Chapter 23 #2
He’s a strategist, skilled at games of power. He’s likely scheming at this very moment, formulating a plan. A way to get us out of here. Now’s the time to put that silver tongue to good use.
A tiny bud of hope unfurls within me. Thank the Stars for Astrophel.
Under any other circumstances, the irony of that thought would make me laugh.
*
LONG HOURS LATER, guards escort me down a windowless corridor.
The air is thick with incense, making it harder to breathe, and it’s hard enough already.
The dress the Veiled Sister wrestled me into for tonight’s dinner digs into my ribs as I walk – as tight and uncomfortable as the manacles circling my wrists.
My body is unused to this extent of boning; full corsets haven’t been worn at court for over a generation.
No words passed the sister’s lips as she stripped me.
I only just managed to save the scrap of silk from my mother’s dress from her pitiless, pinching hands.
She tossed it aside when she unbound my hair.
It would have been disposed of with the rest of my travelling clothes, if I hadn’t snatched it when the crone’s back was turned, filling the hipbath with pitchers of icy water.
I hid it, along with Noelani’s letter, and now both are stuffed between my breasts, next to my heart.
Dull pain radiating my ankle, I inch my way down the wide stone staircase, my feet settling into grooves worn smooth over centuries. I grip the banister to steady myself as I strain to hear the muffled voices drifting through the walls.
I’m led to the dining hall. The Arx Magnum presides over a rectangular stone table. Astrophel is to his left. My heart skips, my grimace lifting to a smile.
He’ll save us. Find some way to get us out of this mess.
‘Our guest of honour.’ The Arx Magnum sneers as I’m led towards him.
The rest of the guests must comprise his ministry. They’re as steely-eyed and stony-faced as he is, and fall silent as I’m led through the chamber, ogling me.
On instinct, I tug my sleeve down, wishing I’d been allowed a head covering. This is why I’m here: to be paraded as a hostage, proof of the Arx Magnum’s great coup. I lift my chin and straighten my shoulders. Let them look, then. Let them take a good, long look.
There’s only one empty place at the table, beside the Arx Magnum. I fantasise about spearing his hand with my fork, but then Astrophel leans forwards, raises his goblet, toasts the foul creature beside him. Laughs as he drains his wine.
The smile withers on my lips.
The Arx Magnum waves a hand. ‘Guards, remove her shackles. The Princess knows better than to show her claws. That’s right, isn’t it, my dear?’
I glare at him, then at Astrophel.
Claws? Just wait till I get these shackles off. I’ll scratch their star-damned eyes out.
‘You’re at the Arx Magnum’s mercy. Don’t push him. We don’t know how far he’ll bend before he snaps.’
Orthriel has still not materialised since we were taken prisoner, but it’s a relief just to hear their voice. I take a breath, will my pounding heart quiet, try to heed my Guardian’s advice as the guards wrench the metal from my bruised wrists and force me into my seat.
‘Where are the others?’ I look at the Arx Magnum, but focus my second-sight on Astrophel.
It’s worth the risk of someone noticing my eyes mist over – I have to know if he’s really betrayed us.
As my vision dapples, I cling to the desperate hope that this is a ruse, a clever ploy to guarantee our freedom.
The energy radiating from him is grey, insubstantial as smoke.
I haven’t seen an aura like this before: diaphanous, impossible to latch onto, revealing nothing.
Wretched magic. I can’t even do this right.
‘In the dungeons,’ the Arx Magnum replies, flashing me another rictus grin.
Astrophel raises his glass again. ‘Where the beasts belong.’
My skin crawls. ‘Astrophel, you can’t mean—’
‘Oh, I assure you I can.’ His eyes are unnervingly flat. ‘I was against this from the start, remember? It’s unnatural to form alliances with traitors, to make bedfellows of rats.’ He lingers over ‘bedfellows’ as he holds my gaze.
I flinch. His words hang between us like the foul stench of a fever-pyre.
‘Yes, I see how you moon after him and it disgusts me.’
Stars, no. He can’t think that. Can’t think that I—
‘Just a friendly warning, Radiance.’ The Arx Magnum leans towards me, interrupting my train of thought. ‘If that slippery Guardian of yours tries to breach the perimeter of the dungeons, I’ll be forced to take my disappointment out on you, my dear. Is that understood?’
I nod. Orthriel’s heavy sigh rushes through the bridge between our minds, as one of the Veiled Sisters sidles up to the Arx Magnum and passes him a note. He reads it and frowns.
‘The damned sylvanmare’s smashing up its cell. It’s skewered half-a-dozen guards already. We’ll have to execute it.’
I bite back a cry.
‘A pity, I was hoping to wait a while – see if those experiments we spoke of, Astrophel, might bear fruit.’ He hauls himself to his feet. ‘But every cloud… I’ve the perfect spot on my wall for its horn.’
I press my fingernails hard against my palm to stop myself from screaming. My eyes dart again to Astrophel. Something flickers in his face, but whatever emotion it is, it passes in a flash, schooled blank. I allow myself to hope. He’s feigning. He has to be.
Astrophel takes another sip of wine, his hand steady as the pulse of the starstone. ‘Would you allow me to try and subdue the beast? I’m good with horses, and I’ve travelled in its company for some time. I know its ways. I can bring it to heel.’
The Arx Magnum drums his fingers against the table.
‘I’ll need a bridle. A bridle and a whip.’ A smile creeps over Astrophel’s face, like frost on glass. ‘It’s a shame to waste this opportunity.’
My chest is so tight I can scarce draw breath. Did Astrophel just encourage the Arx Magnum in his dark schemes? Offer to hurt Briar himself?
It’s true he’s always hated the Outrealmers. I can still hear the venom in his voice as he railed against forming a Quaternity, his objections fiercer than even my father’s. I watch now as he sips his wine, awaiting a response from the Arx Magnum.
He’s calm. Too calm.
I grip the armrests of my chair to steady myself, and keep my eyes carefully trained on the flagstones.
It’s risky to try this again, and I can’t be sure it will work without touching him, but I have to know.
I refuse to believe Astrophel is really doing this.
Light speckles my vision. I reach for the silven threads, use them as guides to wade through the strange haze of Astrophel’s aura, and reach into his mind.
Betrayal.
‘Very well.’ The Arx Magnum’s words shatter my hold on my magic. The threads snap, severing my flimsy connection to Astrophel. ‘If you think you can cow the beast, be my guest. The guards will accompany you to the dungeons, provide whatever restraints you require.’
Astrophel stands.
I reach for his arm as he brushes past me. ‘You can’t do this. Please!’
He shrugs me off. Doesn’t so much as look at me. Only strides to where the guards stand ready to escort him from the hall. His footfalls fade down the passageway.
He’s gone. He’s really gone.
The Arx Magnum leers. ‘If I might be so bold, Radiance. You’re not looking especially luminous tonight – rather pale and sickly, truth told. Are you indisposed?’ He’s goading me, tugging my edges to see if I’ll fray.
‘Indisposed?’ The word scrapes my throat. ‘I’m sick to my stomach. I’d rather return to that cell you’re keeping me in than remain here with you for a moment longer. You’ve got what you wanted anyway.’ I glower at the other members of his ministry. ‘Paraded me before your minions.’
‘We can certainly make that arrangement a permanent one, if you prefer.’ The Arx Magnum’s smile shifts from oily to vicious. ‘Guards, take the prisoner to her room.’
I keep my head high as I’m re-shackled and dragged roughly by the elbows.
If Astrophel has betrayed us, then it’s down to me.
I’ll keep trying to summon starshine, ask Orthriel to search for the Celestial Chain.
If I embrace my powers, really embrace them, maybe they’ll answer me…
Even if it means embracing the monstrous parts of myself, I won’t abandon the others to the Arx Magnum’s foul plans.
Not without a fight.
*
YOU CAN’T FIGHT an enemy you can’t see, and I haven’t seen a soul save the silent sister who brings me food morning and night since they locked me back in my cell after that first dinner.
I’ve been confined here for well over a moonscycle, and still, my magic is treacherous.
Still, it refuses to answer my call. I should have known better than to place my faith in something star-cursed.
Has the Arx Magnum sent word to my father?
Is civil war brewing beyond these walls?
I stroke the frayed silk I restored to the end of my braid.
My poor mother. I can’t bear to imagine her reaction to the letter, the toll it will take on her.
Carmentis warned she must be protected from sudden shocks. I pray my father keeps it from her.
Crossing to the washstand, I splash my face, but even icy water can’t cleanse my mind of the dark thoughts that crowd it.
The Faceless Woman still plagues my dreams. I can’t escape those phantom eyes tracking my every move, that pitiless laugh, the bitter choke of invisible smoke.
I move to the other side of my cell and twitch the curtains back.
This narrow slit is my only window onto the world.
Snow now sugars the ground, sparkling in the moonslight, which casts a bruised blush over the city.
The moons are moving to waxing gibbous; they’ll soon be full again.
The permafrost might have put an end to true seasons in Estelia, but it seems to have grown colder – as though Thaw has still given way to White – while I’ve been imprisoned in this tower.
I’ve had no news of the Outrealmers, just nightmarish imaginings to torture myself with.
Visions of those gibbet cages. True visions?
Dark mirrors? I can’t tell. Orthriel refuses to search the dungeons after the Arx Magnum made those threats against me.
Won’t even look for the Celestial Chain, no matter how I beg.
They’ve been distant. Still haven’t materialised.
Ashamed they can’t protect me, that they’re frailer than they’ll admit.
And that’s another sobering thought. How much longer can the ebbing spark of my Guardian’s heartcrystal possibly endure without the Aether in the tincture to sustain them?
Heavy boot-crunch on snow pulls my attention to the street below my window.
Astrophel. What’s he doing out at this time of night again?
Briar trundles alongside him, tethered by a bridle.
Still alive, Stars be praised, but her pearly coat is bloodied and she’s gaunt, ribs jutting sharp against taut skin.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen them together on these nocturnal excursions, but each time wrenches my heart like the first. Where’s he taking her?
Why’s he doing this? Something about this picture is wrong, but he’s too far away to read him, though I try every time he passes under my window, hoping, praying, he hasn’t forsaken us. That he’s got a plan.
I called out to him the first few nights, but he strode on as if he hadn’t heard me. Didn’t miss a step. Eventually, I gave up trying.
Betrayal. The memory of the hatred lacing that single word, that single thought, when I read it in Astrophel’s mind, erases any speck of stubborn hope still remaining.
How far has that betrayal gone? Has Astrophel told the Arx Magnum the true reason we journeyed through the realm?
The true reason for our alliance? Will he now seek the lost sceptre himself?
Thank the Stars I never disclosed its location to Astrophel. That’s one secret he can’t betray.
I press my cheek to the frosted glass, watching my betrothed stalk into the night.
Indignation seethes, blistering as the ignastium ore simmering within the Burning Mountain.
How can Astrophel treat a sylvanmare like this?
He twitches the bit between Briar’s teeth, driving her forwards with a lash of his whip.
I wince as the crack reverberates the deserted streets.
Hurling myself onto my bed, I screw my eyes shut as another crack echoes up to my chamber.
It’s the snap of my last thread of faith in him.