, jostled, and struck him, keeping him back. All he could think to do was yell Clara's name over and over.
Chapter Forty-Two
The creatures kept coming. The captains were able to rally some of the men, though there were many deserters. From the screams, Asher could tell they didn't get far. Men fought beast in between tents and out in open areas. Without his armor, he was quickly injured, but he ignored the blood streaming from his shoulder.
They had to hold. They needed to hold. For Emmerich. For Lorst, he kept chanting in his mind. When he fell to his knees, he thought of his sister and stumbled again to his feet.
But it was hopeless. They were dying.
A hawk's hunting scream rent the air. Asher looked up, confused by the sound. His mouth dropped open as scores of brightly plumed, flying lizards stooped from a great height down onto the camp.
“Sweet Mother,” he whispered, dropping to his knees, feeling the despair well up in him.
Then, the lizards opened their mouths, and blew fire upon Marduk's creatures.
Clara's arms ached. Her back arched against the demanding wind. Her calves burned as she fought to pull herself around the corner of the cottage. With a grunt and a heave, she fell forward—into a rose garden.
A lizard, its shoulders coming up to Clara's chest, covered in rainbow-colored feathers, with wings folded on its back, stood before her. It cocked its head, as if studying her.
A soft breeze blew and on it rode a gentle voice, which she felt as if it came from the lizard. “Elemental spirits and wizards. Lies and true love. The stuff of epics. Do you recognize where you are?”
She looked around. “No.”
“Go forward.”
She did so, passing the lizard, which turned its head to watch her, and the roses dropped away in a burst of scarlet petals and there were only thorny bushes, as far as she could see.
“Where are you, Clara of Bluebell Village? Lady Seer?”
“I don't know.”
The voice laughed. It began to sing. “Thorns of hate. Stalks of pain. They twist, they wind. They catch and hold. Revenge is a sword whose edge is dull. It cannot set one free.”
Clara gasped. “Is this me?”
“Yes.” The voice was near at hand and she jumped and turned.
“Who are you?”
“We are what Marduk did not mean to create. The elementals he has were once creatures of goodness and light. And even though they have forgotten who and what they are, every now and again, a memory comes to them. We are that memory.” He stepped past her, sliding into the maze of thorns, but his voice came to her as clear as ever.
“This is your battle, Clara,” the creature said. “You have to make the decision.”
“What decision?”
“You have to decide what is more important.”
The ground suddenly dropped away and she fell through memory.
Her mother dragged her toward the wagon.
Haggard haggled over her price and stood idly by as the slaver checked for her virginity.
Slavers whipped her, called her whore, forbade her to speak.
Loneliness consumed her as she stood in empty kitchen gardens, listening to distance sounds of revelry of a festival day.
Lady Dwervin led her on a leash and called her Mouse.
Emmerich confirmed her worst fears and refused to explain.
All these memories and a thousand others tore through her, ripping at her sanity. Hate and anger filled her until she thought she would burst into flame with rage.
The laughter broke over her again and she longed to embrace it. She wanted the madness to consume her so she could avenge her pain. She wanted to rip her pound of flesh from the world. As she lurched toward the laughter, another sound broke through the dark.
“Clara!”
The laughter turned to snarling.
“Clara, listen to me!”
Who was that? The voice was so familiar.
“Clara, please!”
Emmerich.
She saw him attacking Haggard, yelling for her to run and save herself.
He taught her how to fight and smiled when she scored a hit.
He cast worried glances toward her when he thought she wasn't looking.
In her sitting room, he nearly kissed her.
In his tent, he swore he would never hurt her.
The anger shattered beneath the weight of the memory, slipping through her fingers like wet sand.
The snarling in the dark became screaming as she tore herself from the darkness of hate and rage, reaching for Emmerich's voice.
Clara stood in a circle, a casket on a pedestal before her. Someone was screaming behind her. She turned in time to see Marduk launching himself at her, dagger in hand.
Catching his arm in her hands, she twisted while she kicked his knee. The joint buckled with a sickening pop. Marduk cried out as he toppled to the side, pulling her down with him. The blade found her, cutting her shoulder deeply.
He tried to scramble on top of her, raising the bloody dagger. Emmerich appeared as he grabbed Marduk in a chokehold, pulling him back. Clara's hand scrabbled to pull up her gown. She drew the knife she had hidden on a strap at her leg. She had felt foolish putting it there in the first place but that foolishness slipped away as she drew the blade, slamming it into his heart.
Blood gushed from his mouth, flinging drops over her. The sorcerer bucked once, twice, and then went still. Emmerich dropped him beside them.
“Clara,” he said. “Look at me. Don't look at him.”
Her eyes went from Marduk's corpse to Emmerich. “I thought you were dead.”
He blinked. “And I thought you were a mute.”
“Things change.”
“And death seems to sometimes be a phase.”
Relief, sweet relief welled up inside her and she laughed despite herself. “What happened?”
“I must have been a part of Marduk's plan. I'm not sure. Maybe he just wanted to gloat.”
Her smile faded. “No. With Monica. Before we leave, and before everyone crowns you a king, I need to know, Emmerich. I need to know what happened. I've had too many nightmares and sleepless nights to not know.”
His face turned g
rim. “Monica was Marduk's apprentice. The night I confronted her, she attacked me. I defended myself.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the reason didn't matter. The woman I loved was dead and I was her murderer. No reason is good enough to change those two facts.”
“The truth wouldn't have hurt you.”
“But I still couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear you thinking of me as the monster I am.”
“You're not a monster.”
He didn't answer for a moment before reaching down to help her up. “We need to leave here.”
But on their way out, they stopped by Gavin's body. Clara dropped to her knees. “Oh, why did you lie?”
“He thought he was protecting you. He loved you, Clara.”
She sobbed and kissed his forehead before closing his eyes.
“We'll give him a proper funeral, I promise. Come.”
She took his hand and allowed him to lead her out.
The menagerie was silent and still. As they passed in front of the large cages, something in the trees rustled and Clara thought for a second she saw a glimpse of brilliant rainbow feathers.
When they emerged out of the cellar door, they were greeted by dozens of soldiers. Bloody, wearing torn clothing, and most of them wounded, they cheered when they saw the couple.
“King Emmerich!” they chanted. “King Emmerich!”
Jarrett came out of the crowd and in his hands he held a crown. “Stole this from the treasury.” He knelt. “My liege.”
Emmerich looked ready to refuse but Clara stepped forward and took it from Jarrett. She turned and placed it on Emmerich's head.
“The king is dead,” she said. “Long live the king.”
And she, followed by everyone else, knelt.
Chapter Forty-Three
“As far as we can determine,” said Bruin, “the elemental spirits imprisoned in the casket are able to attach through strong, negative emotion, such as hate. Gavin's death acted as a catalyst. You, Lady Clara, because of your ability, are particularly sensitive to spirits. Marduk saw this and used it to his advantage. If you hadn't let go of your hate, you would have been possessed and would have been his tool to shape the world to his liking.”
Clara nodded, watching the aerials winging high above. “Has the king been informed of this?”
“It was in my report. I handed it in just two candle marks ago. But I thought I would tell you directly.”
They stood in the Palace's rose garden. Most of the roses were gone and cold wind shook the branches. Winter was coming. It had been three months since Emmerich had been installed as king. King Precene's men, or what had been left of them, arrived three days after General Asher marched into the city with what little remained of his army.
After that was the messy business of rounding up Marduk's supporters and deciding what to do with the creatures in the menagerie. Most creatures killed themselves once the opportunity presented itself. Many others had to be put down. Then someone—a traitor, possibly, they hadn't found yet—released a few still waiting to be put down. They disappeared into the surrounding forest, generating a random sighting and a few livestock thefts.
The aerials, the feathered lizards with their rainbow wings, remained close. They spoke mentally to a few and seemed to only want to sun themselves. No one knew what Marduk had planned for them, or why they had turned on him. Whenever anyone did ask, the aerial only spoke in riddles.
Clara had not told Emmerich about the one that came to speak to her. It seemed too personal, somehow, as if it wasn't meant to be share.
“My lady? Are you all right?”
“I'm well, Lord Bruin. Where is the casket now?”
“Hidden away. We're keeping the location a secret.”
“That would be for the best. And what of the Academy? Did the king accept my recommendation?”
“He did. Thank you, my lady, for persuading the king to allow the Academy to remain open. And I understand you were behind many of the new laws regarding magic. I've been selected to head the new Magical Council.”
She smiled at him. “And you will perform admirably, no doubt.”
He smiled and bowed slightly. “Her ladyship is too kind.”
“No. I'm too honest. Ask my handmaid.”
“Where is Lady Amelia?”
“Gone to fetch something for me. How is Lady Katerina?”
“I'm told she's adjusted to life in the nunnery quite well.”
“I had hoped she would remain with me.”
“Hopes no doubt dashed when she tried to murder you.”
“She should thank the Mother every day that I chose to use the hilt of my dagger rather than the blade.”
“I'm sure she does.” Bruin suddenly cleared his voice. “His Majesty once again extends an invitation for you to dine with him tonight.”
Clara suddenly felt heavy and tired at the mention of Emmerich. Learning the truth did not take away how he had treated her and betrayed her trust. Though she was Court Seer and often attended important meetings, she kept to herself, embroidering and making dresses. She visited Gavin's grave every other day and she tried to make sense of her own life, of her place in the world. She looked out on the horizon and yearned, remembering all of the hints that her father may not have been who she thought.
“Tell him I will join him,” she said. “If there's nothing else?”
“No, my lady.”
“Then I would be alone now.”
He bowed and left her as she faced the horizon again. A storm was coming and she watched the rain sweeping down in the distance in dark curtains.
They ate in the king's private dinner chamber off of the main dining hall, the sound of the Court eating muffled by the stone walls.
Emmerich sat across from her as they ate pumpkin soup with crusty yeast rolls. It could have been ashes for all she tasted it.
Emmerich said, “I've noticed the ladies of the Court wearing your latest designs.”
“Does it please his Majesty?”
“It does. It also pleases me, Emmerich. Clara, please don't be so distant.”
“You're king now. I shouldn't show respect?”
“You're my friend. In private, we can drop the honorifics.” He nodded at the guards. “They won't tell on us.”
She put her spoon down. “Fine.”
“Why are you angry with me?”
“Who says I'm angry?”
“No one. My keen sense of observation picked up on it.”
“I'm surprised. Your keen sense of observation is so often directed elsewhere.”
He grimaced. “I'm king now, Clara. I've been busy.”
“Is that why you've barely spoken to me since the night of your impromptu coronation?”
“I've been sending you invitations to dinner.”
“After the first month.”
“Like I said, I've been busy.”
“Not too busy. You're out every day practicing with the men.”
“If this is about your lessons–”
“It's not that!” The guards twitched when she yelled. Clara took a deep breath.
“What is it then?”
She looked down. “I don't wish to be here.”
He didn't answer for a moment. When he did, his voice carried a rough edge. “You are always free to leave.”
“I know.”
“So why won't you?”
“Because I don't wish to leave you.”
“Guards, out. Everyone, out.”
She looked up in surprise as the men marched out. Soon, it was only the two of them. “What?”
He stood, walking around the table. “That is such a funny thing, what you just said.” He knelt on one knee by her chair.
“Funny? I didn't mean it in jest, I assure you.”
He took her hand. “I love how you sound so proper when you're angry enough to punch me.”
“Then I must sound proper most of the time.”
He gave a sh
ort laugh. “That you do. I said it was funny because I don't much like being king.”
“I don't think it matters if you like it or not.”
“True. But I find myself listening more to Asher than anyone else and many of the decisions I make, they are his suggestions.”
“Perhaps. But people look up to you. It wasn't Clara, Lady Seer, who killed Marduk and won the war. It wasn't Asher, brave General and incisive diplomat. It was Emmerich, the hero of the Rebel Army.”
“I understand that.”
“You can't just leave because you don't want the position.”
“Aye, but–”
“What are you think–”
He kissed her. It started off tenderly–soft brushing of tongue and lips–and slowly became demanding as he drew her tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly, before attacking her bottom lip. He held her by the back of her neck, the pad of his thumb tracing her skin. Slowly, he pulled away.
“Clara,” he said, “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I'm not cut out to be a king. Do you know why I hated Marduk from the beginning?”
She shook her head, too flustered by the kiss to think of anything intelligent to say.
“Because he killed my family. He slaughtered everyone in my caravan because we wouldn't help his master, who was ill. We probably could have saved him but Father wouldn't help a magic user. So his master died and Marduk avenged him. The only reason why I didn't die was because I was in the village, drinking with new friends I had made. And when Monica died, I blamed him for corrupting her. This whole war was started because I wanted revenge. That is not a man who needs to be king.”
She shook her head, standing. “No, that isn't a man who needs to be king. And that isn't the man who is king.”
Emmerich stood. “What do you mean?”
“Emmerich, when you stopped Marduk in the end, when you were in the chamber, were you thinking about your family? Or about Monica?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
He shifted a little, licking his lips. “I was thinking about you, of course. I was thinking about how Marduk needed to be stopped. I suppose I was thinking about how everyone was in danger.”
Clara Page 29
