The Hollow Crown: A Novel of Crosspointe

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  “What is it?” He swung around, looking for enemies, then turned back to her.

  Margaret’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. Her body began to shake. She looked like she was about to collapse. Nicholas dropped the blankets and his pack and put a steadying arm around her. She drew a breath, then finally squeezed the words out: “Forcan—Uniat’s hound. He’s loose in Crosspointe!”

  Nicholas frowned. “Uniat’s hound? What is that?”

  Margaret sagged against him, breathing like she’d been running uphill. He pulled her close, rubbing her back and shoulders to calm her. Keros and Ellyn appeared and halted when they saw the two embracing.

  “She says Uniat’s hound—something called Forcan—is loose in Crosspointe,” Nicholas told them.

  Both exchanged a frown, looking perplexed. Nicholas shook his head to indicate he had no better sense of it than they did. But Margaret’s reaction told him whatever it was, this Forcan was not to be taken lightly.

  He picked her up and carried her back to their camp and settled her beside the fire. Ellyn handed him the blankets and Nicholas wrapped them around her. She clung to him still and he held her as she slowly gained control of herself. At last she sat up straight. She groped for his hand and held it tightly.

  Without any prompting, she began telling her story, starting with her capture. None of them interrupted, and when she stumbled and her breathing turned ragged, Nicholas pulled her tight against his chest.

  When she was done, the silence lay thick and heavy. The fire crackled and an owl hooted and swept low over them. The smell of the roasting rabbits turned Nicholas’s tense stomach. Margaret snuggled against him and he didn’t know if he could have let her go if she chose to pull away. Not after hearing the fullness of what had happened.

  Suddenly Keros stood and stalked away. A few minutes later he returned.

  “Sylmont is—” He waved his hand, his mouth twisting. “The lights of it are chaotic and there’s Jutras majick tied up in it. I can feel it.” His gaze flicked to Ellyn and away. “We have to get down there. We have to go stop the majicars from destroying themselves and Crosspointe. If there are any majicars left.”

  “How?” Margaret asked, sounding stronger now.

  With a heroic effort, Nicholas forced his arms to relax as she sat up.

  Keros hesitated. “I need to speak with you alone,” he told her. He didn’t look at Nicholas or Ellyn.

  Margaret drew back, frowning. “I don’t think—”

  “This is a Crown matter,” he said, interrupting. “You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a king right now. If you think this is information for Azaire and Weverton, then that’s up to you.”

  She nodded and stood, walking out of the light of the fire. Keros followed close behind. Nicholas had climbed to his feet with her and watched them go. A hollow space opened in his chest. Whatever Keros was going to say, it could only mean danger to her. Danger she might not share with him because he was a Weverton and she was a Rampling and there were lines that could never be crossed.

  Nicholas looked at Ellyn. Her expression simmered with fury and perhaps a dash of hurt.

  “They need us,” she said.

  He nodded, turned away from the darkness and sat back down. “They do. But they may not want us.”

  Chapter 21

  Margaret followed Keros into the darkness. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, finding herself missing Nicholas’s warm strength. Her eyes narrowed. His care of her had seemed . . . personal. More than just the common kindness of a man looking after an ailing woman. He’d seemed to be truly worried for her, and she had felt safe with him.

  She grimaced. If she was truthful with herself, she’d been attracted to him for some while—even before this journey—but he was Nicholas Weverton, her family’s enemy, and she’d never dared even think of it. Her father had taught her to uproot such feelings ruthlessly from their first birth. She knew she should crush them now. She couldn’t afford to have any deep attachment to anyone. That’s what being a Rampling meant—putting Crosspointe ahead of everything and everyone else. Caring for people interfered with that, or meant eventually betraying them in horrible, ugly ways. As her father’s weapon, she had even less choice in such matters than the rest of her family.

  But the idea of killing those tender green shoots was more than she could bear. She huddled around them, taking warmth and strength from them.

  Keros led her a good distance from camp. Finally he swung around to face her. “I know what’s driving majicars insane.”

  Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. “What?”

  His mouth pulled down and he looked away. His hands knotted and he began to pace as if he couldn’t stand still. “Somehow, I don’t know how, the Jutras have infected them—us—with their majick, in a similar manner to the way that sylveth infects us.”

  Margaret could only stare, despite the roar of questions that spun through her mind.

  He grinned at her astonishment—a violent, bitter expression. “Sylveth majick resists the blood majick infection. That’s what’s driving majicars mad. That’s the feeling I had of something inside my head.” He rubbed his hand over his beard. “I don’t think it’s any more curable than taking away the transformation by sylveth.”

  “You said you thought it was the backlash from the Kalpestrine falling,” she said, her stomach plummeting as she thought of the ramifications of his news.

  “It was a reasonable thought and it may be having some effect on the situation. But it is not the cause. I am sure of it.”

  “Why? How do you know?”

  He looked away again. “In breaking the spell to rescue you, it was necessary for me to use blood majick.” And then he told her what had happened, from breaking through the crimson mist and capturing the firefly star, to melding the two majicks into a weapon and using Margaret’s pain and terror to do it.

  When he was finished, he stood in front of her, his shoulder slumped, his arms hanging loose at his sides, his face a wash of horror and despair at himself and what he’d become. He dared not look at her.

  “You think all majicars are . . . infected?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

  “Yes.”

  “And there’s nothing anyone can do about it?”

  He shook his head.

  “And if the majicars don’t accept this transformation, then they will go insane?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Ellyn is infected?”

  He nodded, then slowly, like the words were pulled out of him, “But she is not fully transformed. Not yet. Not like me.”

  “The star—she needs that to finish the trans formation?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. I think it likely, though it could be that she simply needs to try the majick.”

  “So the Jutras don’t fully have a hold on her?” Not like Keros. He flinched and stepped back.

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Margaret was silent a moment. It was only long training that kept the froth of her emotions from spilling out in a terrified wail. If what Keros said was true and the Jutras had managed to infect all of Crosspointe’s majicars with blood majick, then it was a disaster beyond all imagining. The majicars would be driven to madness. She shook her head. They already were, if the destruction in Sylmont was anything to go by. Which meant they would spread destruction like a disease, and what was left of Crosspointe would have no defenses when the Jutras armada arrived. It was coming. Margaret couldn’t doubt it. She didn’t know how they would navigate the Inland Sea, but they would. They already had at least twice.

  She swallowed hard, reining in the panic that flashed through her. “We have to get this news to Ryland and Vaughn.”

  Keros shook his head. “There’s no time”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He drew a breath. “Ellyn says that those poles are hoskarna and they allow the Jutras gods to establish themselves in the land. They are pushing down into the land even
as we speak. She wants to knock them down.”

  Suddenly she remembered the story Saradapul had told her about the Jutras gods and how they wanted to return to these lands. “Do it.”

  “What if they are fueling my new blood majick powers? Meris’s tits, don’t you see? Sylveth majick is failing. Even if all our majicars were sane, we might not have the power to stop the Jutras wizards. Using their own blood majick against them could be our only chance. I defeated that Jutras priest because he couldn’t fight the combined majick. If we knock out the hoskarna, we might kill our chance to defend ourselves.”

  She stared. She couldn’t see any flaws in his logic. Except . . . infected with blood majick, was he still loyal to Crosspointe? Was any majicar?

  He saw her doubts and his face twisted. “I don’t know either,” he gritted from between clenched teeth. “I hate the Jutras with every part of me. But have I become their tool? I wish to the gods that I knew.”

  His anguish was real. He looked sick.

  “No. You saved me. You are my friend and until you do something that screams Jutras spy, I trust you,” Margaret said, knowing her father and brothers would have slit his throat just to be sure. But that was why she was entirely unfit to rule. She didn’t have the necessary ruthlessness.

  His eyes closed and then he opened them slowly. “You are certain?”

  She nodded. “Ryland and Vaughn may have other ideas,” she warned him.

  “Perhaps you should take your cue from them.” She smiled tightly. “I can’t. That’s not—” She drew a breath and blew it out, her throat thick with emotion. Her chest ached. “I don’t want to. Now, we have to remove the hoskarna. We can’t chance leaving them.” She explained what Saradapul had told her. “We’ll stand a better chance of defeating the Jutras if their gods aren’t here helping them.”

  He nodded, but there was something reluctant in his expression. Margaret frowned. “What is it?”

  “What about Ellyn? Do I tell her? Do I help her make the full change to blood majicar?”

  Whether she liked it or not. He didn’t say it, but Margaret knew that’s what he meant. Sympathy made her reach out and take his hand. He’d been made a majicar against his will, and now a blood majicar. Forcing Ellyn would hurt him deeply. But he’d do it—for Crosspointe. If she needed confirmation that he did not belong to the Jutras, she had it. Unless it is a ploy to create another Jutras majicar. Her father’s voice niggled up from the grave. She quashed it. No. She had to trust him. She couldn’t stop the Jutras alone. Without him, without Nicholas and Ellyn, too, she had little chance, especially with Forcan wandering about. She shuddered, remembering the enormous beast. Her hand clenched on Keros’s.

  “We’ll talk to her,” she said, prevaricating. And if she said no . . . Margaret didn’t know what she would do.

  “And Weverton? What do we tell him?”

  “Everything,” she said and knew in this her brothers would disagree as well. Perhaps even put a dagger through her throat for treason. But Nicholas had resources, and right now the Crown was in shambles. Crosspointe needed him whether anyone liked it or not.

  Keros nodded. “I agree, for what it’s worth. He seems to have learned some things on this journey. He will make a good ally.”

  “And Ellyn? She belongs to Azaire. How much can I rely on her?”

  “She has done more for us than is justified by her service to Azaire. But I don’t know. She hates the Jutras. That much is true. She would not like to see them overrun Crosspointe.”

  “Then let’s go get this over with.”

  Margaret started to turn away, but Keros caught her arm. She turned back.

  “There’s something else. I didn’t have time to tell your brother and now—I don’t know how it fits into any of this, but you should know.”

  Something in his voice sent a chill racing across Margaret’s skin. She folded her arms and clutched them tight, bracing herself. “What is it?

  “What do you know of Lucy Trenton?”

  “My cousin? As far as I know, my father confided everything to me about her.” As far as she knew, but her father kept a lot of secrets. Keros’s wince told her that he was equally of aware of her father’s penchant.

  “She is a majicar of the magnitude of Errol Cipher,” he said.

  Margaret nodded. Errol Cipher was one of the founders of Crosspointe and had built the Pale. No majicar since had even come close to matching his power and abilities until Lucy had been transformed last season. Except Shaye Weverton. Her stomach twisted with guilt. Nicholas had been searching everywhere for his nephew. As much as family in general and Shaye in particular meant to him, she couldn’t imagine he’d forgive her when he found out. She’d known what her father was doing and she’d kept his secret.

  “She came to see me that night before I came to meet you at the safe house,” Keros continued, pulling Margaret back to the present. “She warned me that majick isn’t working the way it’s supposed to and she said the Pale could fail.”

  Margaret stepped back, her stomach twisting. “What?”

  “She was worried. She was going to the Bramble to look through Errol Cipher’s library. She told me we should feed the Wall tree as a precaution—to try to strengthen it. I didn’t have the chance before we left Sylmont. And another thing, Marten was with her. He went in to explore the remains of the Kalpestrine. He said there was an enormous sylveth ball the size of a ship deep down in the depths of it. He didn’t know what it was or what it meant. They said they would send word when they knew more.”

  Margaret chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to sort through this new information. There was a tremble deep inside her that wouldn’t go away, and she felt like she might shatter to pieces at any moment. She felt overwhelmed and wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep and let someone else deal with this entire mess. She held herself in a hard grasp. No. There was no time to fall apart and no one else who had this information. She had to figure out a way to deal with it all.

  She dismissed the business about the sylveth ball. There was nothing she could do about it, even if she wanted to. Nor was the tree her first priority. She drew a breath and blew it out, squaring her shoulders. “So, we need to uproot the hoskarna, find Forcan and kill him, find a way to stop the majicars, and then at some point, feed the tree. That’s all?”

  “That’s all.” He grinned tiredly. “Plus get word to your brothers. Weverton sent a man to find Ryland and warn him about the regent working with the Jutras.”

  “I guess we should stop wasting time,” she said. “Let’s go give the others the news.”

  She linked her arm through his. He stiffened and then pressed her close.

  The smell of roasting meat wafted on the air and Margaret was surprised when her mouth watered. How long had it been since she’d eaten last? Her mind shied from the question, from remembering the last few days.

  “Are you all right? You’ve gone white.” Keros covered her hand with his.

  “Fine,” she rasped, forcing her legs to firm. “Just hungry.”

  He didn’t push and for that Margaret was grateful. She’d told the story once and that had been enough. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Never again.

  Ellyn was turning the coneys on the spit when they returned. Her face was pinched tight with fury. Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. Margaret felt a twinge of something like disappointment.

  “Where’s Weverton?” Keros asked before she could.

  “Checking the horses,” was the frigid reply.

  Margaret sat down near the fire and pulled a blanket around herself.

  “Did you two have a nice walk?” Ellyn asked caustically.

  “No,” Keros said.

  She drew back at that, her brows winging downward. Just then Margaret heard the sound of footsteps and Nicholas returned. He paused, his gaze riveted on her, and then came to sit. He chose a place on the opposite side of the fire. He said nothing. Margaret felt a chill that had nothing to
do with the Jutras or the danger they were in. She hadn’t realized how much she had wanted to be near him.

  Silence fell, broken only by the sounds of the spit turning, the flitter and chirp of night birds, and the sneeze of one of the horses. Margaret was searching for the words to begin what must be said when her stomach growled loudly. She flushed.

  “The rabbits will be done soon,” Ellyn said, not quite as coldly.

  Nicholas stood and went to rummage in one of the packs. He brought out a hunk of cheese and two loaves of bread. He cut slices off both and passed them around. He never said a word, his fingers brushing Margaret’s impersonally. He set a flask of water down beside her and returned to his seat.

  Margaret ate slowly. The bread was dry and the cheese hard, but the flavors were delicious. She sipped the water and ate more. She finished quickly. Ellyn pulled the rabbits from the fire and cut them up. She served them on a slice of bread. Margaret ate more slowly, careful not to burn herself.

  When she was through, she looked at Ellyn and Nicholas. “I need your help,” she said.

  “We’ve been helping you,” Ellyn said sharply.

  “Yes, but the point has always been to help Azaire, has it not? Now I need you to help me—help Crosspointe. The things I’m about to tell you may make you want to scurry home and tell your Gerent, but there’s no time. Not if we are going to save Crosspointe.”

  She looked at Nicholas. “And you—I know you hate the Crown rule. But there’s no room for division now. We have to fight together.”

  “And you’ll trust me?” he said, the words sharp as hammerblows.

  “Yes.” She looked down at her hands, trying to decide where to begin. But Keros spoke first.

  “The reason the majicars of Crosspointe are going insane is because we have been infected by Jutras blood majick. It is taking root in all of us. The sylveth majick is fighting it and it’s driving us mad.” He looked at Ellyn. “We can’t change it or stop it. It’s done. We’ve been thrown into the tide and we are changed. There’s no going back.”