Astlin inclined her head toward him and rose from her chair. “Thanks, Anris.”
“We’ll find out what their protection’s worth when Shaiel comes knocking,” Jaren said.
“Call me an ingrate,” said Gid, “but I’m with Peregrine. Swords and armor won’t do much good against corvettes and nexus-runners. Does Avalon have any other aircraft?”
“We may appear defenseless,” Anris said, “but appearances can deceive. Our last war was a struggle for the conquest of hell fought across all types of infernal terrain. Air power was of little use in a campaign to take and hold ground, so we devised other innovations.”
Unsettled by the talk of war, Astlin left Gid, Jaren, and Anris and joined the Serapis refugees on the landing pad. The Nesshin children laughed as they chased each other around the narrow lawn that encircled it.
A breeze blew in from the left, perfumed with tree blossoms, pine needles, and clover. Astlin turned into the sweet wind and saw a delicate-looking bridge of pale stone and metal spanning a deep ravine from which the sound of rushing water rose.
The bridge vanished into the trees on the other side, and while she tried to puzzle out how the natural and artificial beauty complimented each other, Astlin saw a line of figures emerging from the tree line to file across the bridge.
Leading the procession was a woman of stunning beauty whose raven black hair, gathered in a complex arrangement at the top and back of her head, defied the wind. The breeze did ripple the snowy silk of her Steersman’s robe and made the golden Master’s pattern at its hem shimmer.
Next came a willowy young woman who, like Astlin, seemed to be in her late teens. Light brown waves of hair fell to the waist of her white dress’ skirt. Her sharp-featured face resembled the first woman’s so closely that the two of them had to be related.
Thera. Never thought I’d meet you again so soon.
A pair of soldiers in green and gold uniforms under silver armor marched behind the two women. The men faced straight ahead, but their eyes constantly scanned their surroundings.
Anris stood at attention beside the bridge’s near end. Just before the dark-haired woman crossed onto the platform, he called out, “It is my honor to present Nakvin, by Faerda’s Favor, of Seele, Avalon, and all the Nine Circles, Queen and Protector.”
Nakvin looked over the newly arrived crowd and gave Astlin a warm smile that showed small sharp fangs. But in the next moment her silver eyes widened, and she brushed by Astlin heading for Teg’s bed, which was being wheeled out of the transport.
“Talk to me, gentlemen,” the queen said to the medics hovering over Teg. “What’s his condition?”
“The patient’s in a deep coma,” said the ship’s surgeon from the Serapis. “Our working theory right now is tethite poisoning.”
Nakvin looked down at Teg’s sleeping face. She bit her lip in what Astlin perceived as an attempt to keep her composure.
“Get him to Faerda’s temple,” Nakvin ordered the medics. “I’ll show you the way.”
The Serapis’ chief surgeon frowned. “I was expecting unorthodox treatment, but not slaughtering goats and burning incense.”
Silver fire flashed in Nakvin’s eyes. “The first hospitals started as religious institutions. But you can relax. This one’s the royal infirmary. It hasn’t been used for worship in centuries. Now shut up and follow…”
Nakvin’s voice trailed off as she saw Jaren stepping down from the cockpit. Both of them stared at each other for a long moment.
“Jaren?” the queen asked in a near-whisper.
“Nakvin. It’s been a while.” Jaren nodded at Thera. “Elena.”
“I have to get Teg to the infirmary.” Nakvin made it sound like a dismissal and an apology at the same time.
Jaren raised his only hand in surrender. “Don’t let me keep you. We need every man in fighting shape. But it’s good to see you’ve done well for yourself.”
Thera—or Elena, as Jaren called her—approached Teg’s bedside and spoke to Nakvin.
“Teg is my responsibility, mother. Let me see to him.”
Nakvin glanced at her daughter before facing Jaren again. “Looks like my schedule’s opened up. If you want, we can have lunch in the council hall.”
“How about somewhere more private?” asked Jaren.
“Whatever.” Nakvin threw her arms around him. Her musical voice started to break. “I’m just glad you made it back alive.”
Jaren returned her embrace and planted a small kiss on her lips. “Me too,” he said, sounding equally tired and relieved. “It was a strange hard road, but you’re worth the trip.”
“Anris?” Nakvin waved the malakh toward her. He covered the distance in a few great strides while Elena and the medics took Teg across the bridge.
“Have someone find Jaren a room,” Nakvin continued. “He’ll also need new clothes.
Anris bowed the way an oak tree might. “I shall see to it myself, Your Majesty.”
“Thanks,” Nakvin told him with a smile. “One last thing—can you make sure Jaren finds his way to my apartments once he’s freshened up?”
“You may depend on it,” Anris said. He nodded to Jaren. “Captain Peregrine, if you will follow me, sir.”
Anris and Jaren filed toward the bridge. Just before he set foot on the fragile-looking span, Jaren looked back over his shoulder.
“I hope this meeting with Avalon’s monarch goes better than my last one,” he said to Nakvin with a wink. Then he turned and followed Anris across the ravine.
“Please excuse the wait,” Nakvin said to the remaining Serapis crew and passengers on the landing pad. “I know some of you from my short visit to your ship. For those I haven’t gotten to know yet, my daughter explained that you’re Shaiel’s enemies, which is good enough for me.
“That’s my way of saying welcome to Seele. Following the nine foot purple guy will get you to the palace, where my staff will help you settle in. If there’s anything you need, just ask one of them. If you need something only I can help you with, I hold court every day. Feel free to drop in.”
Gid stepped to the head of the murmuring crowd and raised his voice. “Okay. You heard the lady. We’re guests in her house, so don’t carry on like idiots. Everybody grab your gear and catch up to the big guy.”
The platform emptied amid a chorus of excited chatter, thudding luggage, and footsteps clattering on stone.
It was only a matter of minutes until Astlin stood alone beside the parapet, looking out over Avalon’s hills. Jaren and Nakvin clearly meant a lot to each other, and Astlin’s heart had leapt to see them reunited. Now it ached in sharp awareness of Xander’s absence.
This is selfish, Astlin thought. Nakvin took me into her home. I should be as happy for her as I would be if Xander were back.
In truth, she was happy for her friends. But the gloom wouldn’t lift from her soul while her husband was Shaiel’s captive.
“You’re not cut out to be a tragic loner,” a melodic female voice said from behind her. “I think it’s the hair. Really makes you stand out.”
Nakvin stepped up to the wall. She briefly surveyed her realm before turning to Astlin.
“I’m sorry,” said the queen.
Astlin met her silver eyes. “For what?”
“For ignoring you.”
Uncomfortable warmth radiated through Astlin’s face. “It’s okay. Really. You just saw your oldest friends for the first time in years.”
“I’ve been waiting even longer for you,” Nakvin said softly.
The queen’s words gave Astlin a start. “For me? I’ve never met you before.”
Nakvin took Astlin’s hands in hers. “But I met you—before the Cataclysm, aboard the Exodus. Fire and wind helped me save my daughter that day. You were the fire.”
Astlin looked away. “That was another life. One I’m not very proud of.”
“Then be proud you brought my friends back to me in this one,” Nakvin said. “I am. I wanted—needed to
thank you. Don’t you know who you are, Astlin?”
Numbing cold replaced the ache in Astlin’s heart. “Someone who couldn’t help the man who means more to her than anyone.”
Nakvin lowered her hands and smoothed her robes. “Well, custom says that petitions are supposed to wait for tomorrow’s audience, but cases like this warrant invoking my royal prerogative. Elena told me about Xander. I don’t play the gods’ games, but I’ll do everything in my power to break Vaun’s hold on your husband.”
The ice encasing Astlin’s heart shattered. Warm moisture filled her eyes. “Nakvin, I—I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I already granted your petition,” Nakvin said with a smile, “but I want you at the audience tomorrow, anyway.”
Astlin blinked. “You’re summoning me to court?”
“Not exactly. I’m asking you to hold court with me and Elena.”
Astlin had no words.
Nakvin snagged the bullet hole in Astlin’s dress with her fingernail. “You’ll need some new clothes, too. Come on. I know a good tailor.”
Nakvin’s plan to leave her guest in the royal tailor’s expert care turned into a lengthy collaboration on Astlin’s new dress. Nakvin insisted on making her a gift of the garment, and when Astlin mentioned having her last several outfits ruined in combat, the queen ordered the dress to be Worked using the same process that made her own Steersman’s robe nearly indestructible.
After failing to argue Astlin out of a mostly black color scheme, but winning her agreement on fine velvet and silk fabrics, Nakvin hurried back to the royal apartments. She scolded herself for losing track of time while admitting a strong affection for the earnest young woman.
The guard outside her gold and ivory doors informed Nakvin that Anris had already shown Jaren in and departed. She rushed inside, her pulse pounding with anticipation and her stomach fluttering with uncertainty all the way down the sweet-smelling cherry wood hallway.
As she touched the inner door’s handle, the sudden fear came over Nakvin that Jaren wasn’t really there. Her fleeting conversation with him on the landing pad had only been an illusion or a dream. Now she would enter and find the room empty.
Nakvin opened the door and there he sat—waiting for her on the couch. His fiery hair was freshly washed, combed, and tied back. He wore the uniform and insignia of a Gen privateer captain. The green jacket with gold piping was open, showing the white shirt beneath. One of his booted feet rested on the low table in front of the couch.
“What kept you?” Jaren asked.
Nakvin slipped inside like a teenager coming home late and shut the door behind her. “Sorry. The time got away from me. I was helping Astlin.”
“Good for both of you,” Jaren said. “That girl’s been to hell and back. I should know.”
“The last time I saw you,” Nakvin said, taking a seat on the opposite couch, “you vanished in a big ball of light. What happened to you? How did you get back?”
Jaren’s smile failed to hide his pain. “I just remember bits and pieces of the last, what, twenty years?” A rueful laugh escaped his chest. “All I know for sure is that I ended up on Crote, scratching out a living like a starved beast. I’m not sure how much longer I’d have held out if Teg’s people hadn’t found me.”
Nakvin didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. “And here you are.”
“Here I am.” Jaren put his foot down on the carpet and leaned forward. “Now you get to tell me how you came into all of this.” His emerald eyes looked over the room.
Nakvin sighed. Compared to the squalor that Jaren had been mired in, contemplating her own rise in station almost made her feel guilty.
“Elena sent me through a door in Tzimtzum that led to the Fourth Circle,” she said. “The place was pretty fireproof, so it weathered the Cataclysm okay.
“Some emissaries from Avalon caught up with me at the Freehold. They confirmed the old king’s death, courtesy of Fallon, and revealed that he’d left no heirs.”
Jaren’s eyes glinted with keen interest. “Not surprising, since the Well was too dry for him to sire kids. Where do you come in?”
Mentioning her parentage made Nakvin’s skin crawl, but Jaren had told his story, so she owed him hers.
“The Light Gen king technically held Avalon as a vassal of Mephistophilis,” she explained. “When you killed him, the deed passed to his consort, Zebel. She’d already fled the Circles, which the Gen court ruled abdication.
“I’m her only known living issue. The court legitimized me and upheld my claim to Avalon’s throne.”
“That was generous of them,” Jaren said. “And unambitious. Why didn’t some other Gen noble claim the throne?”
Nakvin’s voice became flat. “Because none of them can shape the Circles by will alone, I can, and only I was in a position to let them out of the tithe.”
“Smart,” said Jaren. “If they’d tried to go it alone, another baal could’ve barged in and taken over. But giving the throne to Zebel’s heir let them renegotiate the rent and gave them insurance on the deal.”
“You guessed it,” Nakvin said. “Of course, nothing is ever that simple. The baals have been vying for power down here since forever. Every surviving power made a play for Avalon—or was planning one.”
She shivered. “It took years of bloody war, but we finally threw down the baals. I absorbed their domains into Avalon as they fell. Now the Gen homeland fills every Circle.”
Except for one…
“The Gen homeland seems to have a lot of non-Gen living in it,” said Jaren.
Nakvin tried to keep her voice free of umbrage. “It was six against one. We needed all the warm bodies we could get. Some were former prisoners or servants of the baals who swore loyalty to me. Some rallied to my banner from outside—Anris, for one. Others were mercenaries, or outcasts with nowhere else to go.”
Jaren raised an eyebrow. “Which category does Elena fall into?”
Nakvin’s anger boiled over. She leapt to her feet. “Elena is my daughter. That’s all the explanation you’d need if you had any concept of love. All you know is what you can use!”
In an instant, Jaren was standing before her. His callused fingers took her hand.
“I use most people,” he said. “But not you.”
His lips met hers faster than she could think. Nakvin’s first impulse was to pull back, but the feel, scent, and taste of Jaren’s closeness reawakened her long dormant yearning for it.
Her starving heart fed on his presence and gave back redoubled affection.
What am I doing? asked a small echo of her own voice. We’ve been apart for twenty years. And he’s like a brother. I shouldn’t rush this.
But reason yielded to passion.
28
Astlin had never experienced comforts like the palace of Seele offered. Her rooms were larger than her family’s apartment but free of big city noise. Yet she tossed and turned in the large soft bed despite her soul-deep weariness.
Blacking out after taking Kelgrun to the Nexus had been the last time she’d slept, and it had been a short, restless sleep. Still, every time Astlin was about to drift off, thoughts of Xander screaming in torment shocked her awake.
It won’t be long till he’s free, Astlin told herself. Nakvin said she’d help. So will Teg, just as soon as he’s healed.
Astlin must have dozed off, because a sudden noise startled her awake. The mid-evening light that had filtered through the gauzy curtains had given way to a moonless night, covering the room in shadow.
Her heartbeat drowning out all other sound, Astlin sat up and surveyed the pitch black chamber. Not for the first time, she missed being able to see in the dark.
That was alright. Astlin couldn’t see hidden strangers by their body heat, but she could see their silver cords.
Astlin looked into the ether. The rosy mist was thin and stagnant in Avalon, as if it were cut off from the rest of the ethereal sea. She searched the local ether, seeking peace of
mind.
Instead she found a silver cord ending at the foot of her bed with a thread of sickly gold strung beside it.
By reflex, Astlin uncovered her crown. Clear sapphire light melted the shadows to reveal a boy standing in the middle of the floor.
“Zay,” she said, “wake up!”
Astlin instantly saw that she’d misspoken. The boy wasn’t sleepwalking. His dark eyes were wide. The skinny chest beneath his new linen shirt rose and fell in time with his quick deep breaths.
Covering her black shorts and sleeveless undershirt in a blanket, Astlin swung her legs over the right side of the bed and stood up.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to slow her breathing.
“He’s taken my king,” the boy said. “I don’t know where, but he’s gone.”
“Who’s gone? Who took him?” Astlin inched closer.
Zay spoke again, stopping her in her tracks. “Serieigna? I cannot see. No matter what he promises, don’t listen!”
Astlin’s breath caught in her throat but finally burst forth in a pleading cry. “Xander!”
A chill settled over the room, too fast and deep to be natural. Astlin shivered under her blanket. The next words from Zay’s mouth weren’t Xander’s. The cold itself somehow spoke.
“There is no escape. Nowhere my judgment cannot find you. Many times I offered the kinship that you crave, but you struck my open hand. No more. I have put away patience and mercy.”
Astlin tried to speak firmly despite the fear clutching her heart. “Let the boy go.”
“Have I bid you pluck a single hair from your head? The boy is even less to me, though a part of my godhead. I know your foolish design, and I tell you that all of my members are numbered. I shall part with not a one. All are mine to keep.”
“Xander isn’t yours,” Astlin said. “Let him go.”
“What ransom do you offer?” Shaiel asked through his fragment. “Or will you challenge me for his freedom? Come to the Void, if you think yourself strong enough. My gates stand open, unlike the cellar where the harpy cowers with her rats.”
“If you’re playing on my pride,” said Astlin, “then you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
The Secret Kings Page 24
