41. Syrus
Syrus
Dust motes dance in the shards of sunlight streaming through the hall’s windows. I hold my hand out, watching the particles spin in the air currents, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin.
The Stratan sun. My sun, once. Not anymore, though. Today, I start building my path back to Infernum. Hopefully soon, I’ll be walking beneath the purple light of the ourani again.
I recognize the room Strickland has selected for my meeting with the lords. It’s the same one where Leah and I sparred a few weeks ago. The tables that lined the room that day are gone now. Instead, there’s a set of five chairs, spread evenly in a circle.
Very diplomatic, I think with a wry smile.
Strickland enters from the far end, and I catch a glimpse of rows of wardens through the doors.
“They’ll be here any minute,” Strickland says. “The wardens will escort them in. I told them no entourages. They’ll come alone.”
He seems keyed up, fidgety to the point of pacing back and forth between three of the chairs, tapping a finger on the backs of them. It’s a little amusing to see him so rattled, but Strickland’s never hosted four demon lords before—nor have most of his predecessors. This is new territory.
“Relax, Mr. Strickland,” I say with a smile. “They’re not as terrifying as they’d have you believe.”
The assemblyman stops pacing with a polite nod, though he still looks tense.
Footsteps sound outside, and I brace myself, rolling out my shoulders and stretching my wings. I don’t expect this to be a simple discussion, or even a very civil one at first, but getting us all in the same room is a good start.
The doors open and Damein, Jing, and Midane stride through them, followed by a small army of wardens who fan out around the room, lining the perimeter.
Midane is wearing his customary black armor, Damein their swirling robes, while Jing’s braids are even more elaborate than usual today, her long leather coat fanning out as she approaches.
“Good to see you all again,” I incline my head in greeting but keep my hand near the hilt of my sword, noting the blade at Midane’s own hip and the twin axes strapped high across Lady Jing’s shoulders.
The lords say nothing, but each comes to a stop outside the circle of chairs, watching me.
“What?” I ask lightly. “No hello before you ask me why I visited Aradis? Or did you lose your tongues as well as all your quills? It would certainly explain the lack of response to all my letters over the last few weeks.”
I expect them to be angry, but this silent treatment feels juvenile.
I notice movement out of the corner of my eye, and see Strickland being enclosed by a crowd of wardens.
I understand his security perhaps being a touch overzealous, but why put out a chair for himself if he didn’t intend to use it?
“Lord Syrus,” Lady Jing intones. “You are being apprehended on behalf of Infernum for the crime of treachery against the realm. Submit to being escorted back to Infernum, or you will be taken there by force.”
Like an idiot, I actually huff in surprise, looking over to Strickland. The wall of wardens around him suddenly takes on a new flavor, and anger smolders in my stomach. I don’t let it catch fully alight, however. Not yet.
“Did Mr. Strickland not make the terms of this meeting clear?” I ask the lords. “We’re here to discuss my return to Infernum.”
“Precisely,” Lady Jing says, showing her fangs. “You will return to Infernum in our custody so you can be punished for your arrogant, traitorous—”
“Mr. Strickland,” I interrupt, cutting off what will undoubtedly be a long list of my failings, turning once more to the assemblyman. One look at his face, wary but defiant, tells me all I need to know.
There were never going to be any peace talks or negotiations. The lords are here to take me, and Strickland organized the whole thing.
“What made you change your mind?” I ask the assemblyman, my hand sliding around the hilt of my sword.
Strickland’s eyes are cold when he answers. “This is Infernum business. Strata would rather be allies of the demon majority than of a lone, rogue lord.”
It’s a lie. I can see it in the way he’s trying to flatten his gaze, hiding the truth behind it.
When he offered us sanctuary, he meant it. So why the about-turn when it comes to us?
Not us, me, I realize. I’m being kicked out of Strata because I’m not Strickland’s concern. On the contrary, I’m now in the way of what he truly wants.
I let the rage ignite at last, and I can’t help but laugh. The bitter, hollow sound rises up from my throat, echoing in the hall.
“So that’s the plan, is it?” I spit at Strickland. “Sell me out to the lords and keep Leah and her powers for yourself? You’re a damned fool if you think she’ll ever help you after this.”
Strickland’s eyes narrow. “I think she’ll find I can be a very good negotiator, Lord Syrus. After all, I negotiated you right into this room, didn’t I?”
The wave of my fury crests and breaks, shadows exploding from my palms and spiraling toward him.
I pull them up short a foot away from the nearest warden.
“Don’t you dare lay a fucking finger on her,” I snarl. Strickland’s eyes briefly widen in fear, but then they settle into a smug, satisfied stare.
The Concords are still protecting him. I cannot deliberately harm any of the humans in the room or I risk breaking the pact on behalf of all Infernum. If I were to shatter the agreement now, it could set a ball rolling that would eventually ruin us all.
“He’s playing you, you know,” I say to the other lords, appealing to them instead. “He’s meddling with the collateral and—”
“Lies,” Strickland quickly assures the other lords.
“I told you that Lord Syrus would spin all kinds of tales when you confronted him. Just as he deceived you about his whereabouts when he was in Aradis. You must do as you see fit, my lords, but I suggest you don’t waste your time listening to this. ”
“The cornered dog will always bite,” Liege Damein agrees, their yellow eyes gleaming from above their veil.
Lord Midane clears his throat. “Our priority is seeing you brought to justice, Lord Syrus. You will not distract us from that mission.”
“I’m sorry, friends,” I say to the lords, drawing my shadows to myself, coiling them like whips ready to lash out.
“But I cannot let you take me. I have something here I need to protect.” I cannot leave Leah here in Strickland’s grasp.
I have to fight, for her. She doesn’t know what she’ll be walking into and won’t be able to defend herself.
“And what about your domain, Lord Syrus?” Lady Jing demands. “Didn’t that need protecting when you undermined our realm by fraternizing with the ephilium?”
“Perhaps,” I say, with sudden clarity. “But at that time, I was focused on something—someone—else who needed my protection more. I believe I made the right choice.”
“He who launches the battle cry cannot fret when the war comes to him, Lord Syrus,” Liege Damein says warningly, revealing their hands from beneath their voluminous robes: a sign they’re preparing to conjure.
Lady Jing pulls her axes from her back, and Lord Midane, with an unhappy expression, draws his sword.
“Then consider this my battle cry, friend,” I say, and release my shadows upon the lords.
The humans at least have the good sense to get out of the way.
I’m vaguely aware of the wardens crowding Strickland toward one end of the hall as our magics collide.
Midane slashes through my shadows with his own darkness-imbued sword while I block a volley of tiny daggers with my own blade, swiping them from the air.
I grimace. Not the best day to be reminded of Lady Jing’s knack for telekinesis. In response, I distract her by lighting a ring of flame around her feet.
But as she screeches, trying to put it out, a chasm opens up right in front of me, as if something has ripped straight through the floor to reveal a deep, gaping nothingness.
Damein’s hallucinations: it has to be. I’ve heard this is their power—as tricksy and confusing as their riddles. And yet I still hesitate, my feet stumbling back as my body tries to push itself away from the imaginary edge.
I hear the whiz of metal through the air in time to throw up my sword and block one of Lady Jing’s axes, but I’m not fast enough for the second.
It embeds itself in my shoulder, slicing deep at the tendons and muscle.
My hand drops, limp, as my sword clatters to the floor, and I growl in pain.
With my working arm, I yank the axe from my shoulder so the flesh can begin to knit back together.
But by now, Midane’s shadows are back, wrapping around my ribs, trying to crush me.
I peel them away with my own shadows, but it’s a slow process—his magic is strong, if not quite as powerful as my own.
As I wrestle my way free, I watch Lady Jing retrieve the first axe she threw and spin toward me.
My wings flare, and I kick out, catching her in the stomach and killing her momentum.
Only then the wall nearest me appears to crumble at the base, toppling down toward me—another hallucination to make me falter.
I can’t see reality for Damein’s illusion—bricks and dust clogging up my eyeline—but I feel it all too well, the moment when Lady Jing’s axe drives deep into my back.
My legs buckle, sending me crashing to the floor, cracking my cheek against the hard wood. With the blade still lodged in my spine, my body cannot heal, and I can barely move my lower half, pulling myself toward my sword.
I can’t reach it before they grab my arms. I’m hauled up, my feet hanging uselessly beneath me as Jing and Midane drag me across the hall. I can still move my neck, and I twist it now to catch a glimpse of Liege Damein opening a rift behind me.
No. No. I can’t leave her unprotected. I can’t—
I sense her then, like I do in every room she enters, and look up to see Leah standing in the doorway of the hall. Her face is ashen, her eyes fixed on mine.
“Leah, I love you,” I murmur. It’s all I have breath for right now. I pray that she can read the words on my lips as I’m dragged through the rift, the aether swallowing me up.
Leah
I’m drawn to the hall by the noise of battle and the thrum of powerful magic, but at first, I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
It’s not until I step through the doors that I grasp the awful tableau laid out for me.
Syrus, slumped between Lady Jing and Lord Midane, a limp, broken body soaked in blood, being carried toward a rift.
He just has time to lift his head, his crimson eyes boring into mine, and to murmur a few words.
I don’t need to hear them to know what they are.
“Syrus!” I run toward the rift, power flooding down my arms and pooling in my palms. I have to reach them before the rift closes. I’ll follow them to Infernum, I’ll fight every lord on demon soil—just so long as they don’t take from me the man I’ve finally let myself love.
I don’t get more than a few steps when my feet freeze in place and my hands are yanked together. A familiar voice mutters Cyrax words about leashing and hindering and binding, the words invading my ears like buzzing flies.
Blearily, I look around, blinking through tears to see a beautiful woman with raven-black hair gliding toward me.
Lady Roseingrave.
Dark bruises line her throat where Syrus’s shadows choked her, but her eyes are brighter than ever.
In her hand, she has a metal cylinder, soldered back together in the middle, still stained with my blood.
She holds it ahead of her triumphantly as my magic writhes and twists between my hands, blocked by the magic of her binding spell.
Immobilized, I watch the rift’s edges shimmer and then seal at the end of the hall, cutting me off from Syrus.
I want to scream and curse, to burn things with my lightning and choke them with my shadow. Instead, I’m forced to hold still in the sea of my anguish and rage.
My eyes fall on Strickland. He’s a figure of calm and focus as he moves through the hall, dismissing the last of the wardens. They file out, stationing themselves at the door.
All the while Lady Roseingrave circles me, her eyes glittering with triumph.
“So you two really are friends after all,” I say through gritted teeth, my cheeks still warm and wet from the tears.
My world has been turned on its head in the space of a few hours.
Now I get to face the people responsible as Strickland comes to stand beside Roseingrave, a possessive hand snaking around her waist. I feel sick.
“We are,” Roseingrave says as Strickland leans in slightly to examine my magically bound hands. I’ve let the power between them fizzle out—trying to push the power out was only exhausting me.
“Excellent work on the binding spell, Orealia,” Strickland says approvingly, and Roseingrave hums with pleasure.
“It was like you said: it just took practice,” she says, smiling fondly at him.
“I take it you’re in charge of the Order?
” I ask Strickland. There’s no point in playing dumb, and I’m not too worried about them striking me down for asking questions.
Not when they clearly still need me for something.
I might as well use this opening to find out what I can.
Information is my friend right now. The only friend I have here.
“Correct again, Leah,” Strickland says. “Although I didn’t have the privilege of meeting you the night you and your leech of a demon lover killed a quarter of our number.”
“I suppose that’s what you get for playing with fire,” I snarl.
Roseingrave reaches out and digs her nails into my arm.
She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t slap or hit me—just darts a hand out and digs deep enough to draw blood, making me cry out in pain and surprise.
Then she drops her hand and looks to Strickland as if nothing happened.
I remember Hathwell shuddering and begging on the floor of the sacrificial chamber, terrified of the shadowy puppeteer pulling his strings. That kind of fear makes more sense now I stare at the five half-moon shaped scratches in my arm. The nonchalance of the violence is…something.
“What will happen to Syrus?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. “Will they execute him?”
Strickland shrugs. “I don’t know the answer to that,” and he smiles. “Honestly, I don’t really care. It’s you who matters. I knew when I saw you on the plains, destroying the weapon I’d worked so hard to create, that we would do great things together.”
“I’m not going to help you do anything,” I spit, putting every ounce of my hatred into it.
“But you will,” Strickland says, as simply as if he’s predicting that the sun will shine tomorrow. “You’re going to help me destroy Infernum and Aradis for good.”
The End