The Black King (Book 7)

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  “You’ll have to walk the rest,” he had said. “There’s some military to-do going on up there that’s tying up the streets.”

  The military to-do was the arrival of the ship. She knew that, even though the nice Islander didn’t. She could see the fog through the buildings on her left, big rolling white clouds that seemed to fill the center of Jahn.

  Arianna had been silent throughout the journey, for which Lyndred had been grateful. She was afraid she’d reply verbally to Arianna. Arianna respected that, and helped her by saying nothing at all.

  But Lyndred could feel Arianna’s growing nervousness. Or maybe it was Lyndred’s own. Her stomach was jumping and she felt colder than she thought she could. The river water had dried in muddy crusts, making her clothing feel heavier than before.

  Do you think Rugad would be at the river? Arianna asked.

  Lyndred felt the nervousness increase. Now she knew it wasn’t hers, but Arianna’s. No, she thought. I think he would want to stay as far away from the so-called mistake as he possibly could. That way, he could say it was a misunderstood order or something.

  I was thinking the same thing, Arianna said. But obviously, she had been worrying about the other plan.

  If he is there, we’ll find out at the palace, Lyndred thought. Then we can go down there.

  All right.

  Arianna remained silent after that. Lyndred staggered the last three blocks, weaving in case someone was watching her. When she reached the main road, she was stunned to find it empty.

  They must already be at the river, Arianna thought.

  It looked like everyone was at the river. The storefronts were empty, the houses tightly closed up. There was no one on the streets at all. The Islander could have brought them here, and hadn’t even known it.

  Lyndred crossed the street, tripping purposely on a cobblestone, and catching herself before she fell. There were dozen guards by the closed palace gate, and there were more on top of the wall. They were preparing for Gift in every way they could.

  This isn’t good, Arianna said.

  Lyndred agreed, but she was going to finish this. The guards saw her at the same time, turning their heads in unison. She ran toward them, a broken, ragged run that she had seen a Nyeian prisoner use once. She didn’t pick up her feet, but dragged them along as if they hurt.

  She tripped again on the cobblestone and sprawled facedown. For a long moment, she lay on the cold stone, her heart pounding.

  “Lyndred?” One of the guards had come forward, just as she had hoped. He crouched beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Lyndred?”

  She moaned.

  “Are you all right?”

  She made herself look up. The guard was young, Infantry, and good-looking. She had winked at him a few times, and flirted with him once or twice. But she had never learned his name.

  “I—need to see Arianna.” Lyndred made herself speak huskily as if she hadn’t used her voice in a long time.

  “I can’t let you do that.” The guard looked distressed. “I have specific orders not to let you, your cousin or your father inside.”

  “My father’s dead,” Lyndred whispered, the lie feeling strange, as if by telling it she might be jeopardizing her father’s life.

  A frown creased the guard’s forehead. At least he was listening.

  “What’re you doing?” another guard shouted.

  “Just a moment,” the first guard said.

  She pulled herself up and grabbed his arm. “Please let me see Arianna. I have to tell her what Gift has planned.”

  “Are you alone?” the guard asked.

  She nodded.

  He touched the blood on her face. “What happened to you?”

  “I escaped,” she said.

  “But this is blood.”

  “My father’s.”

  The guard put a hand beneath her arm and helped her up. She stumbled against him, and he put his arm around her, pulling her tight. She let him carry most of her weight, and she limped a little with her left foot for good measure.

  “What are you doing?” the second guard asked again.

  “Send someone inside,” the first guard said. “Tell Arianna that her cousin is here, claiming that Bridge is dead, and that she knows what Gift’s plans are. Tell her that it looks real to us.”

  The second guard peered at Lyndred. He checked her eyes for gold flecks and her chin for a Shifter’s mark. He was more efficient than the first guard. “I guess that it’s not our decision. You’ll have to wait here.”

  Lyndred didn’t answer him. She let herself slip out of the first guard’s grasp and down against the wall. She leaned on it as if she didn’t have enough strength to hold herself upright. But she listened as the guards gave orders to another guard, instructing him on how to talk to the Black Queen, and then she heard footsteps hurry away.

  If this doesn’t work, Arianna said, we’ll try to go in through one of the tunnels.

  The first guard crouched beside her. “What can I get you?”

  She shook her head.

  “When was the last time you ate anything?”

  “I don’t remember,” she said.

  “Well, let me see what I can find.”

  He left her, and came back a moment later with some fresh bread and a mug full of chilled water. Lyndred took the mug first and drank as if she hadn’t had any liquid in days. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and noted that her skin came away filthy. She shuddered, and handed him the mug.

  He took it. “Some food too?”

  Her stomach was too knotted for food. “Maybe in a while.”

  Then she heard footsteps behind her, and the guard stood. Apparently, the messenger was back from Rugad. Lyndred couldn’t overhear what was being said but, soon the guard was returned.

  “The Black Queen has agreed to see you.

  The Black Queen, Arianna said snidely.

  “Thank you,” Lyndred said.

  He helped her up. She leaned against him again. Then he led her through the doors that led into the Great Hall.

  The palace smelled faintly of smoke. Several of the swords were down and the stone was charred near the door. Arianna seemed startled by the changes.

  The guard didn’t take Lyndred to the North Tower like she expected. Instead, they went to the South Tower. The smell of smoke was fainter here.

  The fire damaged the North Tower, Arianna said. Remember?

  Lyndred had forgotten. She hadn’t paid a lot of attention to the details of Matt’s story thinking, at the time, that it had little to do with her.

  She made sure she slipped once on the stone stairs. The guard caught her and held her even tighter as he helped her the rest of the way up. But she wasn’t enjoying his touch the way she normally would. She wasn’t sure if that was because of Arianna’s influence or because of the loss of Ace. And fortunately for both of their peace of mind, Arianna had no comment about the change.

  They reached the top of the stairs. The door was open. Lyndred could feel Arianna tense. Lyndred tried not to let that have an effect on her.

  The guard called out that they had arrived, not the normal protocol at all, but he seemed to be afraid to let Lyndred go. Another voice, one Arianna didn’t recognize but Lyndred did, echoed the announcement.

  DiPalmet.

  Who’s that? Arianna asked.

  Lyndred let her memories of DiPalmet answer the question. The guard helped her inside. She collapsed against him, trying not to look like a threat.

  The South Tower had been set up like the North Tower: tables, chairs, the clean floor-to-ceiling windows. Lyndred got a sense of disgust and a brief memory—of being led away from the towers by the enemy—that didn’t belong to her.

  Then she concentrated on what was before her. A woman, her hair chopped off, her face hard and masculine, stood, legs apart, and hands clasped behind her back.

  I don’t look like that! Arianna said.

  And she didn’t. Bu
t Rugad in Arianna’s body did.

  “So,” Rugad said. “You’re back.”

  I am! Arianna said softly.

  “I am,” Lyndred echoed. Her heart was pounding.

  “You look terrible,” Rugad said.

  “I—” she was having trouble concentrating on his words. “I—I’ve come a long way.”

  Send now, Arianna said.

  Daddy! Lyndred screamed in her own mind, we’re here! Start! Start now!

  She felt the words circle out of her head and travel down a tunnel of light. She was dizzy and Rugad was looking at her strangely. The guard continued to hold her up.

  But she had done it.

  She was here.

  And they could begin.

  SIXTY-SIX

  “THEY’RE IN,” Bridge said.

  Coulter felt the muscles in his shoulder tighten. He had been worried that they wouldn’t make it and afraid that they would. Now they were in. If he wanted to save Arianna again, he had to act.

  Skya sat on the ground in front of Bridge and held up her jewel. Gift sat in front of her and held up his. Bridge tied his string to Skya’s jewel, and Skya tied hers to Gift’s.

  They were ready.

  It was up to Coulter.

  His palms were sweating. He remembered how it felt holding these globes before, how they turned warm in his hands, how they illuminated everything.

  He remembered the screaming.

  “Let’s go, Coulter.” Gift sounded casual, but they both knew he was not.

  Coulter reached down and pulled open a bag. He picked up the first globe by its sides and immediately light flared from it. The light headed directly for Bridge who moved the jewel closer to his head than Coulter would have wanted, almost like a protection.

  The light missed Bridge, and hit the diamond. Bridge closed his eyes, as if in relief, and then the light traveled from the diamond to the emerald. Skya stared at it, mesmerized, as the light moved through the emerald to the heartstone.

  Gift wasn’t looking at Coulter or at the jewels. Instead, he was staring intently at the light beam which was now a hard, brilliant green-black. It cut through the fog like a beacon in darkness, and Coulter heard voices rise from outside.

  The ship had been discovered. They wouldn’t have much time.

  He glanced down at his hands. The light from the globe was so intense that he saw his bones through his skin. The globe was getting hot. Beads of sweat were running down his face already, and they had just started.

  The light remained steady. He had no idea how much power was in one of these globes, nor did he know how much power they would need. Last time they had been trying to kill an army. This time, they were trying to burn a construct out of Arianna’s brain.

  He hoped it wouldn’t take as much time.

  At least the light wasn’t hurting Gift or Skya or Bridge. There were no screams from outside, so it probably wasn’t hurting that standing army either. Coulter just hoped the light was getting through walls, like it was supposed to, directed straight at Rugad.

  He uncovered another globe with his foot, bent over, and picked the globe up with one hand. Then he dropped the first globe while grabbing the second so that the light would be unbroken.

  It wasn’t quite. There was a small break, less than an instant, and he hoped it wasn’t enough to cause a problem.

  The dropped globe rolled toward Bridge. Coulter’s breath caught. He hoped the globe wouldn’t hit Bridge. Coulter had no idea what it would do to him.

  Bridge didn’t even seem to notice it rolling toward him. Coulter kept one hand on the globe he was using and waved the other hand at the rolling globe, pushing it away from all of the Fey gathered at the side of the ship.

  He would have to be more careful next time. He would have to make sure no one even got close to being hit.

  Coulter put both hands back on the second globe. The light was still flowing from it. He could feel that light like the heat from a fire, only mixed in with this feeling was a sense of great power.

  He swallowed hard. This was fighting, but not fighting—rather like taking over someone from the inside out.

  The light was burning a hole through the fog. No matter how hard the Sprites tried to cover it, the hole still remained. Magick against magick. The strongest power always trumped.

  He supposed it would be that way with Rugad. If Rugad’s construct was more powerful than the Islander magick, he would win. He would have Arianna’s body and the Black Throne forever.

  A thunk caught his attention. An arrow wobbled in the railing of the ship, not far from Gift’s face. Gift didn’t seem to notice—he couldn’t notice. He had to concentrate on Rugad.

  Coulter couldn’t do anything either. Most of his magick took his hands, and he didn’t dare let go of the globes.

  He screamed for one of the Sailors to find a way to protect Gift, Skya, and Bridge. The Sailor nodded and gestured toward another Sailor as he ran toward that side of the deck.

  But Coulter knew that, no matter what they did, it wouldn’t be enough. The light that was supposed to destroy Rugad was leading his soldiers right to the Tashka.

  And Gift.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  “YOU’VE COME A LONG WAY?” Arianna said scornfully. “Just how far is that?”

  DiPalmet watched her. He knew that she and Lyndred had had a falling out, but he had expected more compassion from Arianna. It was obvious that Lyndred couldn’t stand on her own. She was covered in dried blood. Her clothing was ripped and filthy, and she was visibly exhausted.

  “Please,” Lyndred said. “Daddy’s dead.”

  “So you’ve said, but I see no evidence of that.”

  DiPalmet crossed his arms. Was Arianna afraid that Lyndred was a spy? Or going to try to hurt her? It was fairly obvious that Lyndred wasn’t in any condition to hurt anyone.

  “He died on the Cardidas. I had to get off the ship.”

  Something reflected off the fog outside. DiPalmet saw it, but he doubted anyone else did. Arianna had her back to the south windows, and Lyndred was looking directly at her. But the fog looked as if it were being lit from within.

  “So you’re coming back here?”

  “I thought you would want to know what he planned.”

  “How would you know if he hated you enough to kill your father and go after you?”

  The light seemed to be getting closer. DiPalmet took a step forward, thinking perhaps that he should tell Arianna, but she gave him a warning look.

  “I think he wanted me to tell you,” Lyndred said softly.

  She seemed vague and distracted, almost as if she were having trouble concentrating. Arianna seemed to notice that too.

  “What are you doing here? Really?” Arianna asked.

  The light rose up to the window and came through. It was a single straight beam that seemed to have the power of the wind behind it. DiPalmet had seen nothing like it before.

  “Arianna!” he cried.

  She turned and the light hit her square in the forehead. She made a slight squealing sound and staggered backwards, trying to hold her hands in front of her face.

  “Lyndred,” she managed. “A Shadowlands! Put me in a Shadowlands!”

  Her voice was shaking. She fell to her knees. The light seemed to bore right through her forehead. Her eyes were closed, but DiPalmet could see the shape of them through the lids. He could see her skull through her skin.

  He shuddered. She was right. A Shadowlands would protect her from the light. “Help her,” he said to Lyndred.

  “No.” Lyndred took a step forward. She glanced nervously at the light. It was directed toward Arianna, and no one else.

  The guard touched her arm. “Help her,” he said, as if he didn’t understand the change in her.

  “No,” Lyndred said again.

  “What are you doing to her?” DiPalmet asked.

  “Nothing.” Lyndred stopped beside Arianna and looked down at her. The light illuminated the filth on Lyn
dred’s clothing.

  Arianna had fallen to the floor. She was crawling away from the window. DiPalmet went to her side and grabbed her arms, pulling her where she needed to go. He felt the light. It was hot.

  “Behind. The. Column.” Each word seemed like an effort.

  He dragged her behind the column, but the light went right through it.

  “How do I protect her from this?” he asked.

  “You don’t,” Lyndred said.

  The guard put a hand on her shoulder. “Make this stop.”

  “I’m not doing it,” she said. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Then why are you here?” DiPalmet asked.

  “To help Arianna,” Lyndred said.

  “Then help her!” he snapped.

  “It’s not time yet,” Lyndred said.

  The air was filled with a slight burning smell.

  “This is killing her,” DiPalmet said.

  “Not her,” Lyndred said. “It’s not killing Arianna.”

  DiPalmet was getting desperate. Arianna was leaning against him, barely conscious now. “Yes, it is.”

  “No,” Lyndred said. “Arianna’s fine. The light’s not touching her. It’s killing Rugad. And I’m supposed to watch until he’s good and dead.”

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  GIFT WAS CONCENTRATING on Rugad as he had once felt him, a presence within his own mind. He remembered how Rugad had seen himself, as an older man with a young face, a face that looked like Gift’s except that it was dark—dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Much darker than he had ever been. Gift focused on that young image and that old person, and sent the light directly to it.

  Bits of the light fell on his hands, burning him. He wondered if Skya felt the same thing. He hoped it wouldn’t hurt her or the child within her. But he could say nothing. Do nothing. Not yet.

  He was dimly aware of the activity around him. Sailors putting up canvas, wood, anything. Voices shouting, arrows hitting the deck around him. He couldn’t move. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t dare break his concentration.

  Again he focused on the image. Coulter had described it in the same way: the creature he had seen inside of Arianna’s mind had been a young man with Rugad’s soul. A young man who had looked startlingly like Gift, the young man Gift would have been if he had been born to two Fey parents.