Chapter 53
Smoke blotted out the sun and sky like some great fire was burning down the country.
I watched it from the observatory, swaying Julianna in my arms. The sweat from the summer’s heat quickly cooled in the wake of that looming shadow, and she whined with restless discomfort.
A hand settled over my hip. Nicolas pulled me to his side, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
“Is it Him?” he asked. “The Lord of Night?”
I shook my head. Florence and the dark god might have brought it on, but the sky was the earthquakes’ doing. There was such precedent in the history books: erupting mountains casting smoke and debris high into the air; year-long winters brought on by unending darkness.
If that happened now, Gallae would be a graveyard within months. With Florence’s curse, I had a feeling that was precisely what awaited us.
In the months since her execution, good news was precious.
Norsomber was sacked, those decoy ships bombarded by cannon fire from Korosans.
Refugees flooded the rest of the nation, but the cities were only just recovering from the famine; no one had the infrastructure to support many thousands of newcomers.
Every day there was a procession of pilgrims working their way to Hadria, but I wasn’t sure what awaited them there.
It was unlikely they’d be allowed through the gates of Pontarena without money for the toll, so the poor would have to remain on our half of the isthmus.
On top of that, a strange illness began to spread in the more populated cities.
My parents wished to study it, but I could not let them go into such danger, so we had a few patients shipped in for examination.
It was a morbid ailment that stopped the flow of blood into the infected’s extremities.
Their limbs had to be amputated, and if they survived that, there was more to come.
Mania, spasms, hallucinations. The sick lost control of everything before they went, and I ordered my parents not to bring any more of them in.
There were too many limbless husks being hauled out to pyres, any one of them running the potential of getting all of us killed.
“Why do you suppose she did it?” Nicolas asked, thumbing circles on my waist. “Florence, I mean. Did she truly despise us all along?”
“She never gave it away if she did,” I answered, laying my head on him.
Trefor’s reaction to the curse had been so different from Nicolas’.
I’d begun to realize how fortunate I was to have encountered him out in the woods; what number of other men might have taken it as an opportunity to force themselves upon me? But Nicolas just…didn’t have it in him.
Which meant that Trefor did.
Maybe there was a reason Angharad drank.
I wished I could look into the souls of men and see which ones were tainted with that same deviation. I would have them all purged.
“But she was always rather mysterious,” I continued, reeling myself back to the conversation at hand. “We might as well have brought the Lord himself into our court.”
“This is all my fault.” He pulled his hand away. “Half of Antier’s failing because I brought that sorceress into court and let her die. I…”
There was no finishing that admission, nor was there any way for me to comfort him. He lowered his gaze.
I smiled weakly, adjusting Juliana so that only my left arm held her. My right hand took his.
“Quinn wrote,” he started, thumbing over my skin. “He’s returned to Navarro.”
“Do you hate him?” I asked. Nicolas raised a brow at the question, so I clarified. “He left because he loved me.”
“I know, Alana.” Nicolas met my eyes with a renewed intensity, like tinder catching flame. “But you’re mine. He had enough honor to leave, so he shall always be my friend.”
He tried to take me with him, I almost said, but thought better of it. In all likelihood, I would never see the viscount again. This was my life now. And that was fine. Better not to add insult to injury with the finer details.
“We should address this,” I said, nodding to the sky. Below us, lords, ladies, and servants alike gathered in the courtyard. “Altaigne will come apart if people believe the Lord of Night Himself is looming over them.”
“Is He not?” Nicolas asked. We descended the tower, joined shortly by Marcy.
“I would feel Him. He’s no more up there than anywhere,” I replied.
Nicolas would fall ill if he knew the truth, though: since Florence’s death, the god’s presence was thicker than ever.
Nowhere felt entirely devoid of His presence, and in the full moon, I took to hiding in my chambers ‘til sunlight. The shadows made Him whole; every month, He’d made an appearance in my room, standing at the foot of my bed with watchful, glowing eyes.
Like He was waiting for me to do something, but I wasn’t sure what.
With the whole of Gallae addled by magic, the Banewights left us at last. Taran believed witches would flood the country now, drawn to the mana. He went to Witchfall Keep, near Baselia, to seek reinforcements.
Sahra did not go with them, though. She planned to stay here a while, to re-evaluate her future before moving on. Then she made herself small…but on occasion, I did witness the peculiar sight of her training with Siere Marceline in the yard.
“I’m tired, Alana.” Nicolas squeezed my hand like a lifeline. “It’s my duty to guide us through this, and I don’t know if I can, or if I should.”
“Do you trust me?” I asked, guiding us down another flight of stairs. We made for the main entrance.
“I do.”
“Then let me shoulder the burden. Share your control, Nicolas.” I stopped at the threshold, watching the crowd turn their attention to the sky. “Let me be the figurehead of the apocalypse. ”
Nicolas pried his gaze back up—not to me, but to the horrified assembly ahead of us. His throat bobbed.
“You’re not alone.” I offered Juliana to him and he took her. Her little blue eyes opened briefly before she went back to sleep. “And you need my help.”
“What will you do?” he whispered.
I cupped his cheek and gently turned him to face me. “I’m going to ensure that this court remains loyal, even in the hardest of times.”
Nicolas furrowed his brow. I turned to Marcy and nodded, and she withdrew her knife, holding it toward me.
“And how will you do that?” he asked.
“Religion,” I answered, pointing the knife at my arm. I asked again: “Do you trust me?”
“More than anyone.” Nicolas didn’t hesitate, but he gave the blade an uneasy look. “Just tell me what it is you’re going to do, Alana.”
I pierced the skin, wincing at first, then hissing as the knife dragged on. I made half a circle before I thought I might faint, and paused to catch my breath.
“Alana…”
“Help me,” I said.
Nicolas frowned, handing our baby off to Marcy before taking the knife. He completed the diagram per my careful instruction, grimacing all the while. My blood dropped to the floor in splatters, soaking into the stone.
The shadows shifted. There was plenty of darkness, thanks to the smoke, and the Lord of Night came as easily to me as He had when we were first introduced. My eyes were shut, and I alone could see Him standing before me, shifting and ethereal.
I could not control these men with my voice alone. The part of my curse that inspired covetous desires would invite disaster. I needed something more.
“Salutations, Alana.” His voice was a whisper in my head, a pleasant voice that didn’t quite fit His true nature. It was low, almost musical. “I have been waiting for you.”
Fine hairs on the back of my neck rose in His presence, remembering well what sort of torment He’d put me through.
“You must have sensed it,” He said. “The mana. There is so much of it now. Will you stake your claim?”
My thoughts went out to Him. “I need your power. I wish to alter my curse.”
The Lord of Night hummed with consideration. “Laetitia is dead. Your curse is written in blood and smoke. It cannot be undone.”
“I don’t want to undo it,” I replied. My arm throbbed from the wound. “I want to make it stronger.”
Tendrils of darkness coiled around me like dozens of snakes, heavy and writhing.
“I want to inspire more than desire; I want complete devotion.”
“You wish to be worshipped. A dangerous thought.”
But He wasn’t disapproving. He sounded more amused than anything, bringing His face flush with mine.
“Let me control the degree to which they fall. Some might only fall in love, as they always have.” I took a breath, steeling myself. “Others should be crushed. I will use them to protect the king, myself, and my daughter.”
An army of zealots. It was almost possible, just out of my grasp.
The Lord of Night touched my face, his fingers a cold, velvety texture. “For blood alone, I will allow you to enslave one man… But, for the right price, legions will be yours.”
I knew the price. Tendrils of shadow slid between my legs to make His point.
“Every month, when the moon is full, I will come to you. In return, I will grant you a portion of my essence.” Something wriggled against my ear. “Your body will be a host to the divine. If you wish to be worshipped, so it shall be.”
The moon was waning now. I’d have another month of such promises before He came to exact His toll.
“Do you wish to become a goddess, Alana?” asked the Lord. “To know power, intimately?”
“I do.”
“Then open your eyes.”
I obeyed Him and found myself several steps ahead of where I’d been only moments before. Nicolas watched me, holding Juliana close. In front of me was the whole of Altaigne’s court, still watching the sky in open-mouthed fear. I lowered my sleeve, instinctively hiding the fresh wound.
My lips parted with hesitation, one last pause to consider whether I was making a grave mistake, but it was better than my mistakes being made for me. I took a deep breath.
Then I made them mine.