Resistance: The Umbra Chronicles Book 3

by Grace Martin

  The King sent away the guards and sent Aine to sit on the other side of the Queen. He faced Oisin.

  ‘Three hundred years of exile,’ the King said. ‘Three hundred years of fear and rumour. I am Conal, of the family Caelorann, King of Camaria. Oisin, King of the Draceni, I honour your name.’

  And the King bowed.

  Saoirse’s whimpering cries fell completely silent. Every eye was on the two kings. Oisin bowed in return.

  That was another moment. It felt like history falling into place, something that should have happened last time, and didn’t. But because of this moment, the future would follow a different path.

  Saoirse pulled away from Gwydion’s restraining hands. ‘Traitors!’ she hissed. ‘Deceivers! Evil creature! Conal, this is not a man! The Draceni are shapeshifters. His true shape is a dragon!’

  This… didn’t have the dramatic effect she’d aimed for. I think she’d expected Aine to gasp, Gwydion to frown disapprovingly and the King to call for his guards.

  The King frowned, but no one else responded. Not even Oisin, who took her abuse like a rock in a river receives the wave that crashes upon it and rushes past.

  Saoirse looked from one to the other, finally settling on the King. When he had her full attention, when she was drawing in a deep breath to spew more filthy words, he said, ‘Those words are not welcome in this room, beloved. I will not accept disrespect of you, and neither will I accept disrespect of a guest.’

  Saoirse closed her mouth. This was not going as planned, and even though I’d had a pretty good day, this was just like the cherry on top. The King went on to explain. ‘The Draceni were once our cousins. They were Camiri, like any other Camiri. As many people share different magical gifts, those who became known as the Draceni were gifted with the ability to shape-shift. They are no different from you or I. I do not have great magical gifts. You, my beloved, carry the power of Umbra’s blood. Umbra’s heirs are notable for their abilities to shapeshift. Were it not for a tragic turn of history, it might have been Umbra’s heirs who were outcast, rather than the Draceni. Oisin, you are welcome here.’

  Saoirse leapt to her feet again. ‘I’m not going to stay and listen to this!’ She cried. ‘It’s an abomination. The Draceni are unnatural. They are a blight on this earth and should be destroyed for the good of everyone. Where are your people camped, Oisin? Tell us, and a thousand warriors will arrive to apprehend them, and keep the rest of the Kingdom safe.’

  I don’t think any of us had expected such explicit hatred in her voice and in her words.

  ‘Beloved,’ the King said, ‘Oisin is our guest-’

  ‘He is a monster!’

  I couldn’t help myself. ‘You’re the monster, Saoirse. Do you even know how many you’ve killed? How many died in the Camiri Purges? How many magi were burned at the stake? And now you would obliterate the Draceni, too?’

  ‘I won’t be spoken to like I’m… like I’m…’

  ‘Like you speak to others?’ I supplied.

  If the king had looked away for just a moment, she would have fried me then and there. Gwydion rose and clasped her upper arms, standing behind her, head and shoulders taller than she was. ‘Don’t let her get to you, my lady. She would provoke even the mildest of us.’

  ‘Well, I provoked you, yesterday, didn’t I?’ I wasn’t helping, and I didn’t want to repeat in front of Oisin that Gwydion had nearly struck me yesterday. I was ashamed, even though I knew it wasn't me who should be ashamed. But to know that I behaved so badly he nearly lost control and slapped me – yes, I was ashamed of that.

  I bit my lip. ‘I apologise if I was provoking, Gwydion. I tried to explain. Is there nothing I can do to make you believe me?’

  Gwydion straightened up even further, dwarfing Saoirse now. ‘I believe the word of my lady, Emer. No matter how many lives you save, no matter how much danger you put yourself in, I cannot believe that my lady would deceive us, returning from the life where she has hidden herself for decades. She has no motivation to lie. And after everything you’ve done, Emer, even today, I know who I believe.’

  I tried not to slump. It was worse than a smack to the face. I don’t know when it happened, but apparently, I really cared what Gwydion thought of me. ‘I am deeply sorry to hear that.’

  I cleared my throat and made eye contact with the King. ‘However, more is at stake than personal feelings. We stand on the brink of destruction. In Meistria, the White Queen is slaughtering the free Camiri. She is purging the land of every person with magic who cannot be drafted into her Dragon Guards. People are leaving the towns and villages to live in clefts of rock and caves in the mountains. The Draceni are going to be enslaved. She will destroy the world if you do not act.’ I looked from the King to Oisin. ‘Together. The time the divisions between Camiri and Draceni is over. It’s time to work together, for a better world.’

  Wordlessly, gracefully, Oisin dropped to one knee. He took my hand and pressed a kiss to the ring the Empress had given me.

  He hadn’t even stood up yet when Saoirse ripped herself from Gwydion’s grasp. ‘Where did you get that ring? It’s mine! Give it to me!’

  Fortunately, Oisin, rising to his feet, was still between me and Saoirse. She was so incandescent with rage that she hadn't even reached for her magic. Her hands were extended, clawing towards me. She wanted to feel my flesh beneath her fingernails.

  Oisin grabbed her hands and held both her wrists with one fist. He spun her around, using her own momentum to swing her to face the King. Still holding her hands above her head, her fingers twisted into claws above his grip, he turned to face Gwydion.

  ‘Kindly control your mother,’ he said calmly.

  Gwydion took her from Oisin. She shook him off, but didn’t attack me again. She pointed her finger at me. ‘That does not belong to you,’ she said, both voice and pointing finger trembling. ‘You have no right to wear it.’

  I held up the ring so she could see it clearly. ‘The Empress gave me this ring,’ I replied, trying to remain calm, even though I’d had a spitting virago ready to rip my throat open with her fingernails just a moment ago. ‘This ring is mine. Thanks to the time travel that none of you seem to believe in, the Empress was my sister.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Even Aine jerked backwards in shock. None of them had known this except for Saoirse. ‘When we went through the portal, Lynnevet, my sister, was flung three hundred years into the past. Separated from me, bitter and alone, she was consumed by darkness. She knew that I would appear one day, though, so she created the position of Bach Chwaer, the heir to the throne. It was always intended for me. I wasn’t just given the title of Bach Chwaer. I am the Bach Chwaer.’

  It was the first time I’d admitted it. All this time I’d held back, feeling out of place, feeling unworthy, but I’d spoken the truth just now. I hadn’t usurped anyone’s position. I hadn’t taken a role I didn’t deserve. I hadn’t deceived anyone for the sake of ambition. I was the Bach Chwaer. It was my right to wear that ring.

  ‘I thought you went back to save your sister? How did she end up three hundred years in the past?’

  ‘Time travel.’ I shrugged. ‘I brought a younger version of my sister back with me to my own time. So, there were two of them, one nineteen, one fourteen. The younger one was thrown into the past and became the Empress. The elder one is in a safe place. I will not allow her to grow into the bitter, lonely old woman that the Empress became. This is her second chance.’

  ‘I see,’ Aine said gravely. ‘I can understand that would be important to you. I would have done anything if I’d been able to reach my sister.’

  ‘You should have tried harder,’ Saoirse spat.

  Aine turned to face Saoirse. ‘How would you know how hard I tried, Mother? You weren’t there for either of us. The only person we had to be a mother to us was Lynnevet, the Empress.’

  ‘I didn’t have a chance to be a mother to you,’ Saoirse cried. ‘That evil woman took my place, stole my d
aughters, took my crown. It’s thanks to her that I have nothing now. I could spit on her memory, for all the unhappiness she has brought me.’

  ‘Then you differ from my older sister, then,’ Aine responded. ‘Aoife wanted our stepmother's approval more than she wanted anything else in the world. She would have done anything, short of sacrificing her own ambition, for our stepmother’s approval. She wanted to be the Bach Chwaer more than she wanted… well, I don’t know. She was so focused on being the heir to the throne that I honestly don’t think she ever wanted anything more.

  ‘Then when Emer arrived, and Mother gave her the position of Bach Chwaer, it was something that Aoife couldn't stand. She hated Emer for taking over her position. Aoife could never forgive that Emer had taken both her position as Bach Chwaer and her position as mother’s favoured one. Why do you care so much about a ring that our stepmother gave Emer, Mother? It was never your ring.’

  Saoirse looked visibly uncomfortable. ‘It was my ring before. Before I gave birth to you and your sister. Lynnevet stole it from me. Naturally, I was upset that she was wearing it.’

  ‘As you’ve been telling us, Mother, Emer is your daughter, too. You’ve been telling us how much you love her, how disappointed you are in her. Wouldn’t you be proud that she rose to the position of becoming Lynnevet’s Bach Chwaer? Wouldn’t that give you a sense of vindication, that your own daughter should be heir to the throne that was taken from you?’

  ‘Aine, you’re taking this all wrong,’ Saoirse crooned. She reached out to smooth Aine’s hair. Aine moved her head away from Saoirse’s hand. ‘Darling, it wasn’t right for Emer to become Bach Chwaer. That role belonged to your older sister. It was only fair that Aoife should rule in my stead. Emer had no right to that position.’

  ‘Really? As your daughter, it would seem that she had as much right as Aoife or I had to that position. You were the Queen; our father was merely your consort. His throne was here, in Camaria. You were the ruler of Meistria. Any right to rule would pass through you, and our lands have never insisted on passing the inheritance through the eldest. Whichever child was most suited to the task would receive the responsibility. Emer has the right to rule, Mother.’

  ‘She does not!’

  ‘If she is your daughter, Mother, then she has the right to rule. She is obviously one of Umbra’s heirs. If she isn’t your daughter, who is she? The one incontrovertible fact here, Mother, is that Emer is part of our family. I’ve started to wonder if perhaps we have lost sight of that. Aoife never cared anything for family, either.’

  ‘Maybe Aoife was right!’

  ‘Beloved.’ The King’s word was soft, but his voice was not. ‘Daughter. This kind of discussion does not need to be held here. Oisin, the hour is late, and it sounds like the day has been eventful. Please, allow the family Caelorann to provide you hospitality tonight.’

  We were all left, practically vibrating with the angry words that trembled on our lips.

  Aine walked me back to my room, as though the guards that followed us were merely co-incidental. Outside my room, just before we reached the guards waiting there, too, Aine stopped me with a hand on my wrist. There was a change in sensation where the new family marking graced my skin.

  ‘Emer, thank you for not telling him that I was fighting. He… wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘Thank you for not telling him I changed shape,’ I replied. ‘I know for damn sure he wouldn’t approve of that.’

  She turned to look out a window. It was completely dark, the moon not having risen yet, but the lights of other windows were visible across the bailey. She raised a hand towards the glass and I heard the noise as her fingers approached, but didn’t quite reach it.

  ‘Saoirse told me she cast a spell to stop any person from leaving the castle after dark. It was to stop you, you know, in case you got out of your room. If you tried to go through a window or a door after dark your skin would burn.’

  ‘I may or may not have figured that part out by myself.’

  ‘Burned fingers?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Oh, well. I suppose Andras has a gift for healing. Strange, isn’t it, that the gift for healing so often is found in great warriors? I suppose it only makes sense. Those who live violent lives are probably the most in need of healing. Caradoc was a great healer, too, or so they said.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t know him very well.’

  ‘I didn’t. But he was the leader of the rebellion. If you think people didn’t talk about him all the time, you’re very naïve. He was the talk of the castle for months, while you were in your featherskin strewing fresh rushes on the floor.’

  ‘What a lovely memory.’ Snark. It’s my native language. I joined her at the window. I reached out towards it, until I could just feel the heat of the shield stopping anyone from leaving the castle. ‘I remember the Empress used a spell like this once, to keep me and Caradoc from escaping again.’

  ‘It’s a sensible spell,’ Aine commented. ‘After all, it wouldn’t be sensible to enclose the whole castle in an impenetrable shell. We need air to get through, after all. And it’s bespelled so if you turn yourself into anything you won’t be able to get through it. Fortunately, Andras’s gifts, while strong in healing magic, are not strong enough to change your shape to allow you to slip through the shield.’ She turned to look at me. ‘You could get through the shield if someone changed you, though.’

  ‘And who do I know well enough to do that… Aine? Anyway, I’m not leaving. I’m not running away. I came here willingly. Sure, I didn’t know the White Queen was going to be here, but that changes very little, really. I’m still here to do the right thing.’

  Aine turned away to look back out the window. ‘What a lovely night.’ She trailed her fingers across the surface of the shield, leaving a faint trail of sparks. ‘What if you only went for a little while? You could go to see someone.’

  ‘Sparrow? I mean, Elisabeth?’ There I was getting too comfortable. I rarely told anyone I called my sister Sparrow. It was a private thing between us. I shrugged, pretending I hadn’t revealed more than I liked.

  ‘You said she was safe, and close. You said…’ Aine leaned closer to the window and breathed upon it. The window misted, but didn’t spark. ‘You said Rhiannon was with her. You could come with me, out onto the tower. That’s where I go to train. It’s the only place outside where the shield allows us to be under the moonlight. I couldn’t change you now, because I used all my power earlier today, but in the moonlight I could.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘And then we could go see Rhiannon.’

  I felt like something heavy had dropped on top of me unexpectedly. I was going to be mean again. How could I possibly tell her no? How could I tell her that I wouldn’t let her change my shape to get me out of the palace when she just wanted to see her baby? What kind of monster was I? I really wasn’t the nice one.

  I understood. By God, I understood. I would have given anything to see David again. It was like an injury, deep in my bones. I kept moving, kept on like everything was normal, but deep inside, something was fractured and wouldn’t heal until we were together again.

  And I had to tell her no. The spell Eliann had pressed upon me would change my shape involuntarily. It was the only way out of a containment spell. When we went out onto the tower, when the moonlight touched my skin, I would change. When I saw the sunlight, I would change back. And as much as I cared for Aine, as much as I pitied her, I couldn’t risk allowing her to see that I wasn’t as confined as she thought.

  For the sake of my own family, I had to keep Aine away from her baby tonight. And what did that make me?

  Full of self-loathing, I shrugged again and settled for a half truth. ‘I don’t know, Aine. How can I trust you? You only believe the parts of my story that benefit you. You’re more than willing to believe that I’ve brought Rhiannon back with me, as a woman my age, but you won’t believe that I brought your sister, old enough to be the older Rhiannon’s moth
er, back with me. You’d rather believe that your mother somehow cheated death, left you alone your entire life while she hid in Cairnagorn, and then somehow managed to appear in Ce’Branna the very day that I come to tell you that she’s here? When I risk everything, over and again, to help you, to help others?’

  I took a few steps away. I hadn’t realised how angry and bitter I was feeling about all of this. For some reason, here in the dark, when she wasn’t looking at me, it was so much easier to express it. I paced around the hallway. ‘Nothing I do is ever going to be enough, is it? Gwydion said as much. But at least he was honest. He wasn’t trying to push me away with one hand, while trying to take something from me with the other.’

  Aine spun to face me. ‘You’re underestimating Gwydion,’ she cried. She slapped a hand against her breastbone. ‘And you’re killing me.’

  ‘Aine-’

  She held out her hand to stop me from coming too close. ‘You’re asking too much from me, Emer. I’m torn in two. And for all your high and mighty words, apparently you don’t care too much about seeing your sister, either, because if you did, you would have jumped at the chance to be with her, even if it meant lowering yourself to help me. I’m sorry I even wasted time thinking about how I could help you.’

  ‘Help yourself,’ I corrected, still angry. ‘You weren’t thinking of me, you were thinking of yourself. But then, who in this palace isn’t?’

  I left her there, stalking back to my room. The guards let me in and closed the door behind me. I rested back against it, my hands at my sides, palms pressed to the timber. My head leaned back and I looked up, trying to contain the tears of anger and self-reproach.

  Andras was there. I’d wondered if Ferdas would take him to his own room or to mine. We might have shared some intense moments last night, but for all I knew, Andras had shared some intense moments with every woman in the palace. I wasn’t sure how much I was supposed to read into it, even with his protestations of love.