Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  Jyn caught my eyes. When I looped my arm through his again, he squeezed my hand and turned me toward the door. “Let’s go find your beau, shall we?”

  My lungs were starved for air. I let Jyn lead me on as I pulled in short gasps. I focused on my footsteps, then my surroundings. Another door, more crew. More reluctant guards. I didn’t know why Audri hadn’t come to stop us with the commotion we were causing.

  I scanned the hallway. My heart burst into a frenzy and hammered painfully against my ribs. I couldn’t breathe at all now. Tears filled my eyes and dampened my cheeks. Were they gone? Were they . . .

  Two doors.

  Only two more doors.

  Jyn tightened his grip around my hand. My fingers slipped around the cool metal of the nearest door handle. I managed a long, deep breath. Closed my eyes, repeated the gesture.

  And pushed.

  Air gusted from my lungs. Camion lay sprawled across a bed, unconscious. I could barely make out the steady rise and fall of his chest from where I stood. A bandage wrapped around his head, but he seemed otherwise intact.

  On the floor, wrapped in blankets and black silk to match the rest of us, Andimir grinned. “I wondered when you might wake up.”

  “How is he?” I croaked, pointing at the bed.

  Andimir lifted a shoulder. “Alive.” His eyes fell to the floor.

  “What do you mean, ‘alive?’”

  “I mean he wasn’t conscious when I found him, nor the rest of you for that matter.” Andimir sighed. “But he’s alive, and so are you.”

  “How?” Jyn asked. His hand reflexively went for a dagger. I saw the mourning flicker through his eyes, the thought of his blades buried at the bottom of the ocean.

  “I have my ways.” Andimir’s lip curled, but his expression remained flat. He stared pointedly at the guards outside the door. “I’ll tell you another time. You three have been out for at least two days.”

  “And not you?” Meryn asked between pursed lips.

  “No.” He met her glare and shrugged, frowning. “Later.”

  Meryn nodded, then gripped Jyn’s arm. “We should . . .” She jerked her chin toward Camion, eyes falling to Andimir.

  “I’m in full agreeance,” the pirate said jovially, jumping to his feet. He clapped Jyn on the shoulder, who released my arm with clear reluctance. “Let’s go see if we can find someone to alert the Queen to your newfound wakefulness, yes?”

  Jyn grumbled under his breath but moved to follow. The Elf shot a wary glance over his shoulder before he passed the threshold. Meryn nudged him on, wagging her eyebrows at me. Andimir started to follow, but I grabbed his arm.

  “Hey,” I began, shifting my weight under his confused stare. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  He patted my hand. “And I you, My Queen.”

  I rolled my eyes, making him grin, before I pushed the door closed behind him.

  Then we were alone.

  Fear, a different brand than I had ever known, crept into my chest. What if Camion didn’t wake? Ever? What if this was the end for us? What if Eurybia took him from me?

  Then she’ll pay.

  My jaw clenched at the thought. The words were empty, especially when I had fared so ill however many days ago. But they gave me courage and strengthened my resolve. I took one step. Another.

  I sat on the bed beside him and gathered his hands into my lap. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. Or say. How to wake him, how to fix this.

  So, I did the one thing I knew would help me if I were in his place. I leaned against the banister, laced my fingers with his, and started talking. The words fell free into loose, rambling stories. My adventures as a child or the ways I had pranked Jyn. Tales of Andimir, Meryn, and even a couple with Lucian—when times had been better, before he became so consumed.

  My chatter would sound mindless to anyone passing by, especially when Camion was still out cold, but . . . stories could reach me in my darkest recesses. I didn’t have any real way to help him, but words—words had the power to heal when nothing else helped.

  So, I talked.

  I lost track of time. All my attention was focused on Camion’s chest, on the rhythmic breaths that motivated me onward, through a story about Annalea that made me sad and happy with each passing sentence.

  Finally he stirred and my heart leaped into my throat. A minute passed. Two. Then his eyes were open. Blue and green, dimmed with exhaustion but brightening when they found me.

  “Tyli?” His voice was airy. “Thank Nahara . . .”

  “I’m here. I’m safe,” I whispered, ignoring the catch in my throat. I blinked away the tears filling my eyes.

  His momentary joy darkened, though. He pulled himself upright to brush his fingers along my cheek. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m fine. Achy, but fine. How do you feel?”

  He shook his head dismissively. “Sore, but alive.”

  His eyes didn’t leave the bruising, so I lifted my hands and cupped his cheeks. “Bruises are a small price to pay, if I’m allowed more time with you.”

  Camion didn’t answer for a moment. Then he leaned forward and brushed a kiss across my lips.

  “I thought you were gone,” he murmured, threading his fingers into my hair. My throat caught when he added, “I watched you fall. I couldn’t get to you.”

  “Cam—”

  “Tyli, I tried,” he cut in. “Nahara, I tried. But that—” He swallowed the profanity. A muscle ticked along the line of his jaw. When he spoke again, I could barely hear him. “That? Losing you? Thinking I was watching you die, and I couldn’t do anything to save you? I can’t—”

  My heart clenched as his eyes closed, his throat bobbing. I drew my thumb across his cheek and waited until his gaze met back with mine.

  “I’m okay.” I pressed my lips to his. Repeated the words and action again. And again.

  The third time, he tightened his grip in my hair, pulling me to him, his mouth warm and gentle. Asking that question, our question, without words. I replied in kind. Because the terror behind us wasn’t so hard to face if I had this. If I had him.

  He made sure nothing about our journey was too much.

  When he leaned away, his eyes lingering on the bruises, I slid my hands around his and tugged them into my lap. “They’ll fade.”

  “Have you seen them?” His fingers tightened around mine. I shook my head. “You’re right. They’ll fade.”

  I could have kissed him again. Would have, if not for the light taps on the door.

  “Are you two fully clothed?”

  Rolling my eyes, I snorted. “Yes, Meryn, always.”

  “I’m going to assume that won’t always be true,” she snarked as the door swung open. I expected to see Jyn behind her, or at least Andimir. When she caught my expression, she said, “They’re with Audri and Phelix.”

  “You left them with her?”

  Camion’s brows drew together. “Is there something wrong with them?”

  “Queen Audri of Kalum and her husband, King Phelix,” I said. “But yes. Maybe. I’ve heard terrible things.”

  “You shouldn’t be so quick to listen to rumors,” Meryn chastised.

  I frowned. My mother had distrusted the Queen of Kalum, for reasons that were never entirely made clear. They weren’t allied with us, not as Wydus was, and that alone made me wary. Meryn was unbiased though . . . that held merit. I would have to decide for myself.

  Leaping to my feet, I winced at the sudden adjustment. As soon as I was steady, I said, “Take us.” Shooting a glance over my shoulder, I added, “If you’re okay? You did wake up minutes ago, after all.”

  Camion stood, barely flinching. “I’m sore, not wounded.” His fingers trailed the bandage on his head. “Or not grievously, anyway. Lead on.”

  His hand brushed the small of my back as I slipped out the door behind Meryn. She led us down several hallways, filled with more of those ornate mirrors.
I tried not to gawk at the dark purple splotch that the side of my face had become.

  The Palace of Kalum was, admittedly, beautiful—though in its own dark, macabre way. Every wall was decorated with elaborate carvings, mirrors, jeweled animal skulls, or painted brocade. The shadowed elegance spread into every room we entered, the dark granite and ebony wood uniform throughout. Candles weren’t only tucked into sconces, but also on shelves, on stairs, on tables. Dried white wax trailed over the dark surfaces, pooling down onto the floor—the only mess in an otherwise meticulous home.

  A guard hustled us up a long set of stairs that had Camion and I both groaning with discomfort. When we reached the top, we were led to a massive set of black marble doors, inlaid with a mosaic of jewels set to look like an ocean sunset.

  Audri’s throne room.

  Chapter 16

  Kalum had spared no cost on this chamber. The busy decor of the other rooms fell away to a grand space with sweeping ceilings that stretched toward the sky. Sparkling stained glass shimmered above, casting rainbows across the black marble floor. Jeweled sconces lined the walls, filled with flickering candles that gave the room an eerie feeling; one further enhanced by the looming obsidian thrones on the far wall.

  Audri perched on the edge of her throne, Phelix splayed on his own beside her. Guards stood silent around them. A yellow glow from one of the skylights made her light brown skin almost golden, a striking contrast against the black dress she wore. One that, with more color, I could see my mother or sister wearing.

  I blanched at the pang of longing in my chest—I missed Annalea. My steps stumbled and heat seared my cheeks. I raised my chin and tried to pretend that I was unbothered and as worthy of my crown as the two before me.

  Phelix noticed. His brow raised; a lock of curled black hair fell across his olive-toned cheek. He brushed it away nonchalantly and sat up straighter. The pommel of his sword clattered against the raised arm of his throne. He said nothing, though. Only watched with golden eyes, his face devoid of judgment.

  My missing companions stood in front of them. Jyn had a surly expression on his face, arms crossed over his chest. He winced again when his eyes landed on my bruised cheek and he quickly scanned the rest of me. When he could find nothing new wrong, he offered me his arm. I accepted the support, unwilling to admit aloud that my muscles wanted to collapse beneath me.

  Queen Audri stood and tilted her head as she scrutinized me and Camion. Her warm amber eyes locked onto my face as she ran her fingers through the black curls that framed her ears. Before addressing us, she motioned for a handful of the nearby guards to carry in chairs. She had them arranged in a crescent around the thrones, Phelix ever silent behind her, before she dropped back to her throne in an informal posture.

  “I’m sorry about the clothing,” she said finally, gesturing to the silky black dress that clung to my skin. “I wanted nicer attire, but Scarlet thought you might be overwhelmed already.”

  I scanned the hall, but her daughter was nowhere to be seen. Hastily, I said, “These are fine, thank you. Though . . . I have to ask. What happened? How are we here?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. Ask that one”—she pointed at Andimir—“or my husband.”

  The pirate’s cheeks darkened. He lowered his head. “I’m not entirely sure myself. I remember plunging into the water. After the strangest dream, I was awake on the beach. I’m not even sure how His Majesty found us.”

  Phelix lifted a shoulder. “People—humans—like to set up small campsites across our territory, since there are so few official cities or towns in our kingdom. We don’t bother them, unless they get large enough to be considered a true settlement. But I still patrol our borders, and often. A good thing, too, since you washed up in the little channel to the south.”

  “Yes, and Andimir said you were just north of Emeryn Marsh when you were attacked,” Audri said. She looked to me again, eyes narrowed. “I’m only suspicious because of a dream your captain mentioned. You traveled so far south, and with such haste . . .” Her attention snapped back to Andimir. “Go on, tell them.”

  Jyn’s hand went to his waist, then clenched into a fist. He scowled in Andimir’s direction, the distrust and warning clear in his eyes.

  Andimir winced. “It was only a dream.”

  “And still,” Audri said, leveling her tone, “I insist.”

  The threat in her voice made me uneasy.

  “I dreamed that I fell into the water and drowned. Or nearly drowned.” Andimir’s attention was fixed on a small metal chain between his fingers, weighted by something on his palm. “And then Marinus was there.”

  “Who?” I asked, exchanging a confused glance with Camion.

  “The Titan Marinus?” asked Meryn, scrunching her nose.

  “Yes. He’s Eurybia’s father, the Ancient—erm, Titan—of oceans and storms. He blesses a sailor’s passage, if you earn his favor,” Andimir said in response. “But he said this wasn’t our time. That he needed us to fight a little longer.”

  “What does that mean?” Jyn asked.

  The pirate lifted a shoulder, casting a wary look around the room. “I don’t know. I was asleep. Dreaming . . . right?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to hit that spot on the border for another two days,” Phelix said slowly. “But a raven came, and I followed. So, you tell me. Were you dreaming?”

  “Fetian . . .” Andimir murmured. “Have you seen him since?”

  “He’s been hanging around outside the kitchens,” Audri said. “Don’t worry, we assumed he was too loyal to be some random animal. He’s been cared for.” Her fingers slipped to the thin strand of rubies hanging at her throat. “Phelix was in a very convenient location, wouldn’t you say, Natylia?” When I didn’t immediately respond, she added, “He’s thanking Nahara, but I’m thinking that’s the wrong Titan.”

  “Titan?” Jyn asked. “You don’t worship them as gods, like most humans?”

  Audri shook her head. “They’re Titans. Stronger, faster, and more able than humans maybe. Harder to kill, sure. But they’re no gods.”

  My stomach flipped. If Marinus was responsible for our rescue, there had to be a reason why. What did he want? What did he mean, we had to fight longer? Was he trying to help us? If he needed a favor of some kind, I was in no position to pay out.

  Maybe he wanted to stop Eurybia. His own daughter, though?

  I chewed on my lower lip, staring at the floor while leaning heavily against the back of my chair. If Marinus was alive and willing to reveal himself to Andimir, how many other Titans might be persuaded to help us?

  What about Nahara herself? Was she alive?

  Would she aid us, if she was?

  “Natylia?” Audri’s voice cut through my thoughts. Warmth grew on my arm, from the gentle weight of Camion’s hand. I blinked up at the queen.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you hear any of that?”

  “Sorry, no.” Heat rose in my cheeks at the confession.

  “I said, I’m not sure what happened or why you’re here, but I’m glad you are. We have a lot to discuss, and from the nature of your arrival, I’m assuming very little time. How are you feeling?” Her eyes sat fixed on my cheek. I squirmed under the concern.

  “I’m well enough to talk, certainly,” I said, though my voice cracked with nerves. Camion gently squeezed my arm, a small balm to my racing mind. Nothing seemed different about Audri herself—the few times I’d met her, she had been as well-dressed as she was casual in demeanor—but I couldn’t shake my mother’s and Kathryn’s words, now replaying in my mind and filling me with doubt. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Did you send the Shadows for my mother?”

  Audri froze. Blinked. Her throat bobbed. Phelix leaned forward, looping his fingers through hers. Audri’s eyes shimmered in the candlelight as she said, “No, Natylia. I’m saddened that you think I would.”

  I glanced at Meryn, who lifted her shoulders as if to say, “I told you so.” Jyn caught my eye for a
moment, inclining his head. He didn’t sense any deceit in her words, either.

  “You understand that I have to consider all options,” I said quietly, “and I haven’t asked you. I don’t know who murdered my mother, and the Shadows aren’t talking.”

  “No. They wouldn’t.” Audri released her husband’s hand to tug at her jewels and considered me for a moment. “Do you know what the Shadows really are?”

  “I know they’re not human, but otherwise, no.”

  “The Shadows are an old race. Old, and almost extinct. They may even be the last two. And they might hate humans more than the Titans do.”

  I frowned. “There’s a race that hates humans more than the Titans?”

  “Yes,” she said, casting a glance at the windows. “The Vampyr.”

  “Why do they hate humans?” Andimir asked.

  Phelix answered. “You know humans didn’t exist in Araenna for a long age, yes?”

  Before I could reply, Audri waved a dismissive hand, familiar with my early studies. “There are stories. Myths that tell how we came to be, depending on who you ask. The Dwarves would tell you they shaped humans—formed us from clay, breathed life into us—and then released us to destroy the Titans.”

  “But if you ask the Elves,” Jyn muttered, “humanity was a mutation, a plague that overtook our world.”

  The revelation surprised me. I knew the Elves were secretive, but I hadn’t anticipated their seclusion was from a distaste for humans. Maybe Jyn’s constant presence had blinded me to the prejudice.

  “The Numyra believe humans are defective children of their own line,” Meryn added. “And the Titans thought humans sprang from the earth fully formed. Or were perhaps brought by the Elves from another world through some form of arcane trickery.”

  Audri nodded. “None of the stories have ever been confirmed. How would you prove such an outlandish story? Some have leaned toward the Dwarven theory solely because the humans aided in the Titan’s fall. Dwarven crafts have always been the best of the best, the strongest, the most resilient. But . . . who would know?” She paused, twisting a ruby so that the red facets flickered in the candlelight. “The one thing we know for sure is that humans came to Araenna, and most of the races already here hate us for it.”