Edmund closed his eyes and tilted his head back, releasing another deep breath. “Forgive me, my love,” he said, reaching once more for her hand. “I do not know why it should unsettle me to learn you have other ways of killing, if I am not disturbed by knowing that you have killed at all. Forgive my foolish reaction.”
Amaya took his hand and was drawn into his warm, solid embrace. The strange, insidious fear faded and died. Of course Edmund would not hate her for having a deadly talent. “Scorchers can kill with their talent,” she murmured into his shoulder.
“I know, and I cannot explain why that is different from what you can do.” Edmund gripped her shoulders and held her so he could look into her eyes. “I suppose because there is an element of subterfuge involved. Any Extraordinary Shaper could be an assassin, an undetectable assassin. Imagine forming a blood clot in someone’s veins that does not kill until hours or days later. No one would ever suspect foul play.”
“Or every Extraordinary Shaper would be suspected of crimes they had no reason to commit,” Amaya pointed out.
“Which is no doubt why they have kept the ability a secret.” Edmund no longer looked impassive; he looked as if he were pondering some great puzzle. “And yet—Amaya, it is impossible that no Extraordinary Shaper in England has ever killed this way. How many murders have gone unpunished, or even undetected, because of this secret?”
“That is impossible to say, and I do not know that it matters,” Amaya said. When Edmund began to protest, she added, “I mean that the lives of the innocents, the Extraordinary Shapers who are not murderers, must surely outweigh bringing those few to justice. If you are correct that knowing this could spark a panic—”
“It goes against my instincts to see justice robbed like that,” Edmund said, “but you are probably right.” He put his arms around her again and pulled her close. “Is it easier? For you, I mean.”
“Easier to kill with a touch than another way?” Amaya considered the question. “I have never used it as my primary weapon. It is not as honorable as a warrior’s claws or blade. I paralyzed Uturunku before killing him to show that I have more abilities than an ordinary Shaper to turn toward protecting my people. But I took his life with my claws.”
Edmund let out a low chuckle. “You realize most Englishmen would indeed find you terrifying. I am remarkable in how I do not feel intimidated by the powerful woman I love more every hour I am in her presence.”
That filled Amaya’s heart with joy. “You are remarkable because you are strong enough not to fear being underestimated because you appear weak and foolish. It is what draws me to you, that you are strong in ways different from mine.”
“If I believed my foolish ways made you think less of me, I would change them in a heartbeat,” Edmund said. He touched her face gently, tracing the line of her eyebrow and then the curve of her cheek. “Because I can bear anything but that.”
The sound of the door opening made them separate, fast enough that Amaya felt bereft. She considered extending her claws, imagining the many possibilities of who might come through the door: soldiers, Don Martín, the king.
But it was Elinor.
She turned and spoke quietly to someone out of Amaya’s line of sight; Amaya heard the words, “Turn the key if you feel you must, but you might remember that the door is made of wood.” Elinor sounded perfectly composed, but Amaya could imagine the face of whatever servant or even mayordomo de semana might have accompanied her there.
Elinor entered the room and shut the door behind her. Amaya did not hear the click of the lock. “I hope you can explain what has happened,” Elinor said. “No one tried to stop me coming here, but neither would they permit me to release you. Lord Enderleigh has gone to speak to King Ferdinand, and I am here to speak to you.”
Amaya was not sure where to begin. Edmund had no such difficulty. “We encountered El Encendedor,” he said, “who has an Extraordinary Coercer in his train. She Coerced us into believing his cause was just. When we managed to escape, we came directly here with news that Señor Valencia—El Encendedor—has captured the city of Aranjuez and intends to make it the center of his revolution.”
Elinor’s eyes widened. “How unexpected,” she said, her calm voice at odds with her expression. “How did you escape? I believed a Coercer’s talent to be unbreakable.”
“Another strong emotion can be in its place,” Amaya said. “And she—the Coercer is not so loyal to Señor Valencia as she or he believe. She helped us escape.”
“Also unexpected.” Elinor took a seat on the sofa. “Forgive me, but standing for very long makes my ankles ache. Did you see El Encendedor use his talent? What is its extent?”
“I do not know what an Extraordinary Scorcher is capable of,” Edmund said. “He was able to ignite the entire roof of an estate, several hundred square feet, and extinguish it as readily. And he controls fire with ease.”
Elinor’s expression was thoughtful, her eyes unfocused as if seeing something not in the room. “He might be more powerful than that,” she said. “But that alone is powerful enough. If he attacks Madrid, I will not be able to challenge him directly.”
“Why is that?” Edmund’s gaze sharpened, and he took a few steps toward Elinor.
“Because the child can be burned,” Amaya said.
“That, and I dare not permit myself to be overcome by fire a second time.” Elinor’s gaze focused on Amaya, and she smiled a thin, self-mocking smile. “My husband only has so many hands to sacrifice.”
Amaya wished dearly she could press Elinor for more details about this extraordinary statement, but now was not the time. “Why can we not leave? We are not traitors.”
Now Elinor’s expression was sour. “King Ferdinand sees an opportunity to make his English ‘guests’ supplicants. His pride is engaged, and with such a man as him, that pride prevents him seeing clearly. As the two of you are the only ones who know even a little of El Encendedor’s plan, you should be consulting with his generals so they might determine a course of action. But that would not suit the king’s pride.”
“They cannot keep me if I choose not,” Amaya said.
“And none of them are willing to challenge me. But we must yet maintain a diplomatic appearance.” Elinor looked even more bitter. “I regret that you must be confined a while longer. I hope you will not grow bored with one another’s company.”
Amaya could not help glancing at Edmund. His eyes were alight with amusement and affection, and she blushed before she could stop herself.
Elinor regarded them both. “I see,” she said, and now she sounded amused as well. “Then I shall leave you, but I promise I will return as soon as Lord Enderleigh judges we have pandered to King Ferdinand’s self-love sufficiently.” She smiled, gripped Amaya’s hand, and said, “You must tell me what passed between you and your Salazar relations—but later.”
When the door had closed behind her, Amaya tried and failed to hold back laughter. “She knows,” she said in Spanish.
“I wish everyone to know, because I am just selfish enough not to wish to see you courted by tall, handsome Spanish grandees,” Edmund said with a wink.
“I have yet to see a Spanish grandee I prefer to you.” Amaya sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her in invitation.
Edmund sat beside her and once more took her in his arms. “High praise indeed, Miss Salazar,” he said, and bent his head to kiss her.
Chapter 23
In which important information is ignored by those in power
By the time the door opened again, the sun was low in the afternoon sky, casting the suite of rooms into shadow. Amaya, standing by the window looking out over the gardens, turned to see a pair of soldiers enter, followed by Don Martín. Don Martín looked as placid as ever; the soldiers cast nervous glances at Amaya.
“You will come with us,” Don Martín said. He made a little gesture toward the door as if he feared they had not understood him.
“We are free to go?” Edmund sa
id.
“The king wishes to speak with you,” Don Martín said. He still looked unconcerned. Amaya regarded him closely, but saw nothing to indicate he saw this request as extraordinary.
Edmund glanced at Amaya, then left the room with her immediately behind him. Don Martín took up the lead, and the soldiers fell in behind. Amaya’s neck prickled with her awareness of how close they were. Unlike most of the soldiers she had seen guarding the palace, these men were armed with pistols as well as the long poles with blades attached to their tips. This difference worried Amaya, as she could see no reason for it. True, she had not seen every soldier attached to the palace, so these might merely be a different kind of guard, but combined with the request that they speak with the king, the pistols unnerved her.
She paid close attention to the path they took, in case she might need to make a rapid escape. She had never seen anything manmade as large as the Palacio Real. The residents of her city in the mountains of Peru might disappear into it without a trace. Occasionally windows revealed glimpses of the gardens, and once she saw an enormous glimmering pool, its sides regular as no natural pool would be. She never saw any people.
Eventually, Don Martín opened a door and bowed to indicate Edmund and Amaya should enter. The room beyond was as ornate and gilded as all the others, though the walls were covered in a rich patterned purple fabric and the ceiling, rimmed and decorated with gold leaves, did not have a picture painted at its center. Curtains matching the wall fabric shrouded two other doors, while a third set of curtains was drawn back to reveal a window that overlooked the garden. Though the afternoon light illuminated the room, the darkness of the walls and drapes absorbed it, dimming the chamber, though an enormous chandelier, unlit, hung from the center of the ceiling.
Soldiers stood at attention in pairs at every door, including the one they entered by, and flanked King Ferdinand, who stood at the window, looking out. He did not turn when they entered. More men, these dressed like the courtiers Amaya had seen in the throne room, stood near the walls at random. Their soft conversations ceased when Amaya and Edmund entered. With a quiet click, the door closed behind them.
Amaya turned reflexively and saw only an unfamiliar pair of soldiers flanking the door. Don Martín and the soldiers had not entered with them. Amaya’s disquiet intensified.
She took a step toward the king, and the soldiers all shifted at once, bringing their long weapons into a threatening position. She stopped. The soldiers did not relax. Amaya assessed the room. Getting inside the reach of those weapons would be difficult, but the soldiers could not defend themselves once she was close enough. She might kill one soldier and take his weapon—it was unfamiliar, true, but—
“Your majesty,” Edmund said, “have we offended you in some way?” He sounded polite, not at all as if the soldiers were poised to attack.
The king said nothing. Amaya continued planning her attack. The soldier on the left behind her; he would be an excellent target, as he clearly believed he had an advantage over her.
Finally, without turning, the king said, “Do you take me for a fool?”
“If we have given you the impression that we do not respect you, I assure you this is not the case,” Edmund said, still as polite as ever.
The king made a dismissive gesture. “You claimed that El Encendedor seized Aranjuez, that he killed its count and intended to make the city the center of his revolution?”
“That is what he told us, yes.” Edmund’s politeness now sounded slightly confused.
The king turned to fix his gaze on Edmund. His voice had sounded calm, but his expression was furious, startling Amaya. “Then how do you explain the army on our doorstep?” he said. His hand, closed into a fist, trembled with suppressed rage.
“I—your majesty, what do you mean?” Edmund now sounded completely bewildered. Amaya did not dare look away from the king. She feared, irrationally, that if she did he might erupt into violence, and she did not wish to be responsible for killing a king.
The king pointed out the window, his hand still shaking. “El Encendedor is marching on Madrid. His fires go before him. Your story is nothing but a lie, concocted to lull the Army into a false sense of security and prevent them reacting in time to defend this city.”
“No,” Edmund said, taking a step forward.
The soldiers moved, two of them stepping in front of King Ferdinand, the others blocking the exits. And Amaya was seized by an unseen force, held in place though she had not tried to move. It did not feel like her paralysis, in which nerves forbade the body to move; it felt like being restrained by an outside force, an invisible hand gripping her arms and pinning them to her sides. She tried to move her legs and discovered them similarly bound. Only her head could move, and as she turned it from side to side, hoping it might help her free the rest of her body, she saw the courtiers standing as still as if they, too, were bound.
She cast about for the source of the restraints and heard Edmund say, “You need not turn your Movers on us. I assure you we mean you no harm. We told the truth as we knew it.”
Movers. Amaya looked again at the courtiers and realized they were not frozen; they were deeply intent on her and Edmund. She had seen Movers among her people, though none of them had been Extraordinaries, and they always required intense concentration when maintaining a hold on something, or someone, that wished to escape.
Amaya strained again against the invisible grip. She found she could twist from side to side, exactly as if her arms and legs were bound but she was not tied to anything. The grip tightened, and she cried out involuntarily. “Amaya, do not fight!” Edmund exclaimed. She ignored him, twisting until she overbalanced—and another invisible hand prevented her from falling. Breathing heavily, she let herself hang supported by nothing but air.
“You expect me to believe you are not my enemy?” King Ferdinand said. “When you English came in power and status to remind me of my country’s inferiority to yours? Did you believe I would not know what it means that two such powerful talents head your embassy?”
Edmund said nothing. Amaya twisted her head to look up at him. He wore the impassive look Amaya knew so well, the one that said he was prepared to attack. How, she had no idea, as they were both held fast.
The king walked toward them, his pace measured. Amaya strained against her invisible bonds again, then let herself go limp, as if she had given up or fainted. “I should have you killed,” King Ferdinand said, “but I am certain your Lord Enderleigh will cry diplomatic immunity. But I cannot permit you to go free, not while you are the victims of a Coercion that might see me dead.”
“We are not Coerced,” Edmund said, somewhat breathily as if a hand compressed his lungs.
“Precisely what someone in the thrall of a Coercer would say.” King Ferdinand stopped in front of Amaya. With her head hanging low, she could see nothing more of him than his brown, pointed shoes and his stockinged legs that disappeared into those odd trousers that came only to the knee. Then she felt his hand on her chin, lifting her head. “I will show—”
Skin to skin contact was enough. Amaya sent a command to his Sense, shooting paralysis through his every nerve. King Ferdinand collapsed.
She heard gasps and cries of dismay, and the grip holding her vanished, dropping her. She landed lightly and she stepped backward, inside the reach of the nearest soldier’s pole weapon. She slammed her elbow into his face, and when he cried out in pain, she wrenched his weapon from his hand and used it to disarm his companion. She whipped the blunt end around to slam into the second soldier’s head, sending him to the ground.
Edmund grabbed the fallen pole weapon and rested its blade against the fallen king’s throat. “Do not use your Moving on us again,” he said. “You know you cannot hold us entirely, and it will take very little movement for me to strike.”
The courtiers raised their hands to show they were unarmed, a pointless gesture, Amaya thought, as they did not need touch to Move anything. The soldiers across the
room held their weapons at the ready, though Amaya saw one of them tremble with fear. She snarled at him, and he took an involuntary step back and was glared at by his companion.
“Is he dead?” Edmund murmured for Amaya’s ears alone. She shook her head. “Then I suppose you have not completely lost your mind.” In a louder voice, he said, “We have not killed your king even though I am certain you realize we could have. England means Spain no harm, and we do not wish El Encendedor to destroy your government. I suggest, if you have not already, that you mobilize the Army’s forces to meet Mr. Valencia before he enters the city.”
Two of the soldiers took a step forward. Edmund brought the sharp blade closer to the king, and they froze as if paralyzed themselves. “We should leave,” Edmund murmured.
Amaya dropped her polearm atop the first soldier and opened the door, backing through it without taking her eyes off the soldiers. Once she was through, Edmund reversed his grip on the pole weapon and flung it like a spear at the soldiers, then hurriedly backed out the door and slammed it shut.
Without a word to each other, they ran back the way they had come, speeding through the corridors until they reached the grand entrance. The soldiers stationed there looked at them curiously, but made no move to stop them. Edmund had begun to slow, and when he stumbled, Amaya grabbed his hand and hauled him along. “Where can we go?” she said.
“Back…to the ambassador’s…quarters…” Edmund panted. “Amaya, this pace…I cannot maintain…”
Amaya focused on his Need sunqu, and with a thought, she made his lungs open up, taking in more air and using it more efficiently. Edmund gasped, his eyes wide. “Run,” she told him.
They ran faster now, dodging servants and palace functionaries until they reached the door of the ambassadorial apartment and dove through as if their pursuers were dogs on their heels. Edmund leaned against the door, breathing more easily. “I feel dizzy,” he said.
“It will pass. Your lungs are not made to maintain that Shape, and they will gradually return to normal.” Amaya leaned against the wall and waited for her own sunqu to subside, for Heart and Need and Strength to realize the danger was past.
Liberating Fight Page 25