Dark Skies

by Danielle L. Jensen

  Killian was leaning back in his chair, elbows resting on the padded arms. “Why in the names of all the gods would you want to go back?” He sat forward abruptly. “Don’t get me wrong, I can understand not wanting to be here, but there are better places. Gamdesh, for instance.”

  It was time to tell the rest of the story. The part that haunted her night and day.

  “Because I have to go back.” Her hand shook, and Lydia labeled provinces in order to hide the tremor. “I made a mistake. I was careless, and it has cost people their lives. Will cost more people their lives if I don’t get back to rectify it.”

  A single tear landed on the map, and she brushed it away with irritation. “As I’m sure you’ve surmised, the Maarin travel within the Empire—they have a treaty with the Senate that allows them autonomy, although they are beholden to the Empire’s laws whenever they are within a port. As religion is outlawed they, by necessity, kept their worship of the Six a secret.” Biting her lip, she said, “My best friend is Maarin. She confided in me her people’s secrets, and when her mother refused to help me escape my betrothal to Lucius she gave me a book. Treatise—”

  “—of the Seven,” Killian finished. “I’m quite familiar with it. Why would she give you that?”

  “I don’t know. But I was careless and didn’t hide it as well as I’d thought. Vibius found it, knew who’d given it to me, and he gave it to Lucius, who used it as grounds to search Maarin ships in port. What they found on the ships was … damning. The crews were detained, questioned about the maps detailing the Dark Shores, and tortured when they refused to reveal their route across the Endless Seas. Eventually they were executed.

  “Once Lucius won the consulship, he used his power to send the navy after dozens of Maarin ships, including my friend’s ship, the Quincense. It was towed into Celendrial’s port the morning he tried to murder me, and I know he has Teriana and her crew and if I don’t get back—”

  “Wait.” Killian held up his hand, interrupting her. “The Quincense? This Lucius Cassius is holding Teriana prisoner? And her mother? Triumvir Tesya?”

  She blinked. “You know who they are?”

  “That’s akin to asking if I know who the gods-damned Sultan of Gamdesh is. Of course I know who they are. Never mind that they’ve sat at my family’s dinner table more times than I can count.” He was on his feet, pacing back and forth. “This is why you believe the Maarin will take you back?”

  Lydia had known Teriana and her mother were important, but from the way Killian was talking, they sounded almost like … royalty? Shaking away the thought, she answered, “For the sake of so many of their people, I have to believe they’ll bend their rules and take me as a passenger.”

  “They need to bloody well do more than that. They need to rise up. Fight to get them back.”

  A strangled laugh tore from Lydia’s throat. “I think I’ve not conveyed the magnitude of the threat.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Convey it, then.”

  “This”—she darkened the border and then labeled the area—“is Celendor. It’s the controlling nation of the Empire. The heart of it, if you will.” It wasn’t large. Smaller than Mudamora was, by contrast.

  Killian stopped his pacing. “And what is the extent of this nation’s control? Of the … Empire?”

  She gestured at the map. “All of it.”

  His gaze lifted from the map. “The entire eastern half of Reath is controlled by one man?”

  “One man with his eyes set on the West,” she said. “One man with an army of over two hundred thousand strong. And if he can force the Maarin to bring the legions across, I assure you, the threat will be very real. Which is why I need to get back. Not only to save Teriana, who is like a sister to me, but because I can prove Lucius has broken the law. He will be stripped of the consulship and of power, and maybe it will be enough to stop the Empire’s progress west before it even begins.”

  “And what will happen to you?”

  Nothing good. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you see? All of this began because of me. I have to stop it.”

  Killian’s eyes were distant, as was his voice when he muttered, “There are no coincidences.” Then his gaze focused on her. “A month feels too long for you to wait. We need to get you back sooner.”

  “If there is a xenthier stem—”

  He gave a rapid shake of his head. “No. For one, there isn’t a genesis stem within a day’s ride of Mudaire. Two, if there were, it would be entombed, as are all the known genesis and terminus stems across nearly every nation of the West.”

  She stared at him in horror, and he nodded. “You might have escaped that underground cave only to find yourself in a tomb with no chance of rescue.”

  “But … why?”

  He shrugged. “No one likes another nation having easy access within one’s borders. And to leave the genesis stems open would be negligent. A child could wander across one and no one would ever know what happened to her.”

  It made a certain amount of sense, but she still felt like pounding the table in frustration, because if there was a way here, there must be a way back.

  Taking a deep breath to steady her anger, she said, “I sold my ring for enough to gain passage on a ship. I was going to try today, but—”

  “I told you that Quindor has—”

  “I know,” Lydia interrupted. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. I was mobbed in the shelter, and they took all of my coin. And now—” She broke off, the memory of all those hands holding her down sending a wash of panic through her.

  “You stayed in one of the shelters?”

  “I didn’t want to waste my coins on an inn, though in hindsight…”

  “I’m sorry. If I’d known, I’d—” Killian broke off. “The cost isn’t an issue. If we can sneak you past Quindor’s testers…” He dug into the pocket of his coat, then swore. “Gods-damn it, Finn. Of all the days for you to pick my pockets.” More digging in his other pockets produced a handful of coins mixed in with random items: a pair of dice. A crumpled scrap of paper. A single cufflink shaped like a horse. Plucking out the coins, he pushed them into her hands, tossing the rest on the table.

  She stared at the coins. “But you need me to guard the Princess until she’s safe in Serlania.”

  “I do. But Teriana is my friend, and it seems there is much more at stake than Malahi’s life. Besides, her safety is my responsibility, not yours.”

  Lydia stared at the glittering coins, all of them stamped with a scorpion except one dull piece of silver, which was stamped with a bird of prey. A falcon. She traced a finger over the tarnished silver, something about it familiar.

  “Are you able to control your mark?” he asked. “I know it’s possible—I’ve seen it done.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.” She’d been afraid to even make an attempt.

  “Only one way to remedy that.” Killian extracted a knife, the edge glittering. Pulling up his sleeve, he sliced it across the back of his forearm, blood immediately welling to the surface. It ran in little crimson droplets down the back of his hand, making soft splats against the floor. He held out his arm to her.

  Lydia eyed the injury, remembering how it had felt to let go of her life to bolster his. How her heart had fluttered, how it had become hard to breathe. Though logically she knew this injury wouldn’t cost her so much, her hand still shook as she reached out, because so much more than her own life hung in the balance.

  Be brave, she silently commanded herself; then she wrapped her fingers around his muscled forearm, holding her breath.

  She could feel it. Feel the injury. Feel the insistent tug at her core to right the damage.

  No. She resisted, but it was like fighting the urge to breathe.

  “You’re shaking. They’ll suspect if you act this way.”

  Focus.

  Her chest hurt. Everything hurt.

  “Breathe, Lydia.”

  If you don’t get back, no one will ever learn the truth
about what Lucius has done.

  “Lydia?”

  Do this, or Lucius wins.

  “Breathe!”

  Gasping, Lydia snapped open her eyes to find Killian staring down at her, his arms the only thing keeping her upright. “Are you all right?” he demanded, and only when she nodded did he let her go.

  He held up his still-bleeding arm. “I’m not sure we can consider that a total success.”

  Eyes stinging, Lydia turned away. Do not cry. You will not cry. “I need to get home.”

  Killian was silent for a moment. “It’s your choice. Delay a month and have the certainty of reaching Serlania or go now and risk a performance like this on the harbor docks.”

  Which was the better path?

  Killian scooped the coins off the table, but instead of re-pocketing them, he took her hand and pressed them into it. “You don’t need to decide right this moment. Think on it, but while you do, we’ll carry on with our plan.”

  The sound of a door opening made them both jump.

  “That will be Finn.”

  Sure enough, the boy sauntered into the room. “My lord,” he said, bowing with finesse. “Mistress Lydia.”

  “Perfect timing, Finn,” Killian said. “Take Lydia to the barracks and get her introduced. They’re expecting her.”

  “Was my agreement such a sure thing?” Lydia asked.

  Finn laughed and Killian shrugged. “Good instincts. They’ll give you what you need. Finn”—he jerked his chin at the boy—“give her a story that won’t invite questions.”

  “I only speak the unaltered truth, my lord.”

  Killian snorted in amusement, but there was affection in his gaze. The sort, Lydia thought, that one had for a younger brother. Protective.

  “I need to be at the palace.” He turned to go, but Lydia stumbled after him. “Killian!”

  He turned, and she caught his bleeding forearm, holding it for a heartbeat. “Thank you.” Then she trotted over to Finn and followed him out the door.

  27

  KILLIAN

  Hours after he’d left Lydia in Finn’s capable hands, Killian could still feel the sensation of her long fingers wrapped around his arm. Of the pain receding as his skin knit together, leaving not even the faintest of scars behind. The only proof the injury had been there at all was the blood staining the linen of his shirt.

  “What do you think of this color?” Malahi asked, holding up a scrap of finely woven wool in front of his face. Killian frowned at it. “Seems a strange choice for a gown.”

  “For you, Killian. Not for me.” She frowned. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

  The honest answer was: no. The room was full of ladies, all of them agonizing over what they’d wear to the ball. Several dressmakers were in attendance, along with their assistants, and samples of fabric and lace and gods knew what else were floating around the room. With so many present, there wasn’t a chance he’d leave Malahi’s side, but remaining had meant offering his opinion on things far outside his area of expertise. “I…”

  Malahi huffed out a breath of amusement. “This is why your mother still has to send you clothing.”

  Killian’s cheeks warmed. “She does not—”

  “This will do fine.” Malahi handed the sample back to the waiting tailor. “Black embroidery, of course. Nothing else will suit.”

  “The jewelers have arrived, Your Highness,” Lena announced from the doorway. “Are you ready to meet with them?”

  “Yes,” Malahi replied, and moments later two older women entered with two boys behind, a large chest suspended between them. Curtsying, the women showed Malahi tray after tray of jewels, only moving on to the other ladies after she’d made her selections.

  “I’ve already acquired something new, thank you.” Helene’s voice dominated the room, demanding everyone’s attention. “With a piece like this, I need nothing else.”

  “Lovely,” one of the jewelers said. “Might I take a closer look, my lady?”

  Helene pulled the ring she was wearing off her finger and handed it to the woman, who’d already extracted her magnifying glass. Holding the ring up to the sunlight, she examined the gemstone, turning it this way and that. “Exquisite work, my lady. And this color … I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did you say you acquired it?”

  “A Maarin captain brought it back from across the seas.”

  Killian’s ears perked, as did those of everyone in the room.

  “Someone has been telling you tales, my lady,” the jeweler responded with a nervous laugh. “The mark of a good salesman, yet—”

  “Yet you’ve never seen anything like it.” Helene’s eyes were fixed on the gemstone. “And the Maarin do have their secrets.” She smiled. “And all for a handful of silver.”

  “Let me see it, Helene,” Malahi said, reaching out a hand.

  The other girl dutifully plucked it out of the jeweler’s hand and brought it to the Princess, who slipped it on her own finger. Killian stiffened as he recognized the ring as the one Lydia had worn. The one she’d sold in an effort to flee the city.

  “It’s beautiful.” Malahi tilted her hand back and forth to admire the glitter.

  “I couldn’t say no to the poor girl,” Helene said. “She was desperate to sell it. And I know Your Highness values charitable actions.”

  Killian ground his teeth, trying to keep his mouth shut. But it was a lost cause. “Charitable?” He gestured to the jeweler. “How much would you say this ring is worth?”

  The woman accepted the gem back from Malahi before conferring with her colleague. “Five hundred gold pieces, for certain, Lord Calorian.” Then she rubbed her chin. “And if research proved it to be as unique as I believe it to be, upward of a thousand gold pieces.”

  “And all for a handful of silver.” Leaning forward, Killian said, “That’s not charity, Helene. That’s extortion.”

  The girl’s cheeks reddened, and she snatched her ring back from the jeweler, shoving it on her finger. “She offered it to me. If I hadn’t bought it, no one would’ve.”

  “You swindled her. You should’ve given her the coin and let her keep her damned ring. You took advantage of her desperation to decorate your finger.”

  “I can’t be giving away coin to every girl who begs it of me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Enough!” Malahi climbed to her feet. “You two are like a pair of barn cats. I can’t even have you in the same room together!”

  Killian ignored her and said to Helene, “Sell it to me and give away the coin. Or keep the gold, if that’s what your conscience tells you to do.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.”

  “Five hundred.”

  “No.”

  “A thousand.”

  “You are intolerable, Lord Calorian,” Helene replied, but Killian didn’t miss the glint of greed in her eye.

  “Fifteen hundred.”

  “Your wealth doesn’t impress me.”

  “Two thousand.” His brother Seldrid, who managed the family’s finances, was going to kill him for this.

  Everyone in the room was staring at them, courtiers, jewelers, and guardswomen alike. Helene’s jaw worked back and forth, warring between her desire for the gold and her pride. Finally, she smirked. “For the opportunity of swindling you, Lord Calorian, how can I say no?”

  Bending over the table, Killian took up a sheet of Malahi’s stationery, scribbled the details, and then signed it before pushing it over to Malahi to witness. Then he handed it to Helene. “The bankers in Serlania will make the transfer. Should help ease the sting of your father cutting your allowance.”

  She threw the ring at him and stormed out of the room. Killian shoved it in his pocket, not sure what sort of madness had possessed him, only that any amount of coin was worth getting it off that harridan’s finger.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but clearly you need to step away,” Malahi muttered. “Come with me.”

&
nbsp; Abandoning the sitting room, he followed Malahi out into the corridor to find one of the guardswomen approaching. “A letter came for you with the supply caravan, my lady.”

  Taking it, Malahi motioned for Killian to follow her down the hall to her bedroom, where she latched the door behind them and opened the sealed letter. Her eyes scanned the contents; then she grimaced and handed it over.

  Dearest Daughter,

  It has come to our attention that the cursed creatures plaguing Mudaire’s skies have taken to attacking ships within its harbors—a clear attempt to disrupt supplies intended for our armies. In response, I have ordered all vessels bearing goods destined for the front to make port in Abenharrow, where they will be met with an armed escort. As to your request that we seek aid from Gamdesh, I forbid you to do so. It makes us look weak at a time we can least afford it, and do not think for a moment that the Sultan won’t take advantage while our backs are turned.

  Keep your faith,

  Father

  Abenharrow was a fortress a day’s sail south of Mudaire. If ship captains could sell their freight there for gold with no risk of deimos attack, they’d have no incentive to sail north to the capital. “Nothing will be coming into the city now,” Killian muttered. “This is dire.”

  “We’ve been at peace with Gamdesh for over a century.” Malahi took the letter back. “They are our allies. It’s madness not to ask the Sultan for aid.”

  It was and it wasn’t. Mudamora’s navy had been decimated during the last war with the giants of Eoten Isle, along with subsequent civil war that had followed on the heels of the assassination of King Derrick Falorn. Only a handful of ships had been built in the intervening years, and the King had already conscripted their crews, leaving the vessels to languish in Serlania. Asking Gamdesh for aid would signal to rival kingdoms and privateers alike that Mudamora’s shores were undefended and ripe for the picking. “There are always risks to admitting weakness.”