by Giles Carwyn
“It’s hard to see a lie you aren’t looking for,” Issefyn said, giving Shara’s hand a squeeze. “How do you plan to treat with the fleet once it arrives?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“What makes you think that Arefaine has complete control of this fleet? Why would that many Summermen join a pitched battle that gains them nothing?”
That was something Shara had not thought of before. “I had assumed that they were in league together. Their leader, Lord Vinghelt, is a dangerous fool, easily deceived. He plans on using the fleet to invade Physendria.”
Issefyn shook her head. “Then he must be a fool.”
“Believe me, he is.”
Issefyn took another bite of her stew, chewed and swallowed. “But not everyone around him is a fool. How do you think the other princes will react if he orders them to sail to Efften instead of Physen?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I don’t know either, but Arefaine certainly does.”
Shara paused, trying to see what Issefyn was getting at.
Issefyn continued. “If Arefaine sent a sorcerer to enslave all of Ohndarien, how difficult would it be for him to do the same to the Summer Fleet?”
Shara gasped. “We have to warn them.”
Issefyn nodded. “But would they listen?”
“If we showed them proof, they might.” Shara waved her hand. “It’s our best chance, unless I can find this mage. He has been devilishly clever at hiding.”
“And powerful, too, to have done this.” She took a bit of the bread and chewed thoughtfully.
“But luckily not too powerful,” Shara said. “I already fought him once. I beat him. It wasn’t even that difficult. I think that’s why the coward is hiding.”
Issefyn smiled thinly. “Be careful of your own overconfidence now. You’ve landed one blow, but the fight isn’t over yet.”
Shara took a deep breath, rallying her energy. “You’re right, of course, but first things first. We have to keep the fleet away from Ohndarien. I have met Vinghelt before. I know how his mind works. I think I could play upon the man’s fears and ambitions better than any. If he won’t listen, I’ll find someone who will. I’ll go at once.”
Issefyn put a hand on Shara’s. “No, you must not.”
“What?”
“Someone needs to go, but Ohndarien needs you right here. How many weeping ones are in the city waiting for their next orders? If you leave, what is to stop this mage from resurfacing?”
Shara struggled with Issefyn’s words. As usual, the older woman was right. “But who can I send in my place? I can’t send Faedellin. He hasn’t left his daughter’s side in the past eight days. And Galliana is too young, too hot-tempered. Perhaps—”
“I will go,” Issefyn said.
Shara looked up. “No,” she said. “I cannot ask that of you. You have been through too much.”
“My dear, we have all been through too much. Who here is more qualified to parley? Only you. And you must stay. I’ll take one of the weeping ones with me and let the Summer Princes see firsthand what awaits them in Ohndarien.”
Shara looked deep into Issefyn’s eyes. So much pain. She’d seen the Zelani students slaughtered in front of her. She’d huddled in that hole with no hope of rescue. “I can’t let you,” Shara said. “I will go. The Lightning Swords survived the weeping ones for weeks. They can do it for a few more hours while I am gone.”
Issefyn’s eyes flashed, and the kind matron was replaced by the severe teacher who had all but run the Zelani school for years. “Shara,” she said. “You can’t do everything yourself. You tried to save Brophy that way. How well did that work out?”
Shara looked at her friend, shocked by the harshness of her words. But Issefyn had never been one to dance around the truth. That was why Shara had always trusted her.
“These people’s lives are in your hands,” Issefyn said. “Are you actually willing to leave them undefended so I can take a nap?”
Shara hung her head, then slowly nodded.
“You’re right, of course. I simply didn’t want…” She paused, then looked into Issefyn’s eyes again. Shara nodded. “All right. But take heed. Don’t be fooled by Vinghelt’s smile. The man is stupid and righteous, a very dangerous combination. He would drown his own children to get ahead.”
Issefyn patted Shara’s hand. “I think I can handle an upstart Summer Prince with delusions of grandeur.”
Shara smiled. It was so good to have someone she could talk to, someone who knew and saw things that she didn’t. “You’re right,” she said. “Go to the Summermen. Make them understand. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“I’ll be very careful.” Issefyn patted her hand again. “I promise.”
“It’s so good to have you back,” Shara said. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you until now.”
“Thank you, dear. It is so very good to be back.”
Chapter 11
Arefaine stared at the Heartstone, feeling the emmeria swirl inside. The power within called to her: angry, frightened, longing to be free. Standing near it made her stomach turn. Vague memories of distant screams and tumbling through darkness hovered at the edge of her thoughts. Those thoughts had always been there, never quite touching her, never quite going away.
Taking a slow breath, she pushed away her feelings and concentrated on this moment, on what she could see and feel. The gemstone was nothing like she’d imagined it as a child. She’d pictured a glittering jewel, flawless in every way, but the Heartstone was uncut, unpolished. It was misshapen and scarred where diamond shards had broken off as generation after generation of Ohndariens took the Test of the Stone. Each of those shards held a piece of her sister’s life force. Jazryth had given her life to create the stone and she continued to give that life, piece by piece, like a mother spider that cocooned herself to feed her hungry babies when they hatched.
She turned from the stone and looked at the emperor’s body, still lying on his bed encased in white bandages. Was he her mother spider? When was she supposed to hatch?
The servants had kept the incense burners smoldering in the corners to mask the smell of death. But Arefaine couldn’t smell anything yet. Death wouldn’t touch that man. It wouldn’t dare.
Turning away from the emperor, she looked back at the Heartstone. She’d come here after spending hours lying awake in the dark. They were nearing the tip of Vizar, more than halfway home, and she and Brophy still hadn’t made love yet. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what, didn’t know what was supposed to happen.
Unable to sleep, she had come here looking for answers. She had never once come back to look at the Heartstone since giving it to the emperor in Ohndarien. She didn’t like to be in its presence. She couldn’t help thinking of her sister locked in there, alone in the dark.
Arefaine longed to talk to her father again. She wanted to tell him about Brophy, about their possible change in plans. Was there a way to reach Efften without a war? Would she take it if there was?
The things he’d screamed at her during their fight kept tumbling through her head. She felt her chest constrict as she remembered his angry words, the way he looked when he’d said them. But was that her anger she was feeling, or was it the emmeria he claimed she was tainted with?
Arefaine reached out and picked up the stone. It felt heavier than it should be and warmer than the rest of the room. Her skin recoiled from contact with the crystal, tasting the malice within. Her ancestors had created this. They inspired the hatred she could feel on the other side of the rough surface. Could she really undo what so many had done?
“What are you doing?”
She whirled around to see Brophy standing in the door to the emperor’s chambers. His father’s soul light spun frenetically around his head. Why hadn’t she heard him?
“What are you doing?” he said again. He reached for a sword at his hip, but it wasn’t there.
“I was wondering if you w
ere right.”
“About what?” he asked, taking a step closer.
“About the emmeria, that it’s still in me. That it never left.”
As she put the stone back, he walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Were you spying on me?” she asked.
“No.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “My father led me here. He’s spying on you.”
She laughed. “Nobody seems to trust me around these stones.”
“They’re dangerous.”
“Do you really believe they must be destroyed?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Do you know how?”
“No, but the emperor believed you are the only one who can do it. He said all would be made clear to me when we reached Ohohhom.”
She turned around in his arms, looked up at him. “What exactly did he tell you? What does he want me to do?”
“I honestly don’t know. The Ohohhim seem to delight in half-spoken riddles.”
Arefaine let out a little huff that was not quite a laugh. “Wait until we get into the belly of the beast. You won’t believe how loud the silence is in the Opal Palace.”
Brophy reached over her shoulder and closed the doors of the silver cabinet. Arefaine felt better the moment he did it.
“Come,” Brophy said. “Let’s go back to bed.”
He tried to lead her away, but Arefaine wouldn’t let him. “Do you really think I am tainted by the black emmeria?”
“Yes.”
“How? I don’t have any of your symptoms. There are no voices in my head. I am not overwhelmed by sudden rages or lingering despair. My eyes have never gone…dark. Like yours did before you struck that Carrier.”
“My eyes turned dark?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Do you really believe that all those decades you held the black emmeria have left you unaffected?”
“No, no, of course not. But I’ve grown beyond that. I’m no longer a child. I’ve learned to use the ani, control it.”
“I can control it, too. Sometimes. When things are easy. But that day on the dock, I didn’t control it. It controlled me.”
“Give it time, Brophy. You’ll get beyond this.”
“Arefaine—” He paused.
“What? Tell me.”
He shook his head.
“What?”
“Don’t you see that you aren’t thinking rationally, that your goals don’t make any sense?”
“What do you mean?”
“How you plan to rebuild an entire city by yourself? That’s ludicrous? It’s like—”
“Like a child’s dream?”
“Yes.” He nodded, flinching at the words she put in his mouth.
“Maybe it is a child’s fantasy to dream that you can go home, find the place where you belong. But I’m not dreaming it alone. There are hundreds more of us scattered across the oceans. My father has been watching over them from afar just as he had watched over me. And you.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.
“Not everyone died in the massacre. A few of us survived by fleeing to the far corners of the world, and some of us were overseas when the attack occurred. And their descendants are still alive. Many of them have already been contacted by my father. They are waiting to join us.”
“Who is waiting to join you?”
“The children of Efften. Some of them are living as nomadic herders in Upper Kherif. They still cling to the old ways, longing to go home. The descendants of Hestorn the Blind still live hidden in the Southwyldes. And there are a few others scattered across the other kingdoms. A handful of Ohndarien Zelanis remain. You, Astor, the other Children of the Seasons all carry the illuminated blood in your veins.”
“Illuminated blood?”
“Don’t pretend that you aren’t different, that you can’t do things that others only dream of.”
Brophy sighed. “What I want to know is if you meant what you said before? Will you find a way to get to Efften without attacking the Silver Islanders?”
Arefaine paused. Childhood images flashed through her head. The flames. The screaming. She saw her mother’s face, staring at nothing as a line of blood ran across her open eye.
Lewlem flew out of her sleeve, calming her thoughts. Arefaine took a deep breath. “I will not let those cowards stop me from restoring the City of Dreams. I will not let them win.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but again she cut him off.
“But I will make you this promise. If we can find a way, we will go there first, just the two of us. We will find my father, and decide together what must be done.”
Brophy considered her words carefully. His father’s soul light spun around his head, and she could feel the disapproval flowing from it.
“You will know your father when you see him?”
Arefaine nodded.
“Then we will go meet the man, look him in the eye, and decide what must be done.”
She felt a little thrill at his words, but not as much of one as she hoped. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Something he didn’t trust her with.
“Let’s go back to bed,” he said. And she let him lead her out of the room.
Arefaine lay next to Brophy for an hour, pretending to be asleep. When his breathing was finally steady, she carefully sat up to look at him. They had left a single candle burning in the room. The rocking of the ship threw strange shadows across his sleeping face.
She was ready to make love to him that night. They had kissed for a little while, but it didn’t go any further. It never went any further. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was killing her. She ached to reach into his brain and pluck out his thoughts. But she couldn’t, not with his heartstone, not without his noticing.
She had removed her clothes many times in their last few nights together, but Brophy had never even taken off his shirt. She’d never seen him naked, though she had felt every part of him beneath the cloth.
She stared at him for a long time, watching his chest rise and fall, longing for more. Careful not to wake him, she touched the heartstone buried in his chest. A slight jolt went through her, and he stirred in his sleep. It was so strange to think that stone was a part of her own sister. Jazryth had gotten past the surface, but Arefaine could not.
Setting aside her disappointment, she concentrated on the moment, the eternal now. Her fingers traveled over his chest until they came across the feather hidden under his shirt. Arefaine had asked him about it once. All he told her was that it reminded him of someone very special. He may as well have named her. She knew who it was, of course. She’d seen a similar leather thong around Shara’s neck, bearing a golden feather. Was that why he wouldn’t take his shirt off? Was that why he wouldn’t do anything more than kiss her?
Shara. The woman he’d struck back in Ohndarien? The one who’d failed to rescue him for all those years?
She longed to rip the feather from his neck, throw it into the fire. Her fingers curled into fists as she imagined grabbing him by the hair, pulling his face to hers, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.
Brydeon’s spirit light flew out of Brophy’s pocket and spun around her, radiating disapproval. Arefaine snatched the light out of the air. It fluttered in her fist and Brophy squinched his eyes, groaning in his sleep. Wincing, she carefully pressed the fluttering light against the diamond shard in Brophy’s pocket. Lewlem flew around her like an annoying insect. She ignored him and swirled her ani into a little spell, trapping Brophy’s father within the crystal shard.
Brophy rolled over, slowly waking up. He patted the heartstone in his pocket and then reached for her, wrapping his arms around her back, pulling her close.
“What are you doing?” he rumbled sleepily.
“Just…”
“Just what?”
She forced herself to say the words. “Just loving you.”
Brophy smiled and breathed out, half a g
rumble, half a purr. “Good,” he whispered. “You keep doing that. That’s a good thing to do.”
He kissed her once and fell back asleep.
Chapter 12
Issefyn smiled in the depths of her cowl as the Sunrise Gate closed behind her little sailboat. She felt suddenly free, as if an overly tight corset had been ripped from her by powerful hands. It had been years since she left the confines of that wretched city’s sanctimonious blue walls. She’d forgotten how much she hated the place and once again savored the thought of her army tearing the city down block by block and throwing it into the ocean.
It was a warm summer morning with little breeze. The thick cloak she wore would soon become uncomfortably warm, but it easily hid the containment stone she held clutched to her chest. The few hours she’d spent away from it while slipping back into Shara’s confidence had been torturous. Issefyn promised herself that she would never be parted from it again.
Shara’s latest little puppy strained against the oars over and over again. Issefyn watched the way his broad shoulders pulled the cloth tight across his chest with every stroke. Speevor hadn’t even tried raising the sail on the calm morning. He seemed content to row them all the way to the Summer Fleet, if need be. The Lightning Sword was certainly handsome, though a bit past the age that Issefyn preferred. Shara had insisted that he accompany Issefyn on her trip to visit the Summer Fleet. She was probably tired of the fool sniffing around her skirts all day, dreaming of sampling the well-used treasures hidden within. Men were such idiots. By now it almost bored Issefyn to continue yanking them around by those little handles they were so proud of.
Shara’s puppy hadn’t met Issefyn’s gaze since the moment she was introduced to him. His eyes had strayed to her breasts. She’d seen that, but he wouldn’t look her in the face. The man probably hadn’t gotten his cock damp in years. He was too busy being the perfect little soldier, with a straight back, sharp sword, and empty head. She knew the type. They amused her briefly, nothing more.
The puppy glanced backward at the indentured woman sitting stiffly in the bow of the boat. Her black eyes stared at nothing, and her ragged breath drowned out the rhythmic lapping of the oars.
