Fragments of Light

by Beth Hodgson

  Glancing in her direction, Cyrus saw Ikaria in the nude, soaking in a brightly lit spa. Immersed in the whirling hot water, Ikaria took a long drink from her goblet, her wet hair wrapped around her exposed breasts. As Cyrus approached, Ikaria emerged from the water, standing up seductively. The frigid air tightened her nipples as steam emitted from her body.

  She saw his wandering eyes gaze at her chest, then flashed a wicked smile, giving him a slight bow. “I was just having my evening soak. Please, won’t you join me?” Ikaria said in a smooth voice. She sat back down on the underwater bench, taking a drink of her dark wine.

  “You know that I cannot. Besides, I came here to talk to you.”

  Ikaria laughed. “What’s this? The Emperor suddenly has morals?” Ikaria fake gasped, then placed her hands to her upper chest in mockery. “I was under the impression that you liked to have fun at night. Or is it that I am too old for you now. I see your tastes have changed to a younger type.”

  Cyrus fumed. “I did not come here to discuss what I do outside of daily court activities.”

  “No. I suppose not. But when they are tied together with your nightly activities, it is so hard to distinguish what is what.” Ikaria shot him a look. “Oh, stop. Do you think I care what you do with your male part? If I truly did, my sister would have heard about it by now.”

  The more he looked at the hot tub, the more inviting it became. Steam rose from the glowing cyan pool, reflecting all of Ikaria’s upper body while her lowers were submerged in the misting whirlpools. Her violet hair flowed in every direction, entrancing him.

  He knew privately that Ikaria still wanted him; her wounded eyes told him so. Besides, the air was much too cold, and the hot water, wine, and her luscious breasts looked much more inviting. He could have a bit of pleasure before rescuing the fate of the world. Ikaria had always had the best body out of any woman at court.

  “You have a way with words, I will give you that,” Cyrus stated.

  “More like a way with my body,” Ikaria answered, revealing a seductive smile.

  Cyrus laughed, then stripped off his clothes and entered the tub. Ikaria finished the last of her wine, then poured another glass from a silver pitcher that sat on a nearby table. She handed it to him, as she only had one chalice out on the deck. Cyrus accepted, tasting the coolness of the wine as it flowed down his tongue while watching Ikaria’s hair swirl around her. She floated closer to him in the water, then took the half-empty glass from his hand.

  “So why are you really here?” She eyed him, taking a drink, then handed him back the glass.

  “I have heard rumors that Ayera assigned you to study with Kohren. That is, before he passed.”

  “Truly unfortunate. Another death by the plague. The pain must have been unbearable for him to commit suicide.” Ikaria threw back her head, resting it on the edge of the hot tub.

  Cyrus sighed, eyeing her every movement. Of course she was playing it off that the plague took Kohren. It was too easy for her. “Did Kohren find anything in regard to the plague before he died?” Cyrus wasn’t expecting a truthful answer, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

  Ikaria laughed, moving herself closer to him. “Come now, Cyrus. Did you really come here to talk about the plague?” Her hand was suddenly on his chest, her violet eyes smiling. Her fingers trailed along his muscles, slowly moving their way downward. “Or did you have something else in mind?”

  His mind fluttered with distraction. She always knew how to tease him, to make him forget his words. “No, I didn’t,” Cyrus managed.

  “Good, because this conversation is starting to bore me.”

  Her hand continued to wander over his body as her eyes burned with desire. Ikaria paused for a moment, making Cyrus question if she was going to either use her power against him or try to seduce him. Then Ikaria floated away in the water to the other side of the tub, taking another drink of wine. An alluring smile tinged her lips as Ikaria arose from the hot waters, toweling her body for a moment, then slipped on her lavender kimono. “Come. I am need of warmth by the fire.”

  Cyrus arose, then took the towel, drying himself in the frigid air. He went to reach for his clothes, but Ikaria shook her head, waiting at the sealed door. Taking the hint, he wrapped his lowers in the towel, and the two went inside to her quarters.

  Suri opened the sealed door, and Ikaria seated herself on a chair in the middle of the room, next to her enchanted fire pit. Cyrus sat down on the other matching chair, then realized they were the thrones that he’d given to her as an engagement present.

  “You still have these?” Cyrus asked, feeling slightly warm from the wine and the fire. He leaned back in the plush purple velvet of the padding, running his hands over the silver swirls on the armrest.

  “I do. They are my most favorite chairs. They help give me the clarity I need for each day.” Ikaria smiled at him. She held up her glass, waiting for Suri to fill it.

  The servant girl came, then bowed. “I am sorry, mistress, but there is no more wine in your chambers. I need to make a run to the citadel’s cellars.”

  Ikaria shrugged. “Well, then you better be off. We mustn’t keep His Majesty waiting.”

  The girl bowed, then scuttled out the door.

  “Can she be trusted?” Cyrus said. The last thing he needed was word around the court that he’d slept with Ikaria before vanquishing her.

  “She has served me for many years. There is no need to worry.”

  “Good.” Cyrus smiled, leaning his torso over near the fire, feeling the remains of the cold air from the patio melting from his body. Ikaria smiled back at him, her violet eyes flashing with a twinkle. She leaned back in her chair, then glanced at him. The folds of her kimono began to loosen, exposing a good portion of her chest.

  Cyrus became instantly aroused. He gave her a wanting smile as the towel around him shifted to expose his body. He couldn’t help himself. Her curves were too tempting.

  Ikaria gave a dirty laugh. “You want me, don’t you?”

  “I would be lying if I said I didn’t.”

  Ikaria slowly stalked her way toward him, her face and body an inch apart from his.

  Her inviting, lustful eyes instantly transformed into animosity, the hatred piercing him. With a hard slap, Ikaria struck him hard across his cheek, causing his flesh to sting where she hit him. She jerked her body upright while straightening her kimono, making sure she was covered.

  “Shame on you,” she spat out venomously, striking him again harder against his face. “You already have a wife. My sister. You have made a fool out of her, just like how you did me. Did you honestly believe that I would go running into bed with you after all this time, especially after you so politely broke off our engagement?”

  Enraged, Cyrus shot up from his chair, hurling it aside. He called upon his strength, the hidden magic that was ghosted from all World Sector Six, and power coursed through his veins, gathering within his hands.

  Releasing his power, pink ice enveloped Ikaria, causing her lower body to freeze into place. Cyrus felt the orange illusion spells that had been cast on him lifting, and his true color became apparent in his hair and eyes.

  With another quick jerk of his hands, he beckoned his power, releasing a sweeping pink hailstorm within the chamber, icy stones pelting in Ikaria’s direction.

  Ikaria remained still, laughing. Her hand lazily flipped palm up, casting a protective spell to surround her as the pink hailstorm went around the barrier. “Pathetic,” she called out from within.

  With a swift movement of her hands, a violet magic instantly impaled his mind, causing him to cry out. The pink hailstorm stopped suddenly, and Cyrus tumbled to the floor. Explosive pains erupted in his mind, making him grunt. His mouth felt wired shut, as if an outside force were holding his jaw in place.

  “Not even a true color. A reject, a mere tint.” Ikaria laughed, then swept her hair behind her shoulders. “Only to have water and ice aid you? So deplorable that you caused the gift of the red
to rebuke you. Clearly, the God of Light doesn’t favor you, does he, Your Majesty?”

  Before he could respond, a violet rushing glow ran past him, turning the throne that he had been sitting on upright. The glow then surrounded him, swirling around quickly, causing his whole body to hover toward the throne, then forced him to sit on it. Cyrus tried to break free from the stronghold that held him hostage, but the force was too strong. The mere thought of him doing so sent stabbing pains through his mind.

  Ikaria’s laughs filled the chamber while her magic forced his body to sit up perfectly straight on the throne. Cyrus felt the towel around his lowers fall, exposing him. “It was so poetic that you thought you were Auron’s Ghost Man,” Ikaria said mockingly. “Your red tinted color ‘masked.’ A ghost.”

  Cyrus sneered. “You know of Auron’s prophecy?”

  “The fool told me before I consumed his blood just a few hours ago.”

  Full of fervor, Cyrus focused his energy on summoning his magic. In response, Ikaria slammed another spasm of agony into his mind. His body began to compress with a great force, making it difficult to breathe. The violet glow that surrounded him lit up brighter as the force became more intense. His mouth still moved slightly as he gasped for air. The force became greater and much stronger. His chest was collapsing.

  “Oh, Cyrus, as much as I admire your zeal, this is just sad,” Ikaria said, standing before him. She leaned over him, whispering in his ear. “You thought you had me fooled. I knew of your power years ago. I felt it within your mind, after you ‘broke’ me. I have you to thank. If you hadn’t been such an ass, I would have remained powerless, unable to wield my magic.”

  Cyrus’s eyes went wide, shooting her a look. “You knew this whole time?”

  “I saw your little pretty pink hair and eyes within my mind’s eye. And when I had consumed the Lady Yasmin’s blood, the orange magic allowed me to see it barely peeking through the spells that the orange-gifted cast on you. Tell me, were you born deformed, or are you some failed High Court experiment? Oh, let me guess, they blessed you.” Ikaria laughed, flashing him a wicked smile. “Some blessing.”

  “You have no idea what you are doing!”

  “I know exactly what I am doing.”

  “You think you can take on the High Court? Well, I would like to see you try,” Cyrus scoffed. “You are no match for them! They are most powerful and will slaughter you before you can even wave your finger!”

  “Always the dramatic one, you were.” Ikaria waved him away. “I hope you are comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Cords from her canopy bed, basked in violet magic, whipped around him, tying him in place. They were as forceful as her magic squeezing him and secured him firmly to the throne.

  “What are you afraid of? Kill me! Or do you not have the stomach for it?”

  “No. I’m not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. I will let you rot in that throne for ten long years, then kill you. After all, it’s only fair. That is essentially what you did to me. Besides, it will give you time to contemplate how you behaved toward me, in the very gift that was to speak of our engagement. I think it’s a rather fitting punishment, don’t you agree?”

  “I will have you arrested!” Cyrus forced out of his mouth.

  “I doubt it. And good luck if you are counting on the High Court to rescue you. They do not care for their underlings. Just look at the case of Kohren. I know he gave word to them about me, and they didn’t even lift a finger to help him. I can safely say that they will not grant my sister’s request. And besides, how will you arrest me if no one discovers that you are here?”

  Cyrus’s anger melted into fear. He shook his head, shoving the thought away. The High Court would help him. He was sure of it. After all, his sector did everything they had ever asked, gathering information on Ikaria’s magic, divulging any secrets of the court to them, granting their spies court positions, and even handing them over secret scrolls and artifacts. They would aid him, he was sure of it.

  Furious, Cyrus tried to yell, but his mouth was stuck shut. He struggled with the invisible force crushing him along with the enchanted cord, fighting against the violet magic. Where was that servant girl? Perhaps she would discover them.

  “Now, if you will excuse me, I have other evening engagements. And Cyrus,” Ikaria added, “don’t count on Suri.”

  Cyrus shot her a look. She had read his mind.

  “Like I said before, she is quite loyal to me. I dare say that she is one of the only people who has truly loved me.”

  Ikaria snapped her fingers, then the firelight died out, leaving him alone in the cold darkness of her chambers.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  GREEN

  Emerald set down her charcoal, studying the completed drawing.

  Kyle’s face peered back at her, giving one of his angry snarls within the dark thick lines. If circumstances were different, she would have chuckled at his expression; she had always thought his scowls were somewhat amusing. But circumstances were not different. An emptiness continued to grow in the pit of her stomach, an endless void that she couldn’t fill. The more she tried to fill it, the more barren it became.

  She missed Kyle.

  What was he doing now? Had Victor given him her blood? She’d wanted Kyle to have it in case she didn’t succeed with her father, so that he could in turn help his people. But since she didn’t need to confront her father anymore, Emerald could consider it more like a parting gift. She wasn’t even sure that his body would accept the magic and take on the powerful effects that it gave. Hopefully it did and gave him something to remember her by.

  Emerald grabbed a piece of tape, then hung the sketch next to her last painting of Kyle on the wall that was in several shades of red. Red. If the magic indeed chose Kyle, he would have the gift of the red. Elements, Emerald recalled reading in The Spectrum years ago; that was the power of red magic. It would definitely suit Kyle, as wild as he was. No man could tame fire or the strength of the winds and water, nor any building withstand the destructive force of the earth. And with Kyle, he fit right in with it all.

  An unsettling thought struck her. Once she was married, there would be no relationship with Kyle whatsoever. It would be the ultimate end to whatever they had. That thought made her even more depressed.

  “Who is this mystery man?”

  Startled, Emerald whirled around and saw Glacia staring at her picture.

  “You have been back at the palace now for a few days, and you have not told me about him,” Glacia said. “In fact, you haven’t told me much about anything. I have been waiting, but I can no longer contain myself.”

  “Just someone I met. He plays in a band.”

  “So vague.” Glacia sighed loudly. “Could you at least give me something more than that? It’s me, Princess.” Glacia turned her attention to the copy of Remy’s old band flyer, the one before Emerald made them a new one. “Disorderly Conduct, huh? Never heard of them.”

  Emerald stared at the picture, taking in Kyle’s image. She was afraid that she would forget his image. His features. His eyes, his face, his hair… She couldn’t let them fade from her memory.

  Not alluding to any details, Emerald muttered, “It does not really matter anymore. Besides, I am going to marry Derek, am I not?”

  “If it didn’t really matter, you wouldn’t be drawing him,” Glacia pointed out. “Speaking of Derek, you need to hurry up and get ready for dinner. You haven’t been seeing the prince very much, and he will start to wonder why you continue to hide from him.”

  She groaned, turning away. “I’m not hiding,” Emerald said defensively. She just didn’t feel like seeing anyone, including Derek.

  “Really? Then what are you doing?”

  “I just need time to myself.”

  “Right.” Glacia rolled her eyes. “Princess, you had twenty-four years of time to yourself.”

  “Glacia, would it be terrible to say that I no longer wish to get married? Is t
hat selfish of me to even think that, considering it would benefit Arcadia if I did so?”

  Emerald watched as Glacia tossed a gown on her bed, then began rummaging in her wardrobe to find shoes. “Everyone has doubts. It’s just how you act upon them,” Glacia called out. “And if you are thinking about that mystery man that you refuse to tell me about, you should at least try to put him aside.”

  Emerald began to undress, then slipped on the dark emerald-green gown. “I know. It’s not like anything could ever become of us…”

  Glacia came back, then zipped her up, turning Emerald’s body to face her. “Princess, I won’t lie. I can’t say love is easy, because it’s not. Your heart is somewhere else, and that is okay. It happens to us all.” Glacia turned her around, giving Emerald the space to seat herself at the vanity, then began to run a comb through her hair. “Please, try and take comfort in Prince Derek. He was truly worried for you. Every waking hour he was on pins and needles, praying for your safety. He cares for you, and that is hard to find in a man. I mean, he has waited years to be with you. Most any other man would have given up and moved on.”

  Glacia continued to style her hair for the evening’s dinner while Emerald sat in silence.

  I am going to marry Derek, she told herself. But her insides churned in confusion.

  In the corner of her eye, Emerald saw a fading flash of orange by the new picture of Kyle. The cyborg. Always watching what she was doing, always studying her drawings as if there was a message for him written within. Emerald couldn’t get away from him. And he couldn’t get away from her. Her father had ordered him to watch her, and there was nothing the cyborg could do to override his instructions. Even while incapacitated, he could still chain her down.

  She thought sadly of who the cyborg was before, and how he had no say in his own life. In a way, they were the same.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Derek sat in the King’s private dining room, glancing at the empty chair that sat diagonally from him. Emerald was late.