Chapter 77 Chase Answers
(That Lead to More Dangerous Questions)
Arabella
A bitter wind whipped across Skyspire’s battlements, carrying with it the promise of early snow and the faint scent of woodsmoke from the main kitchens.
I pulled my heavy cloak tighter, grateful for the fur lining Vex had insisted on adding.
Three days of organizing chaos had left me exhausted, but there was still so much to do before we moved the entire floating fortress north.
To my surprise, most of the families staying with us were now happy for the Dark Lord’s protection, though a few grumbled about our failure to put the Shadow King back in his prison.
I hadn’t given them the details, however.
They didn’t need to know that we’d been the ones to actually free the Shadow King.
The battlements were mercifully empty except for the shadow sentries that rippled along the walls. I found my husband exactly where Thorne had said he’d be—standing at the eastern edge, staring out at the horizon where storm clouds gathered.
Kazimir wore only a thin silk shirt and dark pants, the fabric rippling in the wind. No cloak. No jacket. Just him and the elements, as if the bitter cold couldn’t touch him.
But I could see the truth in the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the stone parapet. His runes were burning again.
“You’re going to freeze,” I said, coming up beside him.
“I run hot.” His voice was flat, distracted. “How goes the herding of entitled sheep?”
“About as well as you’d expect.” I leaned against the parapet, studying his profile. “Lord Brightwater is convinced his room is haunted. I didn’t know Skyspire had ghosts.”
Kazimir’s laugh was dark, humorless. “How can it not be? Every stone in this place has witnessed death. The dungeons just happen to concentrate the screaming in one convenient location, but that’s not the extent by a long shot.
But Griffin’s probably been experimenting with spectral resonance again…
or trying more hand gestures. He’s probably angered all the ghosts, though I can’t say I’m sorry that Lord Brightwater has been inconvenienced. ”
I huffed a laugh. “The real problem is the families.”
Kaz turned to look at me, and I caught the flash of pain in his eyes before he masked it. “What families?”
I pinned him with a look. “The hostages from the Chamber of Petals want their loved ones brought to Skyspire. Same with the ones from Valmont. They’re worried about retaliation, about the Shadow King targeting anyone with even a drop of heroic blood.
” I sighed. “We’re looking at potentially doubling our… population.”
“Absolutely not.” The words came out as a growl. “I agreed to temporary shelter for those already here. I’m not running a refugee camp for every nervous noble in the Western Realms.”
“They have a point, though. If the Shadow King—”
“Can track heroic bloodlines, yes, I’m aware.” He turned back to the horizon. “Fine. But they work. Everyone works. No freeloaders in my fortress.”
“Already ahead of you. I’ve been assigning jobs based on skills.” I paused. “We’re going to need more supplies, though. And more space. Griffin’s already drawing up expansion plans—”
“Of course he is.” But there was fondness beneath the exasperation. “Anything else I should know about? Any other ways my perfectly good fortress of doom is being transformed into a small city?”
“Well, Lord Peregrine arrived this morning to officially take over as regent of Solandris.”
Kazimir’s hands tightened on the stone. “And?”
“And he brought a gift. Apparently, the Northern Peaks’ wool is excellent for winter clothing, so he sent several crates.” I smiled. “He also said, and I quote, ‘The administrative systems are adequate but will require significant restructuring.’ Sebastian nearly died of embarrassment.”
“Thrilling.” Kazimir’s voice was dry as dust. “I’m sure the wool will be very useful when we’re fleeing for our lives from an ancient evil.”
“You’re in a mood.”
“I’m always in a mood.”
“This is a different one.” I stepped closer, close enough to feel the unnatural heat radiating from his body. The runes were definitely active. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he pulled a letter from his pocket, holding it out to me. “This arrived an hour ago.”
I took the parchment from Marlowe. As I read, my stomach dropped.
There is no memory mage in the Spire. No Mnemosyne. No shop. The name belonged to a mage who died a century ago. I have been trying to track down more information for weeks, but with no results.
“That’s—” I stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. “Impossible. I was there. I spoke to her. My truth-sense didn’t alert me to anything suspicious.”
“I’m wondering if there are ways around that.” Kazimir’s eyes were sharp now, focused.
The wind howled around my ears, making my face raw and my eyes water. I squinted up at Kaz. “How so?”
“We had a spy at Skyspire. Your truth-sense never gave Pip—or rather, the doppelganger—away.”
I gaped at Kaz. “True, but not everyone can be a doppelganger. They’re incredibly rare in this realm.”
He watched me intently. “My point is that we now know that your truth-sense isn’t infallible. Perhaps there are other types of magic that could be impervious to yours.”
“You think the Shadow King? He seems unlikely.”
Kazimir shook his head and looked out at the lightning around Skyspire.
Snow swirled in the flashes. “No, but there are other old types of magic that predate much of our current understanding of history, even Soriven himself. The Alchemist also thought your magic was different from other heroic blood, didn’t they?
So if not of Soriven, or only partly, it stands to reason it’s something older. ”
“And just as I exist, so could other forms, as well,” I mused.
He nodded.
I made a note to ask the Alchemist again, anyway. It’d be easy enough to find them still in a cell in the dungeons, which were darker but less crowded. Kaz had given him an upgrade, though, with a bigger window and their own fireplace and real furniture.
“Regardless, the restored memories are real,” I insisted. “I saw your mother before you even knew she was alive. I remembered things Sebastian confirmed. The potion worked.”
“That’s not the question.” He took the letter back, folding it carefully. “The question is who gave it to you and why.”
I wanted to argue, but something cold was settling in my chest. The shop had been so convenient, so perfectly placed. And Mnemosyne herself had been so helpful. Understanding. Exactly what I’d needed in that moment. “You think someone was manipulating me.”
“I think someone gave you exactly what you wanted when you were vulnerable and angry.” His voice was gentle now. “Information is never free, Arabella. There’s always a price.”
“I paid her.” But even as I said it, I knew how naive it sounded. “You’re thinking of the Alchemist.”
“The Alchemist’s debt was clear.” He gestured at the letter. “This is something else. Someone wanted you to have those memories. Someone with enough power to create an entire shop that doesn’t exist, to pose as a century-dead mage, to brew a potion that actually worked.”
The wind picked up, sending my hair whipping across my face. I pushed it back impatiently. “But why help me? What’s the gain?”
“That’s what worries me.” Kazimir turned to face me fully, and I could see the genuine concern beneath his usual paranoia. “Every gift has strings. Every kindness has a cost. And we don’t know what this one is yet.”
I wanted to dismiss his fears. Wanted to believe that sometimes people just helped because it was right. But I’d learned too much about the world to be that naive.
“So what do we do?”
“We wait.” He pulled me against him, and I could feel the heat of his runes through the thin silk. “We watch. And we prepare for whatever bill comes due.”
I pressed my face against his chest, breathing in the scent of storms and dark magic that always clung to him. “I hate this.”
“Which part? The mysterious benefactor with unknown motives? The fortress full of nobles we’re apparently adopting? Or the ancient evil running loose in the world?”
“Yes.” I felt him chuckle, the vibration running through his chest and into me. “All of it. Can’t we just have five minutes of peace?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” But his arms tightened around me. “Besides, you’d be bored within three.”
He was probably right. Still…
“The memories helped,” I said quietly. “Even if someone gave them to me for their own reasons, they helped. I understand things now that I didn’t before.”
“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
We stood there as the wind howled around us, holding each other against the growing storm. Somewhere in the fortress below, nobles argued about accommodations, and Griffin probably set something on fire. Somewhere beyond our walls, the Shadow King plotted our destruction.
And somewhere, maybe, a mysterious benefactor waited to collect on a debt I didn’t even know I owed.
The wind howled louder, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled through the clouds, shaking the foundations of the citadel.