Out of Tune

by Amy Sumida

  We made several turns down numerous hallways until I was hopelessly lost, and every person we came across bowed reverently and deeply to Verin. He barely seemed to notice. I, however, particularly noted the longing looks he received from the ladies of his court. They fanned themselves coquettishly, flicked their long hair, and did all but fall at his feet. If Verin didn't have a harem full of women like his father had, it wasn't for a lack of eager applicants.

  At last, Verin led us across a glass-enclosed bridge that spanned the space between palace wings, going through open water. It provided not only a glorious view of the valley to our left but also one of a colorful undersea garden growing over a collection of coral attached to the curtain wall to our right. Anemones, feather dusters, and sea urchins gathered around living coral in vibrant hues while fish darted among the swaying fronds and jagged branches.

  At the end of the bridge, a pair of golden doors barred our path. Blue Dragons snarled at each other from the panels, one on each door. Verin opened the left door and ushered us through. We stepped into another garden but this one mimicked the world above and languished in the full blush of Spring. Cherry trees bloomed like cotton candy, their delicate branches generously sharing the sun—or fake sun, rather—with the plants below them. Exotic flowers grew in clumps amid the thick grass, suggesting a natural placement that was nonetheless too perfect to be so. Birds chirped softly and a small pond gurgled, bubbles bursting up from its center. Golden fish swam there and the oddity of a fish pond beneath the sea made me chuckle.

  “We have public gardens below the city, on the seabed,” Verin said. “But within the palace, we prefer smaller, personal plots. This is my mother's garden; she chose it as an entry hall so she could entertain guests here without leading them through more private areas.”

  “It's lovely,” I murmured. “I'd forgotten that the Azure Court is also the Court of Spring.”

  “That's correct. And thank you, Your Majesty. I'm very proud of my gardens,” a strong, female voice said.

  A woman dressed in flowing sapphire robes swept out of an archway before us. Her ebony hair was pinned up in braids and loops, held by combs that were even more elaborate than the hairstyle. Dainty hands peeped from the end of her trailing sleeves, petting the air with small movements as she glided toward us. Her eyes, as dark as her hair, still managed to remind me of Verin. She respectfully inclined her head to me and then the men before narrowing her stare at Verin.

  “This is what you wear to greet visiting royals?” She chided him. “Where is your cloak? You could have at least deigned to don that.”

  “Mother,” Verin growled, “I had to meet them at the Crimson Court and Zhavage doesn't have a docking tunnel.”

  “Then it's a good thing that I'm always prepared for your disdain of royal raiments.” She lifted her hand and snapped her fingers.

  A woman hurried out of the archway Verin's mother had emerged from. A blue velvet cloak trimmed in snowy fur hung over her arms. She rushed up to Verin, bowed deeply, then held the cloak out as if it were an offering to a God, releasing it partially so that it fell open and she might place it on his shoulders for him.

  “Thank you,” Verin said softly to the woman but he took the cloak instead of turning for her to put it on him. As the servant scurried away, he transferred his attention back to his mother to declare, “It's far too warm in here to wear such a thing.” He tossed the cloak onto a nearby boulder that had the look of sculpture to it. “I don't need to dress up for these royals. I've fought beside them. They expect no grandeur from me.”

  “More's the pity.” She made a face. “Life should be full of grandeur, Son. Especially when you're a king.”

  Verin sighed as if this were a frequent argument then turned to us. “May I present my mother, Queen Savassa of the Azure Court? Mother, this is Queen Elaria, King Darcraxis, King Torin, King Declan, Prince Banning, Prince Saif, and Lord Gage.”

  “It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty,” I said for all of us.

  “The honor is mine.” Savassa inclined her head. “I have never encountered a woman with a harem. I'm utterly fascinated.”

  Declan choked on a laugh.

  “These men are my husbands and mate; they're my family,” I corrected her gently. “They're not a harem.”

  Savassa blinked. Her dark eyes widened slightly then shifted to her son. She said something in their language, and he replied curtly. Despite his tone, she smiled approvingly but that approval seemed to be directed at me, not Verin.

  “Uh, if I may?” Prince Saif interrupted the mother-son discussion.

  They both looked at him askance.

  “I am not a part of the family,” Said said firmly. “I'd just like to make that clear.”

  Queen Savassa laughed in delight. “Wonderful! I'm thrilled that at least one of my visitors is an eligible, royal male.”

  Saif flushed.

  “Mother,” Verin's growl sounded beleaguered.

  “I'm simply employing talents that I haven't been able to practice for a long time,” Queen Savassa declared. “Surely the Prince doesn't begrudge me some mild flirtation? I'm harmless.”

  Verin snorted.

  “I would begrudge you nothing, Your Majesty.” Prince Saif bowed. “I'm honored to be the target of your talent.”

  “Oh, sweet seawater,” Verin cursed. “Mother, their need is rather pressing.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Savassa rolled her eyes and held her hand out limply to Saif. “You may escort me, Prince Saif.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Saif took the Queen's hand and wrapped it around his arm.

  Verin rolled his eyes.

  “This way, please,” Savassa called back to us as she headed toward the arch.

  “I thought she entertained guests in the garden?” I asked Verin as we followed.

  “I do,” Savassa answered for her son. “But I never call the dead here. The garden is a place for life; it would suffer from a spiritual visit.”

  “And she would suffer from the wrong ambiance for her performance,” Verin added dryly.

  “My son likes to act as if psychic abilities are all smoke and mirrors despite the heavy proof to the contrary,” Savassa said as she led us into a dark room. “He even denies his own talents.”

  Verin grunted as if he couldn't bother with the energy it would take to protest.

  The room the Queen Mother brought us to was small, circular, and completely lined in blue coral. A round table stood in its exact center with several chairs gathered around it; more than enough to accommodate all of us. It looked as if the Queen was used to entertaining a crowd.

  “You don't believe she can contact the dead?” I asked Verin.

  “Oh, she absolutely can,” Verin said. “But she takes pleasure in the spectacle more than the communication.”

  Savassa let go of Saif and turned on her son with a stark expression; one devoid of all artifice. “That's because the dead give no pleasure. They only take; if you're unwise enough or careless enough to allow them to. My spectacle, as you call it, diminishes their pride, wears at their will, and gives me another layer of protection, especially when I must force them to obey me.”

  Verin inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you for helping my friends, Mother.”

  Queen Savassa instantly brightened and glided forward to place a kiss on her son's cheek. “Anything for you, my beautiful boy.”

  She spoke to him again in their language, and Verin's doting expression turned sour. They argued while the rest of us watched on. Savassa sounded imploring while Verin conveyed stern refusal. Finally, the Queen waved her dainty hand and dismissed the argument as if it were nothing.

  Verin's jaw clenched and his stare shot briefly to me.

  “Please, sit down,” Queen Savassa waved toward the chairs. “Have you brought a personal connection to the dead? Something they owned or touched?”

  My jaw dropped in dismay. “No, we didn't know that was required.”

  “
It's not necessary, it just makes it easier.” Savassa shook her head. “Who was closest to this person?”

  “Well, I killed her,” Darc offered.

  “That will do,” she said brightly.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Darc took the chair beside Queen Savassa's and held her hand. Verin sat on his mother's left. I thought she would ask us all to hold hands, but that request never came. Savassa simply closed her eyes and centered herself.

  “Who do you wish to contact?” Queen Savassa asked. “Their full name, please.”

  “Petra Demos,” I supplied the name.

  “Petra Demos,” she repeated, “come to me now!”

  The room vibrated with the Queen's demand; vibrated like a struck gong. I glanced at the walls warily. Something was strange about their surface; they didn't look as porous as they had when we'd first entered the space. Then they began to weep. I sat up straighter. Tears ran down the walls then slid toward the center of the room like translucent snakes. They gathered there and thumbed their liquid noses at gravity to run up the table legs and onto its surface. A pool formed in the center of the table and then it lifted into a column. The column quickly morphed into a human shape. Correction; a Satyr shape.

  The legs were clearly faun legs, capped in thick hooves. A watery rendition of fur covered them, disappearing beneath a modest skirt. I stared up the length of a smart suit and stopped when I reached Petra Demos's face. The face remained expressionless for a moment then the eyes blinked. They filled with comprehension and scanned the room. When Petra's stare landed on Darc, it narrowed.

  “How dare you summon me!” Petra hissed and launched herself at Darcraxis.

  Savassa stood and that action was enough to force Petra back into place. The surface of Petra's liquid face trembled like wind across a pond. She stared at the Dragoness in horror.

  “Who are you?!” Petra screeched.

  “For the moment, Petra Demos, I am your master.” Savassa let go of Darc's hand—his part was done—and extended her arms out to her sides grandly. “Welcome to slavery.”

  Isn't that fitting? RS asked snidely.

  “Fuck you, bitch!” For a second, it felt as if Petra had shouted it at RS, but she was speaking to Savassa.

  “You will learn submission and you will do so this very instant!” Savassa snarled. “Kneel!”

  Petra dropped to her knees as if she'd been shoved, her body splashing a bit before pulling itself back together. Her expression went panicked. “What the fuck do you want?”

  Savassa glanced at Darc.

  “The true name of your Jinn lover,” Darcraxis declared.

  I wouldn't have thought it possible for water to pale, but that's exactly what Petra seemed to do. She lost all hint of color as her expression filled with fear and then with fury.

  “Go to hell, Fairy.”

  “And have you for company?” Darc countered. “I think not.”

  Petra started to speak again, but Savassa held up her hand, palm out, and the Satyr's lips vanished; they simply smoothed into the rest of her face. Petra's eyes widened and her translucent hands shot to her smooth lower face in horror as Savassa gracefully resumed her seat.

  “You have experienced a minute portion of my power,” Savassa said softly, almost gently. “But if you refuse me again, you will learn how I can force your spirit to feel pain through the water I've summoned you into.”

  Petra couldn't speak but her eyes held a lot of nasty words.

  “Don't believe me?” Savassa laughed. “Very well.”

  Petra writhed suddenly. She couldn't scream, which seemed to make it worse. She crumpled into a nebulous form, her body bubbling like boiling water before Savassa ended her attack and allowed Petra to reform. Her mouth reappeared.

  “All right,” Petra gasped. “His name is... Idris.”

  Savassa sighed deeply and waved her little fingers. This time, Petra was able to scream and the sound of it sent chills down my spine.

  “Do not lie to me, Petra Demos,” Savassa said after Petra's screams had faded into moans. “I see all of you; you can hide nothing. Now, speak the name or I will tear it from your soul and you will lose it forever!” Savassa's voice rose into a roar.

  I winced.

  “Idrisanigal!” Petra shouted as she covered her ears.

  Absently, I wondered why Petra would have to cover ears that couldn't possibly have functioned as real ears did. But perhaps they did function. She had felt pain after all. Savassa was far more powerful than I'd expected. Oh, and I also pulled out my cellphone to jot the Jinni's name down.

  “How do you spell Idrisanigal?” I asked the cowering liquid-Petra.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After we got the name from Petra, we didn't need anything further from her. Savassa immediately released her spirit; the water dispersing into the air just as Petra started to say something horrible to Darc. Even without the details that living color would have added to her face—or perhaps because of its lack—Petra conveyed menace clearly. It left a shiver in my chest.

  “I'm in your debt,” I said to Savassa. “If there's ever anything I can do to repay you, just say the word.”

  “There is no—” Verin started to say.

  “There is one thing,” his mother cut him off.

  “Of course.” I blinked in surprise. “Name it.”

  “I'd like to read you, Your Majesty.” She looked pointedly at the other men and added, “Alone.”

  “You're the second seer to ask for that,” I said flippantly to cover my unease. “Is there something I should know?”

  “You mean; are you fascinating to those of us with the gift?” Savassa teased back. “No, not exactly. You have... a feeling about you. Around you. A disturbance in the...”

  “Force?” I offered with a grin.

  “In a way.” She grinned back. “Things are happening around you, Your Majesty, and we need to discuss one of them.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Mother,” Verin growled.

  “I need to speak with the Spellsinger.” Savassa stood with such authority that none of the men protested when she waved her hand toward the door. Not even her son. They simply obeyed.

  Verin did spare me a concerned look as he left though. I shook my head at him, dismissing his worry. I could handle one perceptive woman. Hell, I lived with one in my mind.

  Be careful with her; she is perhaps too discerning, my perceptive woman said, proving my point.

  I'll watch my words, I promised.

  Queen Savassa took a seat beside mine and declared without preamble, “You're sexually attracted to my son.”

  I gaped at her then closed my mouth with a click.

  “You don't have to say anything.” She waved her tiny hand as if confirmation wasn't required. “I've seen it. And what's more important—at least to me—is that my son is just as attracted to you.”

  I cleared my throat. “Queen Savassa—”

  “Just listen for a moment, Spellsinger,” she snapped.

  “Yes, Ma'am.” I shut up.

  “I know of your spell; I see it—no, I see her—inside you. I feel her need. You hang on the edge of a great and deadly chasm. One misstep and you will fall. You will also drag those you love down with you. No one will survive your death.”

  My stomach clenched and a horrified sound escaped me. Still, I tried to make a protest, “Once I free Slate of the Jinni, I won't have a pressing need for another lover.”

  “Yes, you will. You will buy yourself time but not much of it. Not enough.” She held up a hand. “Don't protest; you're wrong. Think, Elaria. When did your need manifest? Was it before or after you lost your lover?”

  She had me there but I tried again anyway, “The Witches are working on a spell—”

  “The Witches will be too late,” she cut me off. “I think you know this. Great magic takes time; time that you don't have. You've foolishly put this off instead of addressing it when you ha
d a greater chance of success.”

  I sighed and sat back in my chair heavily. She was right; we had talked about this but done nothing to prevent it. We knew disaster was coming but somehow thought we could evade it by sheer will alone. We'd look for a solution, we'd said. But we hadn't searched as desperately as we should have. Foolish indeed. Foolish and foolhardy.