by Meagan Hurst
“This is not the place to discuss it,” the Mithane interjected. “Please follow me, Zimliya.”
“I would like to go to the waters,” she told him in a flat tone.
He regarded her in surprise but nodded. “As Nivaradros will one day be ruling the kingdom beside you, I do not see the harm in letting him view more of it.” He didn’t ask why she wanted to descend deep into the realm when his study was just as secure. He didn’t, in fact, speak again.
They headed to the depths of Arriandie without conversation. The only sound was that of the water they were approaching. Z hesitated for a second at the final turn before proceeding. Memories of the last time she had been here surfaced, and Z was uncertain she could handle any more surprises—though she needed the waters if she planned to head back in time. She realized she was being watched by her two companions and shook herself. Brushing past them both, she headed into the room and waited for the other two to arrive.
“I’d rather avoid the public dance of politics if it’s all the same to you,” she began as she crossed her arms. “Why don’t you two start from the beginning and tell me how in the hells it came to be that you all thought it would be a good idea to assassinate the entire Ranger Council!”
“Minus you. And I did not support the death of any Rangers,” the Mithane corrected. His eyes were a steady black and they regarded her. “Zimliya…” His hands moved for a moment before he stopped himself, and he grimaced before his gaze moved to Nivaradros.
The Dragon inclined his head. His eyes were neon, but he seemed to be in better control. “Crilyne came to the Mithane first,” he began. “I was with you and trying to keep you alive.” His eyes brightened a shade, and she knew his thoughts had returned to the arrows and her very close brush with death. “Afterward, he conceded to inform me of his conclusion.” He paused.
“Are you going to tell me what was decided? What is going on? Why did you two agree to murder the Rangers’ Councilors?!”
“Zimliya, we did not approve their murders, nor did we have any part in it. Both of us advised against harming any of your allies.” Nivaradros glanced at the Mithane, but the Alantaion’s eyes were still solid and his stance had a ‘do not ask’ order. The Dragon growled but held his tongue.
“The Shade was worried,” he continued. “Your connection and attachment to your Rangers, while justified—” he added as she opened her mouth, “puts all of you at risk. Zimliya, the only part we all agreed on is this: you needed to experience an immortal game. The changes in your position and power render your previous responses invalid.” His gaze pinned her to her spot. “The Mithane, the Shade, and I shared similar concerns. The Thinyen’s attack was against you and was a small game in the grand scheme of things. Your survival means there will be other attempts, and you need to consider how you will handle such things. And you will not always be the target, your allies are at risk. The closer the perceived connection, the greater the risk.”
She stared at them both in shock. Speech eluded her for several minutes as she struggled to keep from reacting further. What did they seek from her? Did they want her to forsake the Rangers? Did they want her to step down? Closing her eyes, she inhaled and exhaled as she forced herself to think.
“So rather than speak to me about your concerns, you decided to let the Shade commit an attack against my people?”
“We did not sanction an attack against the Rangers! And they are no longer your people, or perhaps I should say they are no longer your only people,” the Mithane broke his silence and moved to step up beside the Dragon. “You’ve been sheltered, Zimliya. Midestol will exploit it; people who have pretended to be your allies will take advantage of it.”
“Midestol has never managed to use others against me, and I will handle betrayals by those close to me as they come.” Z threw up her hands in disgust and began to pace. “That doesn’t explain why you two idiots decided to not inform me at all!”
Again it was Nivaradros who spoke up. “Because we needed to know—and we still want to know—how you will handle this. And by this, I mean an attack on third parties that have connections to you and could be used against you. I will repeat to you, again, that we did not want things to occur in this manner. But you never had this vulnerability before, and games of this nature will be played. We did not seek or want this, but Crilyne will not be the only one to harm you in this manner. You know this.”
“I am used to immortal games.”
“You are used to immortal games moving around you or games where you are the target for assassination. You control three kingdoms—you will inherit a fourth—the games will change to reflect that. Before, you were a power that could almost be dismissed. At some point you were going to die from your antics, or because you had made a bargain to awaken the Shades. That stand no longer counts; you are immortal and will possibly live forever. Harming you has been proved unsuccessful and, previously, the taking of hostages had little to no affect. But you are a ruler. How you respond to such actions now will define you as a power in a way you never had to fear before. Those you rule, those you’re allied with, and those who are your enemies will be weighing everything you do. We all wanted to know how you would adjust to everything that was happening.”
Nivaradros moved closer. “The victims Midestol or your other enemies have attempted to use against you in the past have never been those you claimed as yours, and there has never, ever been a random mass murder for a reason that wasn’t tied to war.” His eyes seemed to continue to increase in their brightness. “As a result we had to know you could hold it together. I had to know. If I need to assist, I need to know ahead of time.”
And that hurt more than it should have. She held his eyes without wavering, but she felt like the ground had been swept from beneath her. “So you let Crilyne have a free rein.” Swallowing hard, she glanced at the Mithane and snorted—he looked like a small being caught filching sweets. “And you two want to know how I will handle such a breach of my trust.”
“How you handle this will shape how everyone else sees you. This first game—these deaths—will tell all of us how you work. We think we know you, but this will either prove or disprove what we thought.” Nivaradros didn’t show any remorse and, unlike the Mithane, he was not uncomfortable in this conversation. She hated it, yet she was relieved at the same time. “I didn’t want this,” he repeated. “But Z, no friendship, no relationship, is foolproof, as humans say. You know this.”
He was right. She knew he was, but it still burned, and only Crilyne could have gotten to the Rangers the way he had. Then again, that had been the point of this little exercise. What Crilyne had said about the Dragon in front of Midestol—and therefore in front of Kitra—had been a front…mostly. She knew Crilyne still had some unknown problem with Nivaradros, and she suspected even a millennium wouldn’t change that, though she intended to hold out hope if she let Crilyne survive. He could not, however, let Midestol know that he was testing her. To do so would likely spell her death, and Z assumed that was the furthest thing on Crilyne’s list of goals. It didn’t, in her mind, give him a pass for his actions, but it did make them something she could understand, and she would settle for that. Immortal games. A bleak vision of what was to come emerged before her, and she struggled to get her mind back on target. Forcing herself to think back on Crilyne’s actions, she turned her mind to the present. Had he tried to pin Kitra’s death on Nivaradros, he would have perished the instant she found out. Closing her eyes, she struggled to quickly organize her thoughts. Arms wrapped around her without warning, and she fought against them for a minute.
“I am sorry,” the Dragon whispered in her ear. “Z, I am so very sorry.” She stopped struggling against him and just let him hold her. He needed it more than she did, but she still found it comforting.
Once they had both relaxed as much as either of them could, she broke away and stepped back from the Dragon and the Mithane. “So, the question is how do I respond to such a gross betrayal
?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” the Mithane sighed. “Zimliya, this is a horrible event—neither of us are trying to deny that, or lessen what happened, but…something had to be done.”
“By Crilyne?”
“He volunteered,” the Mithane said. “I refused to get involved any more than knowing he was planning something—I didn’t want to know what.”
“Plausible deniability.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. It was getting too long again. “And you?” she demanded of the Dragon.
“I knew even less,” Nivaradros answered. “And, in all honestly, I did not want to get so involved that it would compromise my standing with you. It took a very long time to get you to trust me. In truth, I also expected better of him. He knows you; he should never have taken things this far.”
That she also understood, and some of the anger that had been swirling inside her began to fade. It had taken her over a decade—almost a decade and a half—to trust anyone. If she’d had reasons, and she had, it still left scars on others. Nivaradros had dealt with the least of them. She glanced at the Mithane and wished she had the courage to apologize to him. Of all of them, he had taken the brunt of it, more so than even Crilyne. He had spent hours working on building up her trust in people, in herself, in governments, and in ruling individuals. He had tolerated more than any other ruler had been forced to with regard to her reaction toward formality. He had worked hard to restore what the Rangers could not. And yet she had never been able to give him much in return. Unless one counted stab wounds, bruising, and a very long running headache. Nevertheless, he was still here, and he still wanted to protect her.
“Mithane…” she whispered as she took a step back. “I…”
“It is alright,” the Mithane said before she could even make the attempt. “Zimliya, there are no words you need to speak. Not to me. I understood—I have always understood, and I accepted what you were willing to offer.” He stepped toward her and held out his hands, palms down.
She expected the Dragon to speak, but Nivaradros didn’t so much as blink when she stepped forward and accepted the Mithane’s hands. “Mithane…” she attempted again.
“No, my dear,” he told her with a gentle smile. “Don’t even try. I have never wanted an apology.” He pulled her close and held her. “I love you,” he whispered as she shuddered at his words. “And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe for as long as I can, but this is how the game is played by so many parties. Like the Dragon, I had to know how you would act. Like the Dragon, I needed to know how to protect you. And like the Dragon, I was only willing to go so far in this. I did not want to this to happen, but because we chose to stay out of it, the game has begun, moves have been made, and now it’s your turn. How will you proceed?”
She laughed a laugh that was filled with unease, but she didn’t pull away. “When I can wrap my head around what he has done, I will decide.”
The Mithane laughed. It was a musical sound even this close to her ear. “Wise decision,” he whispered. “And what I would expect from you.” He released her then and glanced at Nivaradros. “What we want to know is how you wish for us to continue.”
“In regard to the Shade, and how the Rangers are likely to react to the demise of their councilors.” Nivaradros’s gaze still burned, but it was losing some of its edge. “Are you already forming plans?”
She flinched. “I have one in mind, but I am not certain I will continue on that path.”
“Do you intend to inform us of the one you are considering?” Nivaradros was starting to show a hint of irritation. “Every moment you remain indecisive is as much of a danger as making a poor choice.”
“You’re overlooking a great deal, Nivaradros,” the Mithane interjected. When the Dragon turned to face him the Mithane took a step away from her, placing himself between her and the Dragon. “She is not born to this. Studied it, yes, seen it on a small scale, indeed, but she was not born immortal, and I fear rushing her to decide will endanger her as well.”
“The Rangers may attack her if she refuses to reveal Crilyne’s involvement because she will not choose a course of action.”
“They wouldn’t,” Z argued.
“Perhaps not, but do not forget the dark side of all humanity, and the Rangers know your weaknesses,” the Dragon countered. “Don’t argue with me,” he added. “I know you well enough to know that they are one of the very, very few groups of beings who have the power to shatter you. I will not allow that to happen. Answer me, Z, what is your current plan?”
Pressing her lips together, she refused to answer him. Because she wasn’t ready to voice her decision out loud, and because she wasn’t certain it would protect the Rangers. She needed a neutral person, outside this time and outside of the alliances she had gathered around her. It was why she had insisted on traveling here, but she could only continue forward if the two immortals would stand aside.
“I need more time,” she told them. “Nivaradros, you’re going to have to trust me.”
Nivaradros glanced at the Mithane and the Alantaion moved out of the way. The Dragon closed the distance between them. “It is not a lack of trust, Zimliya,” he said in a lowered tone. “I know you too well for that. But I worry about you, and this is not something you’re accustomed to handling. And there is more to it than that. I desire to be a part of whatever you decide. We are a team, Zimliya.”
The Mithane cleared his throat. “Nivaradros, perhaps we should change the topic at hand. Zimliya, I have a suspicion as to what you intend to do, and I advise against it, but as I am also well versed on how you react to things, I believe my warnings would be ignored should I offer them. Instead I will ask you how you would like me to handle the inquiries from the Rangers I will soon be receiving?”
“As you feel you should,” she replied.
“And if they ask for your execution?”
She felt her breath leave her body. Inhaling, she raised her eyes to meet his. “Proceed,” she answered.
“He will not!” Nivaradros snapped. “And how dare you…how dare you say that. We will not—he will never—hand you over for something you did not do!”
“I woke him, Nivaradros!” she shouted. “I am responsible for his actions! He got close to Kitra because of me. He was let into the city because of me. I did not place restrictions on him—I did not bind him—and therefore his actions are my responsibility. The Rangers surrendered millenniums for him, and he betrayed that trust!”
Dark green took over for neon. “And that’s where it’s wounding you,” the Dragon breathed. He glanced at the Mithane, and Z caught the nod the Alantaion replied with. “Oh, Z…the Shade has done far more damage than he expected he could.” Nivaradros offered her his hand, she refused it. “If you hadn’t awoken the Shades, the Alantaions would have perished seven years ago. If you hadn’t woken the Shades, the Dragons would have lost more than half of their numbers. If you hadn’t called upon the Shades, you would never have survived to this point. If you hadn’t foreseen the need to surrender your life to return them to a semblance of it, none of us would be here; Tenia would have destroyed us all. Yes, he has overstepped.”
“Yes, he committed an unspeakable act against the one race of beings that should never get caught in the crosshairs of immortal games. Yes, he did betray the relationship between you and him. And, yes, he may be playing another, darker game that you may have to counter, but you cannot blame yourself for this. No more than you can hold yourself responsible for the beings Midestol catches and tortures while you two prepare for your final dance.” The Dragon paused. “No more,” he added, “than you can blame yourself for the arrows that almost cost me my existence.”
He was going to throw that in her face for a while. Foreseeing no victory from this battle, she said nothing to cold silence. “I have to go,” she informed them both instead.
The deep chill increased in the silence of the room. “I would like a little more information,” the Mithane remarke
d in an absent sounding tone that also managed resonate with danger. “I have guessed your intentions, but I am now seeking confirmation.”
“If I am going to figure out how to handle Crilyne, I need to be somewhere he won’t appear.”
Judging by the Mithane’s features, her words were not what he wanted to hear, but what he had expected regardless. “You intend to travel back in time,” he sighed. “Must you meddle and take such an interest in things?”
“I only travel where I have been before.”
Nivaradros’s eyes brightened a few shades and he gave the Mithane a pained look. “Do I even want to know how often she’s done this?”
“Not more than six times,” the Mithane responded as his eyes began to edge toward a possible brown—if she was very optimistic. “And I know you plan things in advance,” he directed at her. “But are you certain it is wise?”
“The two of you wanted me to hurry up and make a decision; have you already changed your mind?”
“I hate when she does that,” the Mithane told the Dragon. “Smug is not worn well by her.”
She raised a brow. “Same goes for you,” she told him. “I am relatively safe…”
“Other than the fact you’ve become immortal and though, in theory, you have appeared to whomever you wanted to appear to before, as an immortal the past is as tricky as the future; you are in danger whenever you play this game.”
“‘If you don’t like the game, make your own rules,’” she tossed out at him.
“If you’re the one that taught her that, we need to have a talk,” Nivaradros murmured to the Mithane. “I despise that viewpoint.”
The Mithane fixed the Dragon with a black look. “I didn’t realize she would take it to the extreme; I had just met her after all.” He regarded her in silence for a moment before nodding once in a sharp, but graceful motion. “You intend to speak to your great-grandfather.”