Jyn slipped away, bouncing between cover until he was next to me and Camion. He reached behind his back. Green opal sparkled in the sunlight, tied tightly beside a handle of maple wood identical to that of the Imber Scepter.
“Take this,” he muttered, shoving the Tellus Scepter at me.
For a moment I was entranced by the Scepter, by the way the rainbowed green opal sparkled in the sun. Then I shouldered my bow and tucked my arrow away. But I hesitated, my thoughts drifting back to the catacombs, the wall, the unpredictable magic that coursed through me. “Are you sure I should?”
“Take the Scepter, Nat. Just don’t put the stone in.” I winced at his tone and he gestured at the dragon apologetically. “I’m needed.”
He held the Scepter out again. I wrapped my fingers around the smoothly polished handle. Before he could read my reaction, he bolted. Camion, however, lowered his bow, his eyes locked onto my hand. Blue and purple sparkles gathered across my skin and spread over my body. I met Camion’s stare.
“Is the Scepter doing anything?” he asked.
“Only this.” I motioned at the sparkling magic. A moment later I regretted the dismissal, as a wave of warm power spread through me, knocking me onto my backside.
“Okay,” I gasped after a moment, Camion’s hand on my arm. “A little more than just the visuals, then. I’m okay.”
I pulled myself up, ignoring the protests of my wounds. A blaze of heat rose to my left, drawing my attention. Meryn had become a pillar of living flame, her body engulfed in dancing fire.
She erupted.
Yellow-orange light blasted from her open palms. The beast turned his head in her direction, growling at the flames lashing up its side.
The creature stilled.
That massive, angry, black and purple dragon froze—to study Meryn. A flicker of hesitation sparked within the depths of its hollowed eyes and, for a moment, the creature didn’t move. Simply assessed, all the while ignoring Meryn’s fresh assault.
My jaw fell when the dragon knelt.
As much as a dragon could, anyway. The beast lowered his massive head to the ground at Meryn’s feet. Flaming purple eyes closed, wings folded into his sides—the absolute picture of obedience.
Meryn didn’t move, even when her fire extinguished. The dragon dared a glance up, puffing a soft breath of steam in her direction. Meryn extended a hand and touched the dragon’s nose. When he nuzzled under her touch Meryn glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide and brow drawn.
“What’s happening?” Andimir asked, stepping out from behind the massive body. The dragon twisted its head in his direction, then back to Meryn. Back and forth. Asking her permission? Getting her reassurance?
“If I tell you these people aren’t to be touched, what would you do?” Meryn asked cautiously. The dragon lifted his long neck, then dipped his head. Far, far more intelligent than I had expected, if he understood the common tongue. “And if we take the Scepter, will you let us leave?”
Again, the dragon nodded his head. The expression of bewilderment on Meryn’s face only grew more pronounced.
“What of you, then?” Jyn asked the beast, stepping up beside Meryn. “Will you stay here and continue guarding this ruined city?”
Purple-flamed eyes focused on Meryn once again and she said, “You can have your freedom as long as you leave the humans alone. And the Elves, Dwarves, and Numyra.”
This time the dragon blinked, then cast a look at the sky. The purple dimmed, slowly, and became a red-orange hue. He considered Meryn curiously for a moment longer, then knelt again, nudging her softly with his nose. Magic swirled along his body, like glittering flame, as his wounds began healing alongside hers. Then wings spread wide and the dragon was up. Wind swirled the courtyard and garden, yanked plants from the ground, threw dirt into the air.
Then, he was gone.
Meryn shot a glance in my direction and took in the shimmering magic that still coated my own skin.
Jyn threw his hands up, bewildered. “What was that all about?”
“I’ve got to be missing something. I don’t know what.” Her forehead scrunched together, then smoothed. “I’m more interested in Natylia at the moment.”
“You’re more interested in me?” I gaped at her. “A dragon knelt in front of you, and you’re curious why I’m sparkling again?”
Meryn frowned. “Every time your magic has a reaction, I’m only more confused as to why. So, yes.”
Andimir appeared as appalled as I felt. “But . . . the dragon . . .”
“Is gone,” Meryn said with a frustrated shrug. “And I have no idea why he had any interest in me to begin with. No use wasting time.”
I blinked slowly, then sighed. I lifted the Scepter for the others to see. “Well, this is definitely the real thing.” I peered up at her, still a bit stunned. “You’re sure you don’t want to talk about the dragon?”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Look . . . lately I keep thinking I’m forgetting a whole chunk of information. Like my mind is slipping, like there’s this gaping sinkhole where knowledge should be and is just . . . not. I’m feeling that right now, and I hate it. So no, I don’t want to think about this right now. You all know as much as I do.”
“Could Natylia be connected to Myrdin?” Jyn offered. Meryn shot him a grateful glance.
“Possibly. Why would Myrdin have been here, though?” She rubbed the tips of her fingers against her temples, eyes closing. “He bound the Scepters to make the Stave of Thanatos. What if, in doing so, he left a trail of magic between them? One that would call out to an arcane user?”
“Wouldn’t the magic have to be Myrdin’s for that to work?” Jyn asked.
Meryn opened her eyes and shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“We need to ask the Elves,” Camion said quietly.
The others agreed, except Andimir, who regarded me curiously. “Have you always known? That you have magic, I mean?”
I shook my head, explaining how I had discovered it on the door behind the palace. Andimir didn’t seem phased by the blood at this point, but he was interested to know the door could be opened. After a moment, he asked, “So why haven’t you gone to the Elves, in all this time?”
“The Scepters are more of a priority,” Jyn growled. “And look, we found one.”
Andimir had to concede that much, albeit reluctantly.
“Now we just need to keep it,” I muttered, rotating the thing in my hands. Magical sparkles still clung to both me and the Scepter. “And maybe I shouldn’t be the one carrying this, if doing so means these are going to linger.”
“I’ll carry them,” Camion offered.
“They’ll be a heavy burden,” I said quietly, scanning his face. “Are you sure?”
He wrapped his fingers on the scepter’s handle, over mine. The blue and purple sparkled around his own hand as his grip tightened. “I’m sure. Your burden is mine.”
I laid my hand on his chest. “You’re too good for me.”
He shifted closer, tilted my chin up. The kiss he brushed against my lips was soft, sweet. He leaned back, winked, his lips curved into a teasing smile as he said, “Anything for my queen.”
“I hope you serve wine with those lines.” Jyn rolled his eyes. “We have more pressing matters to attend to. Like those wounds.”
Blush spread up my cheeks, even after a laugh spilled from me. I let go of the Scepter pieces. In a breath, the magic left my skin. Camion wound linen around each piece, tucking them securely into his pack. “So, to the Elves next?”
“Can we . . .” I swallowed the knot in my throat. Four heads turned in my direction. “Can we go back to Thrais first? I feel like I should check on the palace. My people.”
“Devlyn has them well in hand, Princess,” Jyn said. “Thrais is several days ride in a different direction.”
“I know,” I said. He was right, and I didn’t really have a good enough argument to convince him. “I hoped I might hear word of my sister.”
/> Jyn’s expression softened. “Oh. I didn’t —I’m sorry.”
“She’s not your sister,” I offered.
He inclined his head slightly, still apologetic. Andimir, however, grinned. “I might be able to help with this one. We can send Fetian to Audri. He’s never delivered a message into the wrong hands.”
“How will he know the way?” I asked.
“He’ll know,” Andimir said firmly.
“Do what you want, Princess,” Jyn said, eyeing the raven perched on a tree nearby. “But don’t say anything too important.”
Meryn tugged one of her books free, flipping to a map. “All right. There’s a river that runs south from Thrais, directly into the delta that feeds the marsh. If we follow that north, and then east at the major split, we’ll find the desert.”
“We’ll have to be careful,” Andimir said, pointing at the tree lines gathered along the river’s path. “There’s bandit settlements in those woods. Treehouses, networked together. Ground camps, hidden in caves.”
“Run with bandits too, pirate?” Jyn smirked.
“My trade is stolen goods,” Andimir replied with a mock bow. Then he grinned. “No one said I had to steal all of them myself.”
Chapter 29
Getting to the edge of the ruined city took almost an entire day. Marsh water climbed slowly up, from the heels of our boots, up our breeches and leathers, until our thighs were soaked. Finally, as the water inched toward my waist, we found the edge. At first, we didn’t even realize we’d passed through. A chilled breeze shook the leaves around us and, when we glanced back, the city was gone.
Four days passed before we reached Seryn. Four days of grueling travel through wetlands, swatting off bugs the size of gold coins, and sleeping in trees so that we could sleep at all. When Jyn spotted guards decked in Audri’s colors, a wave of relief swept over the group.
Seryn was a smaller city, much like Thrais, but without the trade that brought extra visitors. The buildings were clay and stone, the main road lit with magical candles tucked into glass orbs. Music filled the night air, cheerful melodies that floated from a tavern. A handful of people stood outside to smoke or drink while partaking in the revelry. The afternoon sun had dipped below the horizon and most people had retired to their homes and beds. Guards still patrolled, though, offering friendly nods as they passed.
The inn was small and tucked a bit off the road. Despite the noise from the tavern next door, the rooms were quiet and the innkeeper was friendly, even with our faces hidden beneath our hoods. He took to Meryn quickly enough, even with her hood up, offering her the four best rooms he had available. Before I had dropped my pack to the floor, he had meals at our doors. His arms were laden with warm, fresh bread, various cheeses, fruits, and vegetables. A second trip to the kitchens had him returning with a honey-glazed ham.
We ate quickly, taking up seats scattered across the room Camion and I were to share. When the others turned in, I stripped to my underclothes and handed my leathers off to Camion who took them to be laundered. A night of sleep in a warm bed called my name, but as I crossed the room my eyes snagged on the mirror.
I had lost weight since we left Thrais, but muscle sat where once my skin had been completely smooth. The scars across my back were long, thin marks running from shoulder to hip. I scanned the matching scars up my arm, the mangled pink that covered my shoulder, the thin sliver that curved across my ribs. My jaw clenched at the marred skin, though the lines were fairly neat and well healed. Thanks to my magic, though they still ached because of my frustrating limitations.
My hair had grown and now brushed past my shoulders. Purple crescents sat beneath my eyes and, when I looked up, back into lavender eyes that seemed darker than usual, I realized with sadness that I didn’t know myself very well anymore. Every inch seemed changed, and the marks ran deeper than flesh. Our mission weighed heavily on my shoulders. Each second that passed, every new mark discovered on my skin, added to the burden.
A tapestry of life, strewn across my skin in angry lines.
My sleep was uneasy that night, the tension following us into the morning when a cloaked Jyn bought horses to hasten our trip—if we were going into bandit territory with active bounties on us, we needed to pass through fast. Before we left, we sent Fetian with a message to Audri. A loose update that we were aiming for the desert and they should quietly prepare their forces. If they wished to move for Thrais, they could, though I knew Devlyn would defend my people no matter the cost. So, I warned them to be ready, to be cautious. Then I asked for word of my sister.
I tried to convince myself that no news was good news. That if she had been found . . . If something had happened to her, the word would have spread by now.
I hoped.
By mid-afternoon we were on the road—weary, sore—but in far better spirits after a night of rest and warm baths. We had one Scepter. And even though Jyn kept looking over his shoulder, we were alive.
Small blessings.
***
I scanned the forest warily. Jyn had vanished into the tree line, stalking the length of haphazard bridges strapped between the branches. My bow sat loose in my hand, at the ready for bandits. But we saw little hint of any beyond their shanty-styled dwellings.
Meryn led the horses, who grew uneasy the moment we stepped into the forest. Their nervous trampling managed to set Jyn further on edge. I couldn’t say I blamed him.
Jyn slid down the trunk of the oak he had been watching from, brushing off his leathers before falling into step beside me. “There’s a lone figure ahead. Trying to be sneaky but failing miserably.”
“Bandit?” Camion asked, hand sliding to his sword.
“Probably.” Jyn lifted his shoulder. “Not enough of a threat for me to really be concerned with, in any case. I’d love to know where the bandits have all gone. Or, most of them. The woods are too quiet. I’ve only seen the barest hint of stragglers, or those hunkering down, none too keen to lose their meager possessions.”
“Maybe they went for a sail,” Andimir teased under his breath.
Jyn glared at him. “Bandits don’t just vanish, especially in these numbers. And I can think of at least two prizes big enough to rally so many to leave their camps like this.”
I knew he meant the Scepter, but I couldn’t imagine what the other could be. The wheels in my mind turned slowly, then clicked into place. I met Jyn’s eyes with horror. “You don’t mean—”
He nodded. “Whoever took the Imber Scepter has to be well connected. They’re not going to let go of the other two without a fight. If they haven’t realized the Tellus Scepter is gone, it’s only a matter of time. I’d be willing to wager that Nyoka made a good meal of a few hired bandits, and I’d also wager that the bounty for those Scepters is much higher than the bounty on our heads.”
I studied the bulge in Camion’s pack where the Scepter lay hidden. Jyn followed my gaze, then added, “We have to be cautious. If we make the Ventus Scepter our focus, they’ll follow us and hopefully think we haven’t found the Tellus Scepter yet. But we need to keep conversations light.” He paused, tilting a pointed ear up. “We have company.”
With a wag of his brows, he jumped into the tree again, scrambling up the branches. I nocked the arrow in my bow, pulling back the string until it was taught, and then listened to the soft scrape of blades around me.
Meryn rolled her eyes. “This seems a bit excessive for one man.”
“What if Jyn was wrong? What if this is a trap?” Andimir asked warily.
“He’s rarely wrong. And if he is, I’m ready.” She grinned and snapped her fingers, a ball of flame bursting to life in her hand. The fire sputtered out and the dusted remains of an ebony petal clung to her palm. She had stocked up a plethora of those tiny black flowers, claiming they practically breathed magical energy. But when I touched them, I felt nothing.
Andimir considered her for a moment. “Do you only use fire magic?”
“No. Fire is my own preferenc
e.” She grinned. “Dancing flames sing to my soul.”
We were watchful moving forward, waiting. After several minutes, when nothing came to pass, I relaxed. My bow fell again to my side. A soft shuffle reached my ears then, the low hum of a man slightly inebriated. I readied my arrow, fingers tightening around the bow handle.
Blue eyes caught mine. I froze. That face. I recognized this man. And from the way Jyn dropped silently behind him, an angry scowl on his face, he did too.
Silver glinted. Jyn’s dagger was pressed to the man’s throat before he could fully register my face. When he did, his eyes narrowed. We should have worn our hoods. Foolish, in bandit territory especially. But with the woods all but abandoned, we had taken the risk.
“What good fortune,” he drawled. “I found our worthless excuse for a queen.”
I should have been furious. Insulted, even. Instead, I felt sorry for him. Because this man had no clue who I was or what I was capable of. I was still learning the lesson myself, but deep in my heart I knew that I wasn’t the sham of a queen my kingdom thought I was. Rumors and fallacies had sullied my name, but I would go to the ends of Araenna for my people. And was, in some small way.
“Why are you here?” Jyn snarled. “And how are you still alive?”
“Helps to have friends in high places.” The man taunted, those blue eyes still locked onto mine. “Unless of course that friend is the mother-murdering queen of Thrais.”
“What do you want?” I asked, ignoring the barb.
“You.” The man grinned then, a wicked smirk. “I want to finish the job I was paid to do. And then collect the bounty beside.”
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