Palace of Moonlight

by Payton Taylor

  The king's study was dark when he entered. Leo took out his pulselight, a small floating orb that glowed with soft yellow light. It hovered over his shoulder, lighting his path as he made his way not to the king's desk but to the large ornate mirror on the wall.

  He had watched the king for years now. Knew where he hid the secrets he didn't want to be found.

  The frame of the mirror was large, carved from obsidian. The mirror itself was strange. Leo peered into it and was sure the reflection of the king's study was off somehow. He glanced back and forth between the two, but couldn't find a single discrepancy. But when he looked closer, he swore he could see something more behind the reflection. His brain wanted to conjure images of a swamp, but he wasn't sure where that notion had come from.

  Azmodeous usually removed the mirror to get at the safe behind it, but Leo didn't have time for that. Instead, he summoned the intangibility aspect of his Gift, loosening his molecules to allow him to reach through the mirror and the wall behind it and into the safe he knew lay there.

  It took an advanced level of concentration for him to keep his arm intangible while willing his fingertips to solidify enough to feel around the safe. It was something he'd had to practice for years before he'd perfected it.

  He felt only one object within. It felt like a book, large and leather-bound. Leo grabbed it and willed it into intangibility.

  Transferring his Gift onto inanimate objects was even harder, something he had only recently begun to master. While it was fairly easy for him to transfer his invisibility to objects and even other people, the intangibility was much more difficult. So far, he'd only had success transferring it to smaller objects. He'd had no luck at all with people.

  Leo brought the book through the mirror, it and his arm and hand solidifying.

  It looked old, much older than any of the books on the shelves around the study. The leather cover was surprisingly pale, and Leo had to hold himself in check as the notion that it might be human skin crossed his mind. He directed the pulselight to hover over the book as he opened it.

  And froze.

  He was greeted with disturbing images, which only grew worse as he flipped through the pages, careful not to tear them.

  Ink drawings of elaborate rituals filled the tome's pages, half faded with time. One ritual seemed to be a summoning of sorts. The illustrations depicted a figure positioning five bodies in a circle, then cutting their throats. The figure then drank their blood before plunging their dagger into their own chest. Dark spirits burst forth from the figure's chest before a single spirit stopped to hover over them. In the margins were careful notes discussing the amount of blood that was needed for the ritual, as well as how long the spell could last before the person practicing died from their injuries.

  The odd thing about the notes was that they seemed to have been made by two different people. They were written in two distinct hands. Leo recognized the slanted, elegant writing of Azmodeous. The other writing however, stark and flowing, was unfamiliar.

  Later in the book was a ritual that made him pause. The ink drawings clearly showed a figure slicing their own arm before dripping drops of their own blood into a vial and drinking it. The notes and scribbles around it were chaotic and cramped, but there was one word written clearly enough to make Leo's blood run cold.

  Possession.

  His mind flashed back to Jo and Noelani's debut ball at the Viannese palace the night Azmodeous kidnapped his daughter. To the scene Leo had witnessed in a room away from the festivities. Asteria, the Viannese queen, Noelani's grandmother, slicing into her own arm and adding her blood to a vial before drinking it. The crazed look in her eyes. The way she had muttered to herself about blood and darkness and light. Her high, girlish giggle.

  In the months since, Leo had almost forgotten the queen's strange behavior. He had much more pressing things to worry about than the fact that Queen Asteria seemed to be losing her mind. But these illustrations suggested that she wasn't simply going mad from her illness as Leo had thought. No, they suggested something much darker. Much more insidious.

  And, if they were true, if he was right. . . well, their problems may be even larger than he had originally thought

  Leo took out his contact and quickly snapped pictures of every page he thought could be helpful or useful in some way. As he did so, he wondered why he had never seen that book before. What exactly had the king of Ettria been up to? And why hadn't Leo, who prided himself on his knowledge, known about it?

  He finally reached the last ritual. As he stared at it, it took his brain a moment to realize what, exactly, he was looking at. The darkest ritual yet, in a book that was full of darker things than Leo had ever imagined.

  It was a binding ritual. Blood magic that would bind two people together, almost like Matches. But darker.

  While the basis of the bond was similar, the overall effect looked to Leo more like the bond of master and servant.

  He swore. It was almost absurd how simple the ritual was when he looked over it. Something so dark, so wrong, should not be as simple as this book depicted.

  But there it was.

  Two figures, drinking each other's blood. The larger figure, the one in charge, slicing into the smaller figure's arm, carving a deep symbol. And then. . .

  And then. Consummation.

  That was the only word to describe what was depicted on the page. The larger figure holding the smaller one down and. . . and. . .Leo snapped a picture. And then slammed the book closed with a heavy thud.

  Noelani was in more danger than he had originally feared.

  More danger than she knew was even possible. He replaced the book in its safe and extinguished his pulselight. Made his way quickly back to his rooms and sat at his desk.

  He needed to tell Seph and her sister. Needed to warn them.

  He began to plan.

  Chapter 4

  Khione

  Writhia, 5220

  Vianna

  The queen was getting worse.

  Khione watched as Asteria's Healers tended to her. They knelt before her, adjusting the flexible tubes entering her nostrils, the Healer's Gift making sure she had the extra strength to help her breathe as she put a gentle hand on the tube and closed her eyes.

  Another Healer ran her hands over Asteria's arms and legs, easing the discomfort that the pain pills couldn't fully alleviate.

  At this point, they were trying to make sure she was comfortable. As comfortable as one could be when death was racing to claim their soul

  Asteria sighed in relief and rested her head back against the built-in pillow on the back of her chair. She used her hover-chair full-time now and she was losing feeling in her left arm.

  Khione was on the brink of losing the closest thing to a mother she ever had. Asteria had taken her in, a girl with no training but plenty of determination, and turned her into the woman she was today.

  And now, she was dying.

  Their kingdom was about to be queenless, but they had a queen in line for the throne.

  Whether Noelani liked it or not, the ancient rules of Vianna claimed her as queen because of the blood running through her veins.

  Khione's ice thrummed beneath her skin, pulsing and freezing over, flowing into her hardening heart, as she thought of the devastation she would feel when that time would finally come.

  Her contact buzzed and she slipped it out of her pocket.

  Agares’ bloody bird , she cursed when the small screen showed what happened.

  With a press of a button, the translucent 3D video popped up of another bomb at the Ettrian border. She swore again. This was the third squadron they had sent to break into the Ettrian Palace to rescue Noelani.

  They were at war with Ettria for the first time in centuries, it was not going well for them, and their queen was out of commission. Khione had practically been running the country for the past two months.

  Her contact buzzed again. General Treeton wanted to meet with her.


  She sighed, I need another drink.

  Thinking back to the night it all began, she swore a third time. She wanted to wring Noelani's neck for running away when everything was in such disarray. She wasn't sure how she'd made it to Ettria alone, but now Azmodeous had her in his grip, calling her Eleyna and announcing their impending Match ceremony, the madman.

  Madow's wind, the girl was stubborn yet resourceful. How did she get herself into this mess? Better yet, how did one girl get into the Ettrian Palace on her own?

  Khione suspected the general, Westin Airoldi, had something to do with it. His face had been plastered on every news station as a wanted man.

  Dead or alive.

  "Khione, dear, are you alright?" Asteria croaked, worry and concern etched onto the lines of her face.

  Khione forced herself to smile, "I'm fine, just some snags that need sorting out. I have to go talk to Treeton, but I'll be back soon, I promise."

  Asteria smiled weakly, "I know you will, my dear."

  Khione turned and headed for the door, but paused when she heard Asteria call her name.

  When she turned to look at the queen, she found

  Her Majesty's gaze hard, her mouth firmly set. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

  "Tell him to bring my granddaughter home."

  "Of course, Your Majesty." Khione placed her fist over her heart and bowed her head before leaving the room.

  Granddaughter. Singular.

  Since she had found out that Jo was Azmodeous' daughter, the queen had barely even mentioned her. Not once had she asked after her, and not once had she referred to her as family.

  The sound of Khione's heels clicking against the marble floor echoed off the walls of the empty hall as she walked to the meeting room. When she arrived, she straightened her tight, black knee-length skirt before entering the room. Three heads turned to greet her, one familiar and two decidedly. . . not.

  General Treeton acknowledged her with a respectful nod of his head and the other two men followed suit. The strangers were tall and leanly muscled. Their clothing consisted of draped fabric, falling artfully around their bodies. The pale blues and greens contrasted beautifully with their dark brown skin. When they spoke, it was with an accent she knew and cherished as much as she did the accents of her own people in the North.

  They were from Moriana.

  "Hello, I am Khione Zabala, advisor to Queen Asteria. How may I help you?" She found herself using the bright, helpful voice she used when attending to visitors.

  The man in green spoke. "We are here on behalf of His Majesty, the Emperor of Moriana, in regard to his daughter."

  "Marz-Princess Marzanna?" Khione was taken aback. What did that jerk want with Marzanna now?

  As if she had heard them speaking of her, the door opened and Marzanna breezed into the room.

  Today she wore a pale yellow dress in the Viannese fashion, meaning the thin, breezy material and backless nature of the dress left little of her tall, lithe form to the imagination. Half of her braids were pulled back into a half-up hairstyle and woven through with tiny yellow flowers that she had probably grown herself that morning.

  Khione tramped down the bright feelings that surged through her chest at the sight of Marzanna, the way she always did. She didn't want her to feel those emotions through their Match bond. Didn't want to disappoint and confuse her any more than she already had.

  When Marzanna saw the men, a bright smile came over her beautiful features. "Aycin, Mori, hello! How are you?"

  The men immediately knelt down on one knee, bowing their heads in respect as they greeted their princess.

  Marzanna sighed, "Alright, that's enough.

  Stand up, please. Why are you here?"

  The men stood.

  The man in blue, Mori, spoke this time. "Your father sent us, Princess. He believes Vianna has become too dangerous for his royal daughter, and he wants you back home where you are safe. We are here to escort you."

  Dread filled Khione at his words. Marzanna was leaving? She couldn't!

  She quickly schooled her features and spoke, "I can assure you that the Viannese palace is as safe as any palace. The princess is perfectly fine here, there's no need for alarm."

  Marzanna cleared her throat, "The princess can speak for herself, thank you." She eased the harshness of her words with a coy smile, but Khione still felt the lingering irritation that flared through their bond whenever anyone tried to speak for her.

  Marzanna turned to the men. "You can tell my father I have no plans to leave Vianna at this time. There are people here who need me, and I would like to be here for them."

  People who need her? Khione thought.

  Surely, she wasn't speaking of Khione. Surely, she meant the queen who was like an aunt to her, or Seren who was her friend.

  All the same, Khione felt her body warm at the mere idea that Marzanna could be staying for her benefit. To be close to her.

  Unwelcome thoughts of Emperor Timan sprung forth in her mind and she fought the warm feeling that had settled in her chest. Whether Marzanna was staying for her or not didn't matter. She couldn't let it.

  The men were arguing gently with their princess, never raising their voices out of reverence and respect. "You must come, Princess. If you do not, your father gave us orders to bring you, willingly or not."

  Marzanna flushed, anger and annoyance trickling through their bond, "You can tell my father that I am an adult and he has no control over me."

  "He is still your ruler, Princess," Aycin said quietly. He clearly didn't like forcing the princess into this situation. Marzanna was deeply loved and respected by her people.

  Marzanna sighed and looked to Khione, but Khione felt the dark displeasure that Marzanna refused to show, "Just let me sort this out with my father. I'll call him tonight and I'll change his mind. I'm not leaving." Her voice was gentle, but her tone brooked no argument, for either Khione or the men in front of her.

  Having said her piece, and clearly flustered, she turned and left the room without saying goodbye. Her father's men nodded their heads in respect and took their leave as well.

  General Treeton, who had been quiet throughout the exchange sat forward, finally seeing his chance.

  He spoke for a long time, telling Khione what his soldiers needed and then explaining it repeatedly as if she didn't fully grasp the severity of the situation.

  Finally, having had enough for one day, she stood abruptly, cutting the man off. "I understand what you are saying, and as I told you before, your soldiers will have what they need when the expenses for the purchases clear with the bank, and not before. Are we clear?"

  He nodded, at a loss for words.

  "Alright, then, call me when you have an actual problem." She turned on her heel and left.

  She was heading to her room for a drink when she heard rapid steps approaching her from behind. She turned to find Kian, a recently hired guard for the princesses, rushing toward her.

  "What is it, Kian?" she asked, exhausted. "I don't really have time for-"

  "It's Seren," Kian interrupted. "He's had a vision.

  He has information about the princesses."

  Chapter 5

  Marzanna

  Writhia, 5220

  Vianna

  "Yes, I heard you the first two times, Father, but I'm still not coming home," Marzanna said, once again, her finger slamming down onto the button to decline the option to holo-chat.

  "Why are you declining my holo-chat?" her father asked, infuriated.

  "I don't want to argue." Her voice that came through the audio of the contact was calm, collected, her usual self.

  But in person, she couldn't stop fidgeting. The soft, fine-made rug filling the cracks between her toes as she paced. A sweet floral scent filled her lungs every time she took a deep breath, soothing her. Fresh buds appeared in her hair periodically due to her anxiety, an anxiety that could grow or fade depending on what she would do next. It would fade if she backed away, but then she wo
uld have to go through it all again another time. It would grow, swirling into a vortex of stupidity.

  Or , Marzanna thought, I could breathe real slow, let these nerves leak into the void and be the real boss of myself.

  "-haven't been taking your responsibilities seriously. The people of Moriana need you here right now. Present. Safe. I feel-"

  It would always be this way, Marzanna realized. She was the youngest of her siblings-four sisters total- Narrah, Hedda, and Zemira, and they would always treat her as such.

  Marzanna's whole life had been a series of "do this" and "do that". She was sheltered. The only time she had been released from the protective cage they had her in was when she had come to Vianna. The only place her father let her travel alone.

  Marzanna made a promise to herself that it wouldn't be like that anymore. She wanted to help people. To travel. To live.

  As her father kept raging on, she couldn't help but picture Khione's face in her mind. She wouldn't deal with this.

  "Father, I love you, okay, but I-you can't-"

  Oh just say it!

  "I'M AN ADULT!" she finally screamed. "I'm needed here! I finally feel like I belong here, like I can help! Please, stop sending people for me."

  Suddenly, there was a banging on the door. With it came Khione's voice along with three emotions: anticipation, fear, and a smidgeon of hope.

  "Seren had a vision."

  Marzanna's father was still screaming when she whispered, "Bye, Father," and sat the contact on her desk, leaving it to yell at the empty air.

  She didn't know if he'd even heard her.

  Marzanna took a few calming breaths before opening the door.

  When Khione's face met her own, she could have sworn a bout of longing hit her, but it quickly disappeared and Marzanna wondered if she'd really felt it at all.

  Warm, dark eyes framed with thick lashes observed her. Saw into her. Saw everything she was trying to hide.

  Felt it, too.

  "Everything okay?" Khione asked, her tone soft, comforting-not her advisor voice.