Текст книги "In the Veins of the Drowning"

Автор книги: Kalie Cassidy

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“They create their own spells?” I could only assume the spell that Eusia had used to bind us was her own.

Theodore gave a solemn nod. “The transference ritual my father performed—Rohana is the only one in Leucosia who can do it.” He was thoughtful for a moment as we moved out of the stream clearing. “I don’t know much about the First Mage, but I do remember that she was executed, gutted if my memory is correct, for the way she used magic. There’s little in the histories about her. She was executed back in the First Years, when the Great Gods were new. That’s all I know.”

We wound down a sloping hill, back into the vineyards we’d traveled through on the way north. “Rohana said that our bond—mine and Eusia’s—was forged by taking the Siren bond and mixing it with magic. She said I was the one who had performed the spell—that I would have to be the one to break it. But I have no idea how.”

We rode side by side. “The ritual,” he said. “The prayer Nemea would make you recite. What was it, again?”

“‘I give to the sand. I give to the water. Hear me, heed me. Cleanse the sea.’” The words left an acerbic film over my tongue.

“The spell should have made you ill.” He narrowed his gaze, contemplative. “Would you feel unwell after performing the ritual?”

“No.” The night was settling over us, taking the last of the day’s warmth with it. “I didn’t feel much of anything up in those mountains. I expect if I perform a spell at sea level I will.” I wrapped myself in the knit shawl that Antonia had gifted me. “Do you have books on magic back at the palace? Anything the Great God Jesop wrote.”

“Yes. There are quite a few,” Theodore said carefully. “But they’re not allowed to be accessed.”

“You mean by commoners?”

He dipped his chin and looked at me with a sheepish eye. “No, not even I am allowed to take them from the lower study.”

A harsh wind cut through the vineyard, prickling my skin. I could feel his attention linger on me. “Who dares to tell you no?” I gave him a sardonic smirk. “I’d like a lesson from them on how it’s done.”

His chuckle was dark as the twilight shadows. “There’s a very tightly wound hermitess down there that does not let me—or anyone—enter.”

“Well, Your Majesty”—I straightened in my saddle—“your hermitess has not met the likes of me. I’m rather an expert at making people do what they don’t want to, aren’t I?”

He gave me a smoldering look, the barest edge of a smile on his lips. The warmth of his quiet laugh cut through the night’s chill. “May the Great Gods go with you. The hermitess carries a very knobby stick that she would swing at me when I was little and tried to sneak in.”

I laughed, but soon that awful, strained quiet that we had begun our journey in settled back around us. He picked up our pace, riding at a gallop through endless vineyards. It must have been midnight when my eyes were finally growing droopy. A thundering sound rocked the air, jolting me fully awake. Horse hooves.

Theodore pulled on his reins. “Whoa.”

I slowed my mare too. “Is that coming from up ahead or behind?”

Before he could answer, a horn sliced through the night.

“Soldiers.” Theodore called out into the darkness. “Slow up ahead! This is your king. Slow your mounts!”

The retinue came into view and slowed into well-ordered rows. Bringing up the rear was a small carriage. “Your Majesty?” called a familiar voice. Lachlan rode toward the head of the group, fully outfitted in his gold armor. Even in the moonlight, I could make out the strain on his face, the worry strung through him. “I thought you’d still be with the Mage Seer. We were coming to find you.”

“What’s happened?” Theodore asked, bracing himself for the reply.

But Lachlan didn’t answer. He looked to me with derision in his gaze instead. “You’re looking surprisingly well for being in the middle of a severing ritual.”

“I…” I bristled in my saddle. “We didn’t—”

Theodore cut me off. “I asked you what happened, Commander.”

“Ammos was sacked,” Lachlan said, grimly. “So was Notos on the west shore. Nemea’s doubled the size of his fleet with mercenary ships. More than we anticipated. He shouldn’t have the money for it.” Lachlan gave me another withering glare. “The empress isn’t pleased. She’s sent a missive for her own fleet to come and aid you. She’s demanding you rally Sirens and force them to use their power to bolster the navy. Sink the fleet so that her daughter becoming queen need not be delayed. Tell me you performed the severance, and that Imogen is just uncommonly resilient.”

Theodore was stoic as ever, sitting tall and unmoving. But I could sense that what Lachlan had just shared ripped at him.

“Your Majesty?” Lachlan’s gaze darted between the two of us.

“We didn’t do it,” I said. “Not yet. We… There was—a complication.”

“A complication?” Lachlan gave an angry laugh. “What was it? Like a ‘you lost the draught’ type of complication? A ‘didn’t quite feel like going through the trouble’ type of complication?”

“Enough,” Theodore snapped. “You won’t speak to her that way.” He dismounted and made for the carriage at the back of the line. Called out to the riders in a barking command, “Back to the palace.” He glared at me, then Lachlan. “With me. We need to talk.”

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The carriage was small and tight, jostling Theodore and me into each other’s sides as it raced down the North Road, back toward Genevreer Palace.

Across from us, livid on the narrow bench, sat Lachlan. His dark brows were lowered, menacing eyes on Theodore. “What happened to you, Theo?” The question was withering, accusatory.

Theodore stiffened. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you have been so tightly fucking wound for years. You’ve been perfect. Always in line—to the point that I started to wonder if there was something wrong with you.” Lachlan raked his fingers through his short hair. “And now—since her—you can’t make a sound choice to save your life. What complication could possibly have prevented you from unbinding the second you got that draught?”

Defensiveness, shockingly, rose up in me like hackles. I spoke before Theodore could. “King Nemea is my father,” I said, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “I share a blood bond with Eusia—with all the nekgya. If I want true safety for myself and Sirenkind, I need to find and kill Eusia. Theodore wanted to remain bound because doing so would offer me additional safety from the danger I’ll face.”

Lachlan’s face creased with confusion. He looked between us. “That’s not a Godsdamned complication. That’s Imogen’s responsibility. And it should have no bearing on your own, Theo.”

Theodore bristled. “The Sirens are my citizens. They have been my people since Queen Ligea disappeared. Imogen’s success in this falls under my responsibility as king.”

Lachlan’s gaze cut between the two of us once more and a slow realization slackened his face. “Oh shit. Shit.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re kidding me.”

“What is it?” I glanced to Theodore, then back to Lachlan.

“Of all the beautiful women I’ve thrown at you over the years.” Lachlan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of all the very eligible, very safe, very unproblematic women you’ve had your hands on, this is the one you fall in love with!”

Theodore went so still beside me that time seemed to halt.

The silence that followed let me hear how my heart raged. It stretched out, so long that it was an answer in itself. A mingling of dread and elation filled me.

“Are you going to deny it?” Lachlan asked, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t be surprised. This is what happens when you try to be impossibly good. You fall apart for the first naked woman who forces her way into your bed.”

Theodore launched himself across the small distance between them. One hand gripped Lachlan’s throat, and the other hauled back, ready to land a blow.

I screamed, pulling at Theodore’s shoulder. The carriage was too small. It filled with groans and flailing arms. Theodore managed to reach around me, clipping Lachlan’s nose with his fist. I wedged myself between the two men, pushing my back into Theodore’s chest and my palms into Lachlan’s breastplate.

“Stop it. What the hell is wrong with you?” I bellowed at Lachlan. A clot of red dribbled from his nostril. Both men gasped for control on opposite benches, but I still knelt on the carriage floor between them, not trusting them in the least.

“I need him with his head on straight.” Lachlan swiped at his nose with the back of his hand, then sneered at the smear of blood.

“I know,” I snapped. “I know you do.” I shoved harder against Lachlan’s breastplate. His lips flattened into a severe line. “But that’s not how you get it, you idiot. He should have hit you harder.”

The carriage suddenly lurched, throwing me forward, then backward. As I fell back, my head rammed into Theodore’s chin. He gave a pained hiss as he wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me. There was a loud clatter outside. Horses whickered; soldiers shouted to one another.

Both Lachlan and Theodore tensed. Lachlan went for his sword that lay on the bench beside him. Theodore pulled the spare from the wall above his seat.

“What is it?” I whispered.

The carriage had slowed and now it sat at a complete stop.

“Stay in the carriage,” Lachlan said as he slipped his gilded helmet back on. He peeked around the window curtain, but all I could see from my vantage was darkness. He threw the door open and slipped out. Theodore closed it and turned the puny lock. He lowered the flame in the small lantern that swayed from the ceiling until we sat, breathing tightly, in the dark.

Our sides were pressed against each other’s. “Should I go out there?” I whispered. “If there’s a threat I could help. My lure is better than shooting an arrow into the dark.”

“No.” Theodore sounded immovable. “They’re more skilled than you are, and you’re safest in here.”

I bit into my lip. “I used both your power and mine well enough when you were unconscious after the prophecy.” He shook his head, but I scolded him before he could tell me no again. “I’ll be in danger, Theodore. Over and over again, death and danger will cross my path, and you cannot be the one to beat them back every time.”

I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but I could hear the long breath he pushed through his nose. The soldiers’ voices were muffled through the carriage walls, the clinking of their armor dampened, but I could still make out their every sound.

One of them called into the vineyard. “Come out. Weapons down.”

There came a ping and a whistle of air followed by a dull thunk. A groan rang out, followed by the heavy, metallic crunch of an armored body falling to the ground.

Then all hell broke loose.

Shouts rang through my ears. Clanging metal and whinnying. Theodore swore as I dove past him. I twisted the little lock and threw the carriage door open. My boots slipped over the mud. Theodore gripped my elbow to steady me. His soldiers looked like beacons, gold glowing in the moonlight, and in their midst moved a handful of wraith-dark figures. They were merely men, but they moved with treacherous grace, quick and nimble amid the metal-clad soldiers.

Theodore stood at my side, sword at the ready. I kept my back to the carriage, inching around it until I was close enough to one of the men clad in black.

I sent all my focus to the center of my body. To the place where my power sat, where my sick bond with Eusia stuck to me like a parasite. I latched onto it, felt the place heat and open like a ravenous, unhinging mouth. A frisson of power crept up my chest, into my throat, and in a blink an invisible lure flew forth, hooking right into the man’s spine.

He froze. His back arched. He took an unsteady step backward, boot splashing through a puddle. As if he were puppeted by strings at the tip of my fingers, he turned with jerking movements to face me. A shock ran through me. It was one of the men Theodore and I had met at the caretaker’s cottage. I recognized him—the handsome one. Blond, waving hair, and eyes so light I could see them in the moonlight.

“Im, get back.” Theodore’s grip was protective and strong on my arm. He tried to jerk me away, but I resisted him.

The man’s jaw fell open as he tried in vain to suck in a breath. My panicked gaze tripped down his body, over his black, worn clothes, to the bandolier slung over his chest, then to the red band that was wrapped around his biceps.

A twisting eel, fangs bared, wove around the edge of the band. “You’re a mercenary?” I asked. “King Nemea hired you?”

He was shaking, his face reddening with strain. I eased my lure, allowing him one quick breath.

“Answer me.” I pulled a dagger from his bandolier and held it to his throat. Metal clanged around us, shouts rang out, and fists landed blows on flesh behind him. Theodore set his sword arching toward a mercenary to his right with a grunt. I tightened my lure on the man before me once more. His eyes bulged. He gave no answer.

But the band on his arm was answer enough.

My rage rose in a wave, and I slashed the dagger across his throat. Blood spewed from the cut in a curtain of red, spraying over the front of my shirt. Theodore winced at my side. I released my lure the moment the man fell to his knees.

Seeing that eel, knowing how close Nemea had come to me—I’d not known this sort of consuming terror. Spurred by it, the power in my middle became hotter, thicker, prompting a slew of lures to fly from me. They sank deep into the mercenary men scattered through the road, making them spasm and collapse to the mud.

Theodore’s soldiers stepped back, watching in astonishment as the men they’d just been in combat with writhed on the ground, choking and grabbing at their throats. My vision had blurred with fury. I tightened my hold on the lures, eyes stinging, breath fast, when Theodore’s fingers gripped hard into my arm once more.

“Imogen, stop.” He shook me, urgent. “Damn it. Stop.” He ran through the handful of convulsing men. He lifted one of them into his arms, screamed my name again.

It wasn’t until Theodore heaved the man further into his embrace that my vision seemed to clear. It was Lachlan.

Horror struck me in a searing bolt. I pulled in a hiccuping gasp and cut every lure I’d sent out. Sucking sounds scraped at my ears as the mercenaries all took in a frantic breath at once. Theodore’s soldiers moved toward them so quickly that I stumbled back a step. The tips of their swords pierced through skin and rib, conjuring a gruesome chorus of death cries. Dark, thick blood spread over the mud, seeping through the puddles like the earth itself was bleeding out.

Slowly, Theodore helped a shaken Lachlan to stand. He looped his arm over his shoulder and together they moved over the bodies of the dead and dying. “On your horses,” Theodore ordered in a weary voice. “Onward.”

The soldiers’ distrustful gazes clawed at me. Some of them scooped up the limp body of the soldier who’d been shot from his horse. A snapped arrow protruded from the side of his neck. They removed his breastplate and threw him over his horse’s back, belly down.

“Lachlan. I’m sorry,” I said as they passed me for the carriage.

Lachlan shook his head. “We’re even.” He tried for a crooked smirk. Theodore’s gaze was downcast. “I should know better than to make you mad.”

His voice was hoarse from how I’d strangled him. It made my stomach roll with sick. Lachlan climbed into the carriage, but Theodore lingered for a breath. I waited for him to look at me, to see how I was rattled, to give me his ever-steady comfort and pull me up from the darkness I’d too easily slipped into.

Instead, he rolled a tight shoulder, then entered the carriage. In his absence, the world grew overloud. The ring of swords forced back into their scabbards, the horses’ nickering, the soldiers’ voices. The incessant echo of the waves in the distance; the unending rattle of the grape leaves. My mind played cruel tricks too, showing me Lachlan’s face contorted, and Theodore’s etched with brutal worry. The meaty smell of blood from my shirt sat heavy in my nose. It had grown sticky and cold. I stepped through the mud, head hung, toward the carriage door. I decided then that the moment after our severing ritual was complete would be the last I would see Theodore. For I was as undiscerning as a storm, as ruinous as a tidal wave crashing, and I could never live with myself if he was caught in my devastation.

Theodore’s hand found my leg, gave it a shake. “We’re here.”

Two days had passed. The carriage wheels crunched over gravel. I peeked through the window and yawned. Genevreer Palace seemed like a skeleton lit aflame in the night. Its stone walls were pale as bone, its windows glowing bright against the black sky.

The carriage rolled to a stop and a short line of servants greeted us. Theodore exited the carriage first, but he did not reach back to help me down himself. A servant came swiftly on his heels, his glove soft against my hand as he helped me down the narrow steps.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

His brown eyes raked over the filthy shirt I still wore. It was creased and stiff with dried blood. In the melee, the saddlebag that had held my spare clothes had fallen from its restraints, left behind among the bodies and blood. The dress Antonia had gifted me had been in that bag. It brought a strange sadness over me to think of it lost—one more thing I’d ruined.

I looked down the front of my body. I wore Theodore’s ill-fitting trousers, tied with a frayed rope. Mud caked my boots. My hair was stiff in places with mats. At least Theodore had taken a moment to bathe in the shallow stream beyond the city boundaries that afternoon. I watched him cross the gravel drive. Even with his threadbare shirt rolled to the elbows like a worker’s, even exhausted, there was no mistaking precisely who and what he was. He stood at the base of the marble palace stoop, chin tipped back regally, shoulders square and strong.

I’d not realized just how much of his armor he’d let fall away while we’d traveled. Alone with me in the wildlands, he’d been someone else entirely. Now, all the soft, vulnerable pieces of him were suddenly hidden away.

I stopped at his side. “I’d like to bathe.”

He gave me a quick nod. Something had shifted between us since I’d lost my control. Since I’d nearly killed Lachlan.

It made me certain of at least one thing: The king of Varya could not allow himself to love me. Here, in his world, we could never be. I was something fearsome, untrustworthy. And he… he wore his crown so well.

The severing draught sat heavy in my pocket. “Tonight, we should—” I started, but Theodore’s attention was elsewhere.

“We should what?” he asked, absently. A deep line creased his brow as he took in a long line of opulent carriages, tucked one after the other down the long drive like a string of gaudy beads.

“What’s the matter?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know why all these carriages are here.” He turned and took the stairs two at a time. I moved quickly to keep up, racing behind him down the middle of the entry hall. Ghostly music echoed off the walls, the tune delicate, almost melancholic. Theodore followed the sound all the way to the ornate door situated at the palace’s back wall. He heaved it open and halted right upon the threshold.

It was his throne room. It was a soaring space, drenched in crystal and gold, and brimmed with extravagantly attired guests. It was as if Theodore had lifted the gilded lid of a jewel box that held the brightest of stones. Varya’s nobility had a wealth that Seraf’s could only dream of.

Theodore took a rigid step into the room and the herald’s voice boomed over the violins and murmurs and laughter. The music cut out as every guest bowed. I wanted to bolt behind the door, but Theodore plodded farther into the room, eyes scanning the scene in shock.

“The bridegroom has returned.” The empress appeared from the center of the crowd, arms spread wide in benevolent greeting.

I lingered as far behind as I could without our bond cramping with sick. Boots scraped behind me and Lachlan was there, helmet in hand.

“Fuck me,” he mumbled when he saw the way Theodore’s anger had rounded his wide back and curled his hands to fists.

“What is this?” Theodore asked the empress through a locked jaw.

The empress tilted her head, a bland look on her pale face. It was a wonder her massive diamond crown didn’t slide to the floor with the movement. “An engagement party, of course. The wedding is in just over a week.”

Princess Halla emerged from amid the guests and swept into an absurdly grand curtsy before Theodore. Her white gown was tight and studded with sparkling beads. A sheer, flowing white hood billowed over her shoulders and hooked to her tiara. “Your Majesty, I’m happy for your return.” She stood once more and gave him a blooming smile. “I’m sure you’d like to refresh yourself, but may I request a dance before you do?”

Theodore was still. Red crept up his throat, which bobbed as he swallowed back his temper. He gave Halla an almost polite nod. “One dance.”

The princess’s smile grew somehow brighter as she lifted her arms. Theodore held her hand and, keeping their distance, took her by the waist. The music swelled. The crowd cleared away. With the first steps of their dance the blood bond made my stomach feel like it was stretching. It gave a deep ache, a protesting surge of discontent. Saliva trickled over my tongue. I didn’t budge. I merely clamped my jaw, chest squeezing, and endured the discomfort.

I could feel Lachlan’s gaze on me. “You okay?”

“Don’t act like you care.”

“I care.” He blew out a fast breath. “I was mad when I found you on the road. It’s been stressful.”

“The severing draught is in my pocket.” I watched a stoic Theodore glide the princess through the steps of the dance. “Can you find Agatha for me? I’d like her to be with me when I take it.”

Lachlan gave me a heavy, searching look. “Does Theo know?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t tell him. Please.”

He pursed his lips, looking ill at ease. “I’ll find Agatha.”

As soon as he left my side, a smooth, lilting voice trilled in my ear. “It looks like your travel was quite harrowing, Lady Nel.” Empress Nivala sounded benign enough, but her lapis eyes were keen as she took in the state of me.

I stepped back and dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Quite.”

Her gaze cut away from me, and she watched contentedly as her daughter and Theodore continued their dance. “They’re lovely together, aren’t they?”

They were. He was the sun, fervent, constant, and it was she that was the pale, glittering moon, brightened by his presence. What was I then, I wondered? The slinking darkness, perhaps, burned away by the light of them both.

When the empress’s attention returned to me, the wrinkles at her eyes deepened with puzzlement. “Is there a reason that you linger? You’re covered in days-old blood.”

“No, Your Imperial Majesty.” I curtsied again, my stomach twisting further. “Excuse me.”

“Ahh, a moment.” She’d gone oddly still, all her icy attention zeroed in on me, or rather, on the engagement ring I still wore on my finger. I stopped in my muddy tracks. “Your name, my lady—Nel.” Her casual tone was so at odds with her piercing gaze. She extended a hand toward mine, the fingers long and bone pale, but her touch was warm, soft. She took my hand—the one with the ring—and began to stroke the back of it with the pad of her index finger. “I’d like to know its origins.”

Cold skittered through me, but I offered her an agreeable nod and worked to clear my mind enough to answer. Nemea’s family name was Miros. I couldn’t even remember what Ligea’s had been, though I’d learned it in my lessons. “I was born on Seraf,” I answered with a shaking voice. I could only offer her the story I’d been told.

“Seraf. I see.” Her eyes shone with cunning. That finger still traced a repetitive line over my hand. “It’s an interesting name,” she said through a small, unfriendly smile. “It’s Obelian.” Her finger stopped moving, but she did not let me go. “Did you know?”

My throat tightened, senses on alert. I shook my head.

She looked out at the collection of beautifully dressed nobility, at Theodore and Halla. Then her gaze sliced to mine. “I’ll tell you of it,” she said, as if sharing a secret that was to be kept between us. “Years ago, back when King Athan still ruled, when Seraf’s king, Nemea, was still young, my husband died. Sweet man. Simple. He liked horses. The blandest consort an empress could ever hope for.” She gave a cold chuckle. “All the Leucosian rulers came north for the remembrance. Queen Rillion. Queen Ligea too. Some of them had never visited the continent before—it’s quite a distance. The Nels were a very rich, very old Obelian family that I had been close with since my youth. Our families intermarried for generations, but by then, their members were few. A matriarch remained, her sickly grown son, and his mousy wife. They had a quiet little girl with the most perfect white curls. That first night, they hosted an elegant dinner for the Leucosian royals in their manor home.

“Between courses, we toured their gardens. It was summer and the night was unusually balmy for the north. When we returned for the next course a half an hour later, the bodies of the Nels—all four of them—were piled in the middle of the dining room, beside the table.” She tutted as if to say such a shame. “They’d been sliced open from their necks to their groins, so deeply that their insides spilled out onto the lovely rug.” Again, that finger traced a slow line down the back of my hand. Down the middle. Mimicking the way the Nels had been sliced. “The matriarch’s body had been stripped of its jewels. A spinel necklace and earrings to match. A ring too.”

I jolted. “That’s an awful story.”

“It is.”

“Why did you tell it to me?”

“Oh well.” She brushed her thumb over my palm quickly—over my many scars. She smiled. Then she let me go. “You, born on Seraf, with that name. It brought forth the memory.” She gave a thoughtful hum. “Nemea was very handsome then. He was very attentive to me in my shock and grief over my late husband. I wonder how he’s fared.”

My pulse sped. “How many years ago was this?”

Her blue eyes rolled upward in thought. “Halla was not born yet, so, twenty-five years ago now. My, time is a savage thing, isn’t it?”

In that moment, it was not time that I thought to be savage. “Good evening, Your Imperial Majesty.”

I dipped into a shaky curtsy, stole one last glance at Theodore, and blood bond be damned, fled the throne room.

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