Gift felt cold. “You think the Powers want that.”
“The Powers or the Mysteries. Something that controls the magick,” Skya said. “Yes, I do.”
“And Arianna doesn’t do it, do you think I will?”
Skya looked away from him. “You’ve made choices that do not fit with the compassionate man who wanted to be a Shaman. You will continue to do that. You’ll get harsher and harsher because you have to, and it’ll take a toll from you. It’ll make you someone with no heart at all.”
“Like your father?”
Her eyes teared. She blinked hard, and the tears disappeared. “That’s not fair. I told you that so that you would understand.”
“I think I do,” Gift said.
She shook her head.
“That’s what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid that I’ll be like him, that I’ll misuse my Vision like he did.”
“I think you already are.”
Gift’s chill grew worse. “I haven’t ordered people to their death.”
“But would you?” she asked. “If you believed it would prevent the Blood against Blood?”
He dropped his gaze, unable to look at her. He didn’t know the answer to that. If he had to spend ten lives to save a million, would he? It was the leader’s conundrum, the thing his father agonized over, the thing they all agonized over. The thing Gift had always wanted to avoid.
He probably would. And he would hate himself for it.
He looked at Skya. Her face seemed shrouded, cold, as if she had read the answer in his silence. “What about Lyndred’s other Vision? The one of me with the child?”
“I think it symbolizes the choices you have to make.”
“What choices?”
“Do you raise a child with love and warmth, to live in a secure world? Or do you raise it to lead the Fey?”
He stood. He didn’t see those as choices at all. “My father raised Arianna with love and compassion and taught her leadership.”
“Your father wasn’t Fey,” Skya said. “And besides, look at Arianna. Where’s that training now?”
Gift didn’t know. That training had been one of the many reasons he had trusted his sister as ruler instead of himself. “You realize what I’m risking if I try to get my sister to abdicate?”
“Yes.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re right, and the good Visionaries are the ones who lead us in the wrong direction, then wouldn’t it be better to have a Blind leader?”
Skya didn’t answer him at first. He turned. She was studying the backs of her hands as if they held a secret.
“Skya?” he asked.
“Maybe if the leader believed that Blindness was better, and maybe if the leader strove to—I don’t know. I just know that there’s something seriously wrong with your sister, and she’s not capable of the kind of leadership she’s given for the last fifteen years.”
“Maybe we should take the third option,” Gift said. “Maybe we should use your guide’s skills and find a place to hide within the Empire, raise a family and stay out of politics forever.”
“You won’t be comfortable,” she said. “You’ll always wonder if you’re doing the right thing. And you’re still going to be plagued with Visions, Visions that will test your resolve every single day.”
He couldn’t deny that. He would wonder every day, and the Visions would make things worse.
“You need to get your sister to abdicate,” she said. “You need to take your rightful place as Black King.”
“I can’t.”
Skya rose slowly to her feet. “Why not? And don’t tell me it’s because of promises you made to your sister. She doesn’t care about those promises any more. She doesn’t care about you anymore.”
“It’s not that,” Gift said, even though that was still a factor.
“Then what?” Skya asked.
“You don’t want to be the Black King’s wife.”
She moaned softly and sank back onto the bed. “Gift, what I want shouldn’t matter.”
“It does.” He went over to her, sat beside her, and took her hands into his own. Her fingers were icy cold. “I love you, Skya.”
“I know. But what you want doesn’t matter. It’s who you are that’s important.”
His heart twisted. “I thought you don’t believe in destiny, in pre-ordained futures.”
“I don’t believe in much, but I know you’ll make a better ruler than your sister ever could.”
He wanted Skya to have faith in him, but not like this. Not in a way that might separate them for good.
“That’s not enough,” he said. “We’re talking treason here. We’re talking of overthrowing the ruler of the Empire. We’re talking about something that could destroy everything.”
“And if it doesn’t, it could prevent something we can’t even imagine.” Skya’s fingers felt limp, as if there was no will in them at all. “What if you have nothing to do with the Blood? What if you taking the Throne is what prevents the Blood? What if your sister, through her Blindness or her power-madness, causes the Blood? You will have saved us.”
“There’s no way to know, Skya.”
She grabbed his fingers suddenly. Her grip was so hard it hurt. “That’s how the rest of us live, Gift. We have only our hearts and our minds to guide us. We make our own choices and we live with them.”
He slipped his own fingers around her hands. They were clutching each other like drowning people. “But what if you chose wrong, Skya? What then?”
“You live with that too,” she said. “Somehow, you live with that too.”
TWENTY
BY THE TIME the summons came, Lyndred’s stomach ached. She had come back from her visit with Gift and had expected Arianna to meet her at the palace door like a worried mother. But there had been no meeting. Lyndred and her father had eaten alone, and Lyndred had told him what she had done.
He had not been pleased, but he had been curious. He had never spoken to his nephew, and he didn’t know what kind of man Gift was. Neither did Lyndred. All she knew was that Gift wasn’t sure if he could trust her, and seemed uncertain about what he would do in the future.
But it wasn’t until Gift had said he was being watched that she even realized what a risk she had taken. After hearing part of Arianna’s interchange with Gift, Lyndred knew that Arianna saw Gift as her enemy. Lyndred had gone to the enemy. What kind of punishment did that deserve?
The summons didn’t come until mid-morning. By breakfast, Lyndred had been so nervous that she couldn’t eat. Her father watched her as if her nervousness were contagious. He had already said his piece the night before, so they had nothing to talk about.
When the page brought the summons, he wanted her to go directly to the North Tower. She begged a few more moments alone. He waited outside the door as if she were a prisoner while she changed into a Nyeian gown. It was blue, and it had a high ruffled collar, a cinched waist and long bell sleeves. She put on her best jewelry and pulled her hair into a chignon. If she was going to be reprimanded by the Black Queen of the Fey, her appearance would at least remind her cousin that they were both of noble blood.
When she and the page reached the North Tower, Lyndred swept past him and handed him the skirt’s narrow train. She walked into the tower unannounced. Arianna didn’t seem to notice.
She was wearing the leather jerkin and breeches she’d been favoring lately, her black hair in its familiar braid. Her hands were clasped behind her back and her legs were spread shoulder-length apart. Lyndred wondered if Arianna had stashed the customary knife in her boot.
The page peeked around the skirt and started to announce Lyndred’s presence, but Arianna dismissed him with the wave of a hand. The page dropped Lyndred’s skirt and fled. It seemed that everyone was afraid of Arianna these days.
As the door clicked shut, Arianna turned. Her gaze took in Lyndred’s clothing. “Trussed up like a Nyeian. How very unusual.”
Lyndred straightened
her shoulders. Her stomach was churning. She didn’t know quite why she was so afraid of her cousin. Arianna couldn’t hurt her—not physically, anyway. And, if Lyndred was right, Arianna couldn’t banish her either. She needed her Vision.
“So,” Arianna said as she walked toward Lyndred. “What do you think of Gift?”
“He looks like you,” Lyndred blurted.
“Does he?” Arianna walked around Lyndred, still looking the dress up and down. She stepped over the trailing skirt. “Is the way he looks important?”
Lyndred shrugged. “I’ve just never seen such a resemblance before.”
“Because you’re too young,” Arianna said. “The features in the Black Family are consistent generation to generation. You look remarkably like Jewel. You could have been sisters.”
Lyndred had heard that before, and had even stopped at Jewel’s portrait on the second floor. She didn’t see the resemblance.
“Of course, Jewel would never allow herself to wear such confining clothing.”
“I’m not Jewel.”
“That’s obvious enough. Jewel, at least, had the gift of subtlety.”
They were going to play a round of stupid verbal games, then. Lyndred hated that. If she had to play, she’d at least make the rules. “I’ve always wondered why you call your own mother Jewel?”
Arianna stopped in front of her. A half smile touched her lips, as if she actually approved of Lyndred’s barb. “Because I never knew my mother. She was just a name to me.”
“You don’t speak of her as if she were just a name.”
“I know my history, child. I know more about my ancestors than most Fey ever could.”
Lyndred didn’t doubt that. “You summoned me up here for a reason.”
Arianna nodded, then walked back to the south window. Through the bubbled glass, Lyndred saw the brownish-red waters of the Cardidas and remembered her strange dream of the waters covered in blood. “Tell me what you observed on Gift’s ship.”
Lyndred picked up her skirt and walked forward. As she approached Arianna, she saw the Tabernacle, a burned shell in the distance, and beyond it, the white buildings of the southern part of Jahn. In the distance, she could see the winter brown of land which Arianna was now turning into farms.
“I didn’t see much,” Lyndred said. “A Nyeian met me on deck and took me below. There I saw Gift, his Shaman, and that strange woman.”
“Yes,” Arianna said. “The Co.”
“She looked Fey to me.”
“She is Fey. Her clothing was Co. It carried an interesting message, I thought. Perhaps Gift hasn’t understood it. This is a woman who cannot be tamed or owned.”
Lyndred hadn’t understood that either, and she hadn’t recognized the clothing. But Arianna had, just as she had recognized Lyndred’s Nyeian garb. How did Arianna know so much even though she had never left Blue Isle?
“How many troops did he bring with him?” Arianna asked. “What was the military power of the ship? What kind of ship is it, exactly, Tashil or a Nyeian copy? It doesn’t look like a warship from here, but it could be a newer model, something I haven’t seen before. Or were there stores in the hold, enough for trading?”
“I don’t know.”
“Weapons?”
Lyndred shook her head.
“What type of Fey came with him? I noted Foot Soldiers. But were there Beast Riders? Red Caps? Infantry?”
Lyndred almost mentioned the Gull Riders, then thought the better of it. “I don’t know. There was a large group of Nyeians, but I think they were there to sail the ship.”
“Nyeians.” Arianna shook her head as if they were not important. “So you did not go to spy for me. You went to tell Gift that I was Blind.”
“I felt he should know.”
“And all of this talk of the Blood did not stop you?”
Lyndred bit her lower lip. “I think Gift is smart enough to make up his own mind about what to do.”
“You don’t believe that you’re pushing him toward a challenge that would be bad for the Empire?”
“Do you believe that?”
“I banished Gift. I gave him two weeks to leave Blue Isle. That should be an answer to your question.” Arianna pivoted so that she no longer faced the window. She stood only an arm’s length away from Lyndred.
Lyndred hated the closeness. She had to hold herself rigidly to prevent herself from backing away.
“Do I believe you provoked him?” Arianna asked. “Of course I do. What is a Fey’s normal response to a Blind Leader? Ask her to step down. Or force her to.”
“Believe what you want,” Lyndred said. “You’ve already made up your mind. Nothing will change it.”
Arianna’s eyes narrowed. “Rather like you.”
Lyndred raised her chin. She wasn’t going to answer that.
“I have a sense,” Arianna said, “that you haven’t been honest with me for a long time. What makes you trust Gift more than me? You haven’t known him very long, and you haven’t seen him before. So what is it? The fact that he’s been to the Black Throne? Or did he come to Nye years ago, and talk with your father? Has this been planned for years? Or is it merely coincidence that you and Gift have become such instant good friends?”
Lyndred’s heartbeat increased. “Gift and I aren’t good friends. We haven’t met before. He doesn’t trust me at all. I don’t even think he likes me very much.”
“But you trust him.”
She did. There was no lying about it.
“Did you tell him your Visions?”
“Of course,” she said. “He’s a Visionary too.”
“And he told you his Visions as well.”
“Yes,” Lyndred lied.
“I thought you said they didn’t trust you.”
“Gift doesn’t. He thought you sent me. To provoke him.”
Arianna threw her head back and laughed. Lyndred remained very still. She had no idea what was so funny.
“Well, then,” Arianna said. “You did your job perfectly. If you want to get rid of Gift and I, you’ve done very well.”
“I don’t want to start the Blood,” Lyndred said. “I’d never plan anything that would start the Blood.”
“I know that. That’s why you’ll let us take care of each other. You believe that we can do it subtly, without provoking the Blood. Some members of the Black Family were good at that. It looks like you are as well.”
“No.”
“Certainly,” Arianna said. “If you want the Throne, the best way to get it is to make certain Gift and I are gone. Your father won’t take it, and your uncles aren’t organized enough. But you are, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Of course, you’ll deny it, because if you believe it deep down, you think the Powers will know and they will see that as Blood against Blood. But that’s not true. The stricture is quite narrow. I can’t kill you or Gift or anyone in my family, but if you happen to die in a battle I sent you to, there will be no Blood.”
Lyndred stared at her. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know that I think you’re smarter than they are. You’ll achieve whatever you want to achieve. Except killing me.”
There was a faint knock. Lyndred felt relieved at the sound. It meant she didn’t have to respond to that accusation.
“Come,” Arianna said.
The door opened. A man wearing a dark woven gray cloak with the hood up, obscuring his face, slipped inside. His movements were stealthy. Lyndred wasn’t even sure she would notice him if she hadn’t seen him come in.
Gloved hands emerged from the open sleeves. He brought them to his face and let the hood fall. His features—indistinct a moment before—coalesced into a face very similar to theirs, as if he were a member of the family. But Lyndred knew he was not. She wasn’t even sure if he was really male. That had been her assumption, and perhaps he had known and catered to it.
“It took you long enough,” Arianna said.
<
br /> “The Black Family has not used my services for more than fifteen years.” The man had a deep voice, but it was not an unusual one even though Lyndred felt it should be. “I have to find other employment to keep me busy on this small Isle.”
“You could have left,” Arianna said.
The man’s lips curved into a smile, but nothing else on his face moved. “Of course. But I thought the Empire was at peace. I thought there would be no need for my services.”
“Unless someone decided to come after me,” Arianna said. “Is that why you stayed? Because you expected work here on the Isle?”
“Tricky question, milady.” The smile fell away. “And I can answer it honestly. No. I stayed because I chose to. I saw no point in returning to Galinas. I made a bargain with your great-grandfather. He offered to give me the proper training if I vowed never to touch a member of the Black Family. I have kept that vow.”
Lyndred gasped softly. Arianna looked at her, and grinned. “So, now you realize what our friend is.”
He was an Assassin. Assassins had started as Spies. But a Spy’s magick left him if he tried to kill anyone. The Spell Warders tampered with the magick of young Spies several generations ago, trying to see if they could develop a spell that allowed them to kill and keep their magick. Apparently they’d found one.
“I thought Assassins were a myth,” Lyndred said.
“Of course you did,” the man said.
“There are only a few,” Arianna said. “I’m not even sure how many still live.”
“I have lost track, milady.”
Lyndred had heard that Assassins had almost no magick, and what magick they did have simply enhanced their physical skills. They had to use tools—knives, swords, bare hands—to kill; there was no magick in that. But their magick allowed them to sneak in and out of buildings, to move silently, and to make themselves nearly invisible, even in the open.
She had heard all of this as a child, and then asked her father, who had laughed. No one has ever seen an Assassin, he had said which, she now realized, was not an outright denial.
“Well,” Arianna said, taking a step forward. “I have a task for you. Are you out of practice?”
The Black King (Book 7) Page 23
