Realm of Ruins

by Hannah West

  “What have they given Valmarys?” I whispered harshly, returning to rattle Melkior with my grip. “What did he want in exchange for leaving the Conclave intact, for keeping Prosper on the throne?”

  “Elicromancers,” he answered, continuing on until we stopped outside a set of grand double doors. Two guards wearing Valmarys’s sigil stood at attention but subtly made way for us. Apparently, a few remained loyal. “Gifts to borrow at his whim. Several elicromancers went missing when the Conclave changed, among them the professors: Strather, Wyndwood, and the others. Of course, Valmarys expects the Conclave’s loyalty, his sigil on the breast of every prince and guard. They acknowledge him as King of the Brazor Mountains, though he could have taken the whole realm without asking. But he gives them autonomy here. The Conclave can make and destroy laws on a whim. Valmarys pledged to defend Arna if the Realm Alliance ever regroups and attacks it. Blaming you for the realm’s woes is what allowed them to get away with all of this when the Alliance was still powerful enough to stop them.”

  “They’re not still powerful enough?” The question came from the back of my throat, almost like a sob.

  “No,” Melkior said, relentlessly honest. “Welcome to the new age, Valory. The Conclave is now Prosper, Ander, Neswick, my father, my grandfather…answering to Lord Valmarys.”

  He swung open the doors, revealing a dim, musty room with the curtains drawn shut. “This could be the last thing I ever do. But it was worth it to help you. You may be the only one who can stop them.”

  He gestured for me to enter. I stepped into the darkness, my eyes striving to adjust. Melkior entered and locked the door behind us.

  A shape shifted in the corner. I blinked away the shadows and saw a bent form occupying an armchair.

  “Come,” the scratching voice said. At first, I thought it was age that shriveled the man. But as my sight fully acclimated, I distinguished familiar features, mossy eyes too sharp for such a hollow face.

  “King Tiernan?” I whispered in disbelief.

  “Yes,” he rasped.

  Hot tears finally broke my self-restraint. I fell to my knees before him. “What have they done to you?”

  “Prosper didn’t have the spine to murder his own uncle,” Melkior explained. “So he took King Tiernan’s elicrin stone. Neswick sucked the life out of him with his newfound power but stopped just short of killing him. Every day at dawn, Jovie comes and heals him only enough to let him live to another sunrise. Ellen takes care of him, but she isn’t permitted to do more than clean the room and help him bathe.”

  My lip twitched with fury through my falling tears. “I’ll kill those cruel bastards,” I said, trembling, feeling the fire ignite inside me. You walked through the blood to the steps of a dais and sat on the throne. The refrain returned, vicious, lovely, saturated with fresh significance.

  “I suspected treason…in their hearts,” King Tiernan said through a feeble cough. Except for his eyes, he looked like a phantom of his former self: pale, wretched, and sickly. “Ivria knew something too. Callista’s diadem allowed her to see her father’s true nature, the resentment that had been fomenting for years. Prosper chafed against the restrictions my father and the Realm Alliance erected to govern elicromancers. Ivria couldn’t bear the grief of knowing the man her father truly was.”

  “That’s why she went to the Water?” I whispered, my anger dislodged by grief that left me feeling cold and paltry.

  “It seems she would rather have risked death than watch her father create a new realm for elicromancers when she knew in her heart she wasn’t meant to become one. She couldn’t confront corruption within someone she loved, so she passed the burden of truth on to you.”

  “My birthday gift,” I muttered. “She hoped that I would do what she couldn’t…expose the truth.”

  I remembered my fleeting glimpse of a white-cloaked figure that night at the academy. A Summoner knew that Ivria knew something. They had been watching her.

  “I didn’t know about Ivria when I took the diadem from you,” King Tiernan explained. “I was attempting to confirm my own suspicions. But the more I discovered within the short time I possessed it, the more I understood Ivria’s state of mind on the last night of her life.” King Tiernan’s wrinkled, pale eyelids shut over his bright eyes and he dragged in a rattling breath. “I didn’t know what Prosper and Neswick were planning. I saw mere hints of the truth, shadows behind smiles, whispers behind words. I hoped to discover their full intentions and expose them to the Realm Alliance. But I did not know how far their plans reached, how their motives and the realm’s disasters were so intimately intertwined.”

  I grew light-headed. This insurrection had not been born of opportunism. Prosper had not simply used the cover of the Moth King’s chaos to cast off the irksome restraints of the Realm Alliance. He had banded together with Neswick and the Summoners to create the opportunity. The sedition had risen from the inside like an infection in the blood.

  Neswick had always known, from the legends of his ancestors, that Valmarys could bestow power on those who helped resurrect him, and take it from those who displeased him. But Neswick must have needed an elicromancer’s help to break through the magical barriers protecting the tablet. He and Prosper must have joined forces to wrest control from the Conclave and the Realm Alliance. They capitalized on the chaos to extend the age of surrender, chipping away at restraints while they waited for the Lord of Elicromancers to regain his footing. With Valmarys on their side and the Realm Alliance castrated, they could take power from anyone who resisted their cause and give it to followers who proved loyal. They didn’t even need the Water anymore.

  But in order to agree, Prosper had to have thought he would remain in control, that Emlyn Valmarys would be a tool, an ally, not a master. If he had known what Valmarys could do, surely my uncle, however corrupt, would have found a less compromising way to seize power.

  Prosper had pretended to be gracious when he sent me to Darmeska, but he was hoping that my absence would allow the blame for Valmarys’s crimes to land upon my shoulders. Then chaos descended—the plague, the traps—and they no longer needed me as a prop. When Valmarys learned of Mercer’s vision, I became disposable in every way.

  “They’ll look for her soon, Your Majesty,” Melkior said, cutting through my horrified astonishment. “The wedding has begun.”

  “The wedding, yes,” King Tiernan said. “Prosper is treating his mother and sister like children with toys, confiscating and returning their elicrin stones based on their compliance. He believes he’s being gracious. He says he solved your mother’s marriage quandary by taking her birthright, freeing her of the ‘burden of choice’ that had prevented her from uniting with the man she loved. He could have changed the laws to strip them all of their rights and powers, but he fancies himself a compassionate leader.”

  “And Ander welcomed Valory as though she were toothless,” Melkior growled.

  “They are confident,” King Tiernan said. “Confident they can snuff out any attempts to revolt against this new order. The system of repurposing elicrin stones has made the loss of the Water inconsequential to them. They’ve made Knox their new Neutralizer, reanimating Brandar’s stone with magic stolen from another Neutralizer. If Knox is loyal, they’ll promote him to a seat on the Conclave.”

  The king’s eyes sparked with the secret we held, the secret Brandar had taken to the grave.

  “So Ander is acting as ordinary as possible hoping I’ll just…accept all this?” I demanded. “Fall in line, become docile for the sake of my safety and my mother’s? Pretend that nothing has changed?”

  With tremors running down his arm and fingers, King Tiernan reached to place a featherlight hand on my shoulder. “I know what you crave to do. But you must pull this diseased tree up by its strongest roots, not just break its branches.”

  “Kill Valmarys?” I asked, gripping his fragile wrist.

  “Yes.”

  Mercer’s false prophecy slammed back into
focus. Why hadn’t Neswick, who knew about the vision, ordered me killed on sight when I arrived here? The premonition had nearly resulted in my death twice already.

  Before I could begin to ponder this, distant footsteps sounded.

  “The portal is for you,” King Tiernan whispered. “It will open only for you, taking you only where you want to go. I sent you a missive months back, explaining where I hid it and how it functioned. I suppose you never received it. Thankfully, I enchanted it against prying eyes. Darmeska is fortified by magic, but the portal can bring you nearly to its gates. Finish this.”

  “We have to get out of here,” Melkior whispered, tugging on my arm.

  “I will avenge you, Your Majesty,” I vowed. “You will rule again.”

  “I doubt that,” King Tiernan said. His frail hand landed on the crown of my head. “Melkior, you are our witness.”

  When King Tiernan’s intentions struck me, my mouth fell open.

  “I, Tiernan Anthony Ermetarius, true King of Calgoran, hereby name Valory Ermetarius Braiosa my heir apparent. Calgoran’s wounds will be your wounds, its victories your victories, its peace your peace. You will prosper as queen and woman if you do these things: provide for the hungry and the weary and the bereaved. You may stand.”

  These words were intended to be spoken amid joyous revelers, but somehow they were more precious whispered in the shadows of rebellion.

  No longer trembling, but blinded by tears, I rose to my feet. A soft pattern of knocks sounded on the door: the loyal guards alerting us to danger, no doubt.

  Melkior drove me out of the dark room before a profession of humbled gratitude could form on my lips. “Take the other way,” he said, shoving me farther down the hall instead of back the way we’d come. “Play dense. Do whatever you have to do to escape.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank me by escaping alive.”

  With that, Melkior hurried off, along with any argument I had ever had for calling him my least-favorite cousin.

  OFTLY treading on the pads of my feet, I hurried back to my room. In spite of Mercer’s bold-faced lie, which bared my shameful naïveté, I knew I could have confidence in his motives, and that I needed him to finish this. Glisette, Kadri, Mercer—they were mere steps and a flick of a curtain away, if they hadn’t already decided to abandon the journey and close the portal.

  I hoped not. I needed that portal.

  At last I approached the door to my room, breathless, my spine tingling with the suspense of a pursuit. But Ander appeared behind me at the top of the stairs, blocking the brightness of the chandelier above the landing just as my hand touched the doorknob.

  My stomach knotted in terror. I had once trusted him more than I trusted my own mother. He was goodness, humor, strength. He was high-minded and gentle. But that was before he’d had reason to show his claws.

  Now that they were exposed, I could no longer imagine him soft-pawed and protective.

  “That imbecile,” he said, advancing. “Are you all right? I know it must have been embarrassing.”

  “I—I’m fine,” I stuttered. “Melkior was just drunk.”

  “He’s always been dreadful to you. It’s a struggle to take the high road with him, but I’ve tried. Are you changing or should I escort you back?” He offered me his arm. Everything inside me wanted to pluck out Melkior’s accusations about Ander like picking gristly meat from a stew before taking a bite. What if Melkior was wrong about what Ander knew? What if Ander was oppressed just like my mother and grandmother, silenced, too afraid of the cost of defying those in power?

  I had to know the truth. I couldn’t speak of what Melkior and King Tiernan had shared—no, I couldn’t endanger the life of my king, nor the cousin willing to risk caring for him in this backward regime.

  “Ander…I heard that Lord Valmarys invaded and conquered Darmeska unchallenged. Is it true?”

  He wrinkled his brow. “Not conquered. Brought under new leadership.”

  “That’s my family, my father’s home. My grandmother is an elder, if she’s even alive—”

  “Darmeska is not its own country, Valory,” he interrupted matter-of-factly, dropping his arm. “It’s a city of Calgoran. It retained its independence for so long thanks to the graciousness of Calgoran’s kings. The residents of Darmeska still have a home, and the items of historical value will be well tended. Valmarys only requires that the elders step down. No need to be dramatic.”

  Step down. I couldn’t imagine Grandmum stepping down. “And…what if someone refused?” I asked. “To step down?”

  “Valmarys is the King of the Brazor Mountains now, by royal decree. To defy that would be an act of treason. And treason is treated the same everywhere, isn’t it? There should be no surprises for anyone. Lord Valmarys is level-headed and fair. I’m sure he has given the elders a chance to adjust to their new roles.”

  “Do you not see what is happening to our kingdom, our home?” I demanded, straining to see a glint of emotion beneath the hard, handsome mask. “Valmarys is killing innocents, sabotaging rightful authorities, endangering everything we hold dear.”

  “We all know who is the real architect of Nissera’s terrors: the plague, the disaster in Beyrian, the fires in the western woods. You reek of smoke and ash. One could chart your journey on a map alongside these catastrophes. Meanwhile, Valmarys has been nothing but honorable and decent.”

  “You think I’m the enemy? Moments ago, you said—”

  “Not you. Mercer Fye.”

  Dread snaked through my veins.

  There was a reason Ander had asked for only one extra setting at the high table even though I’d brought a guest.

  But I’d watched Mercer retreat to my room, to the portal. He was safe in the woods, as long as no one knew what lay behind the curtain. And Glisette and Kadri were safe with him, waiting for me to return. Stay there, all three of you, I begged. Don’t come after me.

  “You’re under his spell, Valory,” Ander went on, frustration clear in his resounding voice. “You’ve never swooned and sighed over men, much less allowed them to take advantage of you. I could scarcely believe you would align yourself with Fye while his dark magic ravaged the realm. I wanted to believe that if you ever returned to us, his grip over your mind would loosen. But you’re positively wrecked with worry over him, aren’t you? Ivria would be so disappointed in your weakness—”

  A hard slap bit the air like the crack of a whip. “I’m not the one she would be disappointed in,” I snarled. Only when I stared at my own hand, the palm red and stinging, did I realize what I’d done.

  Ander’s nostrils flared as his cheek turned scarlet where I had hit him. He was the crest of a wave about to crash, the swing of a hammer that would strike its target with cold accuracy. “I thought I could break his spell by welcoming you here, by reminding you that your loyalty should be to your family and your home, not to a dark elicromancer terrorizing the realm. It’s proving more difficult than I would have guessed for you to admit you’ve been fooled…unless you haven’t been fooled. Unless you really are what Neswick says you are.”

  “No,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I’m not.”

  He took a pause, soothing his temper. “Then I will give you one more chance. Go change—into something appropriate for a wedding, this time—and return to the celebration. Without causing a scene, you will spend time with your family and friends. You will pay obeisance to your king and his viceroy, Neswick, and you will return to your rooms after the celebration. Ellen will care for you, Jovie will befriend you, and I will determine when you have proved yourself worthy of your freedom.”

  One more chance. Was it a true threat? What might my cousin, my brother, do to me if I didn’t comply, didn’t close my lips and pretend nothing was awry?

  How I longed to spit in his face, to grip his jaw and dig my nails into his skin and tell him King Tiernan was the only one who deserved obeisance, and that I was his rightfully proclaimed heir.

 
But I had only to flee to my room to leave this hellscape behind. I would return and toss Emlyn Valmarys’s head at Prosper and Neswick’s feet in lieu of obeisance.

  I clutched my stained bodice, feigning embarrassment over the commotion I’d caused. “I—I’m so confused, Ander,” I said softly, bereft. “My mind feels broken. You couldn’t imagine the horrors I’ve seen these months.”

  “I know,” he said, his hands on my shoulders. “But family is family. You just need a little Arnan food and wine to remind you where you belong. Mercer Fye will never hurt you again.”

  Something about the last declaration made a shock of dread ring through my body as I twisted the handle. Ander strode away. I slipped inside, pressed the door closed, and heaved a breath of relief.

  “I’ve the perfect thing for you to wear.”

  I whirled to find Jovie sitting on a chaise, Ivria’s violet gown draped over the cushion beside her. Two guards in gray and white stood at her sides. With amber eyes like saucers and a button nose, she didn’t look capable of cruelty beyond rejoicing in someone else’s academic failures. But I could feel hostility emanating from her every pore.

  “I asked Ellen to mend it for me,” she said, fingering one of the fabric flowers. “When Ivria wore it to your ball, I thought it was the most splendid gown I ever saw. It would be such a waste for no one to wear it again. Ivria would agree.”

  A growl ripped out of me and I charged. I could kill Jovie and her guards with a flick of my wrist as I’d cracked the blights’ bones.

  “For every hair you harm on my head,” she said, not even flinching, “my father and his men will discover a new form of torment for Mercer Fye.”

  I halted just an arm’s reach from her, breathless, as if someone had pounded my lungs with an iron fist. Calanthe, occupying her pallet in the corner, jolted alert.

  “My Master wants him delivered alive,” Jovie said. “But he didn’t say in what condition. Do you think he will care if his special guest still has a tongue? I don’t think he’d mind the loss of fingers or genitals. But he might want Mercer to keep his tongue so they can chat. They are very old enemies.”