49. Chapter 49
Chapter 49
I hurl again, so violently this time that I thump my breastbone into the rim of the basin. “Ouch.” I rub my chest. That really hurt.
I attempt to heal myself, but my well is almost empty. What the hell happened last night? My head throbs, and my chest aches. Is this heartburn? I rinse my mouth out, walk back into my bedroom, and get dressed for the day.
My heavy beaded gown lays crumpled next to the bed. I pick it up and carry it to my laundry bin. I notice something hard in the pocket and pull out August’s phoenix hairpin, a leather bracelet, and the necklace Eoin made me. I try to remember how I got these other two, but my mind is really fuzzy. The more I try to remember, the more my head pounds, but there’s something about this bracelet that makes me smile. I put the jewelry on, and my stomach lurches. I return to the washroom and peer into my mirror at my bloodshot eyes. Images flash through my mind as I brush my fingers across the stones of the hairpin.
I remember the carriage ride through the village and dancing with August. I remember my odd conversation with Rosalind and Lydia taking a vial of blue liquid from the Prophet. I remember August confessing his feelings for me, and he will wait for me. My cheeks heat as I remember him taking me to bed. My mind lingers there happily, but I press on. There’s definitely something I’m missing.
I remember returning to the dance floor and the vibrant blue drink Luc gave me. The same blue that was in the vial. I clench my jaw. That bastard poisoned me.
A knock sounds at the door. I shove the hairpin in my pocket and open the door to one of Luc’s guards.
“You’re going to be late.” He doesn’t smile.
“Remind me where we are going.” I grimace, the sound of my own voice hurting my head.
“The High Lord has requested you meet him for breakfast.”
We load up in the carriage and ride into the city of Halivaara. Our path twists and winds as we follow the river to a restaurant near the House of Cards, and I twirl my necklace, wondering how bad this really is. Should I snap the bar?
The murmur of the dining guests does nothing for my throbbing head. I’m surprised to find Luc and Sven sitting at a table in the center of the room, not a private suite somewhere. He chats with the servers and guests and shakes a few hands. As we approach the table, Sven stands and pulls out my chair.
I sit across from Luc, who looks particularly sunny today. Our waitress returns and I order a spicy omelet and hope I won’t throw it up later. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten the spicy one. This heartburn is killing me. I rub my chest again, and Luc frowns.
“Something wrong?”
“I think I have heartburn. It’s almost my birthday. Maybe I’m just getting older and can’t handle drinking all night anymore.”
He relaxes and hands me a slice of bread. “You were something else last night, that’s for sure.” I chug my water goblet and request a refill. We eat our breakfast in harmony and share a few laughs, some at my expense, as I occasionally let out a miserable groan. However, my mind remains with the hairpin in my pocket and the fact that I believe Luc poisoned me. Why? He seems so normal now.
I tuck my hand into my pocket and brush my thumb across the stones again. More memories flash before my eyes.
***
I stare at my blue-tinged finger as the peripherals of my vision start to fade away. I call my darkness, but she doesn’t respond. This isn’t her. I’ve been poisoned. My heart rate slows, and I wonder if this is the end. Will I ever see Eoin again?
My eyes crack open. I’m in my bedroom at Helios Castle, where Sven and Lydia await. What is she doing here? The mattress creaks as Luc drops me roughly onto the bed. I try lifting my head, but it’s full of bricks and other heavy things.
He tosses a bundle of linen at Sven. “Get her dressed. We have to hurry.” I fade in and out of consciousness as Lydia strips the dress off of me, dropping it in a pile next to my bed. She pulls on a set of plain linen pants and a top not dissimilar to the ones August had me wear for our training sessions.
A single tear falls down my cheek, and she wipes it away. “I told you to stay away.”
***
I release the hairpin in my pocket, and Luc studies me from across the dining table. What is going on? My stomach churns, and I excuse myself, hustling between tables toward the washroom.
After several minutes bent over on my knees, I stand and wash my hands and face in the wash basin.
A rogue curl falls into my face, tickling my nose. Of all days, this is not one I can put up with wild, unruly hair. I pull the hairpin from my pocket and use it to pin the curl back into my bun. As I scrape the comb of it across my temple, it’s as if a shroud rips in my mind. The throbbing and fogginess lifts, and I grip the basin tightly as more memories of the night before flash rapidly before me.
***
Luc and Lydia clasp manacles around my wrists and bolt them to a strange chair in the middle of a large round room. The smooth bricks around the walls and ceiling look familiar. I think we are below the castle. My head aches as it turns, taking in the rest of the room. Twelve of the carriage-sized glass orbs surround us.
“What’s going on?” My voice sounds distant and meek.
“We’re releasing Maris.” Luc’s eye twitches as he opens a chest near my feet and pulls out a brass cube with intricate carvings on each side. Something about it repulses me, and I recoil. He places the cube on my lap, and I pull vehemently at my restraints.
“Why would you do that?”
He sighs and pulls the sword of regret from the chest and the binding relic, handing it to Lydia. “I’m going to release him with the items that bound him and then use them to bind him to a living soul. Imagine having control over something so powerful.” His eyes are dark and bulging, and he looks positively insane.
My heart pounds in my chest, and the cube on my lap seems to have its own heartbeat. Get it off me. Get it off me. Get it off me. I squirm, hoping it will topple off my lap.
I glance wildly around the room for someone, anyone, to help me. Sven enters through the metal door, followed by the Prophet and several cloaked Crusaders.
“Lydia here was kind enough to retrieve the relics from Selene’s library and from August’s room. She mentioned quite the scene you left behind.” He glances around the room with pride. “So much time and planning coming together at last.”
The cloaked figures circle the room, and the Prophet approaches. He takes the cube, Maris’s tomb, from my lap and places it on a stone pedestal before me. Lydia kisses Luc, gripping him tightly before releasing him. “Ready?” she asks Luc, and he flinches.
No. No, no, no. My heart beats wildly, and I feel the faint pull of my darkness. I don’t fight her, hoping she can somehow get me out of this. Luc raises the sword above the cube just as the door behind him bursts open.
A pair of red eyes meet mine, and Razenna snarls at Luc. Hope wells within me. She throws daggers at Luc and the Crusaders, keeping them at bay, and pulls a long blade from her thigh.
She runs straight at me before they have a chance to react. A smile spreads across my face as she rushes toward me. She’s here. She came for me.
She drives her blade straight through my heart.
My scream gets caught in my throat, and I cough. Vibrant crimson blood freckles her cheekbones. My heart breaks, literally and figuratively. How could she do this to me? She’s my friend. She’s supposed to be my friend.
Fear and sorrow fill her eyes, and she doesn’t look away from me as she twists the blade. Warm blood spills down my front.
“Come back for me,” she whispers to me just before she’s yanked away by Sven. He holds a blade to her throat, and Luc orders him to wait. I’m so cold and tired. As my vision fades, an old woman with black and silver hair enters the room. Her honey-brown eyes lock on mine. The shadowless woman; does anyone see her?
My death is swift. I hover and look down at Luc and Lydia, who quickly unclasp my body from the chair. It crumples onto the floor with a weighty thud. A slight tickle has me looking at my wrist, where a gold thread of light wraps around it and trails away. I follow it and meet eyes with Razenna. She has one hand outstretched towards me as she holds my soul in place. She sees me.
‘I’m sorry.’ She mouths the words as she’s roughly lifted and placed into the chair. She maintains a firm grasp on my soul as tears silently flow down her cheeks.
“Well, now we’ll get to control a god and a necromancer.” Lydia sounds far too excited about this.
“Let’s just get this over with before there’s any more surprises.” Luc tightens the last bolt.
I feel unnerved like something is standing behind me. I slowly turn and jump back. I hover backward, away from the shadowless woman. She smiles slowly at me, and transforms into a beautiful goddess with black eyes, just like the statue in my well.
She presses a single finger to her lips and points down below us. Luc swings the sword high above his head and cracks it down onto the brass cube. Sparks fly, and a gust of wind bursts from the box, knocking Lydia back a step and making every Crusader’s robe whip around. Maris takes form before Luc. He seems to be in spirit form, and I wonder if they can see him.
The paintings don’t do him justice. He’s great and terrible and beautiful. His head snaps up at me. His eyes narrow, and I feel Razenna’s grasp on me tighten. If he kills me now, what would happen? My darkness steps between us and holds out a hand towards him.
“Alita,” he says with great sorrow.
She reaches back with her other hand and grabs my own. His eyes widen as Luc chants, holding the binding relic over Razenna’s head, and then a scowl twists his face when he turns toward a man wearing the Prophet’s robes.
“You!” He points to the man, just as a blinding light fills the room.
Light from the orbs flows to the crown relic atop Luc’s head and through Luc, the crown acting as a conduit. Razenna screams as Luc and the man wearing the Prophet’s robes force Maris into her. Her grip on me slackens, and she lets go entirely as her head falls to the side.
My darkness grips my wrist and pulls me toward my body. The man in the Prophet’s robes turns, facing me, and locks black eyes with mine. Now dead, I see him for what he really is. Curly hair, chiseled body: Anwir, god of chaos and treachery, smiles wickedly at me, sending a chill to my very bones.
I’m pulled back into my body, and the Prophet appears as the old man again. I still don’t have control, but I feel less dead now.
Oh gods, it’s all coming together now, and it’s too late.
The Prophet, the reason his eyes were black at Luc’s wedding and why his image appeared in ancient text. He’s a god. But why was he changing history and trying to keep the realms separate?
One thing is for certain. The god of chaos is indeed awake and wreaking havoc on the lands, and now attempts to take control of the god of war.
“Excellent work,” Lydia calls to Luc. His eyes flick over my still body with sadness.
I remain still on the cold stone ground as I try to catch my bearings and focus on Razenna’s unmoving body. The Prophet places two fingers against her neck, feeling for a pulse.
I stand. Lydia frowns and takes Luc’s sword, holding it out at me. I wave my black fingers at it. The sword flies from her grip across the room, landing in a loud, echoing clang.
Two Crusaders charge us, and I snap the first one’s neck with the twist of my wrist. My darkness quickly grabs the second one and pulls his back against our chest. I bite into his neck and drink as he screams into my ear.
Heal, child. My well fills slightly, and I heal my heart as much as I can. She tosses the body aside and then raises my hand out in front of me, palm up. As my palm raises, fingertips touching, six of the Crusaders hover in the air, mirroring my hand. They scream and kick.
My gaze catches on Razenna’s slumped-over body, and my heart aches. She saved me.
The men hovering in the air call for help, and with one quick motion, my fingers flick open. Each hovering man rips into five pieces and falls to the ground in a series of wet, squelching plops.
I feel sick. Lydia shouts at Sven. “She may have goddess powers, but she still has weak human blood. Do something!”
A sudden pinch in my neck startles me, and I pull a dart from it. I turn slowly to Sven who holds a blowgun in his hands, horror on his face.
My eyes feel heavy, and I fall to my knees. Sven approaches me with the same knife he held to Razenna’s throat.
“Wait!” Luc stops him once again. “I want her alive. I can use her still.”
Lydia sighs and walks over. “Consider it my wedding gift.” She grabs the sides of my face, eyes boring into mine. “You will forget this. You will forget the events at Yule and everything you saw here tonight. Every time you try to remember, your head will hurt, and you’ll feel sick. You will be faithfully devoted to Luc and Helios Court and carry on like nothing has happened.” A strange tingling pricks the base of my skull.
“Anwir!” A deep, low growl emanates from Razenna as her head raises. Her black eyes narrow on the Prophet, and a booming male voice escapes her lips. “You think you can control me?” My heart sinks as I slump over, vision blurring. It’s not Razenna. It’s not her.
“I can, and I will.” The Prophet takes the crown from Luc and places it atop his head.