Chapter 76
Chapter
Seventy-Six
T he king calls for Nemeth the next day…and for him to bring me.
The missive comes to Nemeth’s door, delivered in an ornate parchment sealed with wax. I watch over the ledge as Nemeth takes the note from the small box by the door and frowns deeply as he reads it. “Ivornath,” he growls. “I should have known.”
“Is this bad?” I ask. “Didn’t you see Ivornath yesterday?”
He shakes his head. “I visited Ajaxi. Ivornath refused to see me.”
Well that makes me nervous. Still, I’d wanted to see Ivornath, hadn’t I? This is my chance. I’m good at court games, at wheedling and ingratiating myself. At flirting and making someone feel appreciated. I’m confident I can handle Ivornath. A little flattery, a little awe tossed his way, and then when he sees I’m nothing to be frightened of, we pitch for my sister’s freedom, along with Riza and everyone else.
He just needs a bit of ass-kissing, I suspect. Even Lionel wasn’t immune when I turned on the charm.
I can handle this. Nemeth might be his brother, but he’s said before that he’s not a diplomat. “Perfect,” I tell Nemeth. “Show me what we have to wear.”
A few hours later, my hair is pulled back into an elaborate rope braid decked with golden chains and anchored over one shoulder, my eyes rimmed with a bit of green cosmetic to show off their color. My bruises are covered with a pale powder, and my new dress is courtesy of the trunk of clothing (along with the cosmetics) that were brought in by Fellian servants.
It’s proof that Nemeth has some pull around here, at least, no matter what he thinks.
The Fellian clothing for women is a little different than what I’m used to. There are no tight decorative sleeves, no ornate belts to show off the curve of the hips. Instead, the dress is a sack of glossy, flowing material with a square neck and no sleeves. Instead, there are two thin ties that can be fastened over the neck, leaving the back bare for wings. A quick look in the mirror shows me that I look short and dumpy in the long dress. It’s not a flattering look, but it hides my belly well thanks to my large breasts. It’s not a very warm outfit for the cold under-mountain, more proof that Fellians run hotter than humans. Luckily for me, Nemeth takes pity on my shivering and gives me a thick, woolly wrap for my shoulders that is covered with his family symbol.
A thick plain metal collar is fastened around my neck, and I decide I hate it.
Nemeth is dressed finely, too. I’m struck again how handsome he is. He puts on a jewel breastplate of hammered metal, the sigil of the First House displayed across the front and held onto his shoulders and waist by straps of thick leather so as to avoid his wings. His kilt is heavily gilded as well, and a heavy ceremonial hammer is hung at his waist—the ancient symbol of the First House and the symbol of the weapon Ravendor Vestalin used to smite her Fellian husband.
I decide I hate it, too.
“Are you ready?” Nemeth asks me, taking my hand in his. He turns my palm over, rubbing his thumb over the bite mark. “Say the word, and I will leave you here. We will tell them you feel unwell. That you ate something that disagrees with you.”
I shake my head. “I’m going with you, and I plan on charming your brother so he’ll have no choice but to let my sister and the other Liosians go. They’re just women. His war wasn’t with them.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Nemeth asks.
I won’t even consider such a thing. “He will.”
I’m mentally getting back into my “court” personality as Nemeth wraps his wings around me and tucks me under his chin. One dizzying moment later and we’ve teleported onto a circle in front of the home of the king. If I was expecting a palace, I’ve been mistaken. It looks more like a fortress hewn from stone, but narrow and climbing up the walls of the mountain itself. Rock pillars frame a metal double door, two guards standing outside. Above the first floor, windows cluster like lines of grapes growing in a row, each window covered in ornate stained glass. The rooms look small compared to Castle Lios’s expansive rooms and winding halls, but there’s so many windows that there’s no question in my mind that this is where the ruler of this place lives.
The guards cover their mouths with scarves as we appear in the courtyard, and I could swear they flinch. Not a good sign.
Nemeth releases me and I step dutifully behind him, pretending to be subservient. As I do, I eye our surroundings. We’re in a gated courtyard on the “bottom” floor of the mountain, surrounded by high stone walls. There are plants growing here, strange twisty-looking things climbing and growing under the anemic light of magical lanterns that cast their glow. I look down at our feet, and there are a dozen circles in the tile mosaic floor, as if the people might teleport in and slowly gather here. There’s no red symbol painted on the door here, either.
“Prince Nemeth here to see my brother,” Nemeth declares in a booming voice as he approaches the guards. I trot behind him, trying to look cute and helpless.
The guards cross their spears over the doors, barring him from entering. “No humans. She will have to wait nearby.” One gestures at the far side of the courtyard, where I see a small gazebo-like structure heavily encrusted with pale green vines and more of the strange lighting. “The king’s orders.”
Nemeth growls furiously, one hand nudging me behind him. “The king has asked for both of us?—”
“Aye, and he changed his mind,” the second guard says. “And if you go in, you must cover your mouth. King’s orders.”
My mate reaches for his hammer.
I put a hand on his arm. “Nemeth, it’s fine. Just go talk to him. I can wait out here for a bit.”
He turns toward me, frowning. “I should take you home?—”
“No,” I say quickly, giving his arm a pat to soothe him. “We’ve come this far and dressed up to visit. Go in and talk to him. Tell him I wish to speak to him, too. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just ease the topic of your wife into the conversation.” I take his hand in mine and kiss the back of it. “I can sit in a garden and wait. I don’t mind.”
He sighs heavily, glancing over at the guards. It’s clear he doesn’t like this.
“I’ll be safe,” I reassure him. “Unless you think the guards will hurt me?”
We both glance over at the two men in front of the doors. They’re watching me hold Nemeth’s hand with looks of revulsion, which is odd. I mean, I know humans and Fellians look different but the disgust is a new take. Nemeth notices it, too. He turns back to me, leaning in. “I don’t like this, Candra. There should be more guards here.”
“More?” That surprises me.
“Aye. The palace has always had ten guards at its doors. I don’t understand this.” He shakes his head. “Just as I don’t understand why Ivornath would change his mind about seeing you.”
“Well, go and change it back,” I joke. “I’ll wait here.”
He nods and pulls me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Then, he leads me toward the gazebo in the midst of the garden and pauses in front of the latticed door there. I can see another figure waiting in the deep shadows inside. Probably another human left behind by someone, since we’re being treated like rabid dogs. I turn and smile brightly at Nemeth, showing him that I’m fine with this.
With one last longing glance, he leaves me and heads for the door. The moment he does, a guard steps forward with a water-skin. “Wash your hands and face. King’s orders.”
I watch as Nemeth mutters something unpleasant to them but does as he’s bade, and then disappears inside, the doors finally open for him.
By the gods, I knew Darkfell would be strange, but I didn’t realize just how strange.
I turn around to the gazebo door and pause. There on the delicate lattice of wood, just above the door handle, is another one of those swirling red marks. Does it mean “human,” I wonder? I push the door open and head inside. “Hello,” I call out to the other occupant. “May I sit with you?”
“Good,” says a hard voice that makes me gasp in surprise. “You’re finally here.”
I stare in shock as the woman inside lowers her hood.
It’s my sister, Erynne.
She’s thinner than I remember, her face hard and there are lines at the corners of her mouth, as if she’s permanently frowning now. But Erynne is still beautiful and regal, and she’s family. With a choked sound, I launch myself at her, hugging her tight. “By the gods,” I weep. “Erynne!”
“Tears do no good,” my sister says in a brittle voice. “Save them for someone else.”
I pull back in surprise, gazing up at her. Erynne’s always been taller than me, and svelte. She seems hard now, though, as if all her softness has disappeared. She smiles at me, but there’s no affection in the expression, and I swear I can see every tendon in her throat when she does.
“Erynne,” I breathe. “I’m so glad to see you. But you’re so thin?—”
“And you’re not. I shouldn’t be surprised. Even when Mother tried to make you watch your food, you always looked plump.”
I flinch at her cruel words. She’s angry, I realize. Angry that I’ve left the tower. That I’ve failed in a Vestalin’s duty. That must be it. “How did you get here?” I ask, determined to ignore her anger. “Is it true that Lios is destroyed and the humans here are enslaved?”
Her gaze goes blank for a moment, and then she focuses on me again. “I should be asking how you got here. When did you arrive? Has it been seven years already?”
That worries me. Surely she would know if seven years have passed? And if she thinks it’s been seven…then why is her gaze filled with such hatred towards me? “It’s only been a little more than two.”
“Ah. So you abandoned your duty.” Her smile twists. “You fool. It still took two years, did it? How witless you must feel.”
“We stayed until we had no supplies left. No one arrived to bring food for either of us, so we left and traveled to Lios…or what’s left of it. Is it true? Tell me it’s not,” I beg. “Tell me what happened.” Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, despite the odds, Lios has somehow survived. That the people retreated further into the mountains and created a settlement there. That they’re thriving on plants that grow abundantly in mud and excessive rain.
Something. Anything.
“You don’t know what happened?” My sister’s hard expression changes ever so slightly. “You truly don’t know what occurred?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been in the tower for the last two years. I know nothing beyond the doors closing behind me. Please. Tell me everything.”
She touches the collar at her neck—a slave collar, just like mine, but hers is a real one. “Lionel set sail the moment you crossed into the tower,” Erynne says in a distant voice, her gaze distracted. “It didn’t matter that the winds hadn’t yet died down, or that the weather was foul. He’d sent you and he expected the goddess to shower him with fair weather. He was such a reckless idiot.” She sounds almost affectionate. “I’m told he lost half his ships before they even made it to Darkfell, and then he set siege to the mountain. Can you imagine? Waiting outside a stone mountain in a boat?”
Erynne laughs, and the sound makes my hackles rise. I try to picture Lionel laying siege to Darkfell, but all I can see in my mind’s eye are the impossibly high cliffs that frame the waters of the sea on Darkfell’s borders. It seems a foolish place to siege, but I am no soldier.
“He lost, of course,” my sister continues. “Nine months he fought and came back like a dog with a tail between his legs. Just long enough to kiss his baby son and impregnate me again. And then it was off to war once more, taking all men that could stand upright with him and leaving me in charge of a people that were running out of food. Did you know that when all the men go off to war, there’s suddenly no one to till the fields or mind the cattle? Did you know that a woman can only do so much with a baby hanging off of her? We tried to make up the slack, but in the end, there still wasn’t enough food. And then the rains just made it worse. It rained and it rained, and we starved and we starved. I envied you in the tower, you know.”
That takes me aback. “You did?”
“Yes.” Her expression grows dreamy. “It seemed like the perfect escape. Just sit in a tower on a bed of cushions, eating food and ignoring the world outside as it goes to shite. Sheer bliss. You didn’t have to worry about anything. You could be proud that you were doing your duty to the gods. Meanwhile I was outside trying to hold everything together.”
I feel a twinge of guilt.
“But at least I had my babies,” Erynne continues. She won’t look at me as she speaks, as if it’s too much for her mind if she sees me. “My strong little Allionel and my darling Ravendor.”
I jerk at the name, an uneasy feeling in my gut. “You named your girl Ravendor?”
She’s not listening to me, though. Her expression is vague. “They’re such good children, too. Strong and brave.” Erynne blinks hard and then turns back to me. “Isabella died, you know. During the famine. She gave her last bites of food to me so I could nurse my baby.”
“Oh gods, Erynne.” I reach for her hands. My youngest memories are of Erynne and Isabella, always together. They were closer than I was with Erynne. I also knew they’d been lovers for some time, and I can’t imagine my sister’s pain. “I know how much you loved her.”
“Nurse died, too,” she tells me. “Iphigenia. She was one of the first to die from weakness when there was nothing to eat.”
It’s a punch in the gut. I choke back a sob, horrified. All this time I’ve been excited to see both Nurse and Riza—sometimes more excited at the prospect of seeing them than my own sister—and to realize that I’ve lost Nurse breaks me. Hot tears slide down my face. “Please, no.”
“Yes.” Erynne’s voice is cold. “She was lucky. She didn’t live to see the destruction of our kingdom. After we starved for two full seasons, it was easy for the Fellians to take over. Our navy was destroyed. Our men were gone. The people left in the capital were weak, and Lionel thought he was some great commander. They captured him on the first day of the siege and after that, I knew it was just a matter of time. But I held out for as long as I could, because I knew Allionel needed a kingdom.”
A sick feeling grows in my stomach. “Where is he? Where’s the baby? Where are both of your children, Erynne?”
My sister turns her cold, unblinking eyes on me. “You don’t know?”
I shake my head.
“The Fellians stormed our castle, destroying everything in sight. They put every man to the sword. It didn’t matter how old or how young he was. If he was inside the walls, he was killed. They saved my Allionel for last, though. I held him tight in my arms, and they—they pulled him free—” She chokes.
“Don’t say it. Please don’t say it?—”
“They took him from my arms and flung him from the walls, Candra. Because a male human was a threat to them. He was a baby. He…”
I wrap my arms around my sister, hating every word she says. I hate them because I know they’re true. I hate them because they’ve broken my sister. While I sat safe and sound in the tower, my sister was fighting for her life. My sister had her baby ripped from her arms and murdered. “Ravendor?”
I’m terrified to find out the answer, but I know my sister has two children. If Allionel is dead…
“I don’t know.” Erynne chokes on the words, as if they’re difficult to say. Her arms tighten around me. It’s not a hug, not quite, but I’ll take it. “Once they stormed Lios, they put a collar on me. They took the women. They gave my baby to another woman. I don’t know where Ravendor is, Candra. I don’t have my babies.” A sob breaks from her. “My arms are empty. My kingdom is destroyed. And I-I-I need a knife.”
The change in conversation is so sudden I’m certain I’ve heard her wrong. I pull back. “You what?”
“I need a knife,” she tells me, frantic.
“The enchanted knife you gave me?” I shake my head. “It’s lost, stolen?—”
“Any knife. Do you have one?”
“No. What for?”
A smile curves my sister’s lips. “I’m going to cut Ajaxi’s throat while he sleeps. He keeps me chained to his bed so I can serve him whenever he wishes. So I’ll kill him and anyone else that tries to stop me from leaving this place.”