by Giles Carwyn
The sailor dropped his dagger.
Mikal walked up and leaned on the hunchback’s shoulder. “Silly of them to run, really,” he told Lawdon. “I’ve never fought more than one person at a time in my entire life. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to go about it.”
The old sailor hissed and glanced at his blade on the ground, but Lawdon pressed her dagger into his chin and brought his gaze back up to meet her own.
“Now, I believe you were about to tell us where the Reignholtz children are.”
Chapter 9
You’re in my spot,” Brophy said, walking up behind Arefaine and leaning on the rail next to her.
She stood at the back of the ship, watching the moonlit tip of the Cinder disappear beneath the horizon. The steady tailwind blew her dark hair away from her powdered face, which seemed to glow in the scant light.
“Have I stolen your job as the gloomiest person on board?” she asked him.
She didn’t turn to face him, and Brophy found his gaze traveling down the length of her body. Her dress hugged her sides down to her narrow waist and sloped out along her slender hips before falling straight to her ankles. A heat grew in his chest, and he instantly thought of Shara. It had happened every time he and Arefaine shared a quiet moment together. In the past he had fought that feeling, locked it away with his anger and rage, but this time he let the feeling grow and fade within him like the drawing and releasing of a breath.
“You can’t be as gloomy as I was,” Brophy replied. “I wouldn’t even hold your hand.”
Arefaine turned to him and smiled. “That was very sweet of you, protecting the poor Ohohhim from such an unseemly show of affection.” She put her hand over his. “I, however, as the new regent, feel it is my duty to make my new subjects as uncomfortable as possible. Shall we disrobe and incite a rebellion?”
Brophy chuckled and turned his palm upward, entwining his fingers with hers. “It might be worth it,” he said.
You must teach a lost child how to love, Brophy heard the emperor saying, but he put the words out of his mind and concentrated on Arefaine. Despite his disdain for the task the emperor had charged him with, Brophy found himself drawn to her. He admired her courage and the way she seemed to draw strength from solitude. She had endured far more than he at the hands of the dark emmeria and emerged unbroken on the far side. What would it be like to be on the inside of all that passion? What would it be like to be her trusted confidant, to be a friend to this woman whom everyone else seemed to fear?
Arefaine looked up at him. Her face was freshly powdered, but it no longer seemed like a mask. For once, she made no attempt to hide the emotions swirling behind her eyes.
“Come,” Brophy said, leading her away from the rail. “Let’s go to your chambers. We should talk.”
Arefaine looked at him strangely, but didn’t release his hand. If anything, her grip tightened. She nodded and allowed herself to be led away from the rail. Her hand was warm and a little sweaty, squeezing his harder than she needed to. Brophy glanced once at the ship’s crow’s nest, thinking of another ship in another time, then turned away and took her belowdecks.
Arefaine had kept her old chambers, leaving the huge aft stateroom to the emperor’s body. He led her into the little room with black lacquered walls and brought her to the bunk. She stared at him for a long moment before sitting down on the glossy black bedcover. Brophy took the chair from her changing table and sat down opposite her.
“Arefaine, we—”
She leaned over and kissed him, cutting off his words. Startled, he moved back slightly, but she followed him, wrapping her trembling arms around his neck. Her lips pressed against his a bit too hard, not quite sure what to do. He only hesitated a moment, then he responded, his chest expanding as he leaned closer to her.
He was struck by how strange Arefaine felt when it was Shara’s body he remembered. Touching Shara was like having your skin kissed by the sun. She flowed into you, inhabited every inch your body. But touching the Ohohhim sorceress was like cradling a fragile egg, waiting for it to hatch.
Arefaine pulled back before he did, biting her lip. Her breath was faster than normal, and he could see the curve of her breasts pushing against the silks she wore. They were smaller than Shara’s, firmer when she pressed up against him.
She swallowed, not taking her eyes off of him. “I want to wash my face,” she said.
“I’d like that,” Brophy said, trying to calm his own breathing. Standing up, she walked to a washbasin on the far side of the room. She poured fresh water into the bowl and began to wipe the white powder from her face with a wet cloth.
Brophy struggled with the black emmeria still swirling within him. The distant cries of anguish seemed to diminish as he watched her move.
You have strength, Brophy. The emperor’s words lingered in his thoughts. That is why you are so desperately needed.
Brophy reached into his pocket and pressed his father’s soul light against his chest. The stone’s reddish glow seemed to expand into his body, and Brophy felt a stab of guilt in his heart. Annoyed, he took his hand away from the stone and rubbed his face, wondering what he was doing here and why he was doing it.
He looked back at Arefaine and forced himself to speak. “I have a confession to make.”
She stopped washing and turned to face him. She was so much prettier without all that powder on her face. “What?” she asked, bracing herself for the answer.
“I sent Astor and the Lightning Swords back to Ohndarien.”
“I know.”
“And I told him to make sure the Summer Fleet never gets past the Sunrise Gate.”
Arefaine paused, and he suddenly had no idea what she was thinking. Lewlem’s soul light shot out of her sleeve and began to circle her head.
“I know what you told them. I listened.”
Brophy nodded, suspecting that much.
“But why tell me now?” she asked. “Why right now, right before we’re about to…” She turned back to the basin and washed the last of the powder from her face. Her mind was working again, always working. Piecing together bits of information, sorting, cataloging.
And coming to conclusions.
Brophy stood up and walked to her, but she stepped aside the moment before he reached her.
“Arefaine—” he said.
“Go. If you don’t want to be here, just go.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that.”
Her lips pressed together. “You’re only here because of him, aren’t you? The emperor made you my keeper before he died.”
Brophy could feel her sudden anger, caged though it was. His own rage swelled in response, but he held it back and focused on her. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“All right,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Then why are you here?”
Brophy squeezed his father’s heartstone. He could feel the spirit light within, calming him, making him feel better. “I believe the emperor intended for me to seduce you.”
She showed no reaction, merely that narrow-eyed scrutiny. She’d already worked it out in her head.
Brophy continued. “He wanted you to fall in love with me. He wanted me to manipulate you into following Oh’s plan.”
“And what made him think I would fall in love with you?” She lifted her chin, a girlish gesture.
Brophy sighed. “You know the answer to that. You know what we’ve both been through.”
Lewlem’s golden light landed on Arefaine’s hand, and she pressed him to her lips. “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered from behind her fingers.
“Because I think the emperor was a madman. I think the Ohohhim are all insane, following each other around in little lines like ants. People can be so much more than that. People should be much more than that.”
Her voice softened. “But if you believe that, why would you listen to him? Why did you send your cousin to stop the fleet?”
“To give me time.”
&n
bsp; “Time for what?”
“To change your mind.”
Her momentary softness disappeared behind her implacable Ohohhim facade. “I’m going to Efften. With or without you,” she said.
“I know. I want you to go. I want to go with you. But I don’t want you to bring the fleet. We don’t need to start a war.”
“I don’t need to start a war. I want to start one!” she said, raising her voice.
“You actually want to build a bridge to Efften out of the corpses of your enemies?”
“If that’s what it takes, yes!”
“And then what? Are you going to skip merrily across that bridge and then rebuild the world as a more beautiful place?”
Arefaine paused, her eyes growing wider. For a moment Brophy thought she would turn and run from the room, but her lips curled back into a snarl and she took two quick steps toward him.
“You have no idea what those vermin did to us!” she shouted in his face, backing him against the wall.
“Yes, I do know!” he shouted back. His hands itched to shove her through the wall. “I know exactly what horrible things people can do to each other. I’ve done those things. I’ve reveled in that madness, and I’m still paying the price!”
“Don’t lie to yourself, Brophy! Do you have any plans to forgive the corrupted for what they did to your father, your aunt, your city?”
“That’s not the same,” Brophy shouted. “The Silver Islanders are not the corrupted.”
“And why not? How is your family, your home, different than mine?”
“Because your family deserved to die!”
She lashed out to slap him across the face. He blocked her hand, but the force of the blow knocked him a step sideways. Brophy grabbed her. She fought him, but he spun her around and slammed her against the wall.
“Efften created the black emmeria!” he screamed at her. “They brought this vileness into the world! All this hatred we feel, all this rage. That’s not us. That’s the black emmeria. That’s what they’ve done to us! What your ancestors have done to us!”
Power swelled around her. Arefaine took a deep breath and shoved him halfway across the room.
Brophy stumbled to a stop against the dressing table and stood there, panting heavily. “I’m drowning in the filth of Efften,” he hissed. “And so are you. It’s seeped into our bones. I’m not going to Efften to re create the City of Dreams. I’m going there to bury it so deep it will never harm anybody ever again!”
Arefaine stared at him, struggling to control her breath. Her eyes narrowed and the rage slowly faded from her face, seeping into her like water into a sponge. When her breathing was back to normal, she plucked Lewlem out of the air and tucked him back in her sleeve.
“We seem to have a little disagreement here,” she said with forced formality.
“Yes, we do,” Brophy agreed, wary at her sudden coolness. “What are we going to do about it?”
“Right now I want to kill you.”
Brophy nodded. “I know. Believe me, I know.” He took a deep breath. “Have you ever killed someone, Arefaine?”
She swallowed. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, I have.”
“And you liked it so much you wanted more.”
She shook her head, not able to look him in the eye.
“Then why are you doing this? What do you expect to find when you get to Efften?”
Arefaine closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. Her throat quivered, and she said something Brophy couldn’t hear.
“What was that?” he asked, walking closer.
“I expect to find my father,” she said.
“What?”
“He’s still alive, Brophy. He’s there, trapped in the ruins, imprisoned by the Silver Islanders.”
Brophy was silent for a long moment. “Your father?”
She nodded, looking back at him. “He wove the spell that put the emmeria in my dreams, but he stayed with me, through every minute, every year, every long century. He talked to me, whispering that he loved me, that it would all be over soon. That voice was all I had in that world of darkness. He’s the only reason I survived, the only reason I made it through.”
Brophy felt a glimmer of understanding, followed by a swift chill. “You heard a voice? When you were in the darkness? In the black emmeria?”
“Not only then; he has spoken to me since then. He’s stayed with me the entire time I’ve grown up. He told me what books to read, who to talk to, how to set events in motion. But he’s still trapped. And I have to rescue him.”
“A voice?”
“My father’s voice.”
“In the black emmeria?”
“The emmeria, yes.”
“Arefaine—” he started, but stopped himself. Everything suddenly made perfect sense. It was the Fiend. Talking to her. Guiding her actions. Twisting her love for a long-dead father.
He looked at her, struggling with the rage that threatened to overwhelm him. The Fiend was lying to her, as he’d lied to Brophy all those years. She needed to hear the truth, needed to know whom she was dealing with. But as Brophy stared in her eyes, he saw her fierce protectiveness. She’d lost her family before she even knew what family was, and she wanted it back more than anything, more than the emperor’s approval, more than Brophy’s love. If that voice had been the only thing that had ever loved her, she’d die before she let it go. He wanted to blurt out the truth and face the storm that followed, but he had to be careful. He couldn’t save her by ripping her heart out.
“Are you certain about this?” he asked her.
She nodded. “I know how you feel about the emmeria. You have every reason to feel that way. But Efften and the emmeria are not the same thing. My mother and father were part of a renaissance in the City of Sorcerers. They were putting an end to the worst types of magic. They outlawed slavery; they defied the elders and were starting to undo the damage that had been done. The emmeria can be cleansed, purified, and used for the benefit of others. You’ve seen that for yourself, with Shara, in the Wet Cells.”
Brophy kept his silence, wondering how she knew about such things.
She stepped forward, her liquid gaze searching his. Searching for weakness or searching for acceptance? He watched her, trying to keep his ironclad heart open. Swallowing, she held her arms out to him, and Brophy wrapped her in an embrace. It felt better than he thought it would. Much better.
“I say we make a pact,” Arefaine whispered to him. “If I can find a way to reach Efften without bloodshed, I will do so.”
“And what do you want from me?”
“I want you to do the same.”
“What do you mean?”
“You want to destroy the emmeria.” Brophy nodded and Arefaine continued. “But I want you to consider the possibility that my father is right and all that power can be used to free people instead of enslave them.”
“Arefaine, it doesn’t work that—”
“A sword can be used to defend as well as destroy. Why should magic be any different?”
Brophy felt his stomach clench as he bit back everything he wanted to say. “Will you make that pact?” Arefaine asked.
“I’ll promise you this,” Brophy said. “I’ll go with you to Efften. Together we will see what is actually hidden there and together we will decide what to do about it.”
Arefaine looked up at him. Once again, Brophy was struck by the color of her eyes. “I can promise that,” she whispered. “Whatever we do, we’ll do it together.”
Brophy leaned down and kissed her. Their lips met gently, and he felt something wrench in his chest and then release. A sob bubbled up in his throat, and he grabbed the sides of her face, pressing her forehead against his. He wanted to climb inside her and disappear.
Arefaine gasped and stepped back from the kiss. She brought her hands to her waist and untied her robes. He reached out and pushed the silk off her shoulders. Arefaine let the robe drop to the floor.
Brophy bit his
lip as she stood before him, looking like she was about to run away. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, almost afraid to touch her.
“Am I?” she asked, so unsure of herself that he couldn’t help reaching out and pulling her to him. “I don’t ever want to fight again,” she said.
“All right,” he said, pressing his cheek against her long, dark hair. “No more fighting.”
He picked her up and carried her to the bed, lying on top of her as he set her down. They kissed again, and her hands dug into his hair.
“You’re trembling,” he said.
“I can’t stop. I don’t know why.”
Brophy pulled back and looked down at her. She looked so young, like a lost child. He rolled off her, grabbed the bedcovers, and pulled them over both of them.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m going slow.” He kissed her again. “Arefaine, I want to be your lover. I want to do everything with you. Twice. Three times.”
She smiled.
“But it doesn’t have to be right now. It doesn’t have to be tonight. Or the next or the next.”
Arefaine nodded.
“Right now all I want to do is kiss you, kiss you until the sun comes up. The rest will take care of itself.”
“Then kiss me,” she said.
And he did.
Chapter 10
Shara hurried down the hill, fighting the urge to run ahead of the six Lightning Swords escorting her. She hated to waste the time if someone might be dying, but she was the one who’d decreed that no one travel in the city in groups of fewer than six. And she could hardly justify undermining her own authority.
“Are they close?” Galliana asked.
“Yes,” Shara said, pointing. “Just a block down on the other side of the street.”
Shara’s niece had become indispensable over the past eight days. Shara had spent most of her time in a trance, scouring the city with her magic, looking for some sign of the mage who had created the weeping ones. She had found little pockets of survivors here and there, hiding in attics and cellars, but so far there had been no sign of the true threat. While Shara was spending every waking moment looking for their enemy, Galliana had taken over the role of second-in-command, making sure Shara’s instructions were carried out.
