Dark Skies

by Danielle L. Jensen

  Yet what Killian wanted had never mattered. And it did not now.

  Rising to his feet, he helped her upright. And that’s when he heard the sound of running feet. Lena burst into the chamber, dropping her torch to rest her hands on her knees, panting. “Thank the Six. I was starting to worry that you two star-crossed lovers had chosen to abandon us to wherever that thing goes.”

  “Lena.” Killian glared at her. “You really need to learn to keep some thoughts inside your head.”

  “Right. Well, since you’re still here.” She handed him a tiny scrap of paper, the sight making his skin crawl with trepidation. “This came in by pigeon from the Royal Army.”

  Killian read the few sentences, his heart sinking in his chest as he eyed the date.

  “What is it?” Lydia asked.

  “The rest of Rufina’s host flanked the Royal Army two nights ago.” Shoving the paper in his pocket, he started up the tunnel. “More than twenty thousand enemy soldiers are marching on Mudaire and there is nothing in their way capable of stopping them.”

  55

  LYDIA

  Killian led them at a run through the tunnels, both Lydia and Lena struggling to keep his pace.

  Just as it was a struggle not to look at the faces of the bodies they passed. More blight-infected civilians, most of whom Killian had killed from behind as he had raced to rescue Malahi, and Lydia couldn’t help but think about Bercola. How the giantess had seemed … broken in a way no healer could fix.

  How much worse was it for him?

  No one knew better than her how dedicated Killian was to protecting the people of Mudaire, and to have been forced to slaughter them? She could only imagine the toll it must be taking on him, though he wasn’t showing it.

  “Captain,” Lena called, but Killian didn’t slow. Didn’t show any sign that he heard at all, even when Lena repeated his title. Finally, the other girl shouted, “Killian, will you listen to me?”

  He slid to a stop and Lydia nearly slammed into his back, catching herself against the wall.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “You might want to go ahead of us,” Lena said. “Her Majesty is waiting where you left her and she’s…” Lena’s eyes went to Lydia. “Might be better if we followed along after, if you get my meaning.”

  Killian was silent for a long moment; then he said, “The reason I came back was that I’m not leaving any of you down here alone. That hasn’t changed.” Then he twisted on his heel, heading in the direction of the torch light ahead.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Lena muttered. Catching Lydia’s arm, she said,.“Listen, I know the heart wants what it wants, but this is going to cause you a world of trouble.” Her grip tightened. “Just keep your head down, all right?”

  There was little to do but nod, though apprehension bubbled in Lydia’s chest as they followed Killian.

  Malahi and the rest of the group stood waiting at the base of the ladder leading up to the palace. Someone had dragged the bodies to the side, but there were still smears of blood and blight across the stone floor, the hem of the Queen’s gown smearing it as she paced back and forth. She stopped in her tracks as Killian approached, shadows from the torches dancing across her face.

  “Oh, how wonderful,” she snapped. “It appears our dear Lydia is alive and well.”

  Killian didn’t answer, only moved to go around her. But Malahi shifted into his path.

  “We are about to have an enemy army knocking on the gates to Mudaire, Your Majesty. Perhaps we might prioritize that.”

  “How nice to see that there is something you care about more than her welfare.”

  “I’m not having this conversation right now.”

  “Yes, you are.” Malahi’s hands balled into fists. “This is twice now that you’ve abandoned me in favor of protecting her. Explain yourself.”

  “Abandoned you?” Killian braced his hands on either side of the tunnel. “I’ve never left you without at least a dozen armed guards standing in my place.”

  “Which begs the question of why you don’t send them instead of going yourself.”

  Lydia held her breath, because this wasn’t just a question of those two moments. It was all the times he’d left Malahi in the palace to see to the well-being of those other than her.

  “Because I don’t like to put others unnecessarily at risk.”

  “You swore an oath to me, Killian Calorian.” Malahi’s voice was a mix of anger and hurt. “And yet most days it feels like you are my bodyguard in name only.”

  Silence.

  “In name only.” There was a faint shake to Killian’s voice that made Lydia want to step forward. To stop this. But Lena’s hand closed over her wrist, pulling her back.

  “Do you have any concept of what I had to do to save your life tonight?” He shouted the words, his voice reverberating off the walls. “Do you have any concept of the number of people I killed so that you could live?” Reaching down into the shadows, he jerked up one of the corpses, the small and lifeless body hanging in his hands as he shoved it in Malahi’s face. “I killed her. I remember slicing through her spine while I fought to get to you. And I have to live with it.”

  Malahi recoiled from the corpse and it was then that Hacken stepped out of the shadows. “Enough, Killian.”

  In a flash of motion, Killian dropped the corpse, slamming his brother against the wall, once. Twice. Three times. All with a cold fury that rendered him nearly unrecognizable to Lydia. Always she’d known that he was dangerous, but never had he made her feel afraid. This wasn’t him.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Lydia tried to intervene, but Lena and some of the other girls held her back.

  “Do you think I don’t know you’re the one behind all this?” Killian shouted. “Do you think I don’t know that you’re the one to blame?”

  “Blame for what?” Hacken shouted back, struggling ineffectually. “Putting you in the position you needed to be to win this war? You’re a pair of children more concerned with your feelings than with doing whatever it takes to defeat our enemies, so I took matters into my own hands.”

  Sonia chose that moment to shove between the pair of them, her face intent, but Lydia could already feel the rage fading from Killian, his grip on Hacken slackening.

  “We are going to go upstairs and gather the High Lords,” Hacken said. “And then you’re going to war against the Derin army. And you’re going to win.”

  “Why?”

  Killian whispered the word, but Lydia heard it. Knew the real question he was asking.

  “Because,” Hacken said. “This is a war between the gods, and thus a war between the Marked. It’s not enough for you to just fight, Killian. You must lead us to our salvation.”

  Every instinct in Lydia screamed that the High Lord’s words were a lie buried in the truth. That despite war being at his doorstep, his ambitions for himself were what had motivated him to force this union between Killian and Malahi.

  And yet Killian allowed Sonia to push him back. Saying nothing, he went to the ladder, climbing upward and disappearing from sight.

  “After you, my lady.” Hacken gestured for Malahi to climb, but the Queen instead turned to Lydia.

  “You are a liability,” she said. “Get out of my palace.”

  Then she climbed in a swish of skirts and disappeared. The guardswomen followed at her heels, their faces full of apology as they left Lydia alone with High Lord Calorian.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to her, wincing as he rubbed what was likely a badly bruised shoulder. “I don’t use people lightly. But surely you see it was for the greater good?”

  “All I care about is getting to Serlania,” she lied, her skin prickling. “That’s all this was ever about.”

  He smiled. “Smart girl.”

  Lydia followed him up the ladder, her stomach twisting as the carnage filled her gaze. Bodies thick upon the floor, but the first face her gaze lighted upon was Brin’s, the dead guards
woman’s eyes glassy and unseeing.

  Which was why Lydia didn’t miss it when Hacken Calorian stepped square on the girl’s back as he strode from the room.

  56

  KILLIAN

  Don’t think about it. You’ve more pressing problems, Killian told himself, but repeating the order over and over in his head had little effect. Because it was impossible to forget the rage that had fallen over him in the tunnels. Impossible to forget how close he’d come to killing his own brother.

  The group climbed the stairs to the main level of the palace, stepping over bodies and avoiding pools of blood as they went. Spotting one of the men he’d put in charge of securing the High Lords’ safety, Killian waved him over. “We have control of the palace?”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied. “We’ve swept all the rooms. Anyone who shouldn’t be here is dead.”

  Dead Mudamorians. People you were supposed to protect. “Start clearing the bodies out front and then burn the lot. Use oil and make sure those doing the work wear gloves. Then burn the gloves.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  But he hadn’t protected them. Instead, he’d killed dozens of civilians who’d been infected by blight. Not that he’d had much of a choice. The blight turned them feral and vicious, attacking anyone they crossed paths with who wasn’t likewise afflicted. They didn’t speak. Didn’t seem to feel pain or any emotion beyond rage. But they’d still been his people, and every time he blinked he saw another one fall beneath his sword.

  It hurt to breathe.

  “We need to convene the High Lords.” Hacken had come up from behind and was eyeing Killian warily. “We don’t have time to waste.”

  As if Killian didn’t know that. “Have the High Lords assembled in the council chambers,” he said to the soldier. “Full escorts.”

  “May I change my clothes first?” Malahi’s face was drawn and pale, and she hugged herself as though cold.

  “Do what you want,” Killian replied, not caring when she flinched. And then immediately feeling guilty for it. What’s wrong with you? This is the girl you’re going to marry.

  The reminder was jarring, the knowledge that he was betrothed still feeling like a bad dream from which he needed to wake.

  “I’ll meet you in the council chambers,” Hacken said, then headed in that direction, stepping over bodies like they were nothing more than fallen branches on the ground.

  Anger bubbled up in Killian’s chest, but he tamped it back down. “Sonia, keep an eye on him. The rest of you with me and the Queen.”

  They started up the main staircase, and his gaze went to Lydia, who trailed uncertainly at the rear. She was covered in blood and missing her spectacles, which he knew made her uneasy. You can’t keep her here. You can’t push Malahi any further than you already have.

  But that didn’t stop his stomach from souring at the thought of Lydia being out of his sight. What if she ran afoul of some of the infected? Or worse, one of the corrupted? What if she tried to go back to the xenthier?

  Your duty is to Malahi. That you’re pissed off at her doesn’t change that. Nothing changes that.

  So he fell back. “Wait until the sun’s up, then go into the city,” he said under his breath. “I’ll find you when I know more. Stay safe.”

  Nodding, Lydia stopped on the bottom step, and it took every ounce of willpower Killian had to walk away from her, following Malahi up the stairs.

  The upper level was broadly untouched, the soldiers who’d defended it having done their duty, but the carpets were marred with dirt and bloody footprints, several plants knocked over and pictures askew. Reaching out, Killian straightened one of them, then bent to right a plant, not knowing why he felt compelled to do so.

  What is wrong with me?

  They reached the doors to her suite, which were flanked by the soldiers guarding the ladies within. Inside, Malahi went directly to her bedroom, and Killian mechanically swept the chamber to ensure it was empty.

  “I need a minute,” she said. “One minute alone.”

  “Fine.” Shutting the door behind him, Killian leaned against the wood, barely seeing the comings and goings around him. The stench of blood rose from his clothing, filling his nostrils and making him want to gag. Tearing off his coat, he flung it across the hallway, but it did no good. The blood had soaked into his shirt, coated his hands, crusted under his fingernails.

  All of it Mudamorian blood.

  “Are you all right?”

  Gwen’s voice tore his attention from his hands, and he looked up to see the guardswomen watching him uneasily.

  They’re looking to you for strength, he berated himself. You cannot falter. Not now. “I’m fine.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “Sunrise will allow us to determine the state of the Gamdeshian fleet.” It was a concentrated effort to keep his voice steady. “We’ll begin evacuating Mudaire immediately.”

  “But the whole sea seemed like it was on fire.” Gwen dabbed at a cut on her cheek, then stared at her sleeve as though she wasn’t sure where the blood had come from. “What if they all burned?”

  “That’s unlikely.” But possible. “There is no point speculating now when another hour will give us facts.”

  Which was true, but he still needed to come up with plans for every scenario, and his mind was giving him nothing. Nothing but visions of bodies and limbs and—

  “Incoming,” one of the girls muttered.

  A soldier strode down the hallway, and Killian’s skin prickled with unease. “Message for Her Majesty, sir.” He handed over the tiny roll of paper that had obviously come by pigeon. “And unfortunate news. High Lord Torrington is infected with blight.”

  Killian swore, handing off the message to Gwen, who disappeared inside Malahi’s chambers to deliver it. “How?”

  “It appears he consumed something tainted. He was on his way to the council chambers when he suddenly—” The soldier broke off, giving a violent shake of his head. “He changed, sir. Turned feral. We were able to restrain him and return him to his rooms. Grand Master Quindor is with him now.”

  Killian moved so Gwen could step back into the corridor. “He’s the only one?”

  “Yes, sir. The rest of them are convening in the council chambers. They’ve been instructed not to eat or drink anything.”

  A vision of Torrington sipping wine during the vote slapped Killian in the face. “It’s the decanter in the council chambers that’s been poisoned. Go! Ensure it’s disposed of.”

  Eyes wide, the man bolted in the direction of the council chambers. But the damage was done. High Lord Torrington was a dead man; it was only a matter of time.

  Grinding his teeth, Killian debated asking one of the guardswomen to inform Helene about her father before deciding better of it. “Keep Malahi inside until I’m back.”

  Striding down the hall, he entered the sitting rooms where Malahi’s ladies were holding on to one another, faces streaked with tears. “The palace is secure,” he said, and all of them sighed with relief. “But I have unfortunate news. High Lord Torrington has been infected with blight.”

  Helene clapped a hand against her mouth. “Is he…?”

  “Quindor’s with him.” Killian gave a slow shake of his head. “But you need to prepare yourself for the worst. I’m sorry.”

  A ragged sob tore from her lips and she doubled over, the other girls trying to comfort her, but she only brushed them away. Climbing to her feet, she demanded, “Where is he? Where is my father?”

  “In the other wing, but you don’t want to see him like this, Helene. Trust me on that.”

  “I trust you with nothing,” she hissed, then shoved past him into the corridor. Clenching his teeth, Killian motioned to a soldier to follow her. Then his eyes lighted on Malahi’s open door. To the Queen standing in the opening.

  “I’m afraid circumstances are even worse than we realized,” she said, holding up the roll of paper. “The Royal Army is abandoning Mudaire. We a
re on our own.”

  * * *

  Within an hour of receiving Serrick’s message, everyone had gathered in the council chambers.

  Which meant they were all present when Helene entered the room, her eyes red and swollen as she silently circled the table and took the Torrington seat, now High Lady of her house.

  “I’m so sorry, Helene,” Malahi said. “May the Six keep and comfort his soul.”

  Helene gave a curt nod; then the doors opened once more to admit Quindor. The Grand Master’s face was aged and drawn from using his mark and his white robes were stained with blood and blight.

  “I’ll not mince words,” he said, holding on to the edge of the table for balance. “Those infected by blight cannot be saved.”

  Murmurs of distress filled the council room, but Killian asked, “Why is the infection taking hold so swiftly? It took days for Malahi’s horse to succumb and she was coated in blight.”

  “Most likely because the infected individuals consumed tainted water, allowing the poison to reach the brain more swiftly,” Quindor answered. “Or else the blight has grown more potent; there is no way to say for certain. I can say that once it takes hold, the individual entirely loses their mind, a strange madness taking hold. They feel no pain. Seem to feel nothing at all but the desire to attack those not similarly afflicted.”

  A strangled noise exited Helene’s throat, and Killian knew she’d been there in those final moments. That she’d seen. It would take a long time for the haunted expression in her gaze to fade.

  If it ever faded at all.

  “The city must be evacuated,” Quindor said. “But I expect you already realize that. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are more patients requiring my attention.”

  Without a word, he left the room, leaving everyone in muted silence.

  “So,” Hacken said. “Which will do the job first: Rufina or the blight?”