Chapter 27 #2
Thinking on my feet, I glanced at Seraphim. “Have you mentioned the Archon’s concerns?”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Seraphim paced around the table, swaying with a feminine stride. “My husband is rightfully concerned about our dwindling land. Nobody has returned from Duath Nun in centuries. We sit in ignorance, oblivious to what their situation might be.”
“Are you suggesting we aid them?” Lord Crios raised an eyebrow.
“No,” Seraphim purred, lids falling. “I’m suggesting they might be thriving. What if they’ve kept the Empty at bay? What if they have land and resources to spare?”
“Does it matter?” Maera snapped. “They killed everyone aboard the last ship. That’s precisely why we forbid travel.”
“That was a hundred years ago,” Seraphim said. “How many heirs have inherited the crown since then?”
“We have to assume they’re hostile,” Lycus said firmly. “Conquering them is not an option.”
“There are many ways to tie nations together. The Merchant Isles once joined hands after years of bloody war.” Seraphim reminded them.
Her graceful poise and sultry, yet demure tone sounded nothing like the woman I knew. I almost believed this was truly Themis.
“Better,” Eleos whispered. “Everyone but Kasos, whether they realize it or not, took the bait. They’re wondering if Duath Nun isolated itself because it’s safe.”
Perfect. Clearing my throat, I drew the room’s attention. “What of the thieves who took the Maiden’s Bloodstone? You have heard of them?”
“Of course.” Lord Kasos crossed his legs. “They say the ghost of House Cynthus returned.” He chuckled. “What of it?”
“What of it?” I repeated, furrowing my brow in worry. “It has everything to do with this. They say Seraphim lives. You do know how she survived her exile, yes?”
“Foolish hearsay,” Maera said in a clipped tone. “By all accounts, she was sent to the Empty and perished.”
“Word reached me yesterday,” Phaedrus announced. “Therapne’s clergy names Seraphim the Bloodstone’s thief. It is not hearsay.”
Seraphim glanced at me, picking up on my course.
“Rumors swirl about her return. Some whisper she fled across the Lethe. No one’s sighted her in twenty years, after all.
” Her face twisted in anger. “I wasn’t present at the exile.
I cannot confirm if they ensured her demise. If they hid that she escaped. . .”
“They might well have,” Phaedrus said quietly. “To save themselves from a severe punishment.”
Lord Crios caught on. “Are you suggesting she will take the stolen Bloodstone back to Duath Nun?”
“What if she does?” I said. “If we do not send someone after her, the Bloodstone will be lost forever.”
Lady Maera sat back, and silence hung over the table. Eleos spoke in my mind. “That did it.”
Placing a hand on the table, Lord Lycus studied Seraphim. “In that case, you would need a capable unit sent with you.”
“Arrangements have already been made,” Phaedrus assured him. “I would not send my sister without proper protection.”
“Let me offer some of my men. You’ll need mages if you expect to face a chthonic.”
“Thank you, Lycus.” Phaedrus nodded. “But your support won’t matter if the rest let the thief slip away. Tell me. What do you think the church will say when they learn the border lords neglected their duty?”
Lady Maera drummed her fingers on the table. “If the thief took shelter in Duath Nun and seeks it again, does that not suggest they feed her orders?”
“We don’t know.” Lord Crios said. “They might be oblivious to her presence. Or, they seek the Bloodstone to save themselves.”
“And condemn us,” Seraphim agreed, speaking with unusual gravity. “Be they friend or foe, we must know.”
“Very well.” Lady Maera sat back. “I agree. Circumstances require haste. But the ship must be fully prepared to face whatever threat. We will not receive another chance.”
“Agreed.” Crios nodded. “My key is yours, on the condition I examine the crew before they depart.”
“Of course.” Phaedrus agreed, eyes drifting to the youngest of their group.
Glancing between his fellows, Kasos cleared his throat. “You’re absolutely right, of course. We should give chase. The crown will be positively thrilled should we solve their problems for them.”
Relieved, I stepped back. Eleos’s voice hummed in my mind. “Shame. I was almost looking forward to planning that heist.”
With my part finished, I joined Eleos on the bench, watching the lords rise to do what had not been done in a century.
Each had brought with them a small chest. Within rested a remarkably ordinary-looking key, bronzed by age—one for each of the five padlocks preventing the ships’ anchor from being raised.
Phaedrus collected the keys, adding them to his chest. A sense of finality coursed through me when he closed the lid. This is what Seraphim had hired me for.
The ship was ours. And before the lords realized our falsity, we’d be sailing across the border in the only vessel fit to weather the Lethe.
* * *
Night had fallen before the border lords departed the manor. Lord Phaedrus had cracked open his most valuable bottle of wine to celebrate the occasion, a gift that snapped Percy and Seth out of their annoyance at being shoved in the attic all day.
Swirling my wine, I stared into its rich ruby depths. One last sip of luxury before we set out for lands unknown.
Eleos sat beside me at the dining table, paying more attention to his hair than his food. Though we’d washed off our disguises, he was adamant that lingering traces of Percy’s ‘wretched oil’ remained in his hair. I reached out to brush out his bangs, but retracted my hand.
We’d talk tonight.
“Hm.” Seth reclined in his seat. “I’m a bit disappointed, honestly. Breaking into four separate manors sounded fun.”
“Eleos said the same,” Seraphim said, draining her second glass of wine.
“Mad men,” Percy murmured, pushing his food around. “We’re going to be descended upon by crazy Duathian warriors, and you wanted more strife?”
Chuckling, Phaedrus met my eye. I shifted in my seat, unable to shake the feeling I’d met him before.
“So,” Eleos raked his hair behind his ears, “What did you two do in the attic all day?”
“Trained Whisper,” Seth said.
“Wrote a song,” Percy spoke over Seth. A heavy thud followed as Seth stepped on his foot, and Percy cursed.
“Well,” Eleos picked up his wine, “Those were lies.”
“It’s a secret.” Percy insisted, lifting his head to stare at me. Seth followed suit, his red eyes darting over my face. They realized they both stared simultaneously, and quickly looked away.
Eleos glanced at me, eyebrows raised.
“And it’s not important,” Percy stabbed his fork into his cut of lamb. “What’s Duath Nun like, Seraphim? Is it paradise?”
“Hardly,” Seraphim answered, folding her arms on the table. “It’s vastly different from the Merchant Isles—in every sense. But it is much safer there than here.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “For whatever reason, the Empty doesn’t plague them the way it does us. Oh, it clings to their borders and locks them inside its walls, but its wilderness? Perfectly safe.” She paused, rolling her tongue in her mouth. “For now.”
I leaned back. The very idea was impossible to imagine. Sprawling fields and vast woods? Safe?
The old steward emerged from the pantry with a fresh bottle of wine and refilled Seraphim’s glass. She held it up with a smile, and I noticed something she missed.
Though the steward managed to hold the bottle steady, his fingers trembled. Guilt creased his face when he retracted the wine and stepped away.
Glancing at Seraphim, I tried to draw her attention, nodding my head toward the steward and gripping my glass, but she didn’t notice.
“But enough business,” Seraphim leaned forward. “You mentioned this was only your second-worst entrance to a city, Seth?”
“Oh!” He grinned. “I’d almost forgotten. Perse, you want to tell this one?”
“I can’t believe I haven’t.” Setting aside his glass, Percy tilted his hat up. “This was back when we first met—before Seth’s wanted posters hung on every wall.”
Feeling woozy, I rested my head in my hand. Was I drunk already? Black spots colored my vision, and I shook my head, trying to drive them away. Percy halted mid-sentence and braced a hand on the table.
“Perse?” Eleos asked. “Are you. . .” He trailed off, pressing a hand to his eyes.
Seth leaped from his seat, knocking the chair over. He placed a hand on his dagger before his knee gave out, and he dropped, grabbing the table to catch his fall. My vision blurred as I tried to stand, and I collapsed back into my seat.
Phaedrus stood, a red and silver blur beneath the flaming chandelier. “I really do appreciate your help.” He said, pacing around us. “It gives me no pleasure to stab you in the back like this, but. . .” he chuckled, “You’ve lost your edge, sister. You made this far too easy.”
A shadow loomed behind me as he placed a hand on the back of my chair.
Seraphim grabbed her dinner knife and raked it across the back of her hand. Fingers curling, she tried to form her blood into a scythe, but I could see her body trembling. Folding. Losing consciousness.
Phaedrus leaned forward, whispering in my ear. “I told you we would meet again, Elpis. It’s a shame, too. You were so close to figuring it out.”
Bloody vines rose from the darkness, like horrors in a nightmare. The doors flew open, and guards burst through, surrounding the table. I reached out for the fading figures around me, and felt Eleos’s hand brush mine before I fell backward into shadow.