Chapter Seven
Imelt into consciousness, a sweetness dissolving on my tongue, leaving a stale, claggy aftertaste in its wake.
I use my trembling arms to push my body up into a sitting position, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to restore my blurred vision.
As the fog clears from my eyes, I find myself in a room I don’t recognise and – even with my lack of knowledge on how I got here – I feel anything but panic in the lightness of my body.
The dark ceiling is low and crumbling, and in the dimness of the firelight I can only just make out the redness of the trees painted onto the grey background of the damp-stained wallpaper that curls from the walls in places, as though in rejection of the very foundations of the building it’s plastered on.
The room is almost empty, the furnishings consisting of the bed, a dresser on the opposite wall, and a vanity table running under the window.
Dust and mildew toys with my nostrils, cut through with the scent of apple and burning wood.
I stick my legs out from the sheets, letting them hang from the edge of the bed.
There is coldness in the air beside me, like a lost and sorrowful soul lingering next to mine.
The entirety of the bedchamber holds that same feeling.
There is a despairing lack of hope in the poor condition of the room and its contents, even the wood of the four-poster bed I lay in is distressed and miserable to look at.
My senses are overwhelmed with an icy pulling sensation, a pleading in the groaning breeze.
I look to the window opposite the bed, directly across from me, and the curtains are eerily still, untouched by wind, the latch rusted shut.
A sudden course of anxiety hitches my breathing and dampens my skin, and the blood drains from my body from the head down.
Something isn’t right.
I sift through my last memories, the aroma of charred flesh, the smug smile of the Umbrian king, the weeping ghost at the end of my bed.
Lillienne. Panic strikes, rapid and disorienting, and I leap from the bed, making for the door in the far-right corner.
Stumbling over the large expanse of rug that covers the hardwood floors in the centre of the room, I frantically regain balance but reach the slightly cracked open door just as it slams closed in a violent blast of wind.
I know in the forceful snap of an instant he is near. He’s really making a habit of this now.
I spin round, barely able to remain upright as I identify the unmistakeable silhouette of the Umbrian king, sitting on the edge of the bed I just woke up in. ‘Tell me where she is,’ my voice croaks, my throat dry with the frigid air twisting around me. ‘Lillienne. What have you done with her?’
He shifts slightly, still the embodiment of night, leaning his shoulder on the wooden poster of the bed. ‘Such disturbing hostility from the queen of lightness herself.’ He chuckles deeply, his tone dripping with amusement. ‘Not ready to apologise for your outburst?’
‘I’m not queen yet.’ It doesn’t come out quite as commanding as I had intended. The vulnerability of standing exposed in the middle of the room, unable to see my own kidnapper’s face, makes me squirm.
‘No,’ he says, his shadowy posture straightening a little. ‘You’re not. And you’re infinitely less gracious than any noble I have ever encountered before.’
‘I am not sorry.’ I tighten my jaw. ‘You have done nothing but harass me in the last twenty-four hours, not to mention kidnapping me, and now you expect me to feel guilty that I mutilated your arm? I will never be sorry for fighting back.’
The dark king laughs smoke from his lungs.
‘Don’t get me wrong, Princess. It was agonising.’ He sits forward a little, his features still indistinct. ‘But it was deliciously satisfying to know how easily you lose control. You really are a fiery little thing, and that makes it all the more entertaining.’
I clench my fists by my side, exasperated at his assessment of me and upset at how accurate it is.
Regulating my feelings has always been a weakness of mine, and now with the power of the Relic lying asleep within me, I need to be very careful of acting on impulse.
I shouldn’t have used it so violently. That is not how the Virtuae Gods intended the power be used.
I exhale, cooling my features.
‘Why take me? You could’ve just taken Lillienne and left me back at Grange. If she’s really what you want, then why go to the trouble of taking me with her knowing I’ll do anything to protect her.’ I look down my nose at him. ‘Including fight you.’
There is a full and deliberating pause, and his dark fingers run through the shadow of his hair.
‘That is why I took you here. You’d have waged a war on us trying to get through the Divide to bring her back. You think I would risk that?’ Chunks of vomit stick in my throat and I force them back down with a hard gulp.
‘We’re in Umbra?’
Of course we are. The gloomy décor of this dingy excuse for a bedchamber should’ve been the first giveaway. The desperation and misery thickening the atmosphere around us, the second. Umbra is not a place of light and hope. It is dark and teeming with dread.
‘That was the first necessary step in helping your friend,’ is all he says.
‘We crossed the Divide?’ The faint memory of mirrored air drifts into my mind, the image ebbs and flows as I drift in and out of consciousness.
My back is rested against the soft rotting flesh of a large tree stump.
Lillienne is awake and crying softly, propped up against the same hunk of wood, her cramped up fingers just inches from mine.
I strain to reach them, my own fingers crawling through dead leaves and twigs, my pulse weak and my thoughts slow.
Before I can feel the wrinkling skin of her withering hand, she is dragged from me, lifted into the air by a dark figure that carries her in the direction of the wall of energy about ten feet away from me.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of it, all limp and head lolling as I try to move my legs and fail.
It’s like they lack any bones or muscle.
The dark figure’s white hair shines with moonlight that bounces from the flowing, silvery energy of the Valtayre Divide. He and Lillienne are engulfed in a purling cloud of grey smoke, and he steps forwards, the barrier devouring them like a stone into a lake. Then they are gone.
It is a few minutes before he returns for me.
‘We can’t,’ I mumble.
‘We have to,’ he whispers.
His arms keep a firm grip around me as I am hoisted into the air, the buttons on his shirt catching in my hair as I try to pull my head from his chest.
‘No.’ I blink groggily.
Smoke surrounds us too, as we slip into the purring energy of the divide.
I open my eyes to the bedchambers and fall to my feet.
‘Get out of my mind!’ I shout, clawing at my head, trembling at the breaching of my mind’s boundaries, the ghost of his fingers still rummaging through my memories.
‘You wanted to know,’ his voice is empty of remorse. ‘So, I let you remember.’
My face is soaked with salted tears that slip over my lips as I shout at him. ‘If you ever do that again I swear I will—’
‘You’ll what?’ He gets to his feet. ‘Go on, show me. What great and terrible punishment are you going to inflict on me now? Do it. Burn me, go on.’
The shadows of smoke slip and he moves into the dim firelight where I can see him. I fall further into the floor at the sight of him, pure rage contorts his sharp features into a weapon that could kill me with one glance.
He looks exactly as he had done in Reyhen, only his skin seems more detailed, textured with pores and dimples and lines carved in his forehead. His hair an unruly sea of red and white waves that surge as his body trembles, and he glares in my direction.
He looks real.
And for some reason that makes him all the more terrifying.
He looms over me, and I crawl backwards into the dresser I wasn’t even aware was directly behind me.
‘I know what you are,’ I spit at his feet. ‘You are an affront to the gods. You are not worth another ounce of my power.’
He grins. ‘You can throw all the sharp threats you want, Princess, but you know you’d rather a real fight.’
He crouches to my level, head tilted, eyes wide and demonic as they pierce into mine.
‘Well?’ he probes, poking a sharp finger into my shoulder.
‘Prove your strength, Princess. Burn it into me.’ I look down at my pathetic hands that shake despite my best efforts not to, and I search inside me again for the humming of energy, for the warmth of the flame.
But I am met with emptiness and silence, a dead reply to my request for power.
‘I can’t, I—’ I shake my head and bring my desperate eyes back to his. ‘I don’t feel it.’ It is as though someone has reached within me and blew out whatever remnants of light still sparked inside.
He smiles, pleased with himself. ‘Even your precious Relic can’t make you into anything more significant. You really are as pathetic as I’d imagined.’
His spit catches in my eye and I try to blink it out.
Smoke consumes us, until we’re sitting in the eye of a swirling hurricane of darkness.
The red tips of his hair flicker above his head like wildfire.
His lips come inches from mine, and I smash my head on the dresser trying to avoid whatever it is that he’s about to do.
The pain throbs where the back of my head met the wood, but his fanged words issue the ultimate blow.
‘You. Are. Nothing. Here.’
The smoke falls in on us.
And he is gone once again.
I cough until vomit releases onto the frayed carpet.
My lungs still heavy with the fumes and crying out for something other than the darkness I have no choice but to breathe in.
I wave the last of the smoke away from my face, and at the last chesty cough, a knock sounds from the door.
The person behind it doesn’t wait for me to bid them entry, and the hinges move with a creak that makes my teeth chatter.
A pale girl with auburn hair intricately braided into a crown pokes her head around the door. Her eyes are like gaping red voids in her head, the pupil, the iris and the whites themselves are all the colour of old blood.
I vomit once again, this time, down my muddied nightdress.
‘Oh no, you poor thing!’ The girl hurries over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder as she surveys the scene before her. ‘Don’t worry about that old rug, that thing goes against every single rule of interior design and I will be happy to be rid of it.’
I don’t say a thing. Unsure whether I need to be wary of this creature that’s extending a kindness I had not expected. She tuts at my nightdress, as I regard it self-consciously, taking a step back with her hand over her mouth in thought.
‘This obviously can’t stay either,’ she says, and I shake my head in silent agreement. ‘Wait here, I will be right back.’
She shoots out the door before I get a chance to ask where she’s going, and who she is.
I adjust my position on the floor, sitting back on my feet, and wait like this for what feels like an age, before the red-eyed girl returns.
Her mouth is wide in a big, childlike grin that juxtaposes the darkness of her gaze. In her hands, is a long velvety gown of blue, in a style very similar to the one she wears. Only hers is trimmed with silver, the one she holds, in gold.
‘I do hope this will fit you.’ She walks over and places it gently on the bed. ‘You seem much taller than I am, but luckily I’d had a few dresses made a little too long in the hopes I’d finally grow into them.’
‘Thank you.’ I get to my feet, a little puzzled at the red-head’s kindness, but grateful, nonetheless.
‘Wow, you’re beautiful,’ she says. ‘It’s a shame you smell so bad.’ She giggles and playfully pinches her nose with her fingers.
‘I don’t usually smell so foul.’ It comes out awkward, and unfunny. The girl waves it away anyway. By her clothes, I can tell she is not a member of staff, her dress is far too beautiful, and her hair far too styled.
‘I should hope not. I bet a Reyheni princess has access to the most divine perfumes.’ She breathes in through her nose as though she can actually smell them.
‘What a dream. You must have all kinds of scents for every occasion, sugary vanilla for dinner parties, florals for balls, lavender for reading by the fi—’ She must see the bewilderment in my face as she stops mid word.
‘I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I had the chance to make a new friend.’ She holds out her hand for me. ‘I’m Calliope, but you should probably call me Calli because I won’t answer to Calliope.’
‘I’m…’ I move to shake her hand but realise that mine is covered in my own sickness and I rub it on the side of my nightdress instead.
‘Disgusting,’ she giggles.
A laugh escapes me at how direct she is, reminding me of how Lillienne was when I first met her, when we were girls.
‘I will send for someone to bring you a basin. You’ll have to get cleaned up before we go to see Lillienne.’
My eyes spring wide. ‘You’ve seen Lillienne? Where is she? Is she okay? Is she hurt?’
‘Hurt?’ Calli cocks her head at me. ‘I mean she’s having a tough time with it all but she’s perfectly unharmed if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘She was kidnapped. It’s natural for me to assume that she’s being treated badly, especially when I’ve not exactly had the best reception on my arrival.’
She looks at me like I’m deranged, and laughs it off, making for the door.
‘I was told you were dramatic, but I thought Eliaz was kidding with me.’ The sound of his name spoken so casually makes my stomach flip.
Him being referred to with his real name instead of his title personifies him in a way that seems so contradictory to the man who just had me sick and cowering on the floor.
‘I’ll send for a washbasin and come back for you in around half an hour. ’
She takes another look at me before she turns to leave.
‘Princess?’
‘Eira,’ I correct.
‘Eira.’ She smiles at the offering of my name. ‘You don’t need to look so frightened.’
But she disappears before I can ask how she can be so sure.