Fallen Princeborn: Chosen

by Jean Lee

  A tinkling laugh dances on the water before Captain fully reveals herself. Her chainmail reflects the last of Arlen’s flames, painting her sunset orange before darkness can return. “At least you didn’t catch one on the head like poor Sergeant.”

  “Oh pffft, Basalt for Bones. Are—” Charlotte pauses. Even with Dorjan on guard and everyone else apparently in Rose House, she’s too nervous to finish her question about Cairine and Aine.

  Captain nods. Enough said.

  Especially when a star’s falling from the sky, aimed for Aranina. A meteor as big as that rock rolling after Indiana Jones…but then it’s not going so fast as to destroy everything. Charlotte tilts her head, puzzling over this star-thing as big as a pick-up truck moving with a helicopter’s finesse in the air, halting beneath the treeline as though to find a place to land…

  “Now Disraeli’s a bit shy, so try to be nice,” Arlen says. “Especially you, Dorjan.”

  Dorjan’s blue eye flashes incredulity. “What are you talking about? I’m delightful.” But his shaking voice and jittering body tell a different story.

  A story Charlotte’s not afraid to tell. “We have to be nice? That thing could squash us!” Charlotte staggers into the water by Captain with hand on her knife. No wonder Ember and the others hate being outside when there’s no clouds. Jeez, how many stars are actually THESE things???

  “She isn’t going to squash us,” Arlen corrects Charlotte. Pauses. “Not me, anyway.”

  “Hey!” But the star’s light gets so bright Charlotte’s got to look away before she can say any more. She waits to feel some sort of mighty wind from a flyer’s descent, but nope—the air remains still, though its temperature drops to a damp wintry chill. Arlen says something about dimming, and the star’s light softens enough for them all to see Disraeli is more than meets the eye.

  With a final spin her orb shape splits open. The sound of a thousand windows shattering fills the air as the orb transforms into legs, torso, arms, head. Charlotte staggers back, but Captain’s fin catches her.

  “The first time’s always a bit jarring, even for us,” she says encouragingly, and Charlotte nods...unlike Dorjan, who shivers in his boots while still “standing guard” a dozen feet away.

  “The Artairs are going to hear the transformation,” he mumbles.

  “Not if they keep arguing.” Arlen bows his head, “Thank you for coming, Disraeli.”

  Finally, Charlotte dares to look directly at the transforming star, and recognizes the giantess of ice that had spoken to Arlen and Cairine on the barge last night. Captain bows, and nudges Charlotte to do the same. “Your aid is needed, Sky-Rider.”

  Disraeli’s foot crunches down upon the shore as Charlotte’s winter boot might crunch through hollow ice on the sidewalk. Even her eyelids tinkle as they open. “I saw your signal.” Disraeli’s words move slow and deep, like a fish hibernating beneath the ice. “Rose House still harbors the princeborns?” When Arlen nods, she says, “At last they are beyond the protections of their mountains. We will bury Rose House with their evil inside it.” She turns to leave.

  Charlotte pushes away from Captain. “Hold up, Optimus Prime, that is NOT allowed.” Arlen grabs her jacket’s collar before she can storm any closer. “Rose House is a friend. It’s been helping us fight back. And we got family in there that needs help, not burial.”

  Disraeli turns. Bends forward.

  Ooooooh shitty shit shit. Disraeli’s face, shoulders, chest—she’s nothing but jagged points of ice, chilling the air around her. Were Charlotte to fall on her, her body’d be shredded to mincemeat.

  Thank Aether that Arlen holds his hand between the two and—after glaring at Charlotte—says, “She speaks the truth.”

  White puffs of cold air huff from Disraeli’s nose. “Do you know how many Celestine the Artairs have killed over the centuries?”

  “They are a blight on all Magic Breeds,” Captain says, spear held at a slight, casual angle, rather than with rigid caution. “But there is one Artair even Queen Avo has agreed to protect.”

  “Please, Disraeli.” Arlen holds Charlotte close. “I will not abandon my nephew Liam to his family again.”

  “Spreaking of…” Dorjan says with a low voice. “I smell him. Faint. And an Aleron, dammit.”

  Disraeli kneels before them. The shards do not simply shatter and snap back into place as she leans forward. No, there is a dance to the shattering, Charlotte can see it now that she’s this close. It’s almost a spinning waltz, a finding of the partner that fits all the jagged edges in this moment, now this moment, now this moment. “Rose House does not befriend mortals.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s helped me out,” Charlottes says with crossed arms and stiff spine. “Did the second I got here.”

  Disraeli lifts a hand. Pieces of ice dance into the form of a single pointed finger before Charlotte’s face. “You’ve curious eyes for a human.”

  Tension ripples down Charlotte’s neck.

  “The High Sage said the very same,” Captain adds, and the sea turtle’s voice echoes from the past, unnerving Charlotte all the more. She slaps hands over her eyes before the air can get any thicker with frozen curiosity.

  “Stop staring, will ya?”

  “Very well, Arlen.” Disraeli’s hand slowly reforms along with the rest of her body as she stands. “I shall help you.”

  “Darra and Treasa—I smell them near Liam, Uncle.”

  Arlen presses Charlotte back towards the lakeshore. “Captain, take Charlotte to a different shore, one east of the Wild Grasses. It’s well covered and rarely visited.”

  Captain agrees. “No time for a boat, I imagine.”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, someone’s stepping into the rose bushes.” Dorjan thrusts Arlen up towards the path. “Distract them until it’s safe for me to run with Disraeli on my tail. Liam’s bound to run to my aid while the cowards hide out in Rose House. Then he can get ‘cornered’ by the hunting party and whisked away before they know what’s going.”

  Charlotte previews the plan in her head as she follows Captain into the water. “That’s actually kinda smart.”

  Dorjan kicks up sand at Charlotte’s back while Arlen bolts through the trees, snickering.

  46

  Trapped

  “Liam.” Mother’s voice is all but a whisper, eyes steady as an eagle’s upon the stream. “For all the power left in these words, please listen to your mother and get inside.”

  But Liam slowly unsheathes his blood dagger. “Dorjan and Arlen need my help. Go, Mother, while it’s distracted.” He crosses the veranda silently on his bare feet.

  Clack clack clack

  Liam whips around, and glares at his mother’s stilettos.

  The Celestine stops moving. The scrape of its shifting edges grinds in the very hollow of Liam’s bones.

  Lady Artair’s face twitches as she removes her shoes.

  The Celestine draws closer to Arlen’s garden. Leaves frost and fall where its edges touch. Its deathly cold draws white smoke from Liam’s nostrils.

  Yet it does not breach the garden, Rose Houses’s grounds.

  “Liam!” His mother’s voice comes from Rose House now. Fine.

  Liam follows the Celestine around Rose House and into the clearing, where Arlen kneels next to Dorjan laying upon the grass. Liam runs around the ceremonial grounds, eyes swinging from Celestine to his family. It must be a leg, for Dorjan to remain grounded. Arlen cannot carry him alone to the House in time, but I can distract, let them escape. He’s got just a few moments’ sprint left.

  Something whips around his legs and jerks them away—no ice-whip of Celestine is this warm; no net-rope of Stellaqui is this smooth. Arlen’s eyes go wide with horror, his outstretched hand as he shrinks—no, Liam is being dragged. He must turn around with blood dagger blazing to strike the something before it drags him further.

  A single note, a banshee’s cry, fills the air and paralyzes his arms, He rolls onto his belly as he’s dr
agged away, the stones of the veranda scraping his skin, but no matter, the Celestine approaches. “RUN!” Liam cries. But it’s too late – Dorjan struggles to lift his head, and Arlen, he is too old to fight the Celestine, and Liam, the door closes over his sight and hands come down upon him and—

  “Be still!” Mother quiets her ring. Keller holds Liam’s dagger arm; Vincent holds the other, and the bonds around his legs are red silk flowing from the strips of Darra’s dress, her own thin, delicate blood dagger burning a rich burgundy.

  “Did you see, Treasa?!” Father booms down the stair well. “My brother’s comeuppance arrives, and in my presence, no less. Oh, it’s delicious!”

  “And nearly our son’s downfall, you fool!” Mother traces her ring while looking out the parlor window. “A hunting party keen to scare us is one thing, but this…” she looks out the dining room window, “this is different. By Aether, yes, the hunting party’s starting their approach.”

  “Father, make sure they don’t bother the ceremonial grounds,” Darra snaps.

  “Coming, dear, coming.” Lord Aleron waddles down the stairs followed by Father’s beastly stomp, limp, stomp, limp, stomp.

  “Oh, what a perfect eve to the wedding this has turned out to be!” Father laughs with such mirth it makes Liam want to weep. “Darra, we can always touch up the grounds if they get a bit smushed.”

  “If they DARE crush those roses I will burn EVERYONE.” Darra’s face is rabid as she drags Liam through the dining room and into the library. “Tomorrow is MY day, and it will not be ruined by anyone, ESPECIALLY you.” She whips the red silk to throw Liam, and he lands with a thud against the wall beneath his stained-glass window.

  Liam’s dagger flares. “Do not make me fight you, Darra.”

  Vincent and Keller flank either side of her, their own blood daggers alight. “You’re done fighting, Liam,” she says with a feline grin. “Be a good little boy and put that naughty thing away.”

  Three against one, Rose House, please, you must give me something, an exit, anything to help Arlen and Dorjan, please—the second level! If I fold my wings just so… Liam slowly puts his blood dagger away. He can feel his blood heating, does his damndest not to let his feathers spark into place too soon.

  “Oh my, that hunting party’s circling them now.” Lord Aleron observes quietly from the dining room window. “The roses are fine, dear.”

  “No!” Liam leaps, wings forming, he can—

  The banshee of Mother’s ring screams Liam into a fetal position in the air. Keller body-slams Liam into the ground.

  “Where is Charlotte?” Keller’s eyes blaze like a Celestine’s, cold and vindictive. He brings his fist down, but Liam rolls in time to evade it and land one of his own on Keller’s jaw. Keller strikes Liam’s ribs. Liam elbows Keller in the temple, knees his gut, and sends him rolling on the floor.

  “If she’s hiding she’s safe. Come with me, brother, please, Arlen—”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the mutt or our simpering uncle,” Keller sneers. “I. Want. Charlotte.”

  This is the wrong thing to say.

  Liam’s fire explodes about his body, the golden light so bright it blinds Keller when Liam rushes him, grabs him by hip and shoulder, and throws him so high and hard Keller crashes into the second level wall of books.

  Mother’s ring screams again, dousing Liam’s fire long enough for Vincent to come running with his blood dagger. But even with the scream grinding into Liam’s mind he dodges Vincent’s pathetic thrust to land a powerful punch on Vincent’s jaw, sending him to the ground moaning.

  “This is growing tiresome, boy,” Father stalks into the room, tongue sliding over the gap in his teeth. His thumb rubs his stone ring as if to wake it up.

  Liam reaches back for his blood dagger, but Darra’s red silk snatches his wrist and flips him into the stained-glass window. His face kisses the silver crescents of the skipping stones, My Charlotte’s stones. The peck peck peck works into the hollows of his bones, and he feels the need to crow, and cry, and peck peck peck For just one more stone. The window does not shatter, but some boards fall loose, and there...something glows, there. A dark purple glow.

  Oh by Aether! Liam flails his blood dagger hand for his weapon, fights Darra’s silk with a snarl and a “You will NOT tie me up again,” while he palms Arlen’s ring’s stone in the other. He jerks Darra’s silk to bring her to the ground and rolls before Keller can ambush him from the spiral staircase.

  More howling outside, and Arlen, screaming. Light streams through the windows—the hunting party has descended.

  The ring’s scream is harmonized with a low sad note as Father stands beside Mother, arm in arm, ringed hands resting together. They grind his mind, his wings, his back. Liam can see the torture room in the rings’ song, the screams of the Velidevour and humans, the burning flesh putrid in his nostrils.

  “Clip his wings, Darra,” Mother says cooly, “for his own good.”

  Liam crams his hands into his pockets just as Darra’s silk binds him from hip to shoulder, trapping his hands inside them.

  Trapping the stone with his pocketed herbs.

  “What a marvelous working, my dear,” Mother coos. “Do you see, Liam? Our kind can indeed be creative, and productive. Darra, I do hope you can teach an old woman like me how you weave the magic into your fabrics.” Darra smiles, pleased. They’re all so bloody pleased with themselves…

  …save for one. “Oh dear, I think they’ve got their ice whips out,” Lord Aleron twitters from afar. He’s yet to leave the window or smile in victory over Liam. “The light makes it rather hard to tell.”

  “N-n-no!” Liam staggers away from them, hardly making it a few steps with the rings’ song piercing his feet.

  “Liam, please, this is getting pathetic,” Darra says. She toys with the red silk weaving through her fingers, and the silk about his torso tightens.

  Liam falls to his knees. “I w-w-will not, w-w-will NOT let them die. You p-p-promised me.” The rings’ harmony may cut as shards of stone beneath his skin. The peck peck pecking intensifies. He must drive all of his heart’s fire into his hand, find the roots of the cowslip, and wrap them around the stone.

  “I know this is hard, boy.” Father sighs and shakes his head. “But the time will come when you understand that the sacrifices we have made as parents, and the sacrifices our kin make outside tonight, will all lead to the Velidevour uniting once more, at last taking their rightful place as the best of the Magic Breeds. Darra, I do hope you don’t mind if we describe this assault by the Celestine with the other Houses tomorrow. After the wedding, of course.”

  “You better wait until after the wedding,” Darra says with a wave of her blood dagger, “or else.”

  Vincent flops down in an armchair near Liam with yet another carafe. “Idiot,” he says, and takes a swig. “Just shut up and marry and they’ll get off yer back.”

  Mother slips her shoes back on, and smiles. “Come, my son, your mother wants to see you happy with your family.”

  YOUR MOTHER screams alongside the banshee note, knocking Liam to the ground. The song grinds its way to his ribs, where his inner wings beat defiantly, fearfully. His vision shudders and settles upon the stained-glass window above him.

  Once upon a time, a boy skipped stones with a girl. He made her laugh, and she made him hope.

  Keller’s boot steps into view. “Where is she, Liam?” Keller’s voice drips into Liam’s ear. “Tell me, and I’ll make them stop. Where. Is. Charlotte?”

  Liam’s heart’s fire surges at the very sound of her name. “Away from you.” Peck peck peck. Charlotte, my heart’s fire dwindles without you.

  Keller grabs Liam by the hair and yanks his head up so they can face each other. He stares, long and hard. Then the corners of his mouth curl up, sending a new, fearful pain into Liam’s belly. “You don’t know where she is, do you? And the way she acted about the hunting party, she doesn’t know what Celestine are capable—” T
he smile vanishes with the shock. “I have to go out there.” He lets Liam’s head go. The thunk is the least of Liam’s pains…especially now that the cowslip’s roots are wrapped around the stone.

  Vincent spits his bloody veli. “You mad? All of us and one Celestine, fine mate, but a hunting party’s a fucking death sentence.”

  “Charlotte’s out there. I have to go out there.” Keller checks his blood dagger and walks away from Liam. “Arlen and Dorjan should be distraction enough, with the two of them screaming like that.”

  With Keller receiving full attention, Liam curls himself into a ball and whispers the Gaelic, fast and furious. The stone in Liam’s pocket begins to whisper back the spell, tune-less but mischievous.

  “It’s very bright, whatever those Celestine are doing,” Lord Aleron adds flatly.

  “Keller, don’t be a fool!” Father’s note begins to stammer. “One human’s not worth your life.”

  “I told you, Father,” Keller leans down to spit the word in the toadish face, “she is no mere human. Cower in here all you want and break your other son’s bones. I’m going to protect what’s mine.”

  Liam whispers faster, faster, and the Gaelic echo of the stone follows him. You dare say those words? You think you can claim her? The peck turns away from Liam’s bones and into his heart’s fire, peck peck pecking the embers, sparking more and more life in him, desire in him.

  “Cower? Me?” Father casts his stone ring’s note onto Keller, but it is already weak from Liam, and only succeeds in knocking Keller into Darra, causing her grip on the Liam’s silk bonds to loosen. “You degenerate—”

  “Bearnard, maintain your focus!” Mother’s ring shrieks all the louder, latching onto Liam’s spine and twisting it to the breaking point. Her hair flies loose about her face as she snaps, “Brutus, assist me at once!”

  Lord Aleron doesn’t even look away from the flood of light. “With what?” he asks innocently.