The Soul of Power

by Callie Bates

  “Neither am I, alas.” He gives me one last nod. Then he turns back to his men, calling for them to help carry our wounded to safety in Tinan, and arrange for the burial of the dead.

  Ferdan, Ingram Knoll’s second in command, moves past me to help Alfred, his face carved with sweat and grief.

  I grab his arm and whisper to him, “Make sure all of the Tinani cross back over the river. We don’t want King Alfred to start feeling too comfortable in Eren.”

  He manages the ghost of a smile. “No indeed, my lady.”

  I watch Rhia, who is reluctantly helping some others put Ingram Knoll’s body in a cart. “We need to go,” I tell Ferdan. “But if you’re feeling bold, once things are settled here, bring a party to me at the Spring Caves outside Laon.”

  He nods and clasps my hand. “We’ll be there. Your Majesty.”

  I go to Rhia. Touch her shoulder. She looks at me, her eyes red. “We need to go back,” I say. “I’m sorry. I know you want to remain with him a little longer. But we need to find the others. Make sure…”

  “We need to fight,” she says fiercely. “We need to tell those bastards they can’t control us. And they won’t keep us down.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Even though we leave immediately, even before Ingram Knoll is put in the ground, I can’t release the feeling that time is sliding away through my fingers. It’s hard to comprehend that my father is apparently seizing sorcerers and forcing them to work for him. I can’t stop feeling we’re too late.

  I find myself whispering to Alistar, trying to sense him over the long distance between us. But when I speak his name, all I feel is a high, choking fear in my throat. His or mine, I can’t tell. It galvanizes me, though at the same time my body is begging for rest. Worry chases through me every time my aching lower back twinges. My feet are sore and swollen, my legs thick and heavy, my mouth incessantly dry. Though I drained the vial Demetra gave me, it hasn’t helped much. I put my hands on my stomach, hoping for the reassuring sensation of feeling the baby move. Finally, there is the faintest quiver.

  “We’re coming,” I whisper to Alistar, and this time his awareness brushes against mine. White, breathless fear—panic—as if he’s been running. A flare of pain. It’s there, and gone.

  I gasp aloud, and Rhia swings toward me. “I think Alistar’s in trouble,” I tell her.

  She frowns. She’s walking as if she aches as well, cradling her arm. “We’re almost back to the Spring Caves,” she says. “This is the final shift.”

  I nod. The shift ripples through the air, and I step quickly into it. Perhaps Alistar is back at the cave, or perhaps there’s been news of him. I hope to all the gods the others are all right. Rhia hurries after me.

  The magic tugs us through, and we step past thornbushes onto the narrow path leading to the Spring Caves.

  Three horses stand outside it.

  I freeze, grabbing Rhia’s arm. She’s already drawn back, reaching for her daggers. We creep slowly closer. I listen, but I don’t hear danger, exactly. There is the tumultuous not-quite-sound, the humming, of many people gathered inside the cave. I move closer yet, clinging to the shelter of the thornbushes that guard the side of the path.

  A figure walks around the back of a horse, and I startle. It’s small, slight—a boy in a too-large coat, carrying a curry brush. He’s got a flop of dark hair and a narrow, wary face. A faint, periodic tremor shakes his shoulders, but he’s patting the horses with tender hands.

  A man’s voice murmurs from the cave entrance. I crane forward and glimpse him. He’s come out, saying something to the boy. The horses block everything but his loose black hat.

  He’s asked the boy a question. The boy looks upset.

  “I don’t want to go in,” he says. “I don’t want them to see me!”

  It takes my ears a moment to translate the words. Because he’s speaking Idaean.

  Idaean…

  Behind me, Rhia crouches, her daggers outstretched.

  The man steps between the horses, with a soft pat to each beast’s nose. He’s tall, his skin a deep olive, his gray eyes sharp in an aquiline face. He’s wearing a completely unnecessary scarf and a much-too-heavy coat. “You don’t have to,” he says soothingly to the boy. “We only—”

  I jump up. “Jahan!” I whisper-shout his name.

  Rhia startles backward—“Korakides?” she says wonderingly—but I don’t wait. I’m racing around the thornbushes, tripping over the brambles, whispering his name again because it sounds so damned good.

  “Jahan!”

  “Sophy!” He runs over, crushing me into a swift hug. I stagger a little, an ache running through my thighs and lower back. Jahan releases me, still gripping my elbows, and I feel myself beaming at him.

  “It’s so damned good to see you,” I say.

  He pats my shoulders as though I’m one of the horses. “You look like you’ve just crawled on your stomach through the forest.” His gaze moves past me. “Rhia?”

  Rhia’s come around behind me. “How did you get here? Is everyone safe?” she demands, the questions I should have been asking.

  Jahan glances back at the boy, who’s watching us with narrowed eyes. “We came into a harbor near Roquelle last night. We were told by the contact who found us that you weren’t in the city, but we didn’t know where you’d gone, so my brother…” He shakes his head, as if it’s too much to explain. “My brother is a better sorcerer than I am. He sensed where you were. We arrived not long ago.” He tosses over his shoulder, in Idaean, “You’ve been seeing to those horses for more than an hour now.”

  The boy gives the faintest smile.

  “His name is Lathiel,” Jahan tells us.

  Our war-torn kingdom seems no place for a boy who looks no older than twelve, but I refrain from saying so. “My father’s conscripted sorcerers didn’t find you?”

  Jahan’s gaze grows keen. “Lathiel sensed something. We set up a misdirect over the entire cave system. He insisted.” He snorts. “Then Juleane and Victoire insisted we remove it so your supporters can find us. Lathiel’s been keeping an eye out.” He smiles at his brother, who regards him with an adoration approaching worship. “And you were meeting with Alfred of Tinan?”

  “Yes,” I say briefly. “When my father’s people found us.”

  “They killed my father,” Rhia says baldly.

  Jahan looks shocked. “All the gods, Rhia, I’m so sorry—”

  “They’ll pay. Don’t fear.”

  Jahan glances at me, and I shake my head. This is Rhia’s way of dealing with her grief. “Where’s El?” For a moment, I’m overwhelmed by the terrible fear that something’s happened to her, too.

  But Jahan merely gestures toward the cave. “She’s in there, making plans.”

  My head jerks up. “Making plans?” I echo.

  Jahan looks at me as if I’m being particularly dense. “For the liberation of Eren and Caeris.”

  I want to laugh. Of course she is. The Caveadear doesn’t dally. Grinning, I stride up to the cave entrance and through to the narrow tunnel. Voices rumble in the cavernous space beyond. I glance at Jahan, feeling my eyes narrow. “That sounds like more than just our original supporters.”

  “Juleane and Victoire had just arrived with a number of new supporters when we got here,” he says. “El thought they might as well get straight to work.”

  We enter. Demetra, standing near the entrance, sees us enter and comes over purposefully with a cup of water. I drink it down gratefully—though a nagging thirst still tugs at my throat—and turn to the cave. Victoire and Juleane have indeed been busy—and efficient. The cave is so tightly packed that the slender, chestnut-haired woman at its center doesn’t even notice us come in. Elanna stands with her hands on her hips, pushing back her salt-stained greatcoat, her sharp chin lifted and her gold-brown eye
s defiant. Victoire, beside her, is glowing with joy.

  Surrounding her are people who must have fled from the city, their clothes more sharply cut, their eyes warier. But there are also, clearly, country people—presumably from the villages outside Laon, with dirt on their shoes and determination in their eyes. Juleane watches, arms folded, with a look of approval.

  “The people don’t want Euan Dromahair in power!” El is saying with the fiery enthusiasm that usually gets everyone behind her. “So we will summon the forests of Eren once more. They will surround the palace and terrify them into submission. We will emerge and demand surrender.”

  She says it as if it’s that simple. As if winning peace with our fractious people will be that easy.

  “No, we won’t,” I say with unvarnished irritation.

  There’s startled movement in the crowd around me; everyone shifts so they can see who just spoke out against the Caveadear. Beside me, Jahan rubs his chin, looking rueful.

  Elanna has seen me now, and the wariness in her face splits into a grin. She throws herself through the crowd and flings her arms around me. “Sophy! You made it back!”

  I hug her. Her slighter body is still too thin, the angles sharp against me. I pull back to look into her face. Her eyes are drawn with weariness, but she’s still smiling at me, and I hug her again. I might find her maddening sometimes, but it’s so damned good to see her. “You look exhausted,” I tell her. “Have you been eating?”

  “I was held captive, if you’ll recall,” she says with asperity—but a haunted look flashes through her eyes. Softly, she says, “I’m so glad to be back, Sophy. And it’s such a relief you’re all right.”

  I smile. “I’m relieved neither Euan Dromahair nor Aristide Rambaud found you while we were gone.”

  She shakes her head, then looks at me more closely—at my stomach, which I haven’t troubled to conceal. I’m still wearing Juleane’s maid’s dress, and its skirt rounds snugly over my belly. Her lips part.

  I hurry to speak before she can, for the verdant green sound pulsing from her is threaded with angry sparks. “I suppose no one had a chance to tell you yet. I’m with child!”

  “With child,” she echoes. Her gaze skims my body, up and down, as if she can’t quite believe it’s real.

  “The symbol of Eren and Caeris’s future,” I say, though the words sound hollow even to me.

  But Elanna doesn’t seem to hear. She’s looking at my stomach again, and I can see the counters ticking over in her mind. “Sophy,” she says, her voice dangerously level, “you must be several months along by now. When are you expecting the child?”

  “Let’s talk about this later.” I can feel people watching us; my shoulders tense. The last thing I want is for El to scold me publicly for lying to her—by omission, anyway—over the course of the last five months.

  Her lips purse, but she nods. “We do have more pressing matters at hand.” It’s hard not to hear that as an indictment of my choice to get pregnant; the stinging anger is still resonating from her. “We have a city and a country to reclaim. Did you say my magic won’t help us win?”

  I wince a little, but I don’t back down. “Yes, I did. Surrounding the palace with a walking forest will not get us a miraculous surrender.” I look at her. “It will help, but it won’t be enough. The situation is too complicated for magic to unravel so easily.”

  Her eyes narrow. “It seems to me the power of the land helped us the first time.”

  Someone in the crowd murmurs. With an effort, I swallow down my exasperation. Elanna only wants her power to help—like all of us. “The magic of the land will be helpful, of course,” I say, as graciously as I can. “But a grand display of sorcery isn’t going to erase the divisions within Eren and Caeris that led to this disaster in the first place. It’s not going to make Rambaud and his followers any less disgruntled, and it’s certainly not going to win them over to our side.”

  “Send the blackguards back to exile in Tinan!” someone in the crowd says.

  “This is the blackguards’ home,” I reply patiently, “as much as it is ours. If we send them back to Tinan, we remain at war with Tinan. If we make an effort to talk across the divisions that separate us, perhaps we can actually win peace.” I raise an eyebrow. “Rambaud hasn’t brought up anything but troubles that were already simmering under the surface—the old distrust of magic, of course, but also political division. How many of you Ereni were pleased with the tripartite division of rule we imposed upon you?”

  None of them answer. Elanna folds her arms, and I look away from her quickly. I don’t want to focus on her look of disappointment.

  Unexpectedly, Victoire speaks up. “Sophy’s right—it is a problem. One many of us have been reluctant to discuss, even among ourselves.”

  I nod, though I’m shocked she’s siding with me against Elanna. “These are real problems, and we need solutions,” I say, “not simply magic that strikes awe and fear into the population. Magic is magnificent, of course. But we already know it isn’t enough.”

  “So what do you plan to do about it, Lady Sophy?” Juleane asks.

  “I’ve just returned from a meeting with the king of Tinan.” I draw in a deep breath. “The meeting went well, but we were tracked. It seems Euan and the Saranons are using the sorcerers they’ve captured. We lost…” I look at El, and my voice cracks. “We lost Ingram Knoll.”

  All the spirit drains out of her face. “No,” she whispers.

  “But Rambaud promised to hunt us down,” Brigitte says. “He would never ally with sorcerers…not overtly, at least.”

  “Maybe Euan and the Saranons have different plans,” I say. “I hope they have different plans. If they are fracturing, it means we might have an opportunity. I want to meet with Aristide Rambaud once Alistar returns from his reconnaissance.”

  “You think you should bargain with the man who threw you off your throne?” Elanna says flatly. “The man who staged a coup and killed the Butcher? Why would he want anything to do with you, Sophy? You’re putting yourself in incredible danger—”

  “I was there when Euan arrived,” I interrupt. “I was in the Diamond Salon when Euan told the Ereni nobles his plan to build an army to reclaim Paladis, and to conquer Caeris as well. I saw their faces.” I pause. “I saw how Euan treated them.”

  Unexpectedly, Jahan speaks up. “He’s not exactly the most personable man. He treated the Ereni like servants, I expect?”

  I nod, relieved Jahan’s met him and understands. “The Ereni brought him here so they could claim their power back. But I don’t think Euan even intends to remain in Eren and Caeris; all he wants is the crown. They want to use us to retake Ida, nothing more.”

  “So you will talk to Duke Aristide,” Elanna says, in a familiar tone. She’ll have met him before, of course. “But what do we do about Euan Dromahair, and the Saranons, and the sorcerers they are apparently using? They’ve executed people in the square—they tried to kill you, Sophy. Are you planning to have a diplomatic meeting with them, too?”

  It’s impossible to miss the thread of criticism in her voice. Beside me, Jahan has gone very still. He’s giving Elanna a warning look.

  “What,” she says, “will you do with your father?”

  My jaw clenches. I shouldn’t be so thrown by her challenging words, I tell myself, when I spoke much the same to her. But at least when I contradicted her, I had a real solution. I wasn’t just trying to point out her flaws. At last, I say, “I don’t know. Perhaps that’s where your magic comes in—where everyone’s magic comes in. Perhaps we can capture them and send them back to Paladis for justice.”

  She lifts an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how easily Phaedra or Augustus Saranon will fall into any trap we set.”

  I open my mouth to retort. I’m going to demand, Do you have a better idea? But Juleane claps her hands, preventing me. “T
he queen and the Caveadear have a plan. Let us drink to that.” She shoots a meaningful gaze at Victoire, who fishes two bottles of whiskey from a nearby crate and passes them around. While everyone is distracted by the drinks, Juleane pulls Elanna toward me.

  “You two,” she says in an undertone, “get out of here and talk. I don’t know what this tiff is, but neither of you is helping matters.”

  I don’t want to be alone with Elanna. “But everyone needs to see us—”

  “No, they don’t. Go talk it out.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Now.”

  Behind us, Jahan steps away from the tunnel exit without comment. I leave first, seething, El on my heels. As soon as we’re outside the caves, she rounds on me, her hair flying loose from its knot.

  “What’s gotten into you, Sophy? Do you think because I was captured I deserve to be rebuked in public?”

  I blink. Rebuked? Elanna Valtai can’t possibly feel foolish. Everyone adores her, and sometimes it seems that they always have.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t try to make things so simple, then,” I say. “Of course your magic will help, but this is a complex situation.”

  To my astonishment, her chin bunches and a sheen of tears silvers her eyes. “I know that,” she says in a tight, tart tone. “I’ve seen the divisions between Ereni and Caerisians as well as you have. I’ve lived them. But perhaps it doesn’t matter, because everyone else is one or the other. Perhaps my only real value to you is my sorcery.”

  “Of course not,” I begin, exasperation and sympathy warring in me.

  She interrupts. “Well, if it is, then perhaps I should leave you to it! Because my sorcery still isn’t all it was, and maybe it never will be again. I can’t make a mountain range walk down on Laon. Maybe all that power I had came from releasing the old bonds and waking the land. I’ll never be that person again—not a goddess walking on earth.”