Heartless Heirs

by MarcyKate Connolly

  He doesn’t know. For such a smart boy, he has long been blind to his parents’ cruel mercy.

  Now he’s waking up to find he’s been living with nightmares made of flesh and metal, gilded with gold and precious gems.

  Both our worlds have been upended.

  My bloodied hands catch my eyes and the memory of my first kill—Caden—shoves its way forward. Aro found me, protected me then. But if I kill the king, there will be no protecting me. Not here in the middle of the Palace.

  The queen ignores her son’s question. She isn’t done talking to me yet. “How are you doing this?” she says, stepping forward, more out of curiosity than self-preservation. “Our best scientist has assured us that our augmentations around key areas of our bodies should protect us from Magi spells since they can’t touch metal . . . but that has not stopped you.” She takes another step toward me, and her cold blue eyes rake over me. “Fascinating creature.”

  Meanwhile, the king sputters, still desperately trying to breathe. His legs kick and spasm, but he can’t break free of my spell.

  Aro’s eyes plead with me, and something inside me shifts. I can’t do it. Never mind how much I may want to, I can’t kill his parents in front of him.

  Instead I swing my arm toward the right side of the room and open my hand, sending the king careening into the queen. They tumble over the couch in a whirl of silk and limbs and surprise. I pull my hands back and cast one more spell: “Somnis!”

  When they’re rendered unconscious, I quickly cancel my face-changing spell. Pain shivers over me as my body resumes its true form.

  Then it’s just me and Aro, staring at each other over his parents’ limp bodies.

  CHAPTER 39

  “AISSA,” ARO WHISPERS, BREAKING THE silence first. He unclenches his hands, revealing tiny beads of blood on the palms—the same location as the small cuts I got from the broken glass.

  The awkwardness slips away, and before I know it, I’ve thrown my arms around his neck, and his lips are on mine.

  When we break apart, the first thing I say is, “I came here to rescue you.”

  Aro laughs, part relief and part amusement. “I knew you would.”

  I kiss him again, harder this time, curling my fingers in his hair. “Don’t run away on me again.”

  He frowns. “I had to do something. I can’t stand being idle. It isn’t fair to ask of me.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Nothing about this is fair.”

  “You’re risking your life for this fight. You can’t stop me from doing the same. This is my home and my city.”

  I sigh. I haven’t wanted to admit it, but he’s right. “I won’t. Not anymore.” The reason we came here in the first place thrusts itself back to the forefront of my mind now that Aro is safe. “Darian is making his move. Tonight.”

  Aro sucks his breath in sharply. “So soon?”

  “I found Zandria and she told me everything. She and Remy left so they could undermine Isaiah.” I shake my head. “Only she was shocked to hear it isn’t Isaiah at all.”

  “What about Remy?” Aro asks.

  An uncomfortable feeling swims in my gut. “He’s still in the Magi camp. He doesn’t know the truth. He’s still trying to reason with the man he believes to be his father.”

  “He must be warned,” Aro says.

  “There’s no time. The Magi will be congregating at dawn under the pretext of casting the spell together. That’s when”—I jerk my head at Aro’s sleeping parents—“they’ll attack. The Magi won’t stand a chance.”

  “We need to stop Darian.”

  I smile slightly. “We’re already working on that.” I glance down at our feet and his parents’ unconscious forms. Rage ripples through me once more. If my sister were here, she’d probably be gloating at being proven correct. Now even Aro must admit his parents are beyond the point of being reasoned with. “I have to do one more thing here, then we should leave the Palace as soon as possible.”

  “What can I do?” he asks.

  “Help me with this cabinet?”

  Aro attempts to unlock it, but to no avail. Then he stands aside and waits while I weave my hands, casting a spell on the cabinet. At first my hands are close together, then I stretch them wide, and magic rips the metal cabinet straight down the middle. A man with sandy-colored hair, not much older than my father was when he died, slumps into Aro’s waiting arms. We quickly detach the metal tubes connecting him to the cruel machine.

  The man is weak from blood loss and lack of movement. I sing a rejuvenating spell over him to regrow his blood and heal any wounds we may not have noticed yet. In a few minutes he regains consciousness, and his eyes open. They’re a shocking blue, not less so for the surprise in them.

  “It’s all right,” I whisper. “We’re here to help you. But you must be quiet. Can you do that? Nod if so.” The man nods. “Good. What is your name?”

  “Travers,” the man whispers hoarsely.

  “I’m Aissa, and this is Aro. I’m a Magi like you, and Aro is a Technocrat. We’re part of an underground organization called the Alchemist Alliance. Would you like to help us save the last of the Magi and this city?”

  Travers’s eyes are wide as saucers, and it takes a moment for him to absorb what I’ve told him. He eyes Aro with mistrust, but finally settles.

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” I help Travers to his feet. There’s one last thing I need to do before we leave. I hum, the words to the spell forming on my lips. The sashes of the fine damask curtains unwind from their ties and soar toward me. Under my direction, they wrap around the king and queen, tying them up on the floor like livestock for the slaughter.

  Aro raises an eyebrow. I shrug. “I can’t leave them here able to get help once they wake up. I need to slow them down, and this is the most humane way I can think of.”

  Travers spits on them, startling both me and Aro. “We should lock them both in their own metal suits,” he says.

  I put a restraining hand on his arm. “We don’t have time for that right now. We have work to do, and that means we need to get out of the Palace with as many Magi prisoners as possible. Come on.”

  Travers doesn’t argue. We pause by the door to listen for what might be outside but don’t hear much of anything.

  “Are you strong enough to cast?” I ask Travers.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. If you can handle the silencing spell, I’ll put up a shield.”

  “Even for him?” Travers gestures at Aro.

  “Especially him. He’s been a prisoner here too. In a way. We don’t want him to be stopped as we leave.”

  Once our spells are in place, I crack the door and ensure no one is in sight. The way is clear, and we slip from the room, then hurry down the hall. The number of servants and guards seems to have swelled slightly. Hopefully that’s just a coincidence. I can’t help worrying about my sister and Owen and Catoria. I hope they’re safely on their way back to our hideout with several freed Magi prisoners in tow.

  Aro leads us toward a secret tunnel entrance that will take us on a shortcut down to the dungeons and into the drainage system beyond. It’s what he used to sneak down there, hunting for his own buried treasure. The next corridor we take is secluded and more out of the way than the others. The number of onlookers has reduced considerably, much to my relief. And Travers’s too. He’s been tense the whole way, walking between me and Aro with his shoulders up to his ears.

  Zandy and I may be able to heal the Magi physically, but no spell can undo the trauma inflicted by the king and queen.

  If we can overthrow them, succeed with our coup, perhaps that will go a little ways toward healing for these people. My sister included.

  But first we need to live through this night.

  We enter the secret tunnels and break into a run all the way down to the dungeon level. At the secret entrance there, we do the same ritual we have every time: wait, listen, check, hurry. While I hope my sister and our companions are
already safely away from the Palace, I need to be sure, and I want to free any Magi they might not have released yet.

  We sneak by a few guards, all of whom seem untroubled. Hopefully that means my friends were successful. The first few rooms we try are already empty of their prisoners; they were in use the last time I was here. We’ve been stealing Magi away at random in the hopes that the guards won’t find any pattern to our strikes, but tonight our mission is different. We’re after as many as possible.

  When we reach a cell with a Magi inside, I make short work of the lock, shocking Travers.

  He gapes at me. “But that’s . . . that’s . . .”

  “Impossible?” I say, my lips quirking at the edges. I’m not quite sure when I decided this, but I’m done hiding my powers. There’s no more reason to. We’ve all—Magi and Technocrat—been lied to. The time for a reckoning with the truth is now.

  “Yes,” he says, still staring.

  “Well, it’s not. We’ve all been deceived about what we really are. There’s much to explain, but it must wait until we’ve completed this task.”

  Travers swallows his surprise and picks up the cloaking spell. But the expression on his face as I rip the metal suit off the trapped Magi with a single spell is priceless.

  Aro catches the woman as she collapses. She’s older, probably my mother’s age, with tangled, unwashed blond hair. She’s emaciated; I can see her ribs through the thin shift she wears. For a moment, I worry she’s dead, but quickly discern that’s not the case. I weave my magic over her, teasing out any disease or infection left in her body, regrowing her torn-out tongue and healing her mangled hands.

  When she regains consciousness, we help her to her feet and quickly make introductions. Her name is Fiona. I give her some of the jerky I always carry in my bag, and it renews her further.

  We hurry back into the hall and repeat the process four more times. All the Magi we rescue are in varying states of muscular atrophy and depleted strength. Two of them—Neil and Mika—have only been here a few weeks. They were probably captured not long before Zandria. But like Fiona, Jedrick and Hanniel have been here so long they don’t remember when they were captured. It could have been months, or even years. All three of them are more confused and addled than I’d hoped. I wonder if this is from something new Darian has been doing to his prisoners. We saved several before who had been here for a long time, but they weren’t like this. Perhaps this is what happens to the Magi he drains. I shudder. I hadn’t fully considered the ramifications of that process. The loss of some of their magic, that essence that makes us who we are, could cause untold damage.

  Regardless, we must get these Magi safely away before we can rescue more. It’s clear they’ll be more hindrance than help should a fight arise. And trying to herd them quietly down the hall is becoming a challenge.

  Still, it kills me to leave even a single Magi behind in this dungeon. But we have no choice.

  We’re almost at the secret entrance when guards’ voices stop us in our tracks. The Magi we’ve rescued quiver between me and Aro. From under the safety of the cloaking spell, I peek around the corner and immediately draw back.

  Darian stands in the hall, along with a very awake—and very angry—king and queen.

  My heart leaps into my throat. Aro leans toward me. “What is it?”

  “Your parents. And Darian,” I whisper into his ear. We don’t need the others to be more terrified than they already are.

  Aro’s eyes widen. “Already? I thought Darian would be with the Magi preparing to cast that spell.”

  “I thought so too,” I say. Any change in Darian’s plan is troubling. Did he realize Zandria and Remy were secretly working against Isaiah? Or is there something in the dungeons he wants to retrieve in case the spell actually works?

  All I know is he’s here, and that complicates everything.

  The only positive thing is that there are fewer guards than usual. I assume they’ve been ordered to lie in wait somewhere for the signal to capture the Magi gathering outside the city just before dawn.

  “What’s happening?” Travers asks nervously. “Why have we stopped?”

  “I need . . . to reevaluate our plans. A little hitch, that’s all.”

  “Hitch? What hitch?” Fiona chimes in. The others cower behind her.

  I face them. “We can’t leave the way we planned. Not right now. We may need to hide in the dungeons a little longer than I’d hoped.”

  “I could cause a distraction,” Aro says.

  I grab his wrist. “Don’t you dare. He’ll kill you this time, and you know it.”

  “Not in front of my parents. I’m sure of it.”

  “Well, I’m not.” I take a deep breath, dizziness filling up my chest. “No, if anyone is going to cause a distraction, it will be me.”

  Several shouts come from the hall behind us, spinning me back around. Darian and the royals have opened one of the cells, only to find the Magi they held there missing.

  We’re officially out of time.

  “Wait here!” barks Darian. It takes a moment for me to realize he’s speaking to the king and queen. He’s going to reveal us, and he doesn’t want them to know he’s Magi. Not yet, anyway. I imagine he’ll revel in it when he finally kills them.

  “Go!” I hiss at my companions, shoving them down the hall. Darian’s boots ring out on the metal floors as he marches in our direction. Judging by the clanking that accompanies him, several machines follow in his wake.

  Those are for capturing us. Or some of us. Darian knows full well they’ll be no match for me and my magic. But my companions . . . it would be too easy to force me into a stalemate if he captures everyone else. Especially when he discovers Aro here with me. He probably already suspects. He must’ve found the king and queen asleep and cancelled my spell to wake them up. They would’ve told him all that transpired. And with Aro missing again . . . well, there’s only one reasonable explanation as to where he went.

  The fear of my fellow Magi is thick enough that I could almost reach out and grab hold of it. We make it around the next corner before Darian, but I’m sure he’s tracking our magic by now. If we can circle around and make it to the secret entrance before he reaches us, we might stand a chance of escaping. Otherwise, we may not make it out of this.

  Cold fear begins to gnaw at me.

  “This way,” I whisper. “I know you’re still weak, but you may need to fight. Be ready.”

  We round the corner and come out near the secret doorway. To my horror it’s blocked—by a machine shaped like a wolf, metal hackles raised. Skittering metal clangs from a nearby cell, and out come two more machines just like it.

  We back up, but when I whirl around, Darian is behind us, his hands discretely casting the cancellation spell. A tingling sensation runs over us as the cloaking and silencing spells vanish. When the other Magi realize Darian can see us, they cry out. The royals and their guards rush from the empty cell into the hall.

  We’re boxed in. Darian on one side, mechwolves on another, and the king and queen and their guards in front of us. We can’t get through that door without casualties now.

  We’re left with no good choices. Every one of the freed prisoners senses this. Their magic comes to life in their blood, fizzing the air around us. Some at the ready to strike, some wild and weak and uncontained.

  “Hello, Aissa,” Darian says.

  The king and queen gasp. “Aro!” Queen Cyrene says, an admonishing tone in her voice. The king’s hands ball into fists at his sides.

  A spell hums in my throat before I fully process what I’m about to do. But before I can make my move, the secret door slides open without warning.

  Then the mechwolves are yanked off their feet.

  The Technocrats gape as their own machines hover in the air before them for one long moment.

  Then they’re hurled into the guards, and the royals scatter to take cover.

  CHAPTER 40

  BEFORE THE DUST SETTLES, Z
ANDRIA, OWEN, and Catoria stand next to us, magic at the ready. Zandria alters the spell she cast to knock the mechwolves off their feet and rips them apart with a terrible screech of metal on metal. Meanwhile, Aro ushers the weaker Magi into the not-so-secret passage, instructing them to keep running until they hit the drainage tunnels, and not to stop even then.

  Queen Cyrene’s eyes widen, then freeze over with hatred. “How did you do that to our machines?” She steps forward, guards flanking her. “Capture them,” she orders the guards and Darian.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” I say to Zandria as we cast defensive spells.

  I mumble an incantation that pulls the guards’ weapons out of their hands and turns the pointy ends on them. Two of the six guards halt in their tracks, but the others duck under the swords and keep marching toward us. Their cloaks mark them as the elite guards: Darian’s personally trained soldiers. The ones who are supposed to be the most vicious, the most fearless. This is the first time we’ve fought them.

  Catoria weaves a sleeping spell on the guards who paused, while the elite ones lunge at us. At close range, we have no option but to fight them hand to hand while casting defensive spells as quickly as possible. Zandy and I have trained for this for years, yet in the moment everything is a hundred times more difficult than in the training room.

  I duck the first swing of an elite guard’s fist. Zandria grabs one of the swords that was poised in midair and feints at her own adversary while she weaves an offensive spell with her free hand. Owen defends himself with the poleaxe he gained from one of the weapons raids, but ends up knocked flat. Zandria, howling at the top of her lungs, throws off her own guard and whirls around to stab the one about to strike at Owen.

  Owen weaves his hands, letting loose a spell that shoves back the guard Zandria was just fighting as he tries to take advantage of her distraction. Perhaps the feelings Owen has for my sister are mutual after all. But I only have a moment to consider this before the guards come at me again. This time I’m ready with a blinding spell. One of them is disoriented for a moment, but the other recovers quickly. I dodge out of the way as he grabs for me, then kick him headfirst into the metal wall. He slumps to the ground.