Grei admired Adora’s sister for what she had done during the “Phantom War”, as they were calling it now. She was fierce. She was beautiful and brave, a woman who could pick up a bow and fight the slinks, even when she believed they were invincible. The minstrels of Thiara would be writing about her for years to come, how she saved them, how she was strong, but it was her softness he liked the most.
“There was nothing you could have done,” she said.
There was nothing anyone else could have done, Grei thought. He could have done something if he had been quick enough. If he had been stronger.
Though he could barely stand, Grei thought about trying again, gathering what life he could muster from himself and beseeching it to go into the dead body, beseeching it to live. But the thought alone made his muscles cramp and his Faia-touched hand throb.
Let the dead stay dead, the empress had said.
“Mother says she will arrange a burial tonight,” Vecenne said.
“Above ground,” he said.
“As you requested,” she said. She was silent for a moment, then said, “I have so many questions for you. Did you know each other a long time?”
“Long enough,” Grei said. He reached out his normal hand, touched the cold, white marble flagstones. Vecenne put her fingers over his.
He let her hand linger a moment. Vecenne’s closeness was calming.
“I would like a moment alone, if I could,” he finally said.
She hesitated, and her worry floated into him.
“Don’t try to do what you did before,” she said. “You’re very weak. I didn’t think we would be able to revive you the first time. I don’t want—”
“I won’t,” he murmured.
She squeezed his hand and stood up. “You have a very good reason to live,” she said, smiling.
Her wooden shoes clacked on the floor as she crossed the empty room and closed the door behind herself.
With effort, Grei levered himself to his feet and approached the bier. He moved the sheet to reveal the burned, skeletal face of the man he had known as Blevins.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Grei said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough.”
Blevins’ corpse was different than the other dead bodies Grei had seen. Even a corpse had a voice when Grei listened. But not Blevins. There were no whispers at all. Whatever Blevins had been, he wasn’t human anymore.
“I asked them to bury you above ground. A stone tomb with a lid.” He paused. “Sleep, my friend. Sleep and dream a hero’s dream.”
Chapter 59
Adora
Adora awoke to sunlight, blinked and drew an unexpected breath. It was her room in the palace, the room of her childhood. Whispers murmured in the back of her mind, forming words she couldn’t understand. She turned toward the window. The sun was low in the afternoon sky, heading toward the Sunset Sea.
The green Faia crouched in the arch of the window, glowing. Adora’s Faia. The goddess’ emerald wings twitched. The leaves of her hair cascaded down her back and in front of her shoulders. Her little feet touched the sill so lightly she was almost floating. She smiled.
“Mimi,” Vecenne said from behind her. Adora turned to see her sister standing in the doorway dressed in yellow, her long blonde hair loose and flowing.
Adora looked back to the window, but the Faia was gone.
Vecenne sat down on the bed, and her curious gaze followed Adora’s. She had not seen the goddess.
“Am I dead?” Adora asked.
Her sister grinned, took Adora’s hand. “No.”
Adora blinked. “But the slinks—”
“Are gone. Grei broke their hold,” she said. “He sent them away.”
“But...” she faltered. “How?”
Vecenne gave a little laugh. “I won’t lie. I’m still not sure.”
“How am I alive?” she said. “Blevins stabbed me. And the prophecy—”
“I don’t know about a prophecy. But the slinks are gone. And you are alive.” Vecenne paused. “And you chose an exceptional man, Mimi.” She winked. “Nicely done.”
Adora put a hand to her forehead, dizzy. Was she dreaming? “I’m so confused. Where is he?” she asked.
“Probably right outside this door. He’s barely taken a dozen steps away from you since he woke up. It’s a new empire. I’ll let him explain. He has a way about him. He knows how to say things so that they make sense. He knows when to be close, when to be away.” The door opened, and Grei stood in the doorway.
Vecenne kissed Adora on the forehead. “See?” She rose to her feet.
Grei’s wavy brown hair was washed and brushed. It tumbled to his shoulders in the way she loved. He was clean-shaven again, and his soft brown eyes glinted with the afternoon sun. He wore long sleeves and his right hand was covered in a dark green glove. Three thin, red scratches marred his left cheek.
“Grei...” she murmured.
Vecenne went to the door and took the handle. She nudged Grei inside with her hip and left. He crossed to Adora and sat down on the bed. The whispers in her mind grew louder as he neared.
“Now this is a pose I imagined you in many a time,” he said, looking down at her.
His flirtatious tone brought her back to Fairmist, when she had first tried to snare his attention with promised secrets and the swing of her hips. But they weren’t in Fairmist anymore. This was not the beginning of the adventure. It was supposed to be the end. Her end. But she was still here.
Fear forked through her, and she started to move a hand to her belly, then stopped herself. The Archon’s baby...
She thrust the thought from her head and silently thought the phrase Lyndion had taught her to shield herself from Grei’s magical sight. He couldn’t know, could never know.
“Grei—” she began, then stopped. “Are the slinks really gone?” She couldn’t bear to think about what the Archon had done, what he had left with her. Not right now.
“Yes.” His smile grew smaller, but he kept it in place. “For a time.”
“What do you mean?”
“For now, there are no slinks in Thiara, and I suspect that there won’t be for a while.”
“You didn’t send them back,” she said. A chill ran up her spine. “Through the rift. The spell.”
He put gentle fingers against her cheek. “Forget about that. You did your part.”
“I should be dead,” she said.
“You were. You gave everything a person could give.” The whispers in her mind reached out to Grei like fingers. She felt his strength. “You fulfilled your ‘destiny’, if it ever really was that.”
She pushed her hand against her ribs, where the dagger had entered, had been shoved through her heart. “But I—”
“I brought you back,” he said.
She stopped, stunned.
“And no.” He shook his head. “I did not use the prophecy’s spell, and I discovered some things about your Order that might interest you.”
“Grei, if you thwarted the prophecy—”
His left hand took hers and squeezed. It felt perfect, like it was meant to be, like their dance on the Blacktale Bridge. “I can live without the prophecy,” he whispered. “I can’t live without you.”
He leaned over and kissed her.
But the prophecy—
“Stop it,” he murmured into her ear, as though he could hear her thoughts. “One life is enough. Save the next for yourself. For us.”
“What haven’t you told me?” she asked, fearful that he could read her so easily, wondering if he could see the secret of the baby.
He chuckled softly, his lips an inch from hers. “A lot. Shall I make a list this instant? Or could you just kiss me?”
She did, and pushed her concerns to the back of her mind.
“Grei?” she murmured finally.
“Yes.”
“I hear whispers in my head.”
He grinned. “What do they say?”
“That you love me.”
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“That’s right.” He took her into his arms. “That’s right.”
Behind them, where the Faia had been, a blue rose grew up between the dusky granite stones of the windowsill, its petals open to the sunlight.
Epilogue
Grei looked down on the royal courtyard where the final battle had happened. The sun had not yet set on the third day after they had broken Kuruk’s hold, and already streamers were being tacked up, lanterns hung from festive tripods. The empress had ordered a seven day celebration. She had commissioned a ballad from the famous Giallyn. Apparently, “Prince Grei” was to be a central character.
But it was Vecenne who was the real hero. Amidst the chaos, she had found the empress and convinced her. Without a prophecy, an army or any magic, she had saved countless lives. Grei was not present for any of it. After giving his life to Adora, he had lost consciousness. The next thing he remembered was waking in a bed in the palace.
Vecenne had told him that once the empress had been convinced, the spreading of the truth had become organized. The Ringblades had understood first and pierced the illusion, and the Highblades had joined shortly thereafter. The rest of the populace needed much more convincing. After seven years of living under the slinks’ yoke, words were not enough. Each new person had to be shown, and during those precious moments, more citizens fled Thiara. More citizens died. Some ran heedlessly into the Jhor Forest to be devoured by beasts, others ran down Baezin’s Road without thought to food or shelter. Ships sailed from the harbor. Some people even jumped straight into the ocean and started swimming, only to drown.
With every person who “woke” to the spell, Kuruk’s hold had weakened, and it was easier for the next. But some simply refused to see the truth. Even now, citizens would fall prey to the illusion and flee, or worse, follow the compulsion northward after “dying” from a phantom slink. The empress now had Highblades and groups of volunteers searching the countryside and boats patrolling the shores for others who had disappeared.
Many had died in their panic, but only one body had been scratched open, ripped apart. Grei knew Kuruk had desecrated it for show, leaving an image no person could forget, and it was that body that stayed in the mind, as if there had been hundreds of them. If Grei let his mind wander, the slink fear took hold of him again, twisting how he saw the other deaths. Making it seem like all of them had died in that grisly way.
He contemplated going to the source of the this terror-evoking spell, trying to pry Kuruk’s hold away permanently, but Grei feared he would be no match for the Lord of Rifts in that battle. Kuruk’s kind of magic was unfamiliar to him. He didn’t know how Kuruk could make him feel the spittle on his face from the flying slink that had almost “attacked” Adora or hear the cries of the dying who weren’t actually dying.
His heart beat faster as the spell tried to take hold of him again. Even now, the compulsion was strong. Kuruk was still out there, fighting to keep his hold.
He wondered how many empty graves had been dug in the first Slink War, filled with “bodies” that were not there. He wondered how many citizens of the empire now wandered in Benasca, unable to return home because of the burning compulsion that prevented them. He would have to go looking for them—
Grei raised his head. He sensed her arrival before he heard her soft steps behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
Selicia’s guarded emotions gave her away, though her shield wasn’t nearly as effective as it had been before. The more Grei used the magic, the clearer and quicker others’ desires came to him. Everyone had their own “signature”.
“It is still difficult to see the truth,” Selicia said softly, coming up beside him. “Even though we know it now, thanks to you.”
He forced his shoulders to relax and looked at her. One of Grei’s first acts after waking had been to release her and her Ringblades from their stone prisons. There was no emperor and the empress had hailed Grei as a Thiaran hero, which meant Selicia had no reason to capture him anymore, no reason to hurt him. But he watched her eyes, let her whispers be loud. If she moved too quickly, she could be a statue again for all he cared.
“Kuruk is a master of lies,” Grei finally answered. “Some people are like that.”
Selicia took the sting without a wince. She kept her gaze on the moving people below. “Should one feel remorse for doing what she knows is right—what she knows will save countless lives—even if she later discovers she was wrong?” she asked softly.
“Is that your apology?”
“No apology will quell your anger.”
“What do you want, Selicia?” he asked.
She paused. He wanted to rail at her. The Faia had all but warned Grei about Selicia’s betrayal. The Dead Woods spirits had said it outright. Selicia had violence inside her.
But so did Grei. So did every human. There were other things within Selicia, too. Strong things. Good things. Loyalty to the empire, if not to Grei. Her love for her Ringblades was real. Selicia believed she worked above the rest of humanity, all to serve Thiara.
“It isn’t over,” Selicia said. “This Slink War.”
“I know that better than you do,” he said.
“Yes.”
He let his magic flow into her. She smoldered with purpose. The empire was still at great risk.
“And you want to help,” he said.
“I serve the empire.” She paused, then said, “This Slink Lord is cunning. He knows most citizens still fear the slinks more than their own deaths. He will use that.”
“You aren’t my teacher anymore,” Grei said.
“I am whatever the empire needs.”
“The empire...” he said. He wasn’t about to tell her his budding thoughts on the Thiaran Empire and the blood that had been shed to keep it standing.
“I am not your enemy,” she said.
“Prove it.”
She said nothing, and they remained silent for a long time.
“How is Ree?” Grei changed the subject.
Selicia nodded. “She is awake. No longer talking in rhymes. She asked to see you.”
“I’ll visit her today,” he said. “Has anyone found the emperor’s body?”
“No,” she said. “Princess Vecenne thought he must have been incinerated.”
Grei didn’t believe that, and neither did Selicia. Vecenne was convinced her father was dead, and that was the official story. But something supernatural had happened to Blevins because of the horrific things he and the emperor had done to the Faia. It was likely the emperor was also affected. If there was no body, Grei didn’t believe for a second the emperor was gone.
Selicia watched him. “You made the unexpected choice. You didn’t kill the princess when you knew it would send the slinks away forever. I would have. The emperor would have.”
“For seven years you’ve all done horrible things in the name of good,” he said. “You, the emperor, Blevins, the empress. In the end, all those things only served the slinks. I wasn’t going to commit an atrocity just because you told me to.”
“You have wisdom, Grei,” she said, and he hated the approval in her tone. He hated how good it felt.
She took his hand, and he flinched. She pretended not to notice, held his fingers firmly. The whispers grew strong in the back of his mind, and he prepared to lash out. But her black eyes, so intense, only watched him.
“Thank you, Grei Forander,” she said softly. “You have saved our empire, despite me. That is a debt I can never repay. But know that I am your friend and I will do whatever I can.”
He wanted to believe her, but he didn’t know who she really served. The empress? The Order? Grei desperately needed an ally; he certainly had enough enemies. But was there anyone he could really trust?
Grei knew he had to start thinking about how he might use every single ally he could muster. To cast them aside through petulance was stupid. This crisis was larger than him, with so many pieces yet unseen. Like who was this Lord Velak he had see
n in Kuruk’s memories. Selicia, the empress, they had lived their whole lives thinking about the whole of the empire. He could learn from them. He had to learn from them.
“I will need your help,” he conceded. As long as I don’t have to trust you, he thought.
She seemed about to say something, but she was smart, so she didn’t.
Kuruk was still out there, the most powerful being Grei had ever met, nursing his hatred of all Thiarans. Everyone in Thiara knew about him now, but there were other enemies that Grei wasn’t sure he should talk about until he knew who to trust. The Blessed, Velakkans in human form, could be anywhere. Emperor Qweryn was also out there, licking his wounds, maybe waiting to unleash more horrors in the name of good. And there was the mysterious Lord Velak, a person even Kuruk feared.
But behind them all was one man, living between the pages of history, manipulating from his safe little web. This man had created Kuruk and his nightmarish brothers. This man had demanded Adora’s death.
Like the Slink War, the Order’s prophecy was a lie, a manipulation to save the Order from Kuruk’s wrath.
“What will you do now?” Selicia asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“I will go home,” he said.
And then we will see, Emperor Lyndion, if you have a prophecy for what comes next.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TODD FAHNESTOCK wrote his first novel in high school because he “wanted a fantasy book with even more action in it.” Later in college, he published his first two short stories in TSR Dragonlance anthologies. In 1997, he published more short stories with co-author Giles Carwyn, winning the New York Books for the Teen Age award for True Love (Or the Many Brides of Prince Charming). In 2006, Todd wrote Heir of Autumn with Giles under HarperCollins’ Eos imprint and hit the Denver Post bestseller list. Mistress of Winter and Queen of Oblivion followed, then Todd went solo again. He currently lives in a 115-year-old Victorian house in Englewood, CO with his wife, daughter, son, one big blue dog and one big red dog. He splits his time between Tae Kwon Do, playing with children, working at Rose Community Foundation, and writing that next novel.
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