It looks like I’m walking through a forest. A magical forest. A hummingbird even flits by me, and some peacocks saunter by the next room over. The Skylleans we pass look equally flamboyant, with iridescent hair and eyes and extravagant clothing. Alongside such a celebration of life, Thanopolis really does look and feel like a subdued, death-obsessed city.
We finally make our way into a spacious courtyard, the sky above covered by a glass canopy. Blue and green fragments make swirling patterns in imitation of the veil itself, sending down filtered sunlight that makes everything look like it’s underwater. There’s an inexplicable shimmer in the air, golden motes floating in shafts of light. I expect more vibrant extravagance in so large a space, so I’m surprised to find it empty, save for Delphia and a small knot of Skyllean guards wearing intricately layered armor that fits together like overlapping leaves. The princess wears a beautiful cerulean gown in Skyllean style, her cloud of white hair tinted blue-green by the glass canopy. She first sees Japha and Alldan and brightens. She positively glows at the sight of the latter.
“Prince Alldan! And Japha,” she adds belatedly. “Will we speak with her again? She said we can when—oh! Rovan, you’re alive! Ivrilos was right, I knew it!”
“Um,” I say, but before I can clarify, the gold in the air glimmers to life, seeming to gather in a rippling sheet. Suddenly, inside a strange flickering outline, is another world. I don’t really understand what I’m seeing, because this view should be impossible.
Towering gray trees rise in the background, with spiraling walkways twining around their trunks, wide enough for carriages. Buildings nestle in their massive branches. I can see lights in the tear-shaped windows, glowing like drops of dew from among wide swaths of curtaining, silver-green leaves. Bridges stretch between them, as intricate and numerous as the strands of a spider’s web, glowing with an internal light. Right at the forefront is a deck of swirling pale wood, as if we’re looking out over the view from a nearby tree.
It’s a city in the trees. Swarming with people.
I’m looking through a portal.
There is pride in Alldan’s gaze as he turns from the view to where Japha, Ivrilos, and I stand frozen in awe. “I’m pleased to present Skyllea and our capital city, Lyridan.”
It’s so beautiful I can’t speak—the land I’ve so long dreamed of seeing. My father’s homeland.
“How…?” I begin, extending my hand toward the sparking gold frame.
“It won’t hurt you, but you can’t pass through,” Alldan says. “It’s how our delegation here stays in communication with Skyllea. It’s something like a living echo, if you will, created through blood magic, of course. We’ve been developing the sigils for ages.”
I’m hardly paying attention to him, because I’ve spotted something else through the portal. On the ground in the distance, I see the ranks of an army beginning to assemble. A massive army. They’re far away in Skyllea, but I know where they’re headed.
“We sent some of our most magically powerful here before, in Cylla and Silvean,” Alldan says, and then waves at himself. “And now our least powerful, with promises that Thanopolis will soon have access to our greatest assets: our bloodlines.” He smiles. “Oh, we will deliver Skyllea to them, but not in the way they think.”
“Don’t give away all our secrets, my son,” says a voice.
A woman steps into view on the other side of the magical window, followed by a coterie of attendants, and, stunningly, a pair of white tigers at her flanks. Her hair is spun gold, her skin a dark, metallic bronze underneath an endlessly long bloodline that even drops down both cheeks like red tears. Her eyes are entirely white to match her flowing gown. She’s just as impressive as the city behind her, with a towering white wooden crown, rising and curling at the ends like an elaborate tree complete with dangling diamond and emerald leaves.
“And may I present my mother,” Alldan continues, “Kytharae, Queen of Skyllea.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, so I bow my head. Japha goes a little deeper—maybe they’re more used to royalty than I am. Delphia curtsies.
Ivrilos, mostly unseen, stands unmoving, staring at the white tigers. His face is avidly alight. When he notices my attention, he blinks, looking almost embarrassed. “I haven’t seen one of those since I was a boy, and it was a poor, starved creature. Brought to the arena to fight, back when they used to do such things. They haven’t been hauled across the blight in ages.” He smiles wistfully. “I wanted to free it.”
He looks so much like that boy that my heart breaks. How far he is from his past, and yet he’s still that child somewhere deep inside. And it makes me realize: Ivrilos may be protecting me, but for the first time, I want to protect him.
If the Skylleans don’t execute me first.
“Greetings,” the queen says, without nodding back. But she smiles radiantly at the princess. “Delphia has agreed to foster with us in Lyridan, in the absence of her mother, our beloved Cylla.”
Japha blinks at her in surprise. Obviously, Delphia didn’t mention it to them first. And yet she is of an age to make her own decisions. She’s only slightly younger than me, even if at times her timidity and her innocence make her seem far younger. But I still can’t help but think that since the Skylleans don’t have Lydea within their grasp, they’re already looking toward the next heir to the throne.
“We all miss our auntie Cylla,” Japha says, “but I am curious how Delphia’s father might feel about this.”
“I’m not,” the queen says bluntly. “He sent her to a place of death to be forgotten. To die young.”
And then I realize: They don’t know. No one knows who—what—the king truly is. Kadreus, the revenant. Ivrilos wasn’t able to tell them, and no one other than the two of us witnessed what happened.
I’m not sure how to bring it up as Japha continues, lifting both hands, “I also think Skyllea is a better place for my cousin, mind you. It’s just that certain kings in certain cities might view smuggling the princess out of the city as a royal kidnapping and an act of war.” They glance off into the portal, at the troops assembling far below. “Though it looks like you’re preparing for that eventuality.”
War. It’s a distant, terrible thought—that might soon be too close and real for comfort.
The queen disregards Japha, turning to me. “So this is she. Is she sane?”
Alldan opens his mouth, but I beat him to it. “As sane as anyone here.”
“I knew your father,” the queen says, her white eyes seeming to look everywhere and nowhere at once. “Silvean came from a family of famous scholars. I wonder, did you inherit his wit?”
“I’m not sure. But I did inherit this.” I lift my arm, my plum sleeve sliding away to reveal my bloodline. “He left me clues that would bring me to Skyllea. To you. But now I’m wondering at the intelligence of that.”
“He did not know what you would become. Had he, perhaps he would have directed you elsewhere.”
“Well, now I’m here, which is still in Thanopolis last I checked. Alldan wouldn’t tell me what you want with me. Hopefully you can. Your Majesty,” I add belatedly.
She tilts her head at me. “Show me what you truly are.”
I stare at her. Does she want me to do tricks?
Japha leans over and whispers out of the corner of their mouth, “You might want to show off your shadow puppet.”
“He’s not a puppet,” I grumble, but I look at Ivrilos. He reaches for my hand with a half smile.
As soon as he takes it, several people gasp at the strange appearance of a dead man in their midst. More Skylleans from the delegation have gathered at the entrance to the courtyard behind me to watch the show.
Ivrilos nods at the queen, but she ignores him. “So it’s true,” she says. “You have a bond that transcends even your death.”
Delphia’s silver eyes fly to me in shock. “But I thought you weren’t truly dead?”
I smile sadly at her, shrugging.
“I can still wield blood magic, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say, squeezing Ivrilos’s hand tighter, “with my father’s bloodline at my disposal. And I believe I can use death magic as well, though I haven’t tried.”
“Try.”
I frown, feeling like one of the poor monkeys in the marketplace, forced to do a dance on command. I glance at Ivrilos, and he gives me a reassuring smile.
“Why not?” he asks. He doesn’t seem concerned about the predicament we’re in. His calm confidence seeps into me.
Maybe it’s his essence, his knowing, that tells me how to do it. But my lips and my mouth move, trying to form the shape I have in mind, and using the space of my lungs. I breathe it.
“Skia,” I whisper. Shadow in the older language of Thanopolis. Like a curl of smoke, darkness coils into the air before me, twining around my upraised hand. It feels cool and almost comforting against my skin. “This magic doesn’t hurt me anymore,” I murmur, half in wonder. And then I summon fire with barely a thought. Flame twists around the shadow. Darkness and light entwined. “It feels like it complements my blood magic instead of fighting it.”
“Because you are living a half life,” the queen says. “As good as dead.”
“Maybe,” I say, trying not to feel the sting in her words. “But I’m still here, aren’t I? And death would mean the loss of my bloodline, and it’s still here, too. Maybe this is the only way to truly use blood magic and death magic together. To inhabit the space between.”
The queen practically sniffs. “I’d rather be alive.”
“And go mad and rot?” I snap, and then nod at the two fading bloodmages, standing right next to me. “I hope they have fun with that. I’m trying to look on the bright side here.”
“Still, what else can you offer?”
I drop my hand in disbelief, the shadow and flame vanishing. “Shall we turn this into a trial by combat?” I look around and smile, and I know it’s feral. “Because I can also fight”—I toss my head at Ivrilos, whom they can all see standing with the relaxed confidence of one of those tigers—“like him.”
“No,” Ivrilos says. “Like never before. Like I never have before.” He looks at me with pride. “You’re much stronger than I was in life. We’re much stronger.”
I turn my smile on the queen. “There you have it.”
“Even so,” the queen says. “There’s one thing you’re forgetting.”
I blink at her.
“What do you need to sustain yourself?”
Oh yeah, that.
She nods at Alldan, and he signals to a couple of guards. They leave the courtyard for a few moments and return with a bedraggled man suspended between them. He’s wearing a stained, nondescript gray chiton, its edges fraying. He’s obviously a prisoner of some sort.
“What is this?” I ask nervously.
“I just want to show everyone what it is that you eat, before we decide what to do with you,” the queen says.
I want to snarl at her. “I’m pretty sure I decide what to do with me, and don’t they eat the same thing?” I gesture at the two blighted mages, whose red eyes track the man.
“We limit them to pigs’ blood when we can help it, but our worst criminals we sentence to satiate the darkness. We … borrowed … this one from Thanopolis’s prison. He was destined for the chopping block.” She nods at the man, whom the guards force to his knees in front of me. He stares at me with wide, frightened eyes. He moans but can’t seem to open his mouth. A bloodmage has probably locked it closed. Nobody likes to listen to screaming, after all. “This man is a murderer.”
I’m a murderer: of the two men guarding Kineas’s quarters and the other people I’ve gotten killed. My father. My mother. Bethea’s mother. Kineas. The guards in front of the royal gallery. The list probably goes on.
And it’s going to get longer if I can’t avert an oncoming war.
“He’s also a rapist,” the queen adds, watching me carefully.
Well. I’m definitely not that. I try to picture Kineas as I look at him.
Maybe it’s my hunger trying to convince me more than anything. I want to decry this as disgusting, and say I won’t have anything to do with it. But my stomach gives a strange, slow twinge. Not like a growl, as if I were alive, but the feel of an awakening beast rolling over.
Oh no.
I can’t stop staring at his neck. Now Japha looks a little sick. Delphia starts backing away, as if ready to flee the courtyard. Alldan surveys the situation with righteous distaste.
I want to slap him. All I did was die—trying to help him, no less—and this is what I get?
But next to me, Ivrilos merely shrugs. He obviously doesn’t find this whole display as horrible as I do, not after everything he’s done to survive life after death.
“You need to eat,” he says.
Still, I refuse to perform like some monkey. I sneer at the queen. “If he’s so tempting, why don’t you eat him?”
She stares back at me through the portal. And then she signals to the two blighted mages. They close on the man like dogs on a bone.
Maybe the queen understands me all too well. Because shortly after the blighted mages have lunged forward, the queen signals again. The gray man and woman—looking slightly more pink cheeked now, their black lips smeared with red—pull back from the prisoner.
Leaving him bleeding from his neck and elbow, and kneeling before me.
It doesn’t help that Ivrilos nudges me gently. The novelty of his casual contact sends a thrill through me, only inflaming my hunger further.
“Go on,” he says.
And then I can’t help it.
I dive for the man, feeling a strange pressure against my gums. My eyeteeth are suddenly longer. Sharper. I’m barely aware of biting the other side of his neck.
Because all my attention is focused on what comes after: the flood of blood into my mouth.
It’s exquisite. It’s the finest wine, the most mouthwatering food, all stirred into one. It’s everything my body wants. Almost. Ivrilos and his touches have given me a clue as to the rest.
I am a creature of hunger.
I barely notice when I drop the man. But I can feel his blood thrumming through me as if it’s mine. As if my heart is still powerfully beating. I feel like I can do anything.
Everyone is staring at me in horror. Except the blighted mages. They look jealous of my meal. And Ivrilos.
He’s respectful. Appreciative. In a little bit of awe. And more than a little in love.
So different from the look the queen is giving me.
“See,” she says sadly. “You can’t control yourself.”
I spin on her, everything razor sharp around me. I can hear a dozen different people breathing, a dozen hearts beating. All but my own, Ivrilos’s, and the man’s on the ground. “You wanted to humiliate me, prove I’m some kind of an animal so you might easily condemn me, but you’ve only made me stronger. You can’t control me, either.”
“That’s what worries me most of all. An uncontrollable animal can turn against those who feed it.”
I glare at her. “I really hope one of those tigers tears out your throat one day.”
“Is that a threat?” she asks. The blighted mages and guards on this side of the portal tense, their hands ready for sigils or swords.
I shake my head. “I could be on your side. You could have me fighting with you. Or you can try to kill me, but your royal schemes? I will royally fuck them all up before I go.” I lift my gaze to the glass canopy, wondering what it would take to bring it down. Not much. “And yes, before you ask, that is a threat.”
More hands move for their weapons.
Japha’s eyes flick around, their expression hard. “I’m with her. I didn’t deal with a pile of bigoted shit in the palace just to put up with more of it here.”
Goddess, I adore Japha. I try to hide how grateful I am. I stand
tall and confident. My next words are loud and hard, so everyone can hear: “You worry that you can’t control me? Why don’t you worry about the fact that someone like me is in control of this entire polis?”
Silence answers me, aside from the odd creak of armor or shift of a boot.
The queen’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the king is a revenant,” I proclaim, “exactly like me, except he’s been ruling Thanopolis for four hundred years. He’s Ivrilos’s brother, bound to their father, Athanatos, who is lord of the underworld. He kills—drinks—and assumes the identity of every crown prince who tries to succeed him. Tyros is gone.”
In the murmuring chorus of heartbeats, quite a few quicken. Japha’s and Delphia’s eyes widen as the realization sets in. It doesn’t take long for them to believe. Japha releases a shaky breath, while Delphia’s face crumples. She doesn’t have either of her parents left anymore.
“His name is Kadreus,” Ivrilos volunteers, taking my hand again so all can hear him.
“And we’re willing to challenge him so you don’t have to,” I continue. “But obviously not if you try to destroy me. Or if you intend to destroy the city.”
“What she said,” Japha adds.
I flash them a grin and turn back to the queen. “So are you with us or against us? Because we’re going to take down an undead king and make the war you are about to start unnecessary.”
The queen regards me a moment longer, her expression oddly calm. “And you think you can succeed?” she asks.
It’s Ivrilos’s turn to squeeze my hand. “Rovan is the best chance we’ve ever had.”
I smile at him. “Only with you.”
Unmoved, the queen asks, “Why would you do this? What’s in it for you?”
“Revenge,” I say bluntly. “The man killed my mother and ordered the death of my father. And this is my city. The king is my responsibility. If your army invades to take care of him instead of leaving him to me, so many more people will die.”
“A trifle, next to what his blight has destroyed.” She pauses. “I will grant a temporary stay on your execution and on the deployment of our army. But,” she adds, “you must destroy this king and his blight.”
In the Ravenous Dark Page 30