Chapter 22
“If I were to rank it on a scale of one to fucked-up, it’d land squarely at so-fucking-fucked,” Rook sighed as he slumped into a chair in the courtyard.
My heart didn’t know what to do with itself now we were home; it was full to bursting at being back in our private quarters, sitting thigh-to-thigh on a sofa with Kier, but doom closed around us like a net.
The Bluescale king was dead, and Cleodora was basically the queen and conqueror of all goblin lands like she wished.
Oh, and I still had a magic worm inside my skull. Fun times.
I kept my sword very close, though I’d discovered I didn’t need to touch it to banish Cleodora; I just had to keep it within reach.
It was the only thing keeping me sane, that sword.
I owed everything to Gaia for the vision, for leading me to her mausoleum.
I could have definitely done without the new traumatising memories and being attacked by an effigy, though.
“How long do we have?” Xiona asked, leaning forward on the opposite sofa with her hands dangling between her leather-clad legs, her hair damp.
If hers was anything like mine, it could win the award for the world’s fastest bath.
Kier hadn’t even bathed, just sank onto our bed until I was changed and the others gathered downstairs, then slumped on the sofa beside me.
He’d barely spoken two words, just stared at the sky through the dome above, his heart hurting.
“A month, and that’s being generous,” Rook replied with a wince.
In a chair across the low table from him, Odele matched his sigh, her eyes both clever and faraway.
She’d been halfway to the capital to check on Skayan as she did every few months when word reached her.
Most of what we knew came from Odele, the rest from Allenon.
The king’s adviser had passed out the moment we showed him a room, though I had a feeling he’d just pretended to sleep so we’d let him cry in peace
A mixed army of Greenheart goblins and strangely robotic humans had stormed the capital.
Within minutes, they collapsed the wall, broke apart the fog that had engulfed most of the city, and invaded Skayan’s streets.
The Haar had done most of the work for them already, leaving the capital a ghost town, but there’d still been thousands inside the walls, and the royal family lived in the castle overlooking the blue-roofed streets.
Jyrard must have let Cleodora in some back entrance of the castle.
One moment, Allenon had been in a meeting, the next screaming drew the council of advisers out, just in time to see Cleodora shove Roscoe Kollastus onto a balcony where everyone could witness as she struck him with emerald power, dragged a long blade across his throat, and then ripped out his heart.
And there, while the people watched, while her soldiers cut down anyone in their way and turned the palace gardens into a bloodbath, she ate the king’s heart.
A statement, if I’d ever heard one.
One she’d only been able to make because she compelled me to find out the defences on the capital, because she already took out an entire military base so there was no backup to save Skayan. The military base I told her the location of. My stomach wound into a sickly knot.
Allenon didn’t know what happened after he fled, but Odele had picked up pieces.
Like Jyrard placing the crown on his head, declaring Cleodora an ally of the Bluescale Court, announcing an alliance.
The pretender king shoving the Bluescale queen into a tower and throwing away the key.
Oh yeah, and declaring me an enemy to the crown.
Cleodora really didn’t like me.
“Probably that prophecy she mentioned,” I muttered. I missed half a conversation it seemed, but it ground to a halt when I spoke.
“I’ve heard of it,” Odele replied, running a hand over her black braid, smoothing the wayward ends. Or maybe just stressed. “There’s no saying it’ll actually come to pass, like most prophecies.”
“That’s not why prophecies are dangerous,” Xiona muttered, resting her head against the sofa back and glaring when Rook patted her knee. “Touch me again and I’ll cut your fingers off one by one.”
“Oh, shush. Why are prophecies dangerous then?”
“It doesn’t matter if they’re true as long as someone believes them. It could be a load of horseshit, but it’s the belief that leads to assassinations and wars. The thought, placed in someone’s head, which grows into an obsession.”
“Cleodora’s obsessed alright,” I sighed, speaking her name aloud, a relief so profound that I wanted to cry or laugh or jump up and do a victory dance. It seemed inappropriate to dance with the king dead and the court invaded.
“She thinks you and Kier are going to be king and queen of the entire goblins lands,” Odele said with a little scepticism.
“Yup.”
“Fuck being king,” Kier growled. “When have I ever wanted a crown?”
I leaned my shoulder against his, fanning my fingers through his hair, stroking with slow, soothing motions. “Xiona’s right. It doesn’t have to be true; that psychopath has convinced herself it’s right, so she’s coming for us. We need to find a way to stop her.”
“With the power and military she’s gathered, that won’t be easy,” Odele said, abandoning neatening her braid in aid of destroying it altogether. I didn’t miss the way Xiona’s golden eyes slid in that direction, or the way they lingered.
“If she got through Skayan’s walls, she’ll get through ours,” Rook muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What’s keeping her out?”
“Fuck all,” I sighed, and glanced at my husband.
I let him feel the weight of my stare. The Haar had scooped up almost all goblins left in the world and stuck them…
Well, we didn’t know where. But who’s to say the Haar couldn’t grab Cleodora and throw her directly into hell?
At the very least, it would give her pause.
The court was still wreathed in mist, but the fog hadn’t advanced since he merged with Kier.
That was probably why she had the guts to take the capital.
“No,” Kier argued.
“Kier, it could—”
“No.”
—be our only chance. I just sighed and swallowed the words. He was grieving and hurt and angry that he was hurt at all, because he disliked the king intensely. So I just pulled his head down on my shoulder, pressed a kiss to his hair, and let it slide.
But if we didn’t figure something out, and fast, Lazankh wouldn’t be home any more. Jyrard and Cleodora would take it like they’d taken Skayan. And something told me being compelled would be the least of our worries when that came to pass.