by White, Gwynn
“Glad you’ve finally recognized your dependence.”
Axel smirked. Now you’re pushing it.
Dmitri snorted. “How could I forget? Small steps with my old friend Axel.”
The visitation was news to be shared.
He nudged Nicholas. “Our commander-in-chief has some views he wants to express.”
Nicholas chuckled. “I take it you mean Dmitri?” When Axel nodded, he said, “Tell him I say hello. And that it’s great that he’s sharing the head-talking pain around. He can chat in your head anytime he likes.”
“Thanks. But you aren’t wriggling out of your fair share.”
Laughing with carefree abandon, Nicholas’s bony elbow jabbed Axel’s side.
It was the first spontaneous affection Nicholas had ever bestowed on him. Not caring that he kept the seer waiting, Axel laughed with his son.
“Guess you aren’t the only kids around here,” Clay said to Anna and Farith.
Both girls sniggered. Lynx smiled her approval.
Only once the laughter had subsided did Dmitri clear his throat in Axel’s head. “Lord of the Conquest, are you planning to keep me waiting all day?”
As you can read my thoughts, I’d say the question is moot. But to answer your question on what I’d do if Lynx and I survived—
“Did I mention Lynx?”
Every muscle in Axel’s body locked. If you didn’t, then don’t bother trying to save my life. I will have nothing to live for.
A frequent intruder these days, the memory of the tent King Thorn had imprisoned him and Stefan in during their short stay in Norin so many years ago washed through his mind.
He yearned for its simple comfort.
To live there would mean that Nicholas’s ice crystal would be gone. Lukan would be dead. Stefan and Mama’s minds would no longer be controlled. And his father would be punished for his crimes. But most of all, it would mean that he would finally be free of his responsibilities to the curse.
“And life in Norin would be good without your family?”
We have already discussed Lynx, Axel answered sharply.
“And is Nicholas not your adopted son?”
Conscious of everyone watching him, Axel shifted. You know he is. If you have a point, make it. Or let me get back to my meeting.
“Should one moment in time determine the rest of your eternity?”
It depends on the moment in time. Which one do you refer to?
“I leave you to ponder that.”
Of course, you do.
“Everything okay?” Lynx asked. She must have seen his scowl.
He squeezed her hand. “Yes and no. But I’m not quite done with Dmitri.”
She smiled at him. “Take your time. Chad’s party is only in half an hour. I’m sure we can all shower and dress before then.”
All the living laughed.
He waved at them to shut up. “I’ve got something pressing to discuss with our commander-in-chief.” To Dmitri, he thought, Are you still there?
“As it happens, I am. What is this pressing matter that trumps preparing for Chad’s party?”
As if you don’t know. But if you insist on me asking… how about helping me with a math problem I’m having?
“You find that after all this time you can’t count?”
Very funny. It’s more a question of perspective.
“Geometry, then?”
No doubt you have time enough to spend in meaningless banter, but as you pointed out, I have a party to attend. So answer me this: in what universe is an army of three thousand soldiers numberless?
Dmitri chortled. “As you say, it’s all about perspective.”
You know I can’t call on my allies in the Free Nations while Nicholas wears an ice crystal.
“Perhaps you need some faith in all these demands you deliver so regularly to your pantheon.”
“Perhaps you need to reassure me that we’ll destroy the confounded thing.”
A long pause.
Tired of getting no real answers, Axel stood. “Dmitri had been his usual unhelpful self. Now about Clay’s bash… taking Nicholas to it wouldn’t be the brightest—”
The seer tsked in his head. “You want my help? Then at least have the patience to wait for it.”
Axel sat down heavily on the bed. I’m listening.
Lord of the Conquest, I have no doubt about where your heart lies. Your actions over these many years have proved your loyalty to me and my Light-Bearer. Now it’s your intellect I require.”
Axel pulled his most derisive smile. You’re accusing me of not using my brains? Last time we spoke, you said my problem was that I was always strategizing. You can’t have it both ways.
“Aye. But you’re not seeing the problem from my perspective. Have some faith in the things you cannot see but yet are true. Do this, and you will have your numberless army.”
Faith in things unseen? Axel scoffed. I live in a world where blood is real. It burns hot when it’s spilled. Spill enough of it, and people die. If I survive, I have to face mothers and fathers who have lost their sons and daughters because I didn’t plan properly. That’s my reality.
He waited for Dmitri to reply.
Nothing.
Nicholas grinned at him. “Your mouth’s hanging open. I assume he’s buggered off and left you will more questions than answers?”
Axel rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that always the way?”
“No kidding.” Nicholas shifted position on the floor to move just out of Axel’s reach. All mirth vanished. “Now back to business. Are we in agreement about the guardsmen and the other Chenayans?”
How could he agree to something so suicidal? But if he refused Nicholas?
Lynx wrapped her hand around his. “What did Dmitri say?”
He sighed. “Nothing of value. He spouted some drivel about faith in the unseen.” He ignored Lynx’s frown. “He also asked about one moment in time versus—” His breath snagged. What would happen if he crossed Nicholas in this and then survived?
Simple. He’d lose all hope of a relationship with his son. So…? His mind raced, tossing over options that ensured survival, while still honoring Nicholas the Light-Bearer’s single condition.
He rejected all of them.
The solution he sought required lateral thinking, something he’d built a career on. That innovation didn’t happen with five sets of eyes drilling him. He slid off the bed and sat directly in front of Nicholas. “Deal time. If I agree to do everything in my power to find a viable way of fulfilling your condition, but still fail, will you agree to retract that demand?”
An enigmatic smile. “Oh, you’ll find a way. Of that, I have no doubt.” Nicholas’s hand brushed his neck. “I know I won’t be welcomed at the party. Can I spend the evening with Farith?” A small hesitation. “And Anna?”
Despite, or maybe because of, Nicholas’s unreasonable demand, Axel waited for Anna’s reaction. The once-confident princess looked down at her feet.
It didn’t matter, because Nicholas wasn’t looking at her, either.
Exasperating.
But it drove home his argument: what would Nicholas say and do if Anna were killed because she couldn’t defend herself against a guardsman armed with a jasper ice crystal?
He considered asking the question but changed his mind. If Nicholas wasn’t yet ready to openly acknowledge his attraction to Anna, he would be unlikely to answer that question honestly. But it was something he, Lynx, and Clay had to discuss.
“Consider it done, Cowpat.” Farith broke the uncomfortable silence. She linked arms with Anna. “You don’t mind helping me babysit a Chenayan crown prince with the worst hair in Treven, do you?”
Anna didn’t meet Farith’s eyes.
Nicholas blushed. But he at least stood up to punch Farith lightly on the arm. “At least I’ve got hair. Those spikes of your hardly count.”
Farith gave a dramatic eye roll. “Guess I’m in for a rough night.” She linked her ot
her arm into Nicholas’s. “If you could both at least try to be less awkward, I might not hit you.” She pulled Anna and Nicholas to the door.
Clay opened it for her. “Have fun.”
Farith glowered at him. “Not very likely.”
Lynx sniggered. “You might want to take Nicholas to our cave so he can shower and change into something less ragged.” She tugged on Nicholas’s hair. “Nicks, you’ll find a clean alliance uniform in your cave. It’s right next to Axel’s and mine. And these rats’ tails can definitely do with a wash.”
Nicholas brushed his ropes of hair off his face. “Last time I had a proper bath was a year ago on my birthday.” His startlingly blue eyes softened. “You filled a tub for me. Remember?”
Lynx rubbed the shadow of a beard on Nicholas’s cheek. “I’ll never forget it.”
Mother and son stared at each other with such loaded emotion, he feared they’d both cry. Lynx would hate crying in public. He said sharply, “All three of them could use a clean-up.” Farith and Anna still wore the dresses Xipal had given them in Tarach.
Farith tugged at her dress as if noticing for the first time how soiled and tattered it was. “Spirits! We must all stink something horrible. Let’s get moving.”
Nicholas and Lynx broke eye contact. Lynx squeezed Axel’s hand. She knew he’d rescued her.
“Enjoy the evening,” Lynx said. They were almost out the door when she nudged the back of Anna’s leg with her boot tip. Anna looked back over her shoulder. Lynx smiled at her. “Take him somewhere special.”
“Sure,” Anna mumbled. She tugged on Farith. “Let’s get out of here.”
Axel shook his head despairingly. Despite all the obstacles, his raider was determined to encourage the stilted relationship between Nicholas and Anna. To her, it was an investment in the future, a way of loading the dice to ensure both of them survived the attack on the palace. It was the only reason Axel had finally agreed to keep Anna on Nicholas’s attack team.
Right now, his goals were more immediate. Lukan could never learn that Thorn was in Treven to see his grandson. He didn’t put it past the moron to retaliate by burning the Norin tribe with Dragon’s Fire. Protecting them was as important as keeping Nicholas safe.
He held up his hand. “Wait. The party’s in the Red Cavern. Keep Nicholas away from there.” He shot Nicholas his most disarming smile. “Nothing personal. You know that.”
“The village pariah. I get it.” Nicholas grinned.
It looked strained.
Axel longed to rail against Dmitri for his lackluster response to Nicholas’s ice crystal. There was no doubt that Dmitri could have destroyed the cursed thing if he wanted to.
Instead, he waved the three youngsters away. “Watch out for that apple cider.”
It was only once the door closed behind them that it occurred to him to forbid Anna from taking Nicholas to the Cascades. The little chamber was just beneath the surface. In the early days of the war, Chad had tunneled a spy hole through its roof. It opened onto a wide ledge that offered a perfect view of the capital, Maegkin. It was from there that Chad and his soldiers had spied on him when he’d first arrived in Treven so many years before.
After Axel had allied with the Trevenites, he’d secured the spy hole with a camouflaged steel door. It was an open secret that Anna and her friends often sneaked through it to escape the mines. Teenagers needed to let off steam, so he’d never clamped down on it. It helped that all of Anna’s friends were alliance soldiers. They knew how to take care of themselves.
Nicholas was another matter. The Chenayans may have left Treven, but they still had the threat of Xipal and his child army hanging over them.
He considered calling them back to mark the Cascades grate off limits, then frowned at his paranoia. Neither of the girls would be thoughtless enough to risk Nicholas’s life.
He sank down onto the bed next to Lynx. “The three of us have some planning to do to meet Nicholas’s demand.” Normally, Heron and Magridal would be part of this discussion. They were both dead. A hollow opened in his chest at their loss.
Lynx jumped up and took his hand. “True. But first, we have to attend Chad’s party. It’s bad enough that Nicholas won’t be there. We can’t add to that by being late. People will think things are going wrong.”
They’d be right, he thought bleakly.
After his discussion with Dmitri, he doubted an easy solution to Nicholas’s ice crystal would be found.
Because there was no need to ruin the party for everyone else, he said nothing.
He let Lynx led him from the room.
Ten
Bring Me Your Heart
Grigor gingerly prodded the scabs crisscrossing his back. Yellow, crusty, and throbbing, they rasped beneath his fingers. He had no idea how much time had passed between the agony of the whip and this morning when he’d finally woken properly for the first time.
His ravaged flesh twitched with the faintest memory of Father’s gentle touch. It would make sense that Father would have come to him, even though he hadn’t been around the morning of the beating when Grigor had needed him most. His eyes smarted; nor had Father answered any of his calls today. He brushed an impatient hand over his face.
It was Father’s loss, not his.
Another vague memory stirred. Kestrel at his bedside. Kestrel bandaging his back. Father saying his mother was here to help him.
He snorted. “Wishful thinking. That’s never going to happen.”
Inexplicably, his mother’s lack of interest twisted his stomach. But the hard truth was that she didn’t give a toss whether he lived or died. It was just rough that his father had abandoned him too.
And where was Natalia?
No flicker of memory, real or imagined, suggested that she’d been to call on him.
Maybe she came while I was sleeping.
Then why not leave a note? Something to tell him she’d cared enough to check on him?
He gritted his teeth against more disappointment.
The only visitors he recalled with any certainty were the priestesses. It would take a lifetime to forget their hands tugging at his wounds. At other times, they had scuttled like white-clad cockroaches into his apartment, dumped the food they carried, and ran before he could fully rouse himself to question them. Or get their help to eat their runny broth. Even in his dazed state, the fear in their eyes had told him everything he’d needed to know.
He was a traitor, singled out by Lukan as an enemy.
Was that why Natalia hadn’t come?
Maybe.
He grimaced. The Natalia he knew and loved would not have been so easily cowed. There had to be another reason why she had shunned him. Just as there had to be a reason why Tao hadn’t responded to his calls.
It was time to find out what those reasons were.
He turned slowly and reached for a shirt. The movement tore at his scabs. He waited a moment to gather his breath before easing the shirt onto his back. Soft as the cotton was, it chafed. He eased his skin away from the material. Even that tiny movement shot fire through him. There was no chance he’d survive wearing a waistcoat and jacket, as dictated by palace fashion.
“I didn’t wear that kind of crap when I was locked in the cage with Meka. Don’t need it now.”
A nagging ache in his belly reminded him that his twin was gone. Stefan Zarot had promised to help him free Meka. It was time to hunt him down, too.
Sweat shimmered on his face as he finished dressing. Moving like an old man, he shuffled to the narrow, treacherous stairs that linked his turret with the rest of the palace.
Boots rasped on the final turn of the spiral.
He waited to see who had come to call.
Morass emerged on the landing. A nasty smile glimmered on his otherwise dead face.
Grigor’s heart pounded against his ribs. “What are you doing here?” He couldn’t stop his eyes drifting to Morass’s belt. Morass’s whip had been replaced by a dagger in a sheath on h
is hip.
Morass didn’t bother to bow. “The emperor summons you to the great hall.”
That was disturbing.
Refusing to show fear, Grigor snapped, “Do you not bow for your crown prince?”
That nasty smile widened. “Crown prince is in Treven.”
The blood rushed from Grigor’s extremities. He clutched the banister. “How do you know that?”
“Whole court knows about Nicholas the Light-Bearer. Just like everyone knows you’re no more a crown prince than I am. Now come. Emperor doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Numb to everything but the news about Nicholas, Grigor allowed Morass to prod him down the spiral. He was halfway down when he finally spluttered, “Who told everyone about Nicholas?”
Morass shoved him hard—right on the worst of his scabs. “No talking.”
Grigor fell forward and only just managed to grab onto the wobbly banister before sliding the rest of the way down the stairs. By the time he reached the main thoroughfare, he was breathless and shaking. Still, he looked left and down the passageway, assessing his odds of running away. He sighed; even before his whipping, he would never have outrun Morass.
With no alternative, he walked ahead of Morass along deserted passages that should have been teeming with people.
He frowned at that incongruity.
Over one thousand high-born lived in the palace. They were waited on by quadruple the number of low-born and watched over by even more guardsmen. Yet only the clip of his and Morass’s boots, and the rustle of wall tapestries disturbed by their passing broke the eerie silence.
Lukan must have summoned everyone to witness another round of my torture.
Sweat streamed down his back and sides. Stop it, he told himself sharply. Dignity. Grace. Courage. Even if all the dignity, grace, and courage in the world hadn’t saved him from his last punishment. He wiped his clammy hands on his trousers. Father, if you’re around, I really could use some help.
The replying silence from his father was deafening.
Bastard. Deserter. Traitor.
But even as those damning thoughts tumbled hot and angry through his mind, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe that his father had truly abandoned him. To do so called into question everything he and knew and believed about Dmitri’s curse, about Nicholas… about everything. To give up hope in those things was to give up on life itself. He wasn’t ready to consider that, no matter what he had to face alone today.
