“The gryphon? No. I’ve locked it in that form for now.” She waggled a finger at me. “I don’t want you to be swayed by its silver tongue and charming games. Not until I’ve had a chance to open your eyes to the truth.”
“Can you teach me how to do that, too?” I made sure to sound eager. If I could learn how she locked him into one form, it followed that I could unlock him.
“I can teach you everything,” she promised. “If you’re a good girl and learn your lessons. You have the native gifts. You’ve obeyed the laws and maintained your chastity for Deyrr, and He is well pleased with you. In time, you could be almost as powerful as I am. You can take over Moranu’s library here, and play with your shapeshifters all you like.”
“You are too generous,” I averred, bowing to her yet again.
“I am, aren’t I?” She laughed. “And I’ll ask very little of you in return.”
And here we were, at the crux. I widened my eyes, looking as confused as possible. You look so sweet and innocent, asking me that with your pretty blue eyes wide. “But you’re so powerful. How can I possibly be of help to you?”
She gave me a narrow look. “Well, that’s another conversation. One that must take place after your first lesson, so I know you can be trusted. Come along, Daughter. You’ve seen your pet now, and we have much to accomplish.” She hooked her arm through mine, to lead me away.
Somehow, I found it in me to resist. “But can’t we bring him with us? We could keep the chains on him. He can stay in my bedroom.”
She smiled knowingly and tapped me on the nose. Even her fingertip left a chill behind. “Perhaps. If you are a good girl, and commit whole-heartedly to your lesson, then I shall let you keep the gryphon in your bedchamber. But no man form. Not yet! You’ve been so obedient and chaste that we mustn’t risk spoiling that. Not until you’ve wedded Deyrr. Once the god has your maidenhead, you may indulge yourself with all the beasts you like.”
She led me away, and I looked over my shoulder at Zyr. He had his head raised, the glittering hatred clear in his eyes as he stared daggers at the High Priestess’s back.
Then we turned a corner and I lost sight of him.
The High Priestess led me down many layers of stairs, deeper inside the mountain. The word “dungeon” kept coming back to mind, and I found it in me to be grateful that at least she hadn’t put Zyr in this place. Yet.
For it quickly became clear that other shapeshifters had been imprisoned in this labyrinth. We passed cell after cell of pacing animals, all behind barriers, some from the natural world and others fantastic. They watched as we passed with more than animal intelligence—and also cringing with fearful obedience when the High Priestess glanced their way.
“You like my collection, don’t you?” she asked, giving me a sly smile. “You can say so. It’s polite to compliment your hostess, after all.”
“There are so many!” I gushed instead of agreeing, though I doubted much could stop the momentum of my increasing slide under her control. “Where did you get them all?”
“Silly. This is n’Andana, origin and ancestral home of the shapeshifters. They were all just living in ignorance, abandoned long ago by their leaders, waiting for someone to come and take the reins, show them a purpose for their useless lives. Besides,” she hugged my arm, then tickled the inked-on scars her creatures had given me. “Once you have some, it’s easy to recruit more, hmm?”
“I’m not a shapeshifter,” I said, trying not to sound as horrified as I felt.
“No, no. You’re so much better than they are—pure human, not animal. And born to rule. Here is what I want to show you.”
We walked onto a balcony into apparent sunlight, overlooking a sort of indoor landscape. Lush and warm, flowering plants and tropical trees decorated a series of lakes and streams that went on as far as the eye could see. And everywhere I looked, animals and people roamed, swam or lolled on the velvety green verges.
“Look familiar?” She dimpled with her twinkling smile, knowing my answer.
“Just like the Imperial Seraglio,” I replied numbly. The same magically created sunshine and warmth. I’d never thought of that place as a prison, but this surely was.
“Old magic,” she said with reverence. “Magic that was ours to begin with, before Moranu’s children stole it and escaped to here. They tried to starve us of it, but we’re taking our own back now. This is your birthright, Daughter. Witness the power you could possess.”
She swept a hand, as if gathering something—and every creature, animal or human, looked her way, and stood at attention. They poked heads out of the surface of the water, flew from the trees, ambled out of caves and dwellings. More appearing every moment, they amassed below, obeying the unspoken command of the High Priestess.
“Shall I have them do something for you?” Her eyes glittered with joyful madness, the power making her giddy. “How about jump.”
Every one of them jumped, in the air, in the water, on land. Precisely once. And went still again.
I fought the rising nausea, and she patted my cheek sympathetically.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s wise of you to recognize the power I hold. You see now that I will win this war. We shall descend on Annfwn and take back what they stole—and you will be on the side of good and right.” She giggled. “And on the side of the winners, which is most important. You understand my point, don’t you?”
Dully, despairing, I agreed that I did.
Though I felt I’d eaten breakfast only a few hours before, the High Priestess insisted on a lavish luncheon, this time in a grand interior hall, illuminated by a miraculous arched ceiling made entirely of glass. Silk banners draped from airy upper balconies, hanging nearly to the floor. As someone who’d spent an extensive part of her life on embroidery, I recognized the exquisite skill that had gone into the needlework images on each banner.
Each depicted an animal, many far larger than life size. There were dozens, but I picked out many familiar animals—wolf, tiger, black panther, hummingbird, horse—and other mythological ones, too. At the far end, on an ocean-blue silk, a mermaid stared out. On a flaming red banner, a dragon flew. And rendered in gleaming black on shimmering silver, a gríobhth that might’ve used Zyr as the model.
The High Priestess caught me staring at it. “Your pet’s ancestor, no doubt. That is its First Form, isn’t it?” She asked it far too casually, so I did what I did best: played dumb.
“He wouldn’t tell me,” I confided. “I think he didn’t trust me.”
She patted my arm, reaching only a short way to do so, as she’d seated me at her left hand while she presided at the head of the long table. Other priests and priestesses of Deyrr had joined us for the elaborate feast. All gorgeously dressed, youthful in their beauty, they ignored me entirely, talking quietly amongst themselves in Dasnarian. The few conversations I could pick out revealed nothing of interest. They spoke of the weather, the meal, and other innocuous topics. It would’ve been like many feasts my family had hosted for special events and holidays, except for those dead, dark eyes they all had—looking like eyeless sockets in their comely faces.
“Don’t be distressed about not knowing its First Form. They place such a superstitiously high importance on it, but it truly doesn’t matter. Because of their mutable nature, the cleverest among them can learn to ape any form, even the extinct ones. So even if they claim one as their First, they might be lying.” She wrinkled her nose playfully, as if discussing capricious children.
“Why lie about it if it doesn’t matter?”
She snorted and waved a careless hand. “Who knows? Really, Karyn.” She squeezed my forearm, sounding terribly earnest. “You must learn not to ascribe higher thought to the beasts. They do what they do, when they feel like it, with no more intellect than that.”
“The shapeshifters have been left alone and ungoverned for far too long,” the man opposite me spoke up. He was one of the few who looked older; deep grooves carved his handsome face, gi
ving him a chiseled look. He spoke to the High Priestess, still ignoring me, though he’d clearly been listening to the conversation.
“We’re working on changing that,” the High Priestess replied sweetly. “Don’t lose patience when the prize is within our reach.”
He grunted and returned to his meal.
“What is the prize?” I asked, hoping for wide-eyed and innocent again.
The High Priestess considered me, then held up a finger, waving it slowly. “You mustn’t always play so dumb. We know the shapeshifters and their allies attempted to recruit you to their cause. You can’t be faulted for that. What choice did you have, exiled by that idiot Hestar and left to your own devices? It was clever of you to pretend to go along with their plans, but now you’re back among your own people. Your true family.”
“Unless you work for them,” the woman to my left suddenly said. I might’ve been an empty chair until that moment, but now she stared at me. I avoided her awful gaze, looking at her strangely girlish face, round with full cheeks, surrounded by ringlets of rose-gold hair. “Are you a spy?” she asked, pursing her petal-pink mouth.
I nearly laughed—and was glad I couldn’t, as it would have come out hysterical. Everyone accused me of being a spy. I only wished I was. Then I might understand all of these layers of politics and battling going on around me. All I wanted was a normal life. The protest ran around my mind. Love. Children, Andi had clarified. They seemed like such…frivolous desires now, as I sat at this table dredged from nightmares, with people who could snap my mind like the fragile teacups of my nursery days. And the only man I’d ever loved was chained in a cell, unable to even be a man.
This war will engulf us all. All the people who just want a normal, peaceful life will have to fight anyway. The point is to act despite that, to fight instead of cringing and hiding.
No matter how much I longed to be able to cringe and hide, I couldn’t. I suppose that had been Zyr’s point when he said that to me. Dredging up my courage, I met the pretty priestess’s horrible gaze. “I am not a spy,” I said in formal, court Dasnarian. “I was the fourth highest ranked woman in Dasnaria, destined to be empress, and I outrank you. You will address me accordingly.”
Her soft mouth fell open, then curled into a snarl, but the pealing laughter of the High Priestess shocked her into silence. The High Priestess sat back in her grand chair—a throne, by many standards—and clapped her hands, laughing in apparent delight.
“Well played, Daughter. You are all I hoped. Now, we all know Hestar stripped you of that rank you just boldly claimed, but never mind that. I shall give it back to you. You will be empress, Karyn, mark my words. Our empress. By the time this war is done, no one will stand between you and the Imperial Throne of Dasnaria.”
“She’ll need an emperor,” said the man across from me, as if pointing out a future business item, not arguing my ascension to the throne in the least.
“No, she won’t,” the High Priestess snapped back, a look of fierce displeasure on her face. “We’ve been through this. The era of the male fist holding the empire is over. I won’t allow it. Our Karyn will rule alone.” She reached over again and squeezed my hand, giving me that delighted smile. “Of course,” she added, in a conspiratorial tone, “you can have all the, erm, ferocious lovers you like.”
I smiled back, hoping it didn’t look like I fought not to puke in her lap. “How will you raise me to the throne? It seems impossible, even with your great power.”
She smiled secretively. “All right, I’ll tell you. You deserve to know. Once we’ve captured Annfwn, the Heart, and the Star—and all those associated kingdoms—then we’ll dispose of Hestar and his sons, in the grand Dasnarian tradition. That leaves your husband, Kral, heir to the throne, as he’s unequivocally the next in line.”
“Except for the firstborn,” the priestess beside me pointed out. “Princess Jenna.”
“Dead,” the High Priestess declared with complete certainty. “Perished over two decades ago. I’ve seen it in the mists. Kral’s claim is undeniable. With Hestar and his line dispatched, and Kral in turn, as soon as he’s ratified, that leaves you. Simple.”
“That’s treason,” I managed. Oddly, it saddened me to hear Jenna had perished. As if I’d lost another friend.
Laughter rippled down the table, broad grins and shaking heads for my foolish innocence. The High Priestess gave them a reproving frown and they quieted. “Deyrr existed before the upstart Konyngrrs seized the throne. You could say we outrank them.”
“Kral won’t want the throne,” I persisted. “He gave it up for—” For love, I didn’t say. It sounded too silly, too weak a word in this gathering of power and horror.
“He gave it up for that chit. I know.” The High Priestess made a moue of disbelieving disgust. “Don’t worry there. A man raised to lust for power will always lust for power. We’ll bring him along easily enough—and you’ll be ready to take your place at his side again.”
“Except our marriage was annulled by His Imperial Majesty,” I ventured, not sure I should, but I thought she knew that.
She put her fingers over her mouth, pretending to hold back a secret, then giggled. “But was it?” Popping her hands apart, she smiled widely. “Did you know—I was there that night.” She gave a little squeal of excitement.
I hadn’t known. How… creepy to think of that. “Then you saw His Imperial Majesty grant me an annulment—and then sentence me to death.” I said it accusingly, feeling I’d gained some ground against her sweetly manipulative clutches that muddled my thinking so much. “What friend stands by and allows that?”
She waved that off with a dismissive poof of her lips. “I would’ve rescued you before they torched you at dawn. It’s not my fault that Kral’s mannish rekjabrel interfered. In fact, they very nearly ruined things, being so impulsive. I was the one looking after your best interests and I was the one who made sure Hestar’s stupid decision wasn’t recorded. He knew better than to thwart my wishes.” A growl crept into her voice, a glimpse of her true self. Then she went all sunny again. “I’ll prove it. Girl!”
A handmaiden who looked very like the one who’d tended me that morning ran up with a sealed metal tube. Clearly she’d been poised with it nearby, to deliver it so quickly. I could barely absorb the implications of that, so astonished was I by the sight of that particular tube.
I knew it well. My mother and father had picked it out for me. My wedding decorations had been designed along the same theme.
Delighted by my astonishment, the High Priestess flipped the catch on the tube and opened the lid, then slid out the parchment inside. My wedding contract, sealed with the emperor’s own hand.
She handed it to me, trilling happily, “Congratulations, sweet Karyn af Hardie. You’re still married! I hereby restore your rank—and your glorious future.”
~ 21 ~
The High Priestess kept it for me, my cursed undying wedding certificate, “for safekeeping” she declared—and sent it off in its tube with the handmaiden.
My mind reeling, unable to muster much appetite, I picked at my meal, until the High Priestess chided me for it. “You’ll need your strength for the ritual consecration,” she promised. “Eat. Drink. You’ll thank me for it.” And she pressed a goblet into my hand with the sweetest of smiles.
Those ominous words did nothing to stimulate my lagging appetite, so I sipped the wine. An excellent vintage and one I’d been barely allowed to taste as it had been from our own Hardie vineyards, but destined for the Imperial Palace. The smoothly rounded taste of home helped to ease my incipient panic. I did my best to eat, too, spurred on by the High Priestess’s command.
No matter what happened tonight, I certainly would need my strength. If I behaved well, she’d let me have Zyr in my bedchamber. Perhaps he could fly away out one of the windows.
A good reason to obey the High Priestess’s suggestions, her voice a melodious running brook, speaking to me of all manner of things while I ate and
drank. Her cheerful conversation required nothing of me, so I could sit quietly, appear to listen, and turn over my thoughts. She seemed happy with that arrangement, too, which made me happy in turn.
I’d never been particularly strong-willed—and I’d never wanted to be. My parents had praised me for my sweetness and obedience. Kral had found my softly yielding nature bewitching.
Only Zyr had ever chided me for it—and then only because he found my submissiveness so arousing.
I already had such a difficult time resisting the High Priestess—all of her arguments made so much sense that it became easier and easier to agree with the truth of them—that I worried that after this consecration, I’d do whatever she wanted with a smile on my face. What if I didn’t want to free Zyr after that? I might become what she moment by moment molded me into, another version of herself. I might remove Zyr’s chains only to replace them with my own, making him my pet indeed.
If his intellect truly rotted away while I trained to be a priestess, he could indeed become my cheerful rekjabrel, happy to service me however I asked.
And I might be empress. The first of the Hardie dynasty. How thrilled my parents would be with me. I’d deliver on their most ambitious dreams and more, far more than they ever hoped for. Wealth and power would be mine. I’d never again have to worry about who would take care of me.
Other Dasnarian women will tell tales of you. You’ll be their hero. I’d be the first female ruler of the Dasnarian Empire. Zyr’s words would come true.
Just not exactly how he’d envisioned.
But then, his ideals didn’t necessarily have to be mine. I owed him and the Tala no loyalty, nothing beyond the services I’d already rendered. I’d found n’Andana for them, hadn’t I? I was Dasnarian, born and bred. In retrospect, it seemed impossible that I had considered turning my back on my people—on my own family—to fight in a war against them. What had I been thinking? All because Jepp had pretended to be my friend and Kral had rescued me. Though he wouldn’t have had to rescue me if he hadn’t treated me so terribly in the first place. In fact, Jepp and Kral had interfered with my true rescue. If they hadn’t, I would’ve found my destiny with the High Priestess and Deyrr so much sooner.
The Arrows of the Heart Page 24
