“What I see,” I rested my hands on her shoulders, “is my daughter making an emotional choice with consequences she can’t fathom.”
“Do you expect me to believe you have not made such choices?”
“Oh, I have. And most didn’t end well.”
Exasperated, Lirih backed up out of my hold.
“I saw you and Jarryd arguing,” I said. “He agrees with me, doesn’t he?”
“Jarryd is not of the mind to agree with anyone at the moment. Least of all you.” Noticing my twitch of discomfort, she winced. “I apologize. That was unkind. But in truth, I care for no one’s views but yours. That is why I need you to understand. The eldring are our distant kin. They are a victim of this war as any other. Yet, they will not be seen as such. They will have no rights in Malaq’s new reign without an advocate. I can be that advocate. I can be their voice. I can keep the eldring from being once again hunted to extinction. I am not between worlds. I am of both.”
“Maybe you are. But you don’t need to stay like this to speak in their favor.”
“Remaining as I am is a want, not a need. You touched the soul of that eldring boy. You know the thrill of their vitality, the intoxication of their shared mind. Merging with the eldring has made me strong and fast. I smell and hear the world in all its beauty and subtlety. I see it better than before I was blind. I feel more.”
“It’s like being nef’taali,” I nodded. “Jarryd made me better in ways I didn’t know I needed. But…” I thought a moment, grasping for another approach, another way to refute her logic. “What about the cure? I have no idea if it will work on you like this.”
“My cravings are minimal in this form. If your actions do not end them entirely, I will manage. We all will.” With a sigh, Lirih wrapped her clawed hands around mine. “Trust me, father. This is how I was meant to be. How Fate intended me to be.”
“Fate—” I left off. I wanted to tell her that Fate didn’t exist anymore. We have to make our own future now. But I didn’t have the heart to take away my daughter’s beliefs, or the peace she’d found. At her age, I would have given anything to feel the acceptance she was claiming.
She’s truly happy, I thought. She’s found a home.
What more could a father ask for his child?
Leaning down, I kissed the soft hide of her forehead. “What will you call yourselves?”
Lirih shrugged her fur-clad shoulders. “We have no need for a distinction. Pale, dark, large and small; color and size have no matter. We are all eldring.”
“I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“Nor I of you,” she smiled. “Thank you for approving. And for the gift you will give the Shinree. I pray Death receives you well.” With a final squeeze, her hands drifted off mine and she backed away. “Generations will pass. Rulers will change. Peace and war will come and go. But as long as a single eldring lives…” she tapped a claw to the side of her head, “so will the memory of Ian Troy.”
I caught a final glimpse of her upturned lips before my daughter dropped to all fours and scampered away. When she reached the dune where her pack waited, they fell in line alongside her and, together, headed west toward the mountains. I kept my gaze glued to the hazy horizon, until Lirih became no more than a speck and the sunlight made my eyes water.
“She’s like you,” Jarryd said. He’d been standing next to me for several minutes, sharing in the clutter of emotions churning inside me. “She’s brave, defiant. Pigheaded.”
“I’m pigheaded?” I grunted, turned around, and headed toward the wall.
Jarryd fell in step beside me. “Krillos says you’ve always had a death wish.”
“Krillos says a lot of things,” I muttered, triggering Jarryd’s lopsided grin. “Is he gone?”
“About thirty minutes ago. He and Ordree took the last door out to Kabri. There’s only Shinree here now. And me.”
“Ordree isn’t going back to Arulla?”
“Ordree resigned from Elek’s service. She’s headed to Langor for the official coronation. She plans to pledge herself in service to our new High King. Apparently, her loyalty to the Senior Orator couldn’t withstand Malaq’s charm.”
“Malaq’s charm…or yours?”
Jarryd declined to comment as we approached the wall. The Shinree guards let us through the double iron barred gate and we passed over the slender wooden bridge that spanned the moat. “I like her,” he admitted, when we hit the main thoroughfare. “But Ordree’s not staying for me. That’s not who she is. And I doubt I’ll be in Langor, anyway. Malaq wants me there, but he has Krillos and Dolan. Elayna suggested I join Kabri’s army. But…” Melancholy drifted over the link. It quickly turned to something deeper. “I think I might stay here a while. Their magic can’t drain me. And Sienn could use some help getting the city up and running.”
“She can help you, too.”
Tension gripped his jaw, tightening the old arrow scar on his cheek. “Do what you have to, Ian. But I’m not binding with anyone else. I can’t.”
I stopped in the middle of the street. People were filing past us heading for the stands. I pretended they weren’t all staring. “Don’t mess around with this, Nef’taali. The alternative is—”
“Madness?” he broke in. “Yeah. We’re old friends.”
“This will be worse than before. You’ll need help.”
He dismissed my concern with his lazy one shouldered shrug that I didn’t believe for a second. Then he strolled off.
I called after him. “We don’t have a lot of time. We need to talk about this.”
He kept going.
I stifled a curse and caught up. We continued on in silence for a few minutes. His features relaxed. His stride became untroubled. Outwardly, Jarryd appeared to be calm as hell. Inside, he was a twisted knot. I had to say it. “You don’t have to stay. If you don’t want to watch…”
“I’m not leaving.”
We crossed the street to the arena entrance. As we reached the open doors, I pulled the jade archer’s ring off my finger and tossed it to him. “Thanks for the loan. It came in handy a few times.”
Jarryd stared intently at the ring. His indecision washed over me.
“Try it on,” I urged.
With a resigned sigh, Jarryd gave in. He had to shove halfway down his finger, but not because of any lingering physical deformity. What Jarryd had to push past was his own uncertainty. As he did, the ring fit into place, and I detected a confidence emerge that had been dormant a long while.
The jade glinted in the light as Jarryd flexed his hand. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I need you to do something. Something you won’t want to do. I thought I could do it myself. But after last night, after Sienn—” I still saw her body glowing from the light of my magic-scars; still smelled her skin on mine. Badly, I wanted to drop the wall I’d erected between us this morning. I’d built it for Sienn’s sake. Our link would be active for several more days. I couldn’t allow her to experience my death so intimately. But the urge to feel her one last time was excruciating. I shook my head. “I can’t do it, Nef’taali. This is where my strength runs out…and yours comes in.”
Jarryd’s teeth clamped tight as he grasped what I was asking. “You’re a bastard.”
I wanted to apologize again, to make him see that my life was nothing compared to the future of an entire race. But all that came out was, “I need you in this.”
“And I need you not to die!”
Muscles clenched at the emotion coming out of him, I drove my own down as far as I could. “There’s no one else I trust more. I need you to have my back one more time.”
Jarryd ran a desperate hand over his cropped hair. “Do I have a choice? ‘Course I don’t,” he spat, answering his own question. “I never had a choice with you. Not then,” Jarryd clenched his hand with the rune
s that bound us, “and not now.” He turned away.
“If it’s easier for you to be angry—”
Pivoting back, his fist slammed into my mouth. Jarryd hit me again, and I staggered. I was about to rub the spot where his ring made contact—and loudly lament my wisdom of giving it back to him—when Jarryd grabbed my arm and pulled me in for a hug. It was fierce. Rage and resentment rolled out of him. So did friendship and respect, and far more affection than I’d ever earned.
Jarryd’s embrace ended in a shove. I caught the odd stares of the passersby as I caught my balance. Something heartfelt would have been appropriate. But our link was already clogged with enough poignancy to choke ten horses.
I bent and pulled my mother’s Nor-Taali from my boot. I slapped the hilt into Jarryd’s hand. He swallowed, staring at it. Folding the dagger in his grip, his hand shook. His eyes were hard as they lifted to mine. “Where?”
“According to Fate’s records, the crown was created with a slice to the throat. Nine throats to be exact, but I need time to do the spell, so nothing too quick.”
Color left his face. Jarryd said nothing and slid the dagger in his belt. Lowering his head, making it clear he wanted no eye contact with anyone, he walked into the arena.
With a deep breath, I followed him inside.
The stands were packed. People were filling the sand. Only a wide swath in the middle of the arena, around my father’s alter, was empty. His throne was gone. With the firepots unlit, the platform sat vacant and dark, like an empty theater before the performers took the stage.
I went to the altar. Running my hand over the rough stone, I thought of Sienn’s vision. I didn’t recall seeing the arena itself through her eyes when she watched me die. But the sand, the altar, and the people were all dead on.
Something tugged on the end of my shirt. Turning, I smiled down at the Shinree boy from the caves. “Gallus. I’m glad you’re here. I hope Sienn found you some place to stay.”
“Us kids have a special house to ourselves. It’s nice.” He shrugged. “Better than the caves.”
“I hope so,” I grinned.
“Sienn said I might have real family, though. She said we all do somewhere, and if mine are here, if we can find them, I can live with them.”
“That’s great news. I’m happy for you.”
“Yeah.” Gallus ripped the cap off his head and crushed it in his hands.
Sensing more, I crouched at his level. “What is it?”
“Can I have your book? The one you read to me?”
“You mean the one you stained with plum sauce?” I asked, feigning a frown. “You aren’t a Reth, Gallus. You won’t be able to read Tam’s journal.”
“I know. I just…” his gaze fell. He fidgeted with his hat again. “I thought I could look after it for you. Protect it. It seemed kind of important to you so…”
“I’d like that,” I smiled. “Thank you. But I left it in Kabri. You’ll have to make a door to fetch it.”
His face fell. “I’m not a door-maker.”
“You’re about to be.” I put an affectionate hand on his head as I stood. “You’re about to be lots of things.”
Gallus threw his arms around my legs and gave me a squeeze before he ran off. Sienn approached me then. With each step, the scarves flowing off her sleeveless black dress brushed the tips of the sand. The dark fabric was striking against the white of her hair. Flecks of amethyst adorned the neckline, making her skin seemed to glow in the morning sun. She was beautiful, as always. I was glad to see the transfer had left her with no outward scarring. But I was scarring her plenty. The evidence was in the drawn, washed-out expression on her face and the puffiness of her red eyes. I pretended not to notice the tears on her cheeks as she placed the Crown of Stones in my hands. At my touch the auras came alive, greeting me, tempting me. Wanting me. One more time.
Sienn put a hand on my face. She leaned in and kissed me. Her short, meaningful caress tugged at my heart as she pulled silently away and joined the crowd.
Gripping the crown, I turned in a slow circle, taking in all the faces. Never had I thought a free Shinree city was possible, let alone that I would stand in one. And this isn’t all of us. More were spread out across the realms, workers in remote villages, slaves that had yet to be freed. Though Kayn’l allowed no magic in, they wouldn’t be forgotten. The spell wouldn’t dissipate until every Shinree alive was restored.
Those clean of the drug would be immediately altered. They were the ones with anxiousness in their white eyes, whose posture spoke of hungry anticipation. Wariness clung to their hushed whispers. A few women clutched children to their breasts in fear. I didn’t know what to say to earn their trust. What words I might use to explain the profound change ahead of them. Janus would have written me a fine speech.
I rounded the altar in silence and raised the Crown of Stones high above my head.
The arena fell quiet.
I invited in the nine stones one at a time; celestite, sapphire, magnetite, ruby, spinel, diamond, amber, topaz, obsidian. I didn’t drain the artifact. Nor did I cut off its entry. I needed the flow open and my blood connected to the crown. I needed control. A confined channeling, I thought, as the currents fell slowly into my veins; one aura pursuing the other in a tantalizing parade of icy hot vibrations. It was a tease that left me shuddering. Thankfully, the spell I was about to cast wasn’t difficult in and of itself. Pulling the crown apart hinged solely on understanding how it was put together.
Intention was the main ingredient in the crown’s creation. The determination of my ancestors to split the lines was absolute. Their belief that it was the solution to their problems: unwavering. But the crown wasn’t the answer to saving our race. It was the answer to saving their reign, to maintaining their control. The First Ones, corrupted by their own arrogance and enamored by their ability to lead, believed their version of a perfect Shinree society was the only one. Molding our future to their design, whatever the cost, became reasonable and necessary.
To undo their damage, I had to think otherwise. I had to envision more. I had to want the restoration of our race, the growth and evolution that was denied us. Most importantly, I had to form my wishes more liberally than my ancestors—and far more carefully than I ever had before.
Sienn figured it out before I did; where I went wrong the first time I channeled the nine auras. When I used the Crown of Stones in defiance of Aylagar’s orders, my focus wasn’t on peace. It was on ending the war. I hadn’t understood the difference at the time, but in that moment, my desire—my only desire—was to stop the conflict as swiftly and effectively as possible, with more than a little anger and vengeance sprinkled in. I’d been thinking like I always had: on the run. I’d cast on impulse, from a dark place I’d been prone to dwell my whole life: desperation. Hope had never entered my mind. I wasn’t sure I even knew what it was, nor for a long time after.
Back then all I knew was guilt and pain.
For ten years, I’d wallowed in it. I’d clung to it, living in the past, suffocating myself. Until a half-Langorian prince and a Kabrinian messenger came along and dragged me into the present. Others came along too, friends and lovers, and for the first time, my mind began to turn toward the future. It was because of them, because of the hope they gave me, that I had what I needed now to do the spell.
I smiled to myself, realizing how the path to Lirih’s decision mirrored mine. Perhaps we were more alike than I thought.
Feeling the auras circulating through me at a steady pace, I nodded to Jarryd. Sienn gave him a reassuring hug and he crossed the sand to stand in front of me. Drawing the dagger, Jarryd gripped it with both hands. His arms were trembling badly as he aimed the blade at my chest.
I set the crown behind me on the altar. Grabbing Jarryd’s hands with one of mine, I steadied him and pressed the steel tip against my shirt. I caught his eyes. “I tried
, Nef’taali. I searched all the runes. Everything pertaining to the crown’s creation and destruction spoke of a sacrifice of blood, soul, and magic. I’m sorry.”
His pain struck the link. “I know.”
“You still have my memories. You have half my soul. It will guide you and help you in all that you do. And breaking my people’s addiction will—”
“I know,” Jarryd said again, louder. Shaking his head, jaw clenched; it was a moment before he spoke again. “That doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you.”
“Yes you will. With some coura and a little Arullan Ale…”
Jarryd laughed; his throat thick. “A lot of ale, maybe.”
I wrapped my other hand around the back of his head and held on tight. “Do you remember what you said to me the morning after I bound us together?”
“I…” His gaze wandered as he tried to think past the grief.
“You told me, Fate put my dagger in Langorian hands. You said it was the gods’ will that you and I trade souls, because I couldn’t do it alone anymore. You said I needed something more.” I caught his eyes. The tears in them shook my words. “It was the smartest damn thing you ever said.”
A sob escaped as he laughed. “There were others. You just didn’t listen.”
“You’re right. I didn’t. And I should have. You helped me shed the guilt. You made me want to do better. You made me stronger in ways magic never could. You were more than I deserved, Jarryd. Thank you.”
“Ian…” his voice caught. “Don’t do this.” I felt the wrenching in his stomach, the burning in his eyes.
He was fighting to hold back.
I couldn’t anymore. What was the point? This was the last time, the last chance for him to know. So I let it all out, my affection, my gratitude, how honored I was to have carried his soul, how deeply it hurt to have to leave him. I let it all flow freely through the link, hoping it would comfort him. Then I tightened my grip on his head and pulled him close. Jarryd tensed, realizing what I was doing. But it was too late. His blade sunk into me like a hard punch. Steel penetrated just below my ribcage. Breath left me. Pain gored deep. It spread, then localized again as Jarryd pulled away and the dagger slid back out.
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne Page 49
