by Pat Esden
Chase raised an eyebrow at me. “Remind me never to get you pissed.”
I laughed and shoved the blade back into its hiding spot, but inside my relief had already vanished.
We sprinted up the rest of the stairs to the stifling-hot dining hall. Sweat drizzled down my face. The remains of my sarong clung to my skin, dirty and smeared with lealaps blood. I took a deep breath, gathering my strength.
The dining room itself was empty and quiet. But below us the sounds of the berserkers still reverberated like a heartbeat and other shouts echoed in the training yard, loud enough to come from a small army.
In the distance a bell began to toll, fast and tinny.
“The alarm,” Mother said. “Malphic knows there’s more of us here than just the hexad.”
Dad shoved back his hood. “Any suggestions?”
Chase nodded. “I’ll go into the yard first. Once I’ve got their attention, all of you can run like hell for the inner sanctum.”
I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t even think about sacrificing yourself.” I let go and pinpointed my gaze on Jaquith. “That goes for you, too. You still plan on coming with us, right?”
His eyes brightened. “If you’re willing to have me—and Zea.”
“Of course we are,” Dad said. “Now let’s get this show on the road. . . .”
As Dad quickly mapped out a more elaborate version of Chase’s plan, I became aware of a subtle cramping low in my body.
I swallowed hard and tucked my hands into the fold of my sarong so no one would notice their shaking. The last time I was here and sunrise had come and the oil had worn off, my transition from solid to ethereal had happened hard and fast—very much like the sharp, painful anguish of Lotli digging her nails into the coils on her flute. This was just a twinge, but there was no mistaking what it meant.
I tugged on Dad’s sleeve. “We need to go now.”
CHAPTER 30
When I held him there was a yielding inside me. Malphic saw it, as did eunuchs who wiped the blood from my legs and laid him in my arms. My fourth son. My fifth. That mattered not. There was a diminishment inside me, of which we never spoke.
—Sovereign Mistress Vephra
As Chase stepped into the doorway, I stood off to one side just out of sight of the training yard. One of Mother’s veils was wrapped tight around my lower face to protect my mouth and nose, but my eyes weren’t covered and I longed to watch Chase and make sure he was okay.
Instead I concentrated on the feel of the chain in my hand and channeled all my energy toward the egg pendulum, while in the background I heard the shouts coming from the yard, and the swish of Chase’s scimitar and the whine of the dust devil rising to his command.
“Show me where east is,” I murmured. “Show me the rising sun.”
Jaquith’s hand warmed my back. “Go,” he said, nudging me forward.
Together we stepped out of the dining hall into the training yard, Dad and Mother tucked in close behind. All around us darkness and sand whirled. Firelight flashed. A riot of warriors flayed and shouted, fighting against Chase’s storm, trying to regroup.
I directed all my energy toward the egg and whispered, “Show me the inner sanctum weak point.”
It tugged straight ahead and I followed. Mother held tight to the back of my sarong. Jaquith gripped my waist, his head bowed against the wind and sand.
The cry of Chase’s dust devil rose, an earsplitting screaming off to my left. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed warriors struggling with their face scarves, flashes of gold blades, black blades. A turban flew past. A palm branch struck Jaquith and careened off in the opposite direction. Eerie green darkness descended, the fires smothered out by sand and debris.
I pushed between eunuchs, their brown robes snapping in the wind. A warrior blindly lunged out from the darkness. Jaquith hurled him aside. The egg pulled against my grip, unrelenting and strong.
Finally, the battering of sand against my face subsided and the chaos of noise came from behind rather than surrounding us. I dropped my attention and looked up.
Through the gray haze I could make out the wide stairs to the inner sacrum a few yards to our left and even the landing at its top. There were no warriors or guards. Not even a single eunuch there. Our path to freedom was totally clear.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Something was wrong.
Behind me, the whine of the dust devil stopped. Chase materialized out of the haze and took me by the elbow, urging me toward the inner sanctum’s stairs. My knees locked, legs refusing to budge.
“What is it?” Dad said.
The dust was settling, the haze clearing. Men and boys stumbled through the training yard wreckage, coughing and spitting.
“I’m not sure, but it’s too easy.” I pulled free from Chase’s grip and took off, fast-walking straight ahead, following my gut with them trailing behind.
I jogged through the colonnade. The arena stretched before me, wide and empty as a grave built for a legion of soldiers. It wasn’t lit by the aurora and moon like it had been earlier. But the sky was brightening, the east sides of the pillars and grandstand seats transformed to slate gray by the encroaching light, dark shadows stretching westward.
Adrenaline pumped into my veins. Determination clenched my jaw. I sprinted for the raised platform. It was vacant now, but the night Malphic had trapped me in the decanter it had held the banquet table, where he and his cronies had feasted and watched while performers strained and fighters died.
Another memory from that night flooded my mind: glass spears, their shafts sharp with thorns, hounding me across this very spot, separating me from Chase. I shoved that memory aside and hurried faster.
Mother ran beside me now, skirts in her hand as we went up a set of stairs and onto the platform. She and Jaquith had to know what I was thinking. They’d both been on the platform when Malphic trapped me. Chase would know as well.
Not even pausing to catch my breath, I went to where a line of columns ran along the rear of the platform. Beyond them the ocean stretched, punctuated by an outcrop of rocks. Faint fingers of light splayed upward from the horizon.
I raised the moonstone knife. No way could I ever forget this spot, the weak point where I’d watched helpless from the decanter while Chase battled for his life. And I could feel him now beside me, warm and very much alive, changed, but still the man I loved. And Mother was with me, too. And Dad and Jaquith.
“Nice try,” Malphic’s voice said, a little ways behind me.
I resisted the urge to turn toward his voice, brought the knife down, and bellowed, “What tears also opens. What burns also builds.”
A blast of cold hit my face as the air crackled open, a wide gap with electricity snapping and popping all around it. Jaquith was the first one through, then Mother.
Malphic tsked. “You think you’re a clever little thing, don’t you?”
I wheeled toward him, straightened my shoulders, and shoved the knife into the folds at my waistline as if I weren’t afraid of him at all.
His white and austere gold robes billowed as he strolled away from a narrow carpet that hung suspended in midair, no doubt where he’d come out from. A scarf was looped around his neck. His moonstone knife gleamed at his waistline. He stopped a few yards away from me. A frown creased his brow. “First you avoid returning to my inner sanctum. Now I see you’ve stolen my spell.”
My hands went to my hips and I scoffed. “You’re the one who gave it to me—don’t you remember the last time we were here?”
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
A half dozen of his shadow-spies seeped out from the columns’ gloom. Dad and Chase moved in close to me, battle-ready as the shadows crept forward, broad-shouldered and twice as tall as even Chase or Malphic.
Vephra materialized, dressed in indigo veils and black leather. She drew a silver rapier from its sheath and strode to Malphic’s side.
I could hear the opening in the veil crackling behind me.
I could feel the weight going out of my body, cramps growing stronger as sunrise sent brighter shafts of light across the floor. We needed to make a run for it, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Vephra and Malphic. I didn’t dare move until I was sure Dad and Chase would do the same.
Malphic took another slow step toward me. “It wasn’t very nice of you to bring that hexad here. But we’ve managed to drive the pestilence back to your realm.”
“You should have killed her,” I said, holding my ground.
He cocked his head. “That would have been preferable. Unfortunately, the creature slipped through our fingers. I believe she came out in a lovely little garden.” He pressed a finger to his lips as if thinking, then pointed it at Chase. “If I remember correctly, it used to be your mother’s favorite place. Lilac trees and peonies.”
Chase remained motionless, his jaw tensed, his scimitar ready in his hands. But I knew what Malphic was referring to, and his smugness made me want to rip his eyes out. The garden was where Chase’s mother had been hiding the first time Malphic insinuated himself into her life. The garden at Chase’s childhood home in Bar Harbor, where his abusive stepfather still lived.
One of the shadow-spies swaggered forward, the stench of bleach emanating from him, his voice harsh. “I claim the girl. Skin for skin. It’s the law,” he roared.
In horror I realized half his face was burned off, his body puckered and oozing. Fuck. It was the shadow I’d attacked in Moonhill’s gallery. His burnt skin was my doing.
Dad jumped in front of me, a heartbeat after Chase had done the same. Dad’s hand went into his robe, palming something. A salt shank. I caught another movement, a slight twist of his hips and shoulders. The burned-faced spy wasn’t his target. He knew Chase would protect me. Dad was readying his revenge.
I moved fast, grappling Dad by the neck of his robe before he could lunge at Malphic.
“No,” I screeched, yanking him back. “He’ll kill you.”
Dad glanced over his shoulder at me, eyes pinpoints of anger.
I gritted my teeth. “You can’t. Our family will never have peace.”
Behind Dad, Malphic drew his moonstone knife. He pointed it skyward and intoned, “Weave and bind, mend what’s mine. Weave and—”
The crackle of the veil weakened. Shit. He was sealing it.
“Stop!” I shouted, tough and hard, a command, not a girl’s plea.
Malphic lowered his knife. His gaze slowly swept over me, then went to Dad and Chase. An amused smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “She is a feisty one.”
Chase planted his feet. “Let her go. She’s nothing to you. Let her father go as—”
I didn’t let him finish. I couldn’t let him say something foolish. I narrowed my eyes on Malphic. “I have an offer,” I said.
Malphic chuckled. “This should be interesting. Go on, child.”
The shadows broke into a chorus of snickers and chortles as if Malphic patronizing me was the funniest thing in the world. That was, all of them except the burned-faced spy. He folded his arms across his chest, clearly not amused. Vephra also crossed her arms.
I turned to her. “Actually I believe this offer is something that may interest you.” I lowered my gaze to her belly. “Congratulations, by the way. What is it? A daughter or another son?”
She glared.
Chase touched my arm, a warning not to toy with her. And I knew he was right. Malphic was powerful, yes. But there was one being more powerful. A being who was as rare as a half ifrit surviving the change, the most treasured thing in the djinn realm—a healthy and alive, full-blooded female genie. Vephra. There was a reason why everyone called Malphic the First Husband of the Sovereign Mistress and no one referred to her as his wife. She was the ultimate power here.
I let my gaze return to her belly. “My guess would be a son. But can he replace any of your others?”
“Of course not,” Malphic snapped. His lips pressed into a white slash. He was getting annoyed, seriously pissed in fact.
I smoothed my hand down my arm. The veil sputtered behind me, its crackle weakening by the second. Still, I didn’t let my composure slip. “If that’s true—if all your children are so valuable, then tell me one thing. Where is your son Culus?”
Vephra’s face went expressionless. I had her now. Culus wasn’t unloved, a disowned and detested son as Grandfather believed. At least not by her.
“If you swear to let all of us go—my father, Chase, and me—then I’ll tell you where Culus is.” I rested back on my heels, arms folded.
“Don’t listen to her,” the burned-face spy snarled.
Vephra tilted her head. “How do you know where he is?”
A ray of sunshine illuminated her rapier. My guts cramped, a fiery stab followed by white-hot spasms. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad hunch and waver from solid to ethereal. But I kept my head up. Another second, that’s all I needed.
I steadied my voice. “Let my father go. Then I’ll answer your question.”
Dad swiveled toward me. “I’m not leaving without you.”
“No, I want you to go. Please,” I said.
Chase took ahold of my arm. “None of us are leaving without you.”
“So noble.” Malphic sighed. His expression darkened. “Now, answer the question.”
“Do we have a deal?” I said. My voice sounded firm, but a wave of vertigo sent dark flashes rushing across my field of vision. I couldn’t keep this up much longer.
I glanced at Vephra.
Her deep copper skin had paled to saffron. Her rapier trembled in her hand. She gasped and the words rushed out as if she could no longer hold them back. “Tell me! Where is my son?”
I lifted my chin. “He’s in a poison ring with a black onyx stone. Catch the hexad, Lotli, and you’ll have your son.”
With that, I wheeled. The slit in the veil was no more than a lightning strike wide. But I leapt through, gripping Dad’s arm and holding Chase’s hand.
The air crackled with electricity. Pressure sang in my ears. Behind me, Malphic’s voice thundered through the air. “We who were cast out return, live in blood and bone of those who are great.”
CHAPTER 31
The darkest places are where the most light is found.
—From the Scroll of Zitherod
Translation by Dr. Rupert Bancroft Walpole
Dad and I only got scrapes and bruises from our fall into the Pirate’s Coffin. Mother twisted an ankle. We were all lucky, except for Jaquith. He broke a wrist.
Of course, there was Chase. If he’d gotten hurt in the fall no one would have been able to tell. He was acting like everyone else was worse off, but he was a mass of crusted blood, bruises, and gashes.
We made our way from the Coffin to the beach and up the stairs to the clifftop. As we started across the lawn to the house, Kate and Grandfather came flying out to meet us.
Grandfather gave Mother a huge hug. He clapped Dad on the back. “Bravo,” he said. “Well done. Beyond well done! Simply outstanding.” He glanced at Jaquith. “Looks like an introduction is in order.”
Kate rushed over to Chase and me. “Take him straight up to the Orchid Room,” she snapped. “Get him undressed and into bed. Use pillows to elevate his head and shoulders.” She scanned my body, pausing on my tattered sarong and various abrasions before returning to my face. “You do feel well enough to do that, right?”
I nodded. Maybe I should have been offended by her brusque commands or concerned about my aches and pains, or even felt like popping a bottle of champagne and celebrating our success. But the truth was, all I wanted to do was make sure Chase was going to be okay and to be with him.
Without taking a breath, Kate went on. “Laura will give you a washbasin. Sponge him off, but be careful. I’ll get Selena and be right up. We’ll need to get his nose realigned. That gash in his arm is pretty nasty, too.”
Chase rested one hand on my shoulder to steady himself as we went into the house and up the s
ervants’ stairs. Considering how many bedrooms there were in Moonhill, I was surprised Kate picked the Orchid Room. Its pristine white rugs and pink satin bedding were hardly the best choice for a makeshift emergency room. It was, however, next to my room and I was grateful to her for that.
Chase helped me get his boots off and his various belts and weapons. But after that he slumped down on the bed, his energy gone.
My stomach went queasy when I peeled off his blood-splattered pants and saw deep whip marks across one of his thighs. I got him situated in bed and pulled a light sheet up over his lower half. Using the washbasin and a sponge, I dabbed dirt and blood off his face, then moved on to his arms. He winced when I got near the larger wounds, but mostly he lay quiet. In fact, it wasn’t until I was sponging his chest that he spoke at all.
“Annie,” he whispered. His voice was deep and hoarse. “You’re not going to leave?”
I kissed his shoulder. “I imagine Kate and Selena will want me out of the way when they work on your nose. But I’ll stay if you want.”
His hand captured mine, pressing it and the sponge I was holding tight against his chest. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t want to wake up and find out that you and your parents have gone home.”
“Ah—you’re talking about home to our house in Vermont?” My head whirred under the weight of my exhaustion and the enormity of the question. “I don’t think we will. Certainly not until the Sons of Ophiuchus threat is over.” I met his gaze. “You don’t even know about that yet. But, no, not right away. I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it. I’m taking a class in London this fall. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” I took a deep breath, surprised by how the question had upended me.
He closed his eyes and mumbled, “London’s a long ways away.”
I looked down at his hand, still lying on top of mine. He was right about London. It felt like a zillion miles away. But it also was the only thing in my future that I was sure of, the only guidepost for me to move toward. “Once I finish taking classes and become a licensed fine art appraiser, I’ll be able to live and work pretty much anywhere,” I said. But it was as much for me as for him. He’d already drifted off.
