Now, I know enough about witches not to ever accept anything from them without knowing the fine print, especially if it involves food or drink. I drum my fingers on the tabletop. “What’s the catch?”
She lifts the teapot to her nose and inhales deeply from the nozzle’s steam. “Breathe in the vapor and you’ll see exactly what happened with Connor.”
“You’ll cast an enchantment?” asks Lincoln.
“No, I’ll use the same type of spell that your monopsyche cast. You’ll be able to join in my memory. That’s all.”
I drum my fingers some more. She’s so full of shit. There’s a hidden trap in here, I know it. “I find that hard to believe.”
Sakura starts pouring us each a cup of steaming tea. “This is what I believe. You’ll inhale the vapor of this tea and see what came to pass between Connor and me. After that, I’ll give Lincoln a chance to fix everything. That is his test. Will he be wise enough to pass?” She sets a teacup before each of us. “Go ahead. Inhale the vapor.”
I pick up the small ceramic cup set before me and eye the contents carefully. The liquid inside is crimson in color and has a thick consistency. My tail makes a no-no motion by my shoulder. “This is blood, not tea. I’m not getting anywhere near it.”
Sakura tilts her head. A high-pitched tinkling sounds from the many bangles in her elaborate hairstyle. “And what if I insist? Will you kill me like you did the Mantis?”
I set down my teacup. “The thought did cross my mind.”
“Suppose I cast a compulsion on myself?” asks Sakura. “The spell will ensure that no harm will come to either of you.”
Lincoln and I share a long look, and there’s an entire conversation hidden in our stare. Bottom line, it’s worth seeing her cast the compulsion spell, especially if it ends with giving us the truth about Connor. That kind of information could make the difference between life and death on this mission.
“Alright,” says Lincoln. “Cast the spell.”
Sakura circles her own teacup by her chest. A long stream of vapor rises from the liquid, swirling and churning until it takes the form of a woman’s face made of thick red mist. A band of silk is tied over the apparition’s eyes. Sakura inhales deeply, and the mist-spell enters her lungs. “I will not harm Lincoln or Myla while I show them my memory of Connor, nor afterward when I offer Lincoln the chance to fix his father’s mistake.” She exhales, and the mist-face appears in her breath, only this time it’s smiling.
“The compulsion is cast,” says Sakura.
I turn my attention to Lincoln. I haven’t seen half as many spell castings as my guy has, so I’ll take his call on this one.
“That’s satisfactory.” He gently rests his hand on my forearm. “I’ll go first.”
Normally, I’d fight him on this, just on principle. No warrior lets someone else walk into danger first without at least trying to take their place. It’s like the unwritten code of badassdom. But in this case, I’ll let Lincoln take the lead. If there’s something phony about the spell, he’ll have a much better chance to catch it than I will.
I pat Lincoln’s hand gently. “Be careful.”
“I intend to.”
Lincoln raises his teacup near his face. Red vapor rises, taking the form of a pair of slender hands wrapped in long bands of crimson silk. The vaporous fingertips enter Lincoln’s mouth.
A pang of panic thrums through my chest. What in blazes is that spell anyway?
Minutes pass before Lincoln turns to me. I scan his face carefully. Nothing seems obviously strange.
“Go ahead, Myla. It’s all right.”
“Fine.” I raise the teacup. “Here’s to nothing.”
I draw the teacup close to my mouth. The same misty hands rise up from the surface of the blood. I breathe in deeply. The red, misty fingertips gently pry my lips open and slip inside.
After that, the world around me changes utterly. Within the blink of an eye, Sakura, Lincoln and I no longer sit inside the pagoda. Instead, we stand in the heart of a topical jungle. Green plants are everywhere. Tall winding trees tower above us, their branches ending in a high canopy of leaves. Insects buzz through the air.
“I’ve seen this place before,” I say slowly. “Does that sound crazy?”
Lincoln shakes his head. “Actually, I was having the same feeling myself.”
A familiar voice echoes through the underbrush. “Come on, lads. I’m over here!”
I’d know that tone anywhere. It’s Connor.
A memory comes rushing back to me. Standing in the Elder’s Chamber as Faustina cast a Looking Glass of this exact stretch of jungle. What were her words again?
I know who lives in that jungle. Sakura, the blood witch.
Connor’s voice sounds again. “Over here, patrol! I’m in the clearing.”
Lincoln steels his shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.” He gestures to a particular stretch of jungle. “His voice is coming from that direction.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” says Sakura.
As I follow Lincoln through the undergrowth, I realize that my personal hell focused on my fears for Maxon being tortured. Lincoln’s personal hell seems to be centered around both Maxon and Connor. A bitter taste of worry enters my mouth.
My husband is a level-headed guy, except for one particular area: anything to do with his father. And Sakura offered to give Lincoln a chance to undo everything his father did wrong? My heart sinks.
We may be in deep trouble.
# # #
It’s only a few minutes, but it feels like hours pass as Lincoln walks through the dense jungle, checking for broken twigs and whatever else he does when he’s in hunter mode. “This trail is only for Father. I don’t see any signs of the remaining Demon Patrol.”
I scan the surrounding ferns. It all looks alike to me. “Well, he did say something about the patrol finding him.”
Lincoln pauses just outside of a small clearing. “Ah, here we are.”
I follow Lincoln’s gaze to find a young version of Connor stomping about the greenery, his face contorted with frustration. He’s an imposing man, tall and broad-chested with wild blond hair.
Connor cups his hand by his mouth. “Come on, lads! Don’t make me keep calling! I’ll drive all the demons away.” He kicks at the jungle floor with his boot. “If I haven’t already,” he mutters.
A piercing whistle cuts through the air. I know that sound. It’s the distress call of a Demon Patrol.
“Damn, they’re in trouble.” Connor takes off into the green undergrowth, racing over roots and under low hanging branches. We try to stay as close behind him as possible. Somehow, Sakura manages to stay a few paces behind us despite the fact that she’s dragging around the world’s soggiest Kimono. We rush through the undergrowth, and then Lincoln freezes in place. “Stop, Myla.”
I pause, careful to scope out the scene. The jungle abruptly ends in a cliff. Tiny rocks and leaves cascade over the cliff’s edge, making small crackling noises at they plummet to the ground below.
“Help!” cries Connor.
“He’s here,” says Lincoln. Together, we inch closer to the cliff’s edge, finding Connor about a yard down the rock face, clinging for his life, his fingertips gripping a small ridge of stone.
“Someone! Help me!”
A familiar outline steps out of the jungle. Aldred. He looks younger. His pot-belly may be smaller and his hair thicker, but he’s still the same rotten bastard I always knew. Like our visit to Hildy’s memory of the Wastelands, Aldred doesn’t see Sakura, Lincoln or me. Instead, he steps up to the cliff’s edge and peers down at Connor. “You never could resist a distress whistle.”
Connor grips the rock’s edge, trying to keep his footing. “That signal was you?”
Aldred sits down by the cliff’s edge, swinging his left leg over the side. “I had to do something. We need to talk.”
“And you think luring me over a cliff will inspire a conversation?” Connor shakes his head. “
You’ve gone daft, man.”
“No, I’ve found a new friend. Although, imagine my surprise when I discovered she’s your acquaintance as well. She’ll be here soon, paying us both a visit.”
“Stop talking nonsense and help me. I can’t hang on all day.”
“In a minute,” says Aldred. “I’d like to have a little chat first. You’ve been avoiding me for years, Connor. Making trouble for my house with your feisty wife.”
“I’ll rip out your tongue for even speaking of Octavia. You aren’t fit to contemplate her, let alone say her name. And yes, she and I have been working to reform your foul house.” He huffs as he adjusts his grip on the rock face. “If you want to watch me die, that’s your choice. But I won’t trade my life for leniency against Acca.” He looks up at Aldred, fiery determination in his mismatched eyes. For the first time, I see something positively Lincoln-like in him. Who knew Connor had a spine that anything but bend over and kiss ass?
“Go, leave me to die,” adds Connor, his voice firm. “Octavia will still take you down.”
Aldred makes a tsk-tsk noise. “Is that any way to treat someone who knows Octavia’s awful secret? Even the sweet Queen isn’t aware.”
Connor pauses from his struggling. All the blood drains from his face. “What do you know, exactly?”
“The same thing you told our mutual friend, Sakura.”
Connor’s mouth falls open with shock. “The blood witch. She told you?”
“Yes, she shared every last detail. By the way, Sakura’s a marvel isn’t she? She can uncover secrets even Faustina couldn’t imagine. You were a fool to trust her with yours, though. She told me how our sweet Octavia is under an unbreakable curse. She can never bear children.”
My mind reels with this news. I’d heard that Octavia and Connor waited a long time to have Lincoln. Sure, there were rumors that they had trouble getting pregnant, but Octavia said they simply waited until they were ready.
“You bastard!” snarls Connor. “You put that curse on her.”
“Sadly, no. Although it would have been a capital idea. I just found out about it, that’s all. And I have excellent news for you. Sakura has found a way to break that curse. You’ll have a son. One child. Strong, smart, and brave. All the best from both you and Octavia. A future king for all the ages.”
I shoot a quick glance at Lincoln. His face is unreadable as he soaks in the scene. Future king for all the ages? Thanks for laying that load on his back.
“We could adopt a child,” says Connor quietly.
“Let’s be honest. How many children would you have to adopt to get what Sakura could guarantee? One? A hundred? I’m offering you a way to ensure the monarchy stays in good hands. Isn’t that worth something?”
Connor stares at the rock wall. “Let’s say I even consider this, which I’m not. What would you want in exchange?”
I suck in a short gasp. Asking what the child would cost? That means the poor dumb jerk is definitely considering it.
Aldred puffs up his chest. “All I want is a guarantee that our children would wed.”
“I’m never marrying off a child of mine to your spawn.”
“But you do want a strong heir. Think about it. A strong king can rule alone. Our children barely have to speak to each other.” He leans half-way over the ledge. “Look, I’m offering you a golden opportunity for a solid legacy. How many kings have fretted that even the sweetest child would turn sour? You won’t have to worry about that. You’ll know Antrum is safe.”
Aldred braces his left hand on the cliff’s edge. With his right, he reaches to Connor. “You and I, we run the two greatest houses in Antrum. Our children will wed. Your boy will love fighting and war, like any thrax. What will he care for love when there are armies to lead? And you’ll raise him that way, too, won’t you? A true thrax. A great king. Bring him into the world. Take my hand.”
I want to scream, weep, even kick his sorry ass down the cliff-side. Don’t do it, Connor.
“You’re a rotten pile of demon dung. You know that, Aldred?”
“Clearly. But do we have a deal?” Aldred stretches his arm lower.
“We have something to discuss, perhaps.”
“A discussion is always a good start,” says Aldred. “Sakura will arrive any second to answer your questions.”
Connor stares at Aldred’s hand for a long minute, then he takes it.
My heart cracks. Turn away, Connor.
Aldred quickly hauls Connor up to the safety of the jungle floor. I gaze between the two of them, trying to process what I’ve seen. So, this is how it happened. Connor became Aldred’s puppet in exchange for a strong king to take over Antrum. I look over to Lincoln. The same bewilderment I feel now shows on his face as well.
“Excellent,” declares Aldred. “Now, all we need is Sakura.” The figure steps out of a dense line of trees. “And here she is.”
A younger version of Sakura moves to stand beside Aldred and Connor. The biggest difference I can see between the old and young blood witch is that the current model has a bluish tinge to her skin. She clearly needs to feed.
“I greet you, Earl of Acca.” The young Sakura bows to Connor. “And you as well, King of the Thrax.”
Connor glares at her for all he’s worth. “You’re a traitor.”
“I never promised to keep your secret, only to discover the truth behind Octavia’s barren state. You should’ve known better than to seek my help. I am a blood witch, after all. The only blood witch, now, thanks to you. Without you as motivation, Aldred wouldn’t have helped me kill off my brethren and gain ultimate power.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And your mind is easy to read.” Sakura taps Connor’s forehead with her pointer finger. “I saw it clearly when you came for my advice about Octavia. You worry that there will be another weak ruler, another Aethelwulf, and that the thrax won’t survive this time.”
Connor visibly shivers. “My grandfather, Ryder, took me with him to bury the dead from Aethelwulf’s wars. There were whole thrax cities that were nothing but rotting skeletons. People starved or asphyxiated. We’d bury the corpses and then seal off the cave.” His voice shakes with grief. “Ryder wouldn’t let anyone else oversee the work. He saw it as part of his responsibility as king.”
Sakura takes a few shuffling steps closer to Connor. “Aethelwulf started off as such a good king, too.”
“That’s the truth,” says Connor. “But you never know how someone will react to power.”
“I do,” says Sakura sweetly. “You’ll have a child who will be a strong ruler. As good a king as Ryder, maybe better.”
“My Grandfather was the greatest of the thrax. He founded the House of Rixa with Aquila.”
“Then honor him with a child suited to his legacy. Doesn’t he deserve that? Don’t you?”
Connor stares at the ground for a long time before speaking again. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Excellent!” Aldred rubs his palms together. “Now, I’d like to talk about the guarantee regarding our children’s marriage.”
“Guarantee? I gave you my word that your daughter will marry my son. Isn’t that enough?”
“Ah, no. You see, I’ve paid a mighty steep price for Sakura’s services. She’s a blood witch, Connor. She’s been paid in souls. And not just any spirits, either. I had to round up every last member of her house for a nasty blood sacrifice. Grisly business, I assure you. After all that trouble, I can’t take a chance that you’ll change your mind.”
“I’ll never waver.”
“Come now.” He claps his arm around Connor’s shoulder. “An additional guarantee is not an unreasonable thing to ask.”
“And what kind of guarantee do you want, exactly?”
“I want blood rights to our first-born grandchild.”
Connor steps away, stunned. “You want me to hand over the body and soul of my grandchild to you?”
Panic charges my nervous system. Don’t do this, Connor. N
o, no, no.
“Think about it. You’ll never have another child with Octavia. This bargain with Sakura will give you one son. And you’ve already promised that your boy will marry my daughter. So it’s not your grandchild, it’s our grandchild, right?”
Connor’s voice comes out very small. “I suppose that’s true.”
“And for all my monstrous qualities, do you really think I’d ever hurt a hair on my own grandchild’s head?” The evil gleam in his eye says he’d roast his own mother if it suited him.
Connor pauses for a long minute. “I suppose not.”
My mouth curls with disgust. I’ve seen Connor do this a million times. Promise him the moon and he’ll believe you, as long as it’s the moon he wants. If Octavia were here, there’s no way she’d allow him to make this crap bargain.
Aldred chuckles. “Quite right. Even I’m not a baby killer.”
Connor frowns. “We’re not talking about death, Aldred.”
“No, we’re discussing life. A new one for you and Octavia as parents, am I right?”
“Yes,” says Connor in a low voice. “You are.”
Sliding my arms around Lincoln’s waist, I bury my head in his shoulder. His body is warm and trembling.
“So this is how it happened,” I whisper.
Lincoln nods. “Father sold Maxon’s soul to Aldred in exchange for me. Then, when Aldred reached Hell, he traded Maxon again, this time for Armageddon’s mercy, which turned out to be no mercy at all.” His voice turns low and sad. “I never imagined this was Father’s secret.”
Sakura steps toward Aldred, a grim smile on her mouth. “Let’s seal the deal.” She pulls a long knife from the sleeve of her robes. “You first.”
Aldred takes Sakura’s dagger and slices his palm open. He hands the blade to Connor who does the same. Aldred and Connor grip their bloodied palms together as Sakura whispers a spell over their joined flesh. “Be it known that in exchange for a strong son and future high prince for King Connor, the first child from that high prince’s bloodline shall belong to Earl Aldred, body and soul. This shall be sealed this day along with a compulsion to never speak of it again. Do you so agree?”
Armageddon (Angelbound) Page 16
