Ninthborn (The Ninthborn Chronicle Book 1)

by J. E. Holmes

  “I’m sorry, Issy,” Ediline said, placating. Enduring a tantrum was all part of negotiating through a conversation with Isbeil. “Here, look! I brought Javras to meet you.”

  She blinked at Javras. The indignation melted away like ice over a fire. The corner of her mouth closest to Ediline crooked up. “It is a joy to meet you finally,” she said. Then she spoke in the language he and his keepers used when they wanted to keep Ediline out of something. She’d learned it was the national language of Ronrónfa and was simply called Fa. Whatever she said elicited a chuckle all around and made Ediline just grind her toe into the wood beneath her foot.

  “I was trying to see Mother,” Ediline said.

  “You missed her by quite a margin, baby sister.”

  “I mean before we came here, at the North Wing.”

  “At this hour? Her Brilliance isn’t in bed, getting her royal beauty sleep?”

  “Evidently not,” Ediline said. She begged Isbeil to fill in the gap. Please, sister, tell me what she is doing, because I can’t get an acceptable answer from anyone else.

  “Hm,” was all she said.

  “I am sorry that we disturbed you, Princess Isbeil,” Javras said. “It wasn’t our intent. Your sister and my keeper, Wulfgar, were just attempting to work out some frustration by engaging in a friendly race.”

  “Your sister princess bested me,” Wulfgar said, and he bowed. At the bow’s lowest point, he tilted his head toward Ediline and gave her an approving nod. Ediline rolled her eyes.

  “Yes, well,” Isbeil started. “I suppose she is a fast runner. Edi, could I speak to you, inside, a moment?” She smiled to Javras and his companions. “Sesér Teshtéshev, would you mind if I borrowed her?”

  “Not at all, Princess, thank you.”

  Ediline followed Isbeil into the house, knowing she might be headed toward a verbal thrashing. The door was still marked by whatever had happened that night in the dark-rain. That shape that shifted through the perfect darkness. It made her shiver. When she passed through the doorway, she glanced up at the dim torowood lamp, the twirling little branches, withered slightly after how much Isbeil had sapped from it.

  Isbeil closed the door softly behind her and set her hands against it. “How have you been sleeping?”

  Ediline balked; this was not the tongue-lashing she’d expected, after thundering up here in the middle of the night. “Are you worried about me?”

  “Don’t be a brat. I don’t have the energy for that right now.” She walked away from the door and picked a book up off the sofa. “I haven’t been sleeping much. I was wondering about you.”

  “No, Issy,” Ediline said. “No, I’ve been okay.”

  A skeptically raised eyebrow sunk to a worried frown. “After the night we had in the dark-rain, I can’t stop thinking about it. But it’s sacrilege to look for things in the dark. We’re supposed to fear it.”

  “And you care about that a great deal, Issy?”

  “A bit, I do, yes.”

  Ediline stopped. Isbeil’s house had scientific contraptions and measuring devices that she swore didn’t exist anywhere else in Sladt, or maybe all of Tithelk, outside this very room. She could make hot tea without fire, she could shine light through bent glass to illuminate things that couldn’t easily be seen. There were books and journals, as well as curtains and soft fabrics and a sheer cloth instead of a door to her bed. The house was starkly against Tithelk tradition. It was hard to believe Isbeil could be very religious.

  “I have, covertly, asked around,” Isbeil continued. “I heard that the night of the dark-rain, there was a girl moving about Sladt, seen by several guards. They say she was pale, slight, and young. Lately, there’s been someone visiting Father, and his daughter, also visiting, matches that description.”

  “Do you . . . think it was her we saw in the dark-rain?” No, of course not—what they had seen, if it was a creature at all, wasn’t human. But neither she nor her sister wanted to say that out loud, to confirm what they both feared and held at the backs of their throats.

  “Maybe she was looking for it as well.”

  “Do you know her name?”

  “Are you going to go looking for her? You shouldn’t. Pretend this never happened, until we know more, baby sister.”

  “But—”

  “No! Exercise some patience, I know it’s hard for you to muster any.”

  Slowly, begrudgingly, she rolled her head about her shoulders then nodded. She walked the width of Isbeil’s house, then back. It was different, being here on an entirely different night, but the memory of huddling together with Isbeil and sleeping with the lights bright, hiding from the dark, was still fresh in her mind.

  “So you've made up your mind,” Isbeil said.

  “What?”

  “Dolt. He likes you.”

  “Oh.” She felt her face warm. “Do you think?”

  “Go on, get out of here. I need to return you to him.”

  “Are you going to be able to sleep?”

  “If I can’t, I know where to come to bother you, baby sister.”

  “You can, you know. No one ever visits me, but you could.”

  She pushed Ediline toward the door. “I won’t, but thanks for the offer. Don’t come by in the middle of the night anymore. Lords save you from the shadows, Edi.”

  “You as well, sister.” And she left.

  — Chapter 10 —

  “The youngest adult member of each family walked from their homes to the glorious battlefield at Semnal Valley, where they were gifted with steel and blood’s passion. The men and women were inspired by Cadex to stand and fight, and when they looked across the gap they saw brothers and sisters, as much hate in their eyes as was in their hearts, and on that day the blood of traitors filled the valley, and the living were pure.”

  —The Words of the Lords, ed. xii

  When Ediline closed the blue door behind her and stood atop Sladt, Javras was the only person she saw. His back was to her. She watched his silhouette, dark, against the lit backdrop of Korv stretching below them. Above, the stars glittered in a cloudless sky.

  She didn’t want to approach him, to call his attention to the fact that she’d returned. She just wanted to take this moment to look at him, and to enjoy the cool air, the thousands of little sounds from all around below, but the complete quiet up here, where it was just the two of them alone.

  He turned and saw her. “Is everything all right?” he said.

  Ediline nodded. Her stomach was like a twisted vine. “Where are your keepers? Keeping their distance?”

  “At my request,” he said.

  “You told them to hide?”

  “I asked them to return to Yithin’s manor.”

  Her heart pounded. She took two steps closer and couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands. “What if we need protecting?”

  “You have a knife now,” he said. “I think we’ll be fine.”

  The space between them continued to shrink. She was aware of Javras’s eyes, the weightless drift of his hair, the curve of his jaw. And then they were close, and she was only aware of the soft touch of his hand against hers, just brushing. Neither pulled away.

  She had to try three times to get her tongue to form words. “Do you think they’re really just hiding somewhere, watching us?”

  “It is a possibility.”

  “Javras, I . . . I’m . . . .” What? What was she going to tell him? The truth? No, she couldn’t. I’m scared—get him to comfort you, draw you into his arms and your lips to his. Play the weak princess, the alone and frightened girl you always refused to be. I’m sorry—for too many lies. For not kissing him already. For not being able to see the queen. For being just a miserable princess. Another truth: I can’t stop thinking about you.

  But none of those words came. She only had to tilt her head up a little to meet his dark blue eyes. When she did, the rest of the world dropped away. It was only him and her and the stars.

  “Ediline,”
he started, “you make me—”

  She grabbed his hand, pulled him to her, and covered his mouth with hers. His lips were soft, luscious, and the push back of the returned kiss was like lightning down her spine. She wrapped her hand around the back of his head and pulled him hard against her, kissing him until her lips ached. His arm was around her back. His body pressed against hers, her whole front held tight. Then he lowered his chin and broke the kiss to get a breath.

  It was then she realized she needed to breathe, too. Who really needed to breathe when she could be doing that instead?

  Their foreheads together, they each took one breath and then another. Ediline felt weightless. It was like not every part of her body was working in the same direction. Certain parts wanted to stay put, or move the other way, and other parts—like her feet—seemed to have forgotten that they existed altogether. She stumbled back but kept her hand touching his.

  He was breathing hard, his face flushed, and he still held her eyes. “Princess,” he said.

  “Call me Ediline.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean, you can call me Princess, too.”

  “I understand.”

  “But call me Ediline right now.”

  “Ediline.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That was . . . .”

  “Not terrible, I hope,” she said.

  “Certainly not terrible.”

  “Good.” She smiled, and he returned it. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t get in to speak with my mother,” she said.

  “No need to be sorry,” he said. “It ended up better, anyway, I think.”

  “Do you want me to walk you home?” she said. The mass of feelings and thoughts was beginning to separate. Part of her wanted him to stay with her tonight, or for her to go with him, but her sensible mind wasn’t deadened. She knew they needed to part ways, just for now, just for tonight, just for now.

  “I will manage by myself,” he said. “I suspect Wien and Wulfgar haven’t gone far.”

  “Good.”

  “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” she said without needing to think.

  He smiled brightly. “Goodnight, Princess. May the shadows spare you and your beauty.”

  She smirked. “May they spare you and your flattering mouth.”

  Returning to her house was like floating, a leaf caught in a warm breeze. The shadows of night weren’t whispering corners and corridors of darkness, they were the backside of wonderful lights. They were half a work of art. The ramps and ladders and doors and even the guards weren’t tedious barriers but more length and time to enjoy this feeling, to sit and soak in these warm sensations.

  A wide door opened onto the walkway in front of her, and she paused. She even paused for others to pass with a smile on her face. This feeling was just too wonderful; she hoped it never went away, and if it did she hoped it would be renewed with the next kiss. Lords, there could be a next kiss!

  Her heart thudded coldly in time with the thud of the wooden planks underfoot. The smile cracked and fell.

  Her father stepped from the wide doors into the night. He was followed by two individuals: a thin middle-aged man who, if folded up, would probably fit inside the space occupied by King Maxen three and a half times; and a girl Ediline’s age with short, voluminous dark hair and stark white skin, like bone. She wore a dark gray gown with a white sash tied around an impossibly thin waist, above feminine hips.

  King Maxen glared at Ediline. “What are you doing here?”

  “I . . . .” She looked to her father’s companions. Isbeil had told her to stay back, stay away from this girl, from everything about the dark-rain. But how could she, when the girl was thrown right in front of her?

  “Speak, daughter.”

  “I live here,” she said plainly. “I visited Isbeil and was returning to my bed.”

  “Isbeil tolerates you?” he grumbled. “Be gone from here.”

  “Your Dominance,” the man at his side said in a thin voice, “we may conduct our business later, if you wish—”

  “No,” her father said. “I wish to conduct it now. My daughter will not bother us.”

  “She does seem quite the bother,” remarked the girl.

  Ediline’s temper flared. “Maybe I’ll bother you at your private residence,” she said to the girl, taunting. Even if she couldn’t ask about the dark-rain, or talk directly to this girl at all, she could find out her name, and she could be insufferable while she was at it. “I’ll follow you around and just be near you.”

  “Daughter,” King Maxen warned.

  Ediline kept going. She’d been floating from the rooftops, damn it, until her father showed up and shattered everything. Why could she be treated so poorly just because of her presence, when it was really he who halted conversations and ruined people’s days?

  “I’ll be like a ghost, or maybe more like a shadow, hiding behind you,” she goaded.

  “Daughter.” He reached out with a lightning fast hand and grabbed her by the upper arm. When he lifted her off the ground and carried her, stomping, away from his guests, she would have really thought she weighed nothing at all. He tossed her back to her feet; her shoulder slammed into the wall.

  Crying, looking pitiful, or doing anything else to try to make him feel badly did not work. She had figured that out a long, long time ago. For years she had tried to elicit love or sympathy before she realized that she would never get either. So, instead, she needed to look strong. Unaffected by his violent reaction, even though part of her was cringing and trying to run away. She stood up straight and tall, set her jaw, and glared up at her father.

  “Who is that?” she said.

  “I do not answer to you, Ediline.”

  “They live here, then,” she said. “They know who I actually am, not who I’m pretending to be. Why won’t you introduce me?”

  He looked at her like she was an idiot. “I do not introduce you, not to anyone unless it suits my purposes.”

  Names. Just give her names. “I can be quite useful.”

  “I will call upon you if I am in need of you.”

  Going through her father wasn’t the way at the answers she craved. Evading him, avoiding him, could carry consequences, but she was already playing his game, doing everything in her power to perform the tasks that her family had asked of her. Surely that won her a small prize, didn’t it? She darted past him, ducking beneath his arm, and right up to the girl and her father. The girl yelped, and her father put himself between her and Ediline. Hey, a father who cared about his child. How strange.

  Ediline stopped abruptly and bowed. “My father is too embarrassed by me to make an introduction, but I think it is rude to not at least give an exchange of names. I am Ediline, the youngest Princess of Tithelk. Who are his fortunate companions this evening?”

  The man straightened and relaxed. “I am Venet Hanar, requested as an advisor to your father,” the man said, “and this is my daughter—”

  “Remer,” the girl said. She stepped out from behind her father and brushed hair away from her face. The way she smoothly tucked it behind her ear was a rehearsed motion, first on the right and then on the left. It made her seem demure and girlish, but the cool blue look she fixed on Ediline was daring, almost flirtatious. It took Ediline entirely off-guard. “Surely you do not blame your father for his embarrassment, do you?”

  “I can blame him for anything I like,” Ediline said. She could feel him stomping closer behind her. She had their names, and that was enough. She could find out more about why they were really in Sladt later. She had to leave. Now. “But I will save that for another time. Enjoy your evening, Venet, Remer, Father.”

  She shuffled past the two and skulked into the darkness beyond the open doors. Once into the dark, she slowed and paused and pushed herself flat against the nearest wall. She’d felt Remer’s eyes following her away, but now she would be out of sight.

  “I will wring that girl’s neck someday,”
King Maxen growled.

  “It is not favorable to joke of such things, Your Dominance,” Venet said.

  “Why joke?” Remer said.“Ediline is a tragedy waiting to happen, Your Dominance. You should have allowed her to be removed long ago.”

  “Remer, watch your tongue.”

  “Your daughter is far more ruthless than you are. If only we could all be so. Follow me this way.” They began to walk away. Ediline could feel the thuds of her father’s footsteps grow more distant. “Now, repeat to me what you last said, before the interruption.” The voices trailed off from there, fading into the Everquiet.

  Ediline slumped. Her father really might kill her, and for no reason other than the fact that he thought she was poor luck. A tragedy waiting to happen. She hated Remer already, whoever she was.

  The shadows no longer looked like the backside of works of art, just like reaching claws, like silent corridors, like endless depths. At home, Marv bounced excitedly, and she overfed him. As she did circles around the room, thrusting her taki and jabbing with the hunting knife at imaginary foes, she remembered that she would see Javras again tomorrow, and a bit of the tarnished smile returned to her face.

  — Chapter 11 —

  “The youngest adult member of each family was taken from their homes and brought to the fore at Semnal Valley, outfitted with steel and cut to bleed. The men and women were pushed by Cadex to stand and fight, but they looked across the gap and saw only their brothers and sisters, as much dread in their eyes as was in their hearts, and on that day blood filled the valley, and no man was pure.”

  —The Chronicle of Tyrants, ed. xii

  It was a small cafe built into the side of an embankment, down close to the Rodiv. They served bread, which was delicious, and coffee, which smelled delectable but Ediline couldn’t stand actually drinking. She loved the place because it was out of the way and relatively private. She took a seat and waited for Geltir. It wasn’t a long wait, just long enough for her to order a coffee for him and some bread for the two of them. He swept into the small establishment, lit by wide windows overlooking the water below, and he continued to sweep as he sat. He always seemed to be wearing a different robe.