Realm of Ruins

by Hannah West

  But Brandar, in his deep voice, said, “Careful, boy,” and stepped aside to let me trail Calanthe into the full light of the rising sun.

  As though she knew my destination, Calanthe galloped toward the courtyard, grinding to a halt to grace my mother with unwanted kisses. I caught up and hurried to peck Mother and Ellen on the cheeks, bouncing into the carriage next to Grandmum before anyone could realize what I’d done and chastise me.

  Calanthe jumped in and settled on the cushion beside Rayed. He arched a skeptical brow at her size but didn’t object.

  Brandar stepped up, saw Calanthe, and, with a sigh betraying a hint of a personality, squeezed onto the bench next to me and slammed the door. I smiled sideways at him, and his rigid mouth bent a little at the corner. The carriage started off, rounding the courtyard and gliding down the long tree-lined drive away from the palace.

  As we jolted over the cobblestone streets of the city, Grandmum leaned close to me and quietly said, “Don’t mention the intruder in the white cloak again. I’ve told King Tiernan, and he’s the only one who need know.”

  “Why?” I asked in a small voice, the memory of my frightful trek through the academy overshadowing the joy of a meager victory.

  The vestiges of youth in Grandmum’s lovely face seemed to drain away, leaving her features pallid and sepulchral. “An artifact was stolen from a guarded cavern vault in Darmeska weeks ago. In the wrong hands, it could be dangerous, to say the least. The men who took it wore white cloaks and black masks. My fellow elders believe the unidentified thieves are part of a secret spiritual order called the Summoners, worshippers of an entity they call the Lord of Elicromancers. Your father encountered them on his travels and rambled about them on his deathbed. I thought it was the fever talking, but there have been other accounts.”

  “Why can’t we speak of them?”

  “So we can continue pursuing the group in secret. People are careless when they think no one’s watching. And they were powerful enough to break through magical protections.”

  “What did the Summoners take? What are they trying to do?”

  “You have enough trouble of your own, dear.” She tugged the curtains on her side closed, the trenches on her forehead deepening. “Don’t borrow mine.”

  HE flat farmlands swathing most of eastern Calgoran gave way to the rolling hills and woodlands of Volarre after a few days. I tried not to think much as I stared at the green wilderness, but neither hope nor sadness was easily banished from my mind. So I let hope lure me in. I fantasized about the warm, salty air of Beyrian while Rayed regaled me with how delighted his sister, Kadri, would be to see me, and the entertainment she had planned to cheer me.

  As we neared the royal city of Pontaval, the palace where my cousins lived rose into view, perching atop a verdant hill with the city sprawling at its base. Grandmum shifted and groaned, massaging the muscles beneath her ribs while peering out the window.

  “You don’t have to sleep on another rickety inn bed,” I said. “We can take the Lorenthis up on their invitation. Mother’s right, you know. I can’t afford to alienate my extended family.” My reputation was already malodorous enough.

  Grandmum flashed me a wary look. She was wise from her many years of leadership, studying and guarding Darmeska’s history, and adjusting its laws to the modern age. But she was also obstinate as a pig in the mud. On the first night of the journey, I had tried to corner her about the white-cloaked men and she had demurred, withholding secrets about the stolen artifact. I couldn’t crack her.

  However, her aging joints and muscles must have hurt dreadfully because she muttered, “Oh, all right. But please act wisely around the Lorenthi siblings.”

  Satisfied, I relaxed in my seat and tugged my fingers through the tangles in my hair. I couldn’t appear on the Lorenthis’ doorstep a disheveled mess.

  Calanthe groused with boredom from her designated spot on the cramped carriage floor. I had allowed her to run alongside us on deserted stretches of country road, but that didn’t stop Grandmum and Brandar from expressing grievances over the lack of legroom. Though Rayed did his best to be a gentleman, even he had grown restless.

  As we drew nearer the city, another palace jutted into the sky a smidgen south of the first. Volarian royalty had once resided there, before the elicromancer Tamarice cursed it. When Tamarice died and the curse was broken, traces of her dark elicromancy lingered like dust, or so it was said. Thus, the Lorenthi family built a new palace and the city shifted toward it, leaving much of the southern end abandoned.

  After jostling uphill over cobblestones, we lurched to a halt in the palace courtyard, where attendants scuttled about like solicitous beetles. My cousins, perhaps warned of our approach, waited on a veranda branching off into two splendid stairways. The eldest, Ambrosine, wore a frothy yellow gown that puffed out from the waist like a buttercup. Glisette wore clingy light blue silk patterned with pink and purple flowers. Perennia, the youngest, looked like spring in subdued green crossed with sparkling emerald vines. I regretted wearing a sturdy traveling dress.

  “We’re thrilled you decided to come after all, Cousin Valory,” Ambrosine said when we mounted the landing. She clasped my forearms and dusted a kiss on each cheek while Calanthe circled the three sisters, wagging her spry tail.

  “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Highnesses,” Rayed said. “We appreciate the opportunity to rest and refresh.”

  “It is our pleasure,” Ambrosine assured him, grasping his hand and inviting him to softly kiss her knuckles. He obliged. “Valory, you should have tea with us in the garden.”

  “Yes, we’ll leave you lovely ladies to reacquaint,” Rayed said with a sly smile.

  “Oh, but you must rejoin us for dinner,” Ambrosine insisted, speaking more to Rayed than to Grandmum.

  “Gladly,” he assured her, while Grandmum massaged her sore muscles. With a flourish of his arm, an attendant led them into the foyer.

  Perennia stepped in front of her elder sisters, her round eyes trained on me. “You poor thing. Every part of you is twisted with grief and guilt, I can tell.” She latched on to my wrist. Her rose quartz elicrin stone pulsed with white light. Something dark inside me uncoiled and snuck away, leaving me feeling more peaceful than at any time I could recall.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do that at the funeral,” the girl said, stepping back. “You have to be careful, dismissing someone’s sadness, even for a short time. Most people don’t realize how important a feeling it is.”

  Perennia’s statement held weight, considering she had borne her fair share of grief over the loss of both parents. A few years ago, the King and Queen of Volarre had embarked on a routine diplomatic journey to Perispos only to be assassinated by a rebel group hostile to elicromancers. Most Perispi did not want our magic crossing their borders.

  “Thank you,” I said, mystified by how light I felt, as though I might drift away like a petal on the breeze.

  “Come,” Ambrosine said, eyeing the silent Neutralizer with annoyance. Gossip must have preceded my arrival, for they didn’t question his presence, though she seemed to hope he would retire like the others. “You can bring your lovely dog as well. There’s plenty of room for her to run.”

  The sisters ushered me through a glass-lined ballroom and across another veranda. The sun sparkled over a pond surrounded by trees with mauve flowers.

  The Lorenthi sisters’ idea of tea in the garden was more like a lavish sugarcoated feast. We approached a table laden with crystal platters and goblets brimming with pink wine, exotic fruits, and sweets topped with edible flowers. The princesses could not have gone to such lavish lengths purely for my benefit, but that was no surprise, since Volarian royalty was famous for its frivolity.

  Without much ado, a separate table was set for Brandar on the far side of a low, flowering hedge and filled with fruit and cheeses. A harpist positioned herself nearby and began plucking. Brander sat and ate, paying us no mind. I was fortunate he had many years of expe
rience keeping to himself while guarding King Tiernan. A less seasoned escort might have sat on me like a brooding hen.

  A servant smiled as he slid out a chair and gestured for me to take it. My gaze couldn’t resist clinging to his every flawless angle.

  “Exquisite, isn’t he?” Ambrosine asked, biting into a ruby raspberry.

  I sat and the servant filled my goblet with sweet-smelling wine. There was no offer of tea. In fact, the silver tea service seemed perfunctory.

  “What’s the matter?” Ambrosine asked when I made no move to partake.

  “I believe Cousin Valory thinks we’re overextravagant,” Glisette said, toying with her elicrin stone, a misty purple chalcedony.

  “That’s no fault of hers,” Ambrosine countered, by way of defending me. “She’s unaccustomed to enjoying herself. Arnans are so somber. They talk only of bloodlines and elicrin endowments.”

  “It will be fascinating to see what they do without their precious Water,” Glisette purred into her goblet.

  “As though it doesn’t affect you?” I demanded. “Didn’t you hope your children would be immortal, like you?”

  Ambrosine patted my hand. “You can worry about the future all you like, Valory. But life strikes everyone with woe. So we laugh and we drink and we enjoy beautiful things. And you should as well.”

  The tension between my shoulder blades eased. I plucked up my goblet. “I suppose I shouldn’t aim to convince you the loss of the Water is calamitous when I’m the one who caused it.”

  Glisette laughed and touched her crystal goblet to mine. “Precisely.”

  “About that…” Ambrosine began with a surreptitious glance at Brandar. “We did not invite you here strictly for the pleasure of your company.”

  My spirits drooped. Of course the princesses had other motives and felt no obligation to be coy about them. I was a curiosity, the subject of the realm’s most lurid gossip. Death, destruction, undeserved power, and family feuds—disgraces orbited me like flies drawn to a fresh carcass.

  “Devorian has shut himself off and is living a life of debauchery in the abandoned palace on the other side of the city,” Ambrosine continued. “He’s nearly seventeen and is meant to take the crown, but he refuses to return and accept his responsibilities as heir. We think you may be able to intimidate him with your power, and then use whatever leverage you have to convince him to return and embrace his role as King of Volarre.”

  I nearly snorted out my wine. “I have no control over my power, and I’m absolutely not permitted to use it right now. I’m awaiting trial with the Realm Alliance. If they learned I even considered trying—”

  “You don’t have to actually use it,” Glisette said. “Its existence alone might intrigue him enough to allow you entry.”

  “Just listen, please, before you make your decision, Valory,” Ambrosine cut in. “Not long after our parents died, Devorian decided to take up residence in that old palace. He needed room to breathe. We understood that. But it’s been a year now, and he’s supposed to have his coronation ceremony in a month. Our uncle is acting as regent and he’s been civil so far. But if Devorian doesn’t claim his birthright, Uncle Mathis will. And he’s going to marry us off to his wealthy old friends and this whole court will become stiff and horrible and boring, just like him.”

  “Does Devorian know your uncle is pressing in?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t care,” Glisette replied, flicking a flaxen curl behind her shoulder. “We’ve tried to reason with him, but he started refusing to see us. We dispatched a beautiful girl to talk him into coming home—his servants are always fetching beautiful girls from the town—but he discovered she was there at our behest and sent her back to us with no clothing but shoes. That poor girl was traumatized.”

  “How awful,” I said, setting my glass on the table. Was he even fit to rule? I looked from Glisette to Ambrosine. “You two are older than him, aren’t you? Does Volarre still refuse to pass a crown to a daughter?”

  “Oh, Valory, you know very well it does,” Ambrosine said, dismissing my question with a wave of her hand. “It’s the one way we manage to be less modern than Calgoran. But it doesn’t matter: neither of us wants to be queen. And before you go thinking it’s because we don’t want to sacrifice a life of play and luxury for drudgery and diplomacy, imagine—”

  “That’s why I don’t want to do it,” Glisette interrupted.

  Ambrosine rolled her eyes and continued. “Imagine someone told you tomorrow you were to be Queen of Calgoran. Would you worry about leading your country to ruin, having not been properly prepared?”

  “I would feel unprepared, yes, but I would surround myself with trusted advisors. You can change the laws, you can—”

  “Don’t be naïve,” Glisette scoffed. “It took Queen Bristal changing the rules on your behalf. She won a war. She won the right to be a queen equal to her consort, and to demand that her daughters and granddaughters be considered viable heirs. But she still had to marry a king to change the laws.”

  “Let’s not argue,” Ambrosine said. “Regardless of the law, Devorian is more prepared to rule than we are, and it would take a lifetime of rigorous tutelage to change that. But the crown isn’t the only reason we want you to convince him to come home.”

  She took a deep breath and pushed away her plate of delicacies. “That palace is…strange. Tamarice’s curse broke when Bristal and the Realm Alliance defeated her. But there’s a residue of darkness. Our family left it behind for a reason beyond building an opulent new home. And we think whatever lingers has influenced Devorian to involve himself in…unsavory pursuits.”

  “If he merely wants to bed whores and shirk his responsibilities, that’s one matter,” Glisette added. “But we fear he may do worse, that grief has transported him to a dark place. We don’t know what he might be capable of, or whom he’s entertaining. The only visitors he allows besides the girls are strange men in white cloaks and black masks.”

  I gasped. “White cloaks and black masks?” Were these the Summoners?

  “That’s what I said,” Glisette answered. “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “My grandmother is searching for anonymous thieves in white cloaks and masks. She’ll want to investigate—”

  “Absolutely not,” Glisette said through her teeth, though the rebuke was more impassioned than vicious. “She’ll involve the authorities.”

  “Devorian needs grace, Valory, not punishment,” Ambrosine added. “He’s hurting. He’s lost. I know he will make a good leader if we can pull him out of this spell. But he needs the chance to come back on his own, without force, or he will resent us forever.”

  I dug my teeth into my bottom lip. Grandmum needed to know what I’d discovered. But my reputation needed rehabilitating, and the Lorenthi sisters were too powerful to trifle with. Grandmum was right. I shouldn’t have come.

  “Have you tried using your gifts to force him home?” I asked, hoping distraction would help me squirm my way out of a pact of silence.

  “I tried to take away his sadness,” the youngest sister cut in. “When I touched him, he threw me to the floor.”

  “And there’s nothing I can do as long as he’s hibernating in there with magical barriers all around,” Glisette said. “An icy gale wouldn’t touch him.”

  “He covered all the mirrors so I can’t use my gift to speak to or even see him,” Ambrosine added. “We would never ask you to defy your sentence and use your power,” she pressed, covering my hand with hers. “We only ask that you speak to him, reason with him. Make sure he’s not up to anything…excessively questionable.”

  “What makes you sure he’ll let me in, much less listen to me?” I was starting to feel cornered.

  “He was a shameless gossip before he shut himself off,” Glisette replied, leaning back to casually stroke the silver chain holding her chalcedony stone. “And any tidbits of news about you and the Water he gets from his servants won’t be enough to satisfy him.”

&nbs
p; I shook my head. “I have to tell my—”

  “Devorian will give her nothing,” Ambrosine said. “He won’t even allow her inside. You are more likely to get the answers your grandmother seeks, about the identities of the cloaked men.”

  “Try to speak to Devorian, please,” Perennia urged, desperation clear in her small voice. “What harm could that do?”

  “If it doesn’t work, no one has to know you were involved,” Ambrosine went on. “Then you can tell your grandmother about the white cloaks. We will resign ourselves to Uncle’s rule and hope that someday Devorian returns to us.”

  A deep gulp of wine helped me stall for time as three pairs of blue-green eyes latched on to mine. I took my time swallowing, pondering Grandmum’s wan expression when I mentioned seeing someone in a white cloak.

  What business did the Summoners have here, and at the academy? What kind of artifact could have been stolen—something significant, dangerously so? Was Devorian involved? If not, why would the thieves visit him? Did they need aurions to fund their endeavors, or perhaps assistance from a wayward elicromancer flouting the tenets? Did they require Devorian’s skill as an Omnilingual? Why hadn’t Grandmum shared what she learned with the Conclave?

  Curiosity and alarm entangled in my mind in an exhilarating dance. A stolen artifact, masked thieves, and mysterious visits to a recluse prince…this sounded like a treacherous plot in the works, something I should pass on to Grandmum without question. But the princesses believed she would be sent away from Devorian’s lair if she tried to speak to him, and judging by Devorian’s recalcitrance, any attempt on her part might obstruct my chances of securing an audience.

  If Devorian might admit me, then I had an obligation to investigate in order to help Grandmum, to prevent an unnamed disaster that might take shape: perhaps a dark elicromancer’s plot to oppress mortals, or a coup to overthrow King Tiernan, or Queen Jessa of Yorth. If I could stop an imminent terror and force Devorian onto his throne in the process, I would no longer be just the tenet-defying fool who dried up the Water.