Chapter XI. The Stone-Cold Edge of the Knife
XI
THE STONE-COLD EDGE OF THE KNIFE
“REYNE STOLE BACK to the corridor crossroads, cheek pressed to the wall, peering down the hallway where she’d caught her glimpse.
Chateau Impérial’s guest wing was grander than most palaces in the realm, and though well lit, the halls were too vast to be free of shadows, too numerous for gens d’armes to be posted at every doorway.
The corridors were quiet, the heavy footfalls of a distant patrol and Reyne’s thumping heart the only sound.
The Princess was still as a statue, squinting, sweat in her eyes.
We could feel her doubt now, wondering if that figure were some fancy of her overwrought mind.
“We saw it, also.
“Reyne flinched as the thought rang in her head, pulse pounding as she whispered.
“‘Celene? Is that … you?’
“We are with you, Princess á Maergenn.
“She felt our wings flutter on her neck, reaching up to swat us. But we perched instead upon her fingers, little wings buzzing as she lifted us up before bewildered eyes.
“‘Have … have you been spying on me?’
“We have been watching your back, our thoughts told her. There are none so dear to us as Dior, and none so dear to her as you. If you wish to take umbrage at our impoliteness, so be it. But we beg you, take it later.
“Reyne set her eyes back on the corridor. ‘You saw him? That man?’
“We did.
“‘I don’t know if it was a trick of the light, but his hands, I swear…’
“Silver.
“She swallowed, dragging one curl from a sweat-stained brow.
“‘Gabriel de León is here.’
“Or one of his lackeys. Come to seek the Grail.
“‘… You think he means her ill?’
“He serves Fabién Voss, Princess. We do not think he means her well.
“Reyne licked her lips, glancing around. ‘I should call the gens d’armes.’
“NO.
“Reyne flinched, and we softened our thoughts lest we frighten her more.
“My brother is the most cunning of foxes, Princess. Should he hear hounds on his trail, he will go to ground, and we may not catch his scent again. I have already fetched Mother Maryn, we are on our way. Stay where you are, out of harm’s way.
We will sniff this serpent swiftly out, and deal with him all the swifter.
“Reyne nodded, fingertips brushing her collar. ‘Come quick.’
“We were already doing just that; a storm of tiny wings battling the wintersdeep gales sweeping Place San Maximille. As soon as we’d caught a whiff of our dear brother, we’d sought Maryn, thoughts touching hers across the plaza.
And with hissed warning to the inquisitors beside us, we’d burst into a storm of red, speeding toward the chateau.
That Gabriel had no clue where Dior now abided was some comfort, but the fact he’d penetrated the battlements and patrols and made it all the way to the chateau’s guest wing had us marveling.
He must’ve been driven by a need that burned bright as hellfire, risking his life at the beck of his dark master for a chance to steal Dior right from under our noses.
“But not if we could help it.
“We flew on, all thought bent upon stopping him. We’d grown up together, loved each other, the last two of our famille alive.
But if I was honest, we’d been on course to collision since he’d carved his skin silver and I’d fallen into darkness.
Two stars, locked in each other’s pull, spiraling ever closer toward the other’s destruction.
And this was it. The blood at the bottom of our barrel. The stone-cold edge of the knife.
“But Reyne …
“Reyne wasn’t listening.
“Princess, what are you doing?
“Moving she was. Out from her hide and down the corridor ahead. She’d been content to wait, pressed against the wall with heart in throat and hands in fists.
But then she’d seen it again, seen him, quick but unmistakable.
The tantalizing glimpse of a man with long black hair and silver on his knuckles, slipping through swiftly closed double doors.
“And like a damned fool, she’d followed.
“Reyne, stay where you ARE.
“The Princess ignored us, stealing instead toward the doors he’d slipped through.
There was defiance in her; a daughter of the Nineswords, rankling at being ordered about like some common serf.
There was fury; that this man would steal so brazenly into the heart of imperial power to strike the girl she loved.
But most, there was curiosity now. Doubt.
The tale of Gabriel de León’s betrayal had come from the lips of Phoebe á Dúnnsair, remember.
The same woman who’d been so terribly wrong about the identity of Reyne’s father.
And while the Princess didn’t believe Phoebe had lied so much as guessed wrongly, what else might the Highlander have been mistaken about?
“Reyne, wait for us!
“But she didn’t listen.
“Instead, that fool girl crept forward, quick as cats and soft as mice, through those doors. She crouched low, faeling eyes searching the dark as we implored her get out, no GET OUT. The room was a sumptuous dining hall, lit by dim chymical globes and the pulse of lighting spilling through tall windows. A table of gold-etched mahogany stretched the room’s length, set with rows of plush, high-backed chairs.
The hearth was empty, the shadows long, another set of doors across the room.
Reyne was creeping toward them when a hand snaked from the dark, smothering her cry.
“‘Peace, Prin—’
“Reyne lashed out with all the grace of a student of the Chante-Lames, stomping her assailant’s foot and driving an elbow at his ribs.
And had he been a mere man, the sound of crunching toes might have been swift followed by the hymn of cracking ribs.
But for all his faults, her assailant was no man; side-stepping Reyne’s foot neatly and blocking her elbow, neater still.
Quicker than cats, nothing close to soft as mice, the Princess was swept off her feet, one hand over her mouth, another pushing a blade up under her chin.
“‘Will you calm your fucking tits, girl, I let you see me!’
“Gabriel sat astride Reyne, pinning her arms with his thighs.
The Princess struggled briefly, but one glance at his blood-red eyes told Reyne the Black Lion was dosed to the gills on sanctus, his strength far beyond matching.
My brother leaned close, red gaze fixed on hers, his voice an iron-hard whisper.
“‘I’m going to take my hand away. And you’re not going to scream.’
“Reyne snarled, eyes narrowed to knifecuts. Gabriel sighed.
“‘I met you in Dún Maergenn when you were a little girl. You and your sisters. Your mama knighted me after we liberated Triúrbaile. You’d likely not remember.’
“Gabriel smiled then, eyes gone dim and distant.
“‘Sweet Ais’ was the quiet one. Una the fierce one. But even back then, Princess, you struck me as the clever one. Ask yourself why I let you see me. Ask why you’re not dead.
’ He let those thoughts sink in, Reyne ceasing her struggles.
‘Now, I’m going to take my hand away. And you’re not going to scream. Are you?’
“The Princess breathed deep.
“Slowly shook her head.
“Silver glinting on his knuckles, Gabriel lifted his hand from her mouth.
“‘Where’s Dior?’
“‘Where you’ll never find her, dog.’
“‘I’m not playing games, Princess. There’s more on the scales here than you can possibly fucking imagine. Tell me where she is before—’
“‘Before what? You cut my throat? Do it and be done, you faithless coward. Prove yourself the traitor we already know you to be.’
“‘You cack-witted fool, I’m no fucking traitor.’
“‘You serve the Forever King! And unlike you, I’ll not betray the girl I love at the beck of the monster who wants to enslave her—’
“‘I don’t serve Voss, he killed my wife!’
“‘The blood makes slaves of the hardest heart.’
“‘He can’t slave me either, I drank Dior’s blood!
’ Gabriel’s lips were flecked with spit, fist bunched at her collar, white-knuckled and trembling.
‘There’s none under heaven who know better than me what a monster is Fabién Voss, girl.
But he is nothing—nothing—compared to the monster we woke beneath Dún Maergenn. ’
“‘What are you talking about?’
“‘Maryn. The Esani don’t want to end daysdeath, girl. They want to—’
“The windows blew inward; savage, shattering, the air filled with the howl of wintersdeep winds and the scent of ancien blood. Gabriel snaked from atop Reyne with a black curse, reaching into his bandolier. A storm was come upon my brother now; a storm of red wings and ancient rage, whirling in the heart of the room like fury made flesh. Gabriel’s arm swung wide, a fistful of silverbombs hurled into that tempest, exploding bright as the long-lost sun.
Blood turned to char, wings to ash, a vast swathe of moths immolated in the blinking of an eye.
But enough remained to unite, coalescing into a tiny form, scorched skin and midnight gaze and golden curls.
“‘The Black Lion of Lorson,’ Maryn said.
“Gabriel said nothing, already flying across the room, silversteel blade clutched in one fist. Maryn only smiled.
“‘Ye should have stayed buried, boy.’
“We were yet speeding across the plaza, Maryn’s wings far swifter than our own.
But we could see through our mote as the Mother raised her hand.
Dread and sorrow raged within us, for a part of me loved Gabriel still.
And as Maryn’s sanguimancy was unleashed, we expected to see him erupt like those sailors aboard Shadowchild; blood flung from every orifice and into the chill-white air.
But as our Priori curled her little fingers into a fist …
“Nothing happened.
“Nothing happened at all.