by Bec McMaster
He wasn’t the sort of male to linger in a female’s arms.
There was always a restless sort of urge driving him on. Mountains to explore. Skies to conquer. Another country to venture into. Another girl to kiss. Anything to escape.
But right now, that urge was gone.
What would it be like to stay right here at her side? He’d never tire of her. She was so wild and free that being with her would always be like chasing a storm. And maybe she wouldn’t be the kind of female that would be easy to live with, but to watch her conquer her father’s court, and then take on the world, would be every kind of wonderful, and—
Marduk froze.
“What?” Solveig drew back. “You look like your balls just sucked themselves up inside your abdomen.”
A stunningly accurate assessment.
Marduk slowly resumed stroking her hip. “I think I’m having a sudden epiphany of my own.”
“If this has anything to do with how good you are in bed, I swear I shall strangle you.”
“It doesn’t.” He took in her heart-shaped face. Angry and defiant, and two seconds away from punching him again, if he was any sort of judge. “I don’t want to fly away.”
“I’m not sure how—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “I think, maybe, that I understand what you’re trying to say about your dreki, because I think mine’s gone quiet too. I can never stay in one place. I can never seem to settle. It’s like this burr of irritation that sets my teeth on edge if I stay still too long. But right now, it’s gone.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Maybe we should go back to bed. Maybe we should never leave it.”
Someone coughed politely.
Or not so politely, because it was swiftly followed by, “Well, this is an interesting development.”
Marduk and Solveig broke apart guiltily.
His sister was standing in the hallway, practically beaming at him, with Haakon at her side.
“I knew it!” Árdís clapped her hands together. “I knew you had feelings for her!”
He pushed to his feet as Solveig scrambled off his lap, scrubbing a hand through the back of his hair. Ignoring Árdís, he arched a brow at Haakon. This was twice now. “We need to discuss your sense of timing.”
“Don’t blame me. You’re in the hallway. Anyone could have chanced past.”
“Everyone is gathered?” Solveig asked Árdís, brushing off her leathers and ignoring him as best she could, despite the ruddy glow in her cheeks.
“Everyone is within my rooms,” Árdís replied, shooting him one last curious look. “We came to see what was taking the pair of you so long.” Her nostrils flared. “I see there shall be no more issues with scent-marking.”
“Árdís,” he growled.
His sister laughed as she headed back to her rooms. “I think this is a lovely development. I’ve always wanted another sister.”
The flash of panic in Solveig’s eyes stalled him. Marduk shook his head at her. “Ignore her. She’s spent her entire life trying to make mine miserable.” And then he raised his voice for Árdís’s sake. “There’s nothing happening between us beyond a mutual shared attraction.”
“I get to plan the mating ceremony,” Árdís threw over her shoulder.
“We’re already—”
“Not properly,” she insisted. “The real one, not the political one.”
“Is she always like this?” he demanded of Haakon as he stormed after Árdís.
“Always,” the dragon-slayer replied with a faint smile.
“So Scorpius is kept in a trance-like state in the cellars,” Sirius mused, as Marduk laid out what he and Solveig had discovered so far. “I didn’t think Draco had it in him. Scorpius, yes? But Draco? He was cut of a different cloth when I was here last time. To a degree.”
“Dreki change when power is on the table,” Elin pointed out, which was the first time she’d directly spoken to her brother-in-law, that Marduk could remember.
“That’s horrible,” Malin whispered.
Sirius shot her a look. “You’ve never met Scorpius.”
“Nobody deserves to have their soul bound within a blade,” his wife countered. “Do you think the blade in his chest is kunuk la’atzu? This soulstone that Andromeda told Solveig about? It was an emerald, wasn’t it?”
The rest of the group looked troubled. It was the first time the entire Zini delegation had been able to get together in private under one roof since they’d arrived.
“How did Draco get his hands on one of these soulstones?” Haakon asked.
“Or more to the point, does Andromeda know about it?” Árdís asked.
Marduk glanced toward Solveig. She’d know better than he would. Though she seemed distracted, and was staring at Malin.
“I don’t think so,” she replied slowly. “I think she knows more about these soulstones than she mentioned, but she’s an honorable woman. And the concept of the soulstone bothered her. I think if she knew it existed, she would have tried to destroy it.”
“It’s lovely to know these things,” Elin pointed out, “but our focus is on the key. Have you made any sort of advance in finding it?”
“Ishtar and I think it’s hidden beneath the keep,” Marduk replied, then looked toward his twin. “There are two major pulses of Chaos power left to uncover. I’m leaning toward the one beneath Draco and Andromeda’s tower, but my sense of it is not strong enough. If we can manage to slip Ishtar into the tunnels beneath us….”
“I can try and find it,” Ishtar said. “I could use a portal—”
“Not alone,” he countered, for she hadn’t yet managed to transport more than one dreki. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “We don’t know what’s down there. It might be the key. It might also be a trap.”
Ishtar squeezed his hand back. Once. Twice. Thrice.
They’d worked out a hidden code for when she felt a little overwhelmed, and three squeezes meant she loved him. He returned the favor.
“What about the old woman?” Solveig asked slowly. “Klara? She’s the oldest Chaos-worker here in the Zilittu lands. If anyone would know about the key and the kunuk la’atzu, then it would be her.”
“She thinks I’m the vile spawn of an evil bitch.”
Solveig linked with him. “I’ve been thinking about Scorpius and how his soul is trapped in that dagger. Someone separated his spirit from his body. Someone knows that spell. And it can’t have been Draco, because he has no magic of his own.”
“True. But Elin’s right. We need to focus on the key.”
“Do we?” There was something in her dark eyes. “I was just thinking about what Malin said about the emerald in the hilt of the dagger in Scorpius’s chest. Do you remember when you told me that the emerald necklace your mother was wearing when she died was found shattered in your court?”
Marduk froze.
“I asked Andromeda if a practitioner could store their own soul in one of these kunuk la’atzu, and she didn’t think anyone would do it because they’d be trapped forever. But…. I can’t help thinking that your mother’s necklace was shattered. What if… she did put her soul in the necklace? What if she somehow escaped? And what if there’s a reason Chaos-wielders are now being sucked dry of their magic?”
It was one thing to suspect his mother’s magic still infiltrated the court, but to see it all laid out like that….
“Fuck,” he breathed.
“Keep your suspicions quiet. We don’t want to alarm anyone just yet. But if your mother’s spirit is somehow haunting this party, then I think Klara might be able to help us find her. She knows a great deal about Chaos, and she would want to stop Amadea. I think this is more important than the key, Marduk.”
Out loud she said, “True, but Klara may talk to me.”
He stared at her. “It’s… worth a visit.”
Árdís swept to her feet. “If the pair of you want to visit Klara, then we can see if we can find a way to smuggle Ishtar inside the tunne
ls beneath the keep. Perhaps a small group…. Sirius? Could you escort her?”
“They’re watching all of us,” Elin pointed out, “but you and Sirius, most of all. Would it not be wiser to send someone who doesn’t draw attention? I could go.” She lifted one of her father’s books. “I’ve been reading about the key. There’s some mention of it in The Origins of Chaos, and I’m not quite sure if what I’m reading suggests it can only be touched by someone who can work Chaos. I’d like a better look at it. And perhaps Andri could escort us? For protection.” She turned to Haakon. “Or your husband? He’s human. They won’t be watching him.”
Árdís tapped her finger against her lips. “We’ll wait until night falls.”
Marduk offered Solveig a hand to draw her to her feet. “We should be back by then. Coming, my love?”
The room devolved into a mishmash of conversation.
Andri pushed to his feet, grabbing Marduk’s wrist. “Do you think I could talk to you at some point? Alone?”
It was clearly intended to be said quietly, but a sudden lull in the conversation meant that everyone in the room heard it.
Marduk glanced around. His younger cousin had become remarkably quiet of late, but he’d always had time for Andri. “Of course. When we get back?”
Andri opened his mouth, then hesitated. He gave Marduk a weak smile. “When you get back.”
18
Solveig kept watch as Marduk rapped on the door to Klara’s home.
“Who is it?” called the older woman.
“I am Solveig of the Sadu,” she replied, pushing the door open. “And this is Marduk. Of the Zini.”
“May we… speak to you?” Marduk asked.
The older woman froze by her sink. “You.”
“Please,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want answers.”
Wiping her hands dry, Klara pressed her lips tightly together. Her head turned toward Solveig, and she could see the other woman’s nostrils flaring. Unease filled her expression.
Two strange dreki in her home, one of them the son of her sister’s killer.
“Here,” Solveig said, bringing Klara’s chair around. “Let me finish your dishes if you like, while Marduk asks you some questions. I promise we intend you no harm. We’re here because we’re afraid that the queen you despise is haunting us….”
“Haunting you?” the older woman barked. “That’s impossible.”
“Sit. Please,” Marduk said. “Let me explain.”
The pair of them sat as Solveig crossed to the sink.
“What do you mean?” Klara insisted, behind her. “The queen died. The Blackfrost killed her. I poured wine on my sister’s grave to celebrate her killer’s death.”
“My mother died, yes. But….” And then Marduk told her about the young girl who’d died in the Zini hallways, and now their suspicions about Kirstin’s death. He told her about the soulstones, though he didn’t mention how they knew it.
After all, someone must have helped Draco put that dagger in his brother.
“We need to know if it is possible,” he said. “Could my mother’s spirit have somehow survived? Could she have bound her spirit to one of the jewels in her necklace?”
“The emerald necklace was broken, you say?” Klara sucked in a sharp breath as Solveig washed a cup.
“Yes.”
“There is an ancient rite,” Klara whispered, “about transferring one’s essence into an object. It was somewhat akin to astral projection, but instead of being tethered to a body, you became tethered to an object. They called it kunuk la’atzu. A prison for the soul. It was meant to be a punishment, but some dreki realized they could hide their spirits in order to avoid certain sentences, and then it became corrupted by those who performed darker magics. There was one case, in Persia, where the dreki involved tethered himself to one of the jewels inlaid in a lamp. A stupid, foolish boy stole the lamp and the dreki spirit consumed him.”
“Consumed him?” Marduk asked sharply.
Solveig’s hands stilled in the sink.
“An object cannot affect the natural world, not even with a spirit inside it, but if someone willingly picks up that object…. All dreki have a spark of Chaos within them—the goddess herself. If the spirit comes into proximity with another dreki, and they are able to feed undetected upon that spark of magic within them, they may use it to take control of the dreki’s body. The problem is, in order to be able to sustain themselves, they need more magic. They will consume others, drinking their magic down until there is not even a spark left in the other’s body. It always ends badly.”
“My gods,” Marduk breathed. “She is still here. That’s what she’s doing. She’s killing others in order to strengthen herself.”
“Her spirit cannot float free,” Klara warned. “She must be hidden within someone. Someone must have picked up the emerald necklace she tethered herself to, and then she tethered herself to them.”
“But who?” Solveig demanded.
Because it had to be someone within the Zini party.
Klara hesitated. “The spirit’s hunger is strong, but the will of the spirit who inhabits a body will naturally be stronger. It would take many moons of subtle manipulation in order to control them. Or they may still be riding along, their host completely unaware of what’s inside them. There’s also the possibility that the spirit may have latched onto one dreki, and then slipped into someone else. Someone with stronger magic.”
“Is there any way we can know?” Solveig asked, wiping her hands dry.
“Sudden changes in personality are the best means of detection,” Klara said. “It depends on how much the spirit knows about the dreki they’re riding.”
A sudden noise echoed outside—it sounded like someone kicked a bucket over.
Solveig’s hand went to her knife.
They weren’t supposed to be here. They’d taken great pains not to be seen entering the Chaos-wielders village, and Viveka had made it clear that irritating Klara would be considered a trespass.
“What was that?” Marduk breathed.
“Stay here,” Solveig told Klara. “We’ll see who it was.”
They circled the hut, and by the time they met at the front door, she was on edge.
“Nothing,” she breathed as Marduk slipped toward her.
“Nothing.”
Probably a damned cat. She let her dagger ram back home into its sheath, before something caught her eye—
There was a green glow emanating from within the cottage.
“Klara,” she whispered, her heart dropping to the soles of her feet.
No time for stealth. Solveig tried the door, but it was locked.
“I’ll go around the back!” Marduk said.
“Not alone!”
But he was already gone. She darted after him.
The back door was ajar.
Marduk skidded to a halt, and Solveig shoved past him so she could see.
Klara gasped on the floor, breath rasping through her withered lungs. She’d already been old, but this was….
“Klara?” She was still alive. Solveig slid to her knees beside the older woman. “Klara?”
Klara gasped, a ragged breath running through her.
“Fetch help!” She hissed at Marduk.
Another horrible breath rattled through Klara’s lungs. Solveig held her desiccated hand. “What happened? Who was it? Was it one of ours?”
The older woman tried to turn her head toward a nearby chair.
And then the breath wheezed out of her chest, and her hand slumped into Solveig’s.
Gone. She was gone.
And they’d brought the killer right to Klara’s door.
The killer.
She’d sent Marduk out there alone.
“Marduk!” She hurled the thought toward him. “Get back here. She’s dead. We need to get out of here.”
Thought tugged along the line. He might have heard her.
Pushing to her feet, she cau
ght sight of a cloak hanging over Klara’s chair. Despite the need to flee, Solveig lifted it to her face, breathing in the scent.
Andri.
Every inch of her went still.
They couldn’t be caught here. If they were, then the tension between the clans—already terse—would boil over.
She bolted for the door, slamming into Marduk.
He caught her arms. “There are three Zilittu warriors coming! Hurry! We need to get out of here!”
And so they did.
The second they were back inside the castle, Solveig pushed Marduk into a dark corner.
He peered through one of the windows, his face taut. “They’ve found the body. There are torches everywhere. What happened?”
“Someone must have followed us.”
“But who?”
Solveig held Andri’s cloak up.
“No,” he said, his face paling. “That’s impossible.”
“It has to be one of ours.” And who better than a handsome young dreki youth nobody would suspect? “You said he’d been sulky of late. Avoiding Sirius and even Rurik. And he wanted to talk to you alone.”
“That bitch. She’s already tortured the poor bastard. How do we get her out of him?”
Shouts echoed out in the yard.
“Later. Definitely later,” she whispered. “We need to warn the others.”
Slipping through the servants’ quarters, they made their way toward Árdís’s apartments.
Steel rang on steel somewhere ahead of them.
Marduk grabbed her arm, and they both froze.
“You can’t do this,” Árdís yelled. “Get your hands off me!”
Marduk strained forward, but Solveig slammed him against the wall, shaking her head sharply. Don’t.
Tension bunched through him, the muscle in his jaw tightening. It was his sister, and right now he was fighting every territorial instinct he had.
“You leave me with little choice.” Draco’s voice echoed through the hallways. “Two of my Chaos-wielders are dead, and the elders say they’ve been drained of their magic until their bodies were but husks. The only creature who can do that is another Chaos-wielder. And you have two of them in your party.”