25. Mancella Amaryllis Cliff, Title in Jeopardy
25
M ANCELLA A MARYLLIS C LIFF , T ITLE IN J EOPARDY
|2 DAYS UNTIL THE ASSURANCE|
I grab Silver and yank him out of the way as Alect strikes the air and then disintegrates in front of us.
Only to reappear behind us.
And beside us.
And…
Wait.
As Silver and I press our backs into each other, multiple Alects peel off the first two and pop up throughout the room. One is laughing, one is clenching his fists, one has tears streaming down his face. One backs away in fear, one reaches for me, and one starts barking orders at the others. One sneers, one cringes, one cracks his knuckles. One stretches, one crouches low to the ground, and one seems to pray. The final Alect is the one with the smirk and the sword.
Altogether there are thirteen. Thirteen copies of my cousin, spread throughout the room.
I have a breath to take them all in, and then everyone starts moving at once, and the room becomes a battlefield.
Only one of them has the sword, but that doesn’t mean the others are useless. Two pairs of hands grab at me as the sword-bearer advances, and it’s only because Silver plunges a knife into each of their backs that I’m able to squirm out in time.
As the sword-bearing Alect mists away, I throw myself at another, kneeing his stomach and headbutting the bottom of his jaw. There’s a crack as his head snaps back and I feel his jawbone give. Then he sags to the ground at my feet.
The way his limp body hits the floor makes my stomach roil, but another Alect attacks before I get a chance to dwell on it. Or to check if he’s still breathing. A lump in my throat, I turn away from him and focus on the new opponent.
Silver stays by my side, lashing out with his daggers any time an enemy gets too close, his anxious amber eyes constantly checking on me.
My father weaves through the melee, freezing Alects in place and then slitting their throats with his own blade. He targets the versions that look the least likely to fight back.
Mara flings the rest of her necklaces and manages to entrap three of them before she runs out. Then she looks at the still-oozing gash in her arm before wincing and clawing it open again, making blood flow in rivulets down her arm.
My mother backs into a corner, cowering. One of the Alects tries to assure her that he has no intention of harming her, since her lack of magic makes her ineligible to rule, but Father cuts him down before he can finish the sentiment.
Mara pushes both parents farther into the corner before painting a line on the ground around the three of them.
“Mancella, come on!” she says, stopping her line while there’s still enough space for Silver and me to slip through before she closes it. I grab Silver’s hand and we sprint toward them, dodging fists and snatching fingers.
“Wait,” Father calls. “If we all just take shelter again, nothing will be solved. We need to end it. Use this!”
He tosses me something and I leap for it, snatching it from the air as Silver plows into an Alect who tried to get there first.
In my hand is a familiar crescent-shaped bottle. Sleeping gas, the kind the healers use to make me go unconscious after a fight in the arena.
I clutch it gratefully. Hopefully it’s enough to knock out the rest of the crowd. Briefly, I wonder if they’ll each have different nightmares.
“Remember to cover your face!” my father shouts as Mara finishes the line and hems the three of them in.
“Sleeve over your mouth,” I tell Silver. “Don’t inhale.” He complies.
A couple of the Alects hear me and cover their own mouths as well, so I uncork the bottle and throw it in a panic before they have a chance to spread the message to the others.
Then several things happen at once.
Instead of the pearl-colored mist I’m expecting, a sooty substance somewhere between liquid and smoke leaks from the bottle as it arcs toward the middle of the crowd, leaving a trail that stays unnaturally suspended. It’s like the air is water and someone’s dribbled ink all through it. I haven’t seen this substance before, and my mind doesn’t work fast enough to process what it is.
Silver’s does.
“No!” he cries. “ Mance!”
The next thing I know, he’s slamming into me, pushing me out of the way with urgent hands and desperate, wide-flung eyes.
Then the air itself explodes.
I am hurled backward and hit the wall. Around me, I hear several smacks, slams, and thuds as various other objects and bodies make impact, but I can’t see anything. Sinister black flames hover in the air, obscuring my view, and my ears are ringing. My mind seems stuck, unable to process what just happened.
I was only supposed to be throwing knockout gas.
The entire room wasn’t supposed to explode .
Silver is slumped over my chest, and where the inky matter coats his back, it eats holes into his clothes and then keeps going, burning into his skin. I whimper. My hands hover over the wounds, not sure if I should touch them. Then I realize that he isn’t moving and lose all hesitation.
I frantically feel for a heartbeat, my trembling fingers probing his neck and his wrists. Everywhere the blackness touches feels deathly cool.
Finally, just as I find a reassuring pulse in his throat, he groans and his eyes flutter open to meet mine.
“You okay?” he asks. His voice is hoarse.
I want to shake him, but it seems unwise. He still looks one step away from total collapse. “Why?” I gasp. “I have armor, Silver!” I roll up one sleeve to reveal the black suit. “Why didn’t you dive behind me?”
He makes a noise that’s half laugh and half cough. “Hasn’t anyone told you?” he croaks. “Some things are more important than looking out for myself. Some things… like you.”
He barely gets the words out before he sags onto me, his body heavy and slack. I close my eyes and swallow back the emotions rising in my throat.
I was holding on to my hurt and anger even through Silver’s reveal of the letters. I couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t another act or another part of his plan. And besides, I just wasn’t ready to let it go yet.
But if there’s any action to judge a person by, risking your life to save another has to be one of the most telling. I believe him. Whatever else the circumstances might have been, in this moment, I believe that he cares about me. That he doesn’t want to hurt me anymore.
I just need him to wake up so I can finish yelling at him.
Blowing out a long breath, I adjust his weight to a more comfortable angle and settle in for however long it might take for help to come, determined not to leave Silver’s side until I know he’s being cared for.
But then, out of nowhere, a feeling slices through me that I didn’t expect.
And as soon as I recognize it, the breath evaporates from my lungs.
My magic.
It’s surging.
It’s… thrilled.
It only feels this way when…
Sick dread washes over me and I scramble to feel Silver’s neck again, my fingers shaking so violently I have to grip one hand with the other before I can get a good read.
It’s there. That steady, reassuring rhythm.
Which means it isn’t him. He isn’t the one dying.
But it’s someone.
Mara finished that line, right?
“Mara?” I call.
“We’re fine,” she calls back. “We’re all fine.”
Still my magic surges up my throat, choking me.
Which means there’s only one person left who it could be.
I guess it shouldn’t be too surprising. Alect’s bodies are strewn all over the room, hovering black flames flickering around them. When I threw the bottle, I did my best to hit as many of them as I could.
One by one they blink away. Whether they go back into Alect or whether they’re gone for good, I can’t be sure.
Nausea washes over me, but there’s something more important.
If the magic hasn’t stopped surging yet, it means that at least one of him is still alive.
I move Silver off me as gently as possible. Then I grit my teeth and crawl straight into the flames.
The floating blazes dance around me, and I avoid as many as I can. But I’m still rushing, desperate and hopeful, so I can’t avoid them all. When they touch my armor, I don’t feel a thing. But when they touch my hands, or brush up against the side of my face, my skin stings with a strange, deep chill that eats at me, burrowing into my flesh until my very bones feel coated in ice.
I ignore it, filtering through the bizarre magic haze as I search for any sign of life, examining body after body with my cousin’s blue eyes, even as some of them disappear in front of me.
Some Alects are missing limbs. Some are missing parts of their faces. The blast—which I now realize was one of Prime Gore’s magical explosions that someone, for some reason, put into the wrong bottle—obliterated everything it touched. The bodies look like they were made of no more than clay and someone sliced chunks of them away, leaving only cauterized, black-tinted flesh.
Finally, I find an Alect with his eyes open.
And a gaping, coal-black hole in his chest.
His gaze crashes into mine, and he looks vulnerable. Unsure, like when we were kids.
“Which Alect are you?” I whisper.
He opens his mouth to respond, but the words won’t form. All he can manage is a low rasping noise, like a dry whimper. Still, I can tell from his eyes. Whatever other parts of Alect this body might have held, his love for me was one of them.
Tears track down my cheeks and I curl up next to him, laying my head on his shoulder like I used to when I was younger. It’s nostalgic and horrifying at the same time, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
He still smells the same. Like ginger tea and old books.
I heave a breath and open my eyes again, leaning back. With one shaking hand, I take the starsprout that I tucked behind my ear earlier and hold it out to him, unsure if he’d even want something so silly.
But his gaze softens and his hand lifts an inch off the floor.
He manages a weak smile, and I grip him tight, pressing the flower between our clasped hands. And then I watch, shattered, as his light fades away. Soon those sky blue eyes of his, the ones I only just got back in my life, the ones I still haven’t figured out yet, are staring at nothing at all. And this body doesn’t fade away. Which means he’s… really gone.
I have exactly one second to mourn.
Then his spirit rushes into me, all at once, and I scream.
I scream like I’m being tortured. Like I’m the one who’s dying, because that’s how it feels.
It’s never been this powerful before. No animal had a soul complex enough to fill me up this much. Alect’s emotions, his personality, his essence form within me, attaching themselves to my very soul as more useless tears stream down my face and I claw at my stomach, fighting the feeling.
He was right about all the experiences he’d had. I crave foods I’ve never tried and miss places I’ve never been. I used to long for adventures like these, and I find it bitterly ironic that I am getting a taste of them now, but it’s only an aftertaste. Just the remnants of someone else’s journey.
At the core of all of it, I feel Alect’s pain. The loss of his father, the powerlessness he felt, and the relentless drive he had to get that power back. I understand all the different Alects at once, the way he split himself, and even the way that some parts of him were shocked and revolted by what other parts had done. The way he feared himself. And the way he kept trying anyway, kept fighting for what he wanted, for the world he thought he could build.
I weep for me, and I weep for him, and for all his unfulfilled ambitions, all his unhealed wounds. As I weep, his sightless corpse stares back at me, with a yawning, grotesque hole still growing in his chest.
Behind me, my father laughs.
Not a bitter laugh, but a jubilant one. A triumphant one. One that reminds me of the sick victorious feeling my magic forces into my body with every kill, the same one it pumped into my veins just moments ago.
The sound is so odd, so out of place, that it stifles my sobs in my throat.
I sit there, breathing, clutching my stomach, the tears I’ve already shed still dripping down my cheeks.
I hope with all I am that I heard wrong.
But then my father laughs again.
“I knew it!” he crows. “I knew that would work. You can feel him, right? I can tell that you can. Summon, summon! Let’s see what happens!”
I hear him scuff the floor with his boot, presumably breaking my sister’s barrier, and approach.
Slowly, I rise, my back still turned to him, my breaths getting shallow. Fury buzzes through my veins.
“After your stunt with that girl, I knew I’d never get you to end a life willingly,” Father gloats. “So I made the bottle, hoping for an opportunity. Finally , those plans have paid off.”
My hands clench, and my animals riot within me, so violently that I almost can’t see straight. The idea of him carrying a bottle of death in his pocket, just waiting for the chance to paint my hands with blood, makes me want to scream.
And he’s still talking. “But that’s not all; we’ve made two discoveries today!” he continues, delighted. “Now we know that your magic works on humans, and that you can use magic to kill so long as your foe also possesses magic. A fair fight, right? If you’re fighting an animal, then of course a fair fight means no weapons. But an armed human you could perhaps use more force against. That’s what I was hoping would happen when we battled the Grasslands Realm. But magic against the magicless still proved to be too unbalanced. Fortunate for us, then, that a victim with magic volunteered himself, right?”
I tilt my head to the side, still not looking at him. “Silver was here, too,” I hiss. “Does it matter to you at all that he was caught in the blast? That he could have—”
I cut myself off mid-sentence because the answer is clear.
It doesn’t matter to him.
It never has.
Every collateral consequence has been completely worth it in his twisted mind, so long as the dark power within me could keep growing stronger. The power that I never wanted, that he forced on me to begin with.
There’s no point in listening to his justifications anymore.
His actions have spoken for themselves.
And it’s time to let my own actions speak for me.
I whip around, my expression fierce, black flames flickering on either side of me as my predators surge into being around me, snarling and snapping their jaws.
My father falters in the middle of whatever explanation he was offering. His eyes dart from one to the next.
“Now, Mancella,” he starts. “You wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, would you? Not you. Not the girl who mourns ladybugs and kittens.”
My creatures growl and my own voice joins them as a hiss. “Why not?” I ask. “Isn’t this what you taught me? Violence? Power? Did it really never occur to you that I’d unleash your lessons back on you?”
He recoils and begins to look worried. “Let’s take a minute to calm down,” he implores me. “You don’t want to do anything rash.”
“Rash?” I breathe, advancing on him. My animals move with me, our motions scarily in sync. “This isn’t rash. This has been building for years. You have been building it, with every death you forced on me, every creature you condemned, every experiment you thought up in your mind, and every human being you threw away in pursuit of your sick quest for power.”
I step forward and flames lick at my side, but I welcome the chill. It matches the cold certainty that has gripped my heart. “I understand now,” I continue. “You will never stop. Whatever love you have for me, or for Mara, it’s clear that it’s not enough to keep you from breaking us, or even from killing us should you deem that necessary.” I gesture behind me at Mara’s still-bleeding arm. “So if you won’t stop yourself, then I will stop you.”
My animals charge forward, snarling, and he draws his sword to fight them.
But they are only a distraction.
Alect is knit to my soul in a way the animals aren’t, and when I tug at his spirit I don’t expect him to appear outside of my body as they do. Just like the first time I slapped a fly on the way back from the Broken Citadel, there is a sudden, basic understanding that settles around me as far as how this new magic will work.
I could put on his body like a cloak, stand here as Alect instead of as myself. But his physical form isn’t what I reach for because it’s not what I need right now.
I have a new ability, too.
His ability.
And his perfect clarity on how to use it.
I feel his magic inside of me and it’s dark, like mine, but sharper and more precise. For a second, my stomach lurches when I think about using it, but my father will only be unguarded for a moment. With a deep, shaky breath, I gather his magic up… and I release it.
Pain rips through my every pore, and I would scream if I could. The feeling is indescribable, as though each and every bit of me is ripped in half. It’s so fast and so fierce that my mind rebels against it, and even when the pain stops, I stagger back, biting my lip until it bleeds.
But even though I’m reeling and nauseous and, quite frankly, a little scared, I’m also right where I want to be.
Behind my father’s back.
And also right in front of him.
I blink at myself. The other me shakes her head and puts her hands up to her mouth, but I didn’t make her do that. I’m not in her head at all.
The dissonance doesn’t worry me, but it must worry her, because half of my animals skid backward in fear. The other half, the ones who must be reacting to my emotions, continue to advance on my father, growls in their throats.
I put my passion and conviction in this body and left my hesitations and deliberations in her, so nothing holds me back now. I feel focused and free. Even eager.
Ready to make him pay .
Magic blazes through my every vein until it feels like I’m lit up from within. It’s more vicious, more bloodthirsty than ever before. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve added Alect’s power to my own, or because this is the first time I’m initiating an attack myself, but whatever it is, the magic is revoltingly pleased, overpoweringly eager.
I reach into my pocket. The bracelet Mara made for Father and the necklace she made for me are still there. I clutch them both in a fist and draw them out.
Then I jump onto my father’s back and wrap the necklace tight around his throat.
With a gurgling noise, he drops his sword and reaches up to claw at it.
The beads beneath my fingers grow hot, glow purple, and my father’s screams become even more desperate as the beads steal not only his breath, but his magic, too.
I remember the feeling, that scorching, ripping sensation of power being torn away, and I can only imagine adding burning lungs and slow suffocation to the experience. He must be in agony.
The thrill of my magic burns my throat, glazes over my eyes, eggs me on as my father’s choking grows more garbled and wretched. It wraps itself around my mind, urging me to keep going, to end it, to feel his death beneath my hands.
Then suddenly my two bodies slam back together, both of us now clinging as one to my father’s back.
The rejoining doesn’t hurt, but it’s psychically jarring. All at once, I have two sets of memories that cover the last few seconds. I know both my own rage and my own fear of that rage, the sensation of my father struggling beneath my hands and the way it felt to watch myself do that, to see the look on my face and on his. I know that one part of me forced our bodies back together to stop the other one.
The necklace around my father’s throat loosens.
He gulps in air, but then grabs at the beads, trying to get free. For a moment he manages to buck me and I fly backward, but the necklace catches on his chin and I’m able to clamber my way back and pull it tight again.
He wheezes, clawing at it, and this time I don’t feel any of the excitement that part of me felt a moment ago. Instead, my stomach roils in revulsion.
But still I hold the beads tight.
He reaches for me, trying to freeze me in place with his magic, but I slam the bracelet on his wrist. By the time he touches me, his fingers are nothing but fingers, and my body is my own.
After a couple more minutes, his face tinges blue and his swiping gets weak. The magic surges in glee and bile rises in my throat. I only have to hold on for a few more minutes to end this man for good.
But that’s never been what I wanted.
Not really.
I let the beads loosen again. Just for a moment. Just enough to let him get in a breath. Long enough for him to start clawing at me in confusion before I draw the necklace taut once more to continue draining his magic.
This goes back and forth a few times, with him pressing every bit of leeway I give him, and me keeping a tight rein while still allowing enough air to keep him alive. Despite his best efforts, I maintain control. I cling to his back, my knees digging into his sides, and I loosen and tighten, loosen and tighten as needed. Until the whole work is done.
It takes… a long time. Endless moments of nothing but his ragged breathing, the restless pacing of my animals, and the clack of beads against beads.
At one point he reaches for my mother, croaking out a cry for her help.
She looks at him, at me, at Mara, where she tends to her bleeding gashes.
And then she turns away.
He reaches for Mara next, but she never even looks up.
When the beads grow cold and the purple glow disappears, I finally let the necklace go. He flings it across the room, and I slide off his back as he collapses to the ground. I dismiss my animals and back up a couple steps. Then I prepare myself for whatever his response might be.
At first, he just clutches his throat, rubbing the red marks I left there.
“I thought you were going to kill me,” he rasps.
I give him a humorless smirk. “I thought about it. It was my first thought, actually. And part of me wanted to very much.”
He narrows his eyes, glaring back over his shoulder at me. “Why didn’t you, then?”
I look at him there on the ground, stripped of his magic, and he’s never looked so human. In this moment, it’s strange to me how afraid of him I used to be.
He’s just a man after all.
“Two reasons,” I tell him. “The first is that I’m not like you. I don’t consider death to be worthwhile collateral, and I don’t want to build my power on bloodshed. It’s not that I don’t think you deserve it. If anyone does, it’s you.” I give him a bitter smile. “But if I’m going to run things differently, then I can’t start them the same way. The second reason, is, admittedly, a little more selfish.”
He pulls himself to his feet, still eyeing me warily. “What’s that?” he asks gruffly.
I straighten to my full height and face him directly, summoning all the strength and surety I’ve gained in the last few moments, making sure that my voice is clear and strong.
“Because if what you said about my magic is true, then no matter how I killed you I would never be rid of you. You’d be part of me as inextricably as Alect is now. But I want you to know that I’m done. I’m free of you. And I’m freeing the whole realm along with me. You’ll never have power over us again. I’ll show you how to build a better world. You’ll get to see it all.” I tilt my head. “From your prison cell.”
He shakes his head, his anger finally sparking. “You can’t throw me into prison. I’m the Prime!”
“Primes have to have magic,” I remind him. “Unfortunately, you’re ineligible.”
His face goes pale, and then red. He thunders toward me, getting right in my face. “You can’t change the leader of a realm based on a technicality like that! Even if you could, I haven’t named you heir yet. Which makes Mara the Prime, not you.”
“Pass.” Across the room, Mara is pulling herself to her feet. The black flames have mostly dissipated by now, leaving only wisps where they once were. They dance around her, framing her resolute expression as she approaches. “I’ve kept my magic a secret for years. I see no reason to stop doing it now.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Father splutters. “I’m the Prime. Even if you explain your convoluted reasoning, the people are used to following my rule. As long as I live, they will obey my orders.”
Almost as though in response to this statement, the door bursts open, and the Captain charges in, followed by a small battalion that quickly swarms to fill the space.
“Good timing,” I say.
“Actually, about an hour ago would have been better timing,” Mara mumbles.
“What happened here?” the Captain demands, surveying the dark smoke in the air and the bodies strewn about the room.
I square my shoulders, nervous. Is my father right? Will no one follow me? Will they see a mere girl and not trust me? Will they remember my kills and fear me? Is my reasoning too weak? Is my inexperience too unsurmountable?
“There has been… a change of leadership,” I inform her, with all the gravitas I can muster. “I am the Prime now, and my father is stepping down. You see—”
The Captain holds up a hand, cutting me off. A smile, one more relaxed and girlish than I’ve ever seen on her, paints her wizened features, making her look decades younger. “Don’t much care about the why or the how, actually,” she says. “All due respect, of course. But I’ve been waiting a long time for this, and I’d rather not put it off. You can fill me in on the particulars later.”
Without further ado, the Captain drops to one knee and swears her fealty to me as my father gapes. Behind her, every soldier in the battalion kneels as well, some hesitantly at first, but then more and more confidently, and when the Captain finishes her oath with the words, “I and all my soldiers with me,” the synchronized assent of the gathered troops resonates through the room, bringing tears to my eyes. I smile and hold my chin high, accepting their allegiance, their faith, and their hopes for my reign gratefully.
And then it really is time to end this.
“Thank you,” I say. “Now seize him.”