2. Mrs. Bones
Mrs. Bones
Walls of stone blurred past my eyes.
I couldn’t fathom whether my feet and legs were moving up the steps under my own power, or if they were being pulled that way by one of the two wizards at my sides.
The grey surface curved as I ascended a staircase that felt impossibly narrow with the two hulking figures holding me firmly between them.
They didn’t look at me, or speak.
They wore all black, insignias on armbands and capes, and while I had some awareness that one was my cousin, Valor La Fey, he felt as faceless and empty as the black-clad soldier across from him.
As for me, I’d never felt so weak, or so depleted.
I was like a mechanical toy whose battery had run down.
I supposed that, technically, at least, part of what I was experiencing might have been shock, but I didn’t have enough left in me to puzzle out the difference between that and having my magic wrung out of me like a sponge.
If they let go of me, even for a second, I was reasonably sure I would collapse.
Fighting them was out of the question. I couldn’t free myself from their hold, so it made sense to focus on other things.
Like what I would do next.
Assuming I wasn’t about to be thrown in prison, or locked up in some chamber inside the Magical government offices, I needed to think about what I would do now.
He was gone.
My breath cut out before the thought fully landed.
A pain rose in my chest, branching outward like snaking vines.
The truth of what happened out by the forest’s edge tried to settle somewhere inside me, to force an acceptance, but the rest of me revolted so intensely my real reaction felt like being slowly strangled while being stabbed in the heart.
I could even decide how to name the feeling screaming inside my chest. Panic? Rage? Grief? Loss? Anxiety? Terror? Devastation?
None were right. None were enough.
A darkness tried to swallow me I couldn’t quantify, couldn’t describe.
No words fit that emptiness. The feelings grew intense enough, I couldn’t stand to remain still.
My body couldn’t stand the pressure. My mind couldn’t move in logical lines.
Adrenaline ignited in my blood, trying to wring a last burst of juice out of my depleted magic.
Something in my posture or demeanor must have changed.
Either way, the two mages with me definitely felt it.
The soldier on my left gripped me tighter in his black-gloved hands. A creature with an angry, human-like face flapped leathery wings from his shoulder, glaring at me with glowing red eyes. Pain writhed through my arm and down my side as his grip grew punishing.
“Don’t even think about it, half-breed,” he warned in a cold, vicious voice. “I feel so much as a spark off you, cur, I’ll drop you so hard it will make what we did to you in that field feel like a blown kiss. I’ll cut off your breath before you can speak a single one of your black incantations––”
“Enough!” the soldier on my other side snapped. “She’s in shock. She’s also probably the only reason you’re alive, so a little gratitude wouldn’t be amiss.”
“Gratitude?” The first one scoffed. “If we hadn’t stopped her, she would have turned that black fire on us!”
“Nonsense,” the second one growled. “She went after Bones herself. And Calvarias. That took guts. And she never once aimed her magicks at any one of us.” His voice dropped to an angry mutter. “And you hit her too hard, Grablen. You wonder why she’s irrational, when her own side––”
“Dragon piss. You can’t protect her this time, V. You saw what she did––”
“I said shut it,” the other growled. “And it’s not my call. Nor is it yours.”
Before I could look up long enough to make out either face, an opening appeared in front of me. They half-dragged, half-shoved me through.
For the first time since I’d been pulled through the front doors of Malcroix Mansion, a flash of light greeted my eyes that wasn’t torchlight.
We’d reached the top of the tower after that endless number of steps, and I blinked at a tall glass window framed in iron and heavy purple and gold curtains.
I recognized the space, but I was too tired and out of it to give it a name.
The light outside that window wasn’t bright.
Shrouded in dark storm clouds and snow, the lack of sunlight forced the roaring fireplace to my left to make up the difference. Even so, I struggled to adjust my eyes.
The room was empty of anyone but us, and felt strangely cold, even with the fire.
The two soldiers didn’t let go of me and didn’t slow down.
They dragged me along the carpet, forcing my feet to stumble and jerk as I attempted to keep up.
I’d barely made sense of where they were taking me when a floor-length, silver-framed mirror with carved bears and bees appeared in front of me.
It was taller than I was, and wide enough for two grown men to walk through walking side-by side.
The larger of the two Magicals with me yanked on my arm as the other male fell back without letting go of me, either.
I barely had time to take a breath before everything disappeared.
I stumbled across a heavy, thick, gold frame on the other side.
Panting, heart hammering in my chest, I struggled to keep my balance.
Both gloved hands gripped me tightly on either side, and essentially held me on my feet.
I stared at my new surroundings, blinking to adjust to the change in light, and the cavernous hall I didn’t recognize at all.
Everything appeared to be gold and white, and hurt my eyes.
Two massive stone lions loomed over me, larger than elephants, white and decorated in more gold, along with what looked like precious stones. They stood on either side of a curved, half-moon table made of more white stone, which sparkled with iridescence under the torches.
A group of people sat behind the table.
All of them had grave expressions on their faces.
All of them stared at me.
Unable to make sense of those stares, I looked to my left, where columns of white marble ran down either side of a long aisle between rows of people.
There appeared to be over a hundred of them, most dressed in formal-looking robes of various jewel tones, wearing soft hats with insignias at the front in gold, green, red, silver, and black thread.
Less than a third wore what I’d consider the “normal” clothing styles of Magique, which were already odd compared to human fashions.
Magique wizards and witches tended to dress in more colorful, flamboyant, varied fabrics, cut and shaped in styles that struck me as strangely dated, although the dates on the styles varied, too.
I saw women in suits that evoked the 1940s, corsets that evoked the early oughts of the Twentieth Century, men in top hats, fedoras, porkpie hats, and suits that stretched back even earlier, some evoking 17th and 18th Centuries.
Many mages carried similarly dated accessories: pocket watches, cravats, insignia rings, stockings, snuff boxes, and elaborate canes.
But I’d grown accustomed to that particular oddness.
This was a different variety of oddness altogether.
The few here wearing Magical street clothes definitely wore the expensive variety, like that of the royals who went to Malcroix Bones Academy, including Bones.
I pegged them as royals themselves, or at least the very rich.
I even recognized several of their familial primals from the royals in Bones’s set at school.
By then, I’d formed a pretty solid deduction as to where I was.
I’d never seen paintings or magical images of the Palace of the Lions, and I’d certainly never been here before, but too many things hinted strongly of my location.
That suspicion grew closer to certainty when my eyes returned to the individuals seated around the moon-shaped table.
The male seated at the center wore a white robe, a heavy gold necklace, and thick gold rings in his ears. Even his hair was golden, and matched his adornments. A thick, golden beard fell halfway to his chest below short, flat, golden hair.
A white and gold lion primal sat on the table next to him, solemnly swishing its tail. Its flat, humorless face stared at me with pure boredom.
Something in mage’s stare reflected the same bored irritation.
No one in the cavernous hall spoke as the two soldiers dragged me deeper into the room. They stopped when I stood directly in front of the man with the golden hair.
That’s when I saw a face and body I did know, and had seen before, many times. His bear primal lifted a paw to wave at me, seemingly the instant I noticed his wizard standing to the left of the crescent-shaped table.
I waved back, but the bear continued to look worried.
Forsooth didn’t smile, but his dark eyes shone with warmth when they met mine.
He stood perfectly still, hands clasped in front over a rather dingy-looking brown suit jacket made of some thick material that made me think of corduroy.
He wore an orange scarf around his neck, and black pants of the same thick material as his jacket.
When I glanced back at the larger crowd, I noticed a group standing to one side, outside the jeweled robes and expensive street clothes. Those mages and witches wore the same black uniforms worn by the two men at my side, excepting one mage, who wore the uniform under a black and purple cloak.
All had the same two entwined circles on their arms, the symbol of the Praecuri.
I recognized a handful of their faces, partly from the fight with Dark Cathedral. The only one I knew for certain was Esalia, my cousin’s wife. She stood in front with arms folded, her blond hair back in a severe bun, her eyes hard.
Her expression didn’t soften when she met my gaze.
Most of the Praecuri standing there appeared bloodied and bruised, with magical burns on their uniforms that went down to their skin. Clothing and hair wet, hands bruised and bloodied from magic, faces drawn, they didn’t look very friendly, particularly not towards me.