Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
Someone was hitting me, thumping the side of my head, filling it with the noise of pounding feet and creaking armor.
I managed to lift a hand and touched my forehead. I wasn’t under attack; the banging was internal—a nauseating pulse that sent flashes of light through my closed eyelids. I rubbed my temples until the worst of the pain receded.
Something licked at my memory like the tip of a flame. Had there been a dream? I remembered sunshine and running, but then it was gone, and the world around me was quiet and still. There was no violence here, no pain, no voices of lost souls screaming for release.
My body ached, my chest burned from scratches, and my ankle felt raw where the possessed human had grabbed it. And added to that, something new. There was no Aetheric practitioner here; I knew that, at least. But there was a prick of heat in my chest, like a needle lodged in my heart.
I opened my eyes.
My head didn’t explode like harvest fireworks, so that was promising. But for the second time today, I awoke in a place I’d never seen before.
I lay on a high and canopied bed with thick draperies stretched across the top and bunched at the posts on the corners.
I sat up, and when my head stopped spinning, I eased myself to the cold stone floor.
The room was large, with a vaulted ceiling supported by huge wooden beams, and a high glass window that let in streams of milky afternoon light. It smelled faintly of wax and flowers.
I was still in my clothes, but my boots had been neatly placed on a wooden step that extended along the bed frame. The bedcovers beneath me were as luxurious as the hanging draperies; my tunic looked like an old rag by comparison.
The door opened, and a figure appeared in the doorway, his face shielded by darkness.
“Stay there,” I said, and grabbed the only available weapon—my very worn boot.
“I don’t think you’re going to attack me” came a man’s voice. He closed the door and became visible.
Dark hair, blue eyes, and, even in my current state, a disturbingly tempting mouth, just as before. But gone was the guard’s uniform. He wore a black coat with a high collar and silver buttons over trousers and boots.
“Hello again, Fox.”
I put down the boot, furious at how relieved I was to see him. Not just because he wasn’t an assassin, but because he was Nik. I pushed that relief down as far as I could manage. It was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
“Where am I?”
“A guest chamber in the palace. Luna brought you here. She carried you through the Aetheric.”
There was no trace of Aether on my arms, but the top of my tunic was stained where my blood had dried.
I turned away from him and untied the drawstring at the neck just enough to see the scratches over my heart, made when I’d tried to claw out the pain.
These shimmered with Aether but didn’t, at least, have the sickly green tint of the practitioner’s magical workings.
“Fox?” he asked quietly.
“It’s fine,” I said, and hastily retied the drawstring, ensuring that I was covered. He didn’t need to see me or the scratches. As an extra precaution, I crossed my arms over my chest.
He watched me in silence, then gestured to the small table beside the bed. “There’s water there—and food—in case you need them.”
I shifted my gaze and took in the gleaming gold of the waiting cup and the prettily shaped cakes that sat beside it. And next to them, the black coin bag that had been in my tunic. The one the prince had given me in the carriage when we’d returned from Vhrania.
Someone had pulled it from my tunic. I might have fooled him about the handkerchief, but now he knew I’d kept the purse. And there it was, like a beacon from the caravanserai’s towers, in case I wasn’t feeling vulnerable enough.
I slid across the step to the table, ignored the bag, and took a testing sip of water. It was cold and faintly sweet. I drained the cup and put it back on the side table. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s good to see you finally awake.”
“Finally?”
“You’ve been unconscious for a full night and day.”
A full night and day. And that didn’t include the time I’d been unconscious before talking to the practitioner. “When was Springmarket?”
He paused. “Two days ago.”
The practitioner had taken me down for two days.
“Luna said you were attacked with Aether.”
“I saw Aether in the market during the festival. I didn’t know if the practitioner was going to attack the market, or look for humans for possession, but I couldn’t just let him go. So I followed him. And would have been fine…”
“But?”
“Someone who knows me, someone who’d enjoyed himself too much at the party, called out my name. I was chased by assassins and a woman possessed by an Anima. Knocked out, taken to a gambling hall.”
He nodded. “Luna led Galen there after she brought you here. They were already gone. Only candles left.”
I nodded. “I don’t think it’s his hideout. He looked at the space like he’d never seen it before. Maybe he thought it would be a dramatic spot for his recruiting.”
“Recruiting?”
“He says he’s a Luminae, which is apparently a fancy word for an Aetheric practitioner.”
“You haven’t heard the term before? From Luna, I mean?”
“No. Have you?”
He shook his head.
“Whatever it is, he says he wants to challenge the Lys’Careths. Not just with soldiers, but with magic. With Aether and practitioners. You need to send a message to the City of Flowers. Warn them that he wants a revolution. He wants to use Aether to take over Carethia.”
“I will. And I have soldiers looking for him. Did he reveal anything about Tommen’s weapon?”
I shook my head. “Only asked what I knew about it. He confirmed he was watching us in the woods, and knew we took something from the assassin’s body. I told him it was coins. I don’t think he knew about the wax seal.”
He nodded. “Describe the practitioner.”
“Tall. Around your age, I think, based on his voice and the way he held himself. Hard to tell much else because of the mask and cloak. He does have coin.”
He tilted his head. “How do you know that?”
“He talked like he was invincible. He sounded educated. So he has money, connections, or power. Maybe all three.”
He nodded. “Luna said much the same, but I wasn’t sure if she’d see him differently than you.”
“And she brought me here instead of chasing him down.” That would have bothered her, I know. Not saving me—I didn’t think she’d regret that—but not being able to do both.
He nodded. “Does he sound like anyone you know? A relative who wants to put you out of the line of succession?”
He shook his head. “None have Aetheric magic, and I’d have known. My father would have discovered it. He would have found a way to use it.”
Yet another reason to be wary of Lys’Careths.
“None of this explains why you’re hurt, or why you were unconscious for so long.”
I paused. “He said he wanted to test me because I can see Anima. He wanted to know if I could do more, so I could help him…or he could use me.”
Something dangerous crossed his face now. He looked like a man barely containing his anger. “How did he test you?”
“I think he pulled Aether into the room. Brought it into our realm—the actual energy. It was foggy and it sparkled and it was hot. Really hot. I didn’t know that was possible—to bring pure Aetheric here.
But I guess if you’re going to be a manipulator of Aetheric, you have to be able to get the Aether to manipulate.
“The test…hurt.” I put a hand over my heart. The skin beneath was sore, but nothing like that pain. “I didn’t pass. Or not in the way he’d hoped.”
“What does that mean? ‘Not in the way he’d hoped’?”
“He said failing the test means death. I survived. Barely, but still. The girl,” I added, looking up at him. “The girl who was possessed. Has anyone found her?”
I could see it in his eyes before he spoke. “We didn’t find her soon enough. The damage had already been done.”
I swore, scrubbed my hands over my face. I hadn’t cried in front of the Aetheric practitioner, and I damned sure wasn’t going to do it here, in the damned royal palace. But I wanted a good cry. Very badly. Maybe it would flush out the rest of the magic and the heat in my chest.
“I’m sorry for this.”
“For what?”
“For the fact that you’re hurt because someone hates me and my family. I wouldn’t have wished that on you.”
I lowered my hands. “You can’t control how others see you.”
“All efforts to the contrary,” he murmured. “I’m surprised you didn’t reveal my identity.”
“I’m not a rat.”
“So I see. You’ll stay here until we have the practitioner,” he added in the kind of tone I imagined a prince used a lot—it defied argument and demanded obeyance.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes. Absolutely. You can use this room until the practitioner is caught, or dead, and it’s safe for you to leave.”
I shook my head. I absolutely would not exchange one prison for another. “I’m not in danger. If he’d been interested in me, he could have taken me with him.”
He ignored that. “I’ve already asked the Lady; she was agreeable for a very generous sum. Wren was not so agreeable, and she was loud about it. But she’s afraid you’re in danger.”
I stared at him. “You talked to the Lady about me staying in the palace? And without checking with me first? Asking how I felt about it?”
“Two days unconscious,” he said, eyes flashing with anger. “That’s what he did to you. You’re only here because Luna happened to find you. If she hadn’t, gods only know how long you’d have been in that place before anyone found you.”
“I can’t stay in the damned palace.”
“Why not?”
The softness in his eyes was too much, too dangerous. I had to add another course of bricks to the wall between us.
“Because…I’m a thief.”
He blinked. “You’re—what?”