Mist & Whispers

by C. M. Lucas

  ‘We have another two joining us for dinner.’ Eleazar looked Anya and Steph up and down, sneering at their mix of militant and own-world ensembles. ‘Make them look like women, will you?’ Then he took a tendril of Anya’s hair between his fingers and breathed over her slowly. ‘And do something with this.’

  By this point, Anya had zoned out. She’d had to – the temptation to turn around and drive her vambrace right into his lecherous face was as hard to resist as a cinnamon pastry, and would have been just as sweet, too.

  ‘Oh and, Evarain,’ Eleazar said, addressing one of the voluptuous blonde women. ‘Your Aunt will be along soon. Put her in something colourful, Morcades is tired of seeing her in black.’

  Evarain smiled, her face as sweet as acid. ‘Of course, Sire.’

  ‘URGH, FILTHY HABIT, nail biting,’ Evarain said, holding Anya’s hand as if it were riddled with leprosy, a look of revolt cracking her otherwise pretty face. ‘At least the hair I can work with.’

  Anya sat in front of a white dressing table, with a mirror so big almost the entire room behind her could be seen in it. She hadn’t argued as she was pushed toward it. It meant she could keep an eye on Steph whilst these women played dress up with them. Behind her, the other two women were arguing over what colour dress would go well with Steph’s hair while Steph sat there, staring through it all just as she had on the boat.

  Her friend’s behaviour had her worried. How could they possibly get away if Steph wasn’t with it?

  ‘I’ve outdone myself,’ Evarain announced, causing Anya to look up at her. As she did, she caught herself in the mirror and started.

  A glance ago, Anya had been wearing her usual little t-shirt, dragon hide breast plate, skirt and trainers. Her hair had been its usual crazy and her face had been without any make up whatsoever. Now, looking straight ahead, she could barely recognise herself.

  Diamonds and black flowers adorned her hair, which was now up in layers of plaits and twists, whilst her eyelids had been painted in rich blues and silver, making the ice of her eyes shine even brighter. Her complexion was as clear and as perfect as a china doll – even her freckles were nowhere to be seen. And the dress... The dress was breath taking. She was breath taking. And she hadn’t even felt the change.

  Her mouth gaped, giving the leech enough room to wriggle, reminding Anya she was still herself on the inside, and that somehow, she had to get rid of the wretched little thing without anyone noticing.

  Behind her the other women gasped.

  ‘Oh, Rainy! Father will be pleased!’

  Father? Wait – were these Eleazar’s daughters?

  Evarain must have noticed Anya’s ears prick up at the word father, as she smiled, the same perverse smile as Eleazar, and bent down to whisper in her ear. ‘That’s right. Our father is the King, so if you don’t satisfy him, I won’t let you wear a pretty dress next time.’ Anya bit her tongue, desperately trying to keep her revulsion hidden. ‘And that would be a shame. White suits you. It’s so innocent. So... untouched.’

  Anya shuddered. Evarain was talking about her father, for crying out loud! And she was smiling about it too. There were so many levels of wrong to this, she didn’t know whether she was shocked, repulsed or plain horrified. There was no doubt about it now; she had to get out of there, and she had to get Steph out of there too.

  She needed a distraction. Time was slowly melting away from her and she needed to take down the enchantments so that Theone and his men could get into the castle.

  There was a gentle rap at the door, and then it opened. Which one of the women opened it, Anya wasn’t sure, as it was done using magic. Two grey ladies entered the room, escorting a third. The third was wearing a veil, so it was hard to see the face beneath it, though it didn’t take more than a breath for Anya to figure out who it was. Eleazar had said their aunt was coming, and if these women were Eleazar’s daughters, the veiled lady could only be one person; Princess Abeytu.

  One of the grey ladies lifted the Princess’s veil and Anya’s jaw fell again. Abeytu was the most captivating, beautiful woman she had ever seen, even with the grey skin. She was like an old time movie star, captured in a black and white photograph. A classic, timeless beauty with features so striking, so indefectible, Anya could not stop staring. Even the vulnerability behind her empty, hopeless stare was entrancing.

  Anya remembered how Lorcan had told Abeytu once that she was beautiful, but despite how the idea of him finding the Princess attractive annoyed her, she couldn’t hold it against her. She should have hated her for the curse she’d put on Lorcan, or at least felt some kind of anger towards her, but being there, seeing her for the first time, all she could think about was what she had been through these last eighteen years, locked away in the castle, endlessly pursued by the God of the Damned.

  ‘Orchid. Rowhannah,’ Evarain called to her sisters. ‘Will you dress that damn girl? I’m not being made to eat with the serfs, not when I’ve done such a good job with this one.’

  Evarain crossed the room and tended to the Princess, and Orchid and Rowhannah continued arguing with much lower voices. Eventually, they broke out into a war of outfit changes. Steph’s hair was up and down and up again, while her outfit flickered from purple to green to pink to another shade of purple before Evarain finally put her foot down.

  ‘For the God’s sakes... ’ She waved her hand in a fit of frustration and Steph’s outfit changed one last time, settling on a corseted, red gown with black jewellery. Her lips were painted rich scarlet.

  Now was her chance. Keeping one eye on the sisters in the mirror, Anya raised her hand to her mouth, ready to catch the leech.

  Too fast. Evarain spotted her moving. She feigned a cough and lowered her hand. The sister raised an eyebrow and went back to adjusting the Princess’s outfit, her dancing fingers doing all the work.

  How could she get rid of this thing? She’d come close to gagging on it too many times. She couldn’t bear it much longer.

  She watched as Abeytu’s outfit was tweaked. Gloves. No Gloves. Headdress. Veil. High rise collar. Low cut neck.

  And then it hit her. The blood switch.

  She had Theone’s powers now, if she could work out how to use them. Theone had said it was all in the will. Wanting it, feeling it, willing it, believing it; the true King’s pearls of wisdom on magic. Anya feared it wasn’t going to be quite that simple.

  She closed her eyes, held her hand open in her lap out of sight of the sisters, and thought about the leech. She wanted it gone so bad she kept saying it over in her mind. Into my hand. Get into my hand.

  A breath, and then, as simple as a finger-snap, the leech was gone from her mouth. She breathed a silent sigh of relief as she looked down. It worked. The leech was exactly where she wanted it to be. Thank you, little guy, she thought, but when she looked at it again, she realised something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel the same as it had when she’d taken it out of the jar. There was no slime now, and it just lay there, not moving, not trying to sink its teeth elsewhere.

  It was dead.

  She had felt it moving about on her tongue only seconds before. Had the Dark Blood been too much for it to stomach? Had the magic killed it? Not wanting to leave it in plain sight, she hid the leech in a trinket box on the dresser.

  With Princess Abeytu finally dressed, the women turned their attention and their abilities on their own appearances, readying themselves for Dinner. Anya wondered if they had some sort of special mushrooms growing here in the castle grounds – mushrooms so exquisite they required formal dress to be consumed. Whatever the occasion, she was glad of it. The sisters were busy staring at themselves in the other mirrors set about the room, rather than keeping their hawk eyes on her. It gave her chance to think without the pressure of being watched.

  Steph was still on the bed, deep in her own world, and the Princess was still draped over a lounge chair across the room. She couldn’t talk to either one of them, and though they were beginning to settle, the sy
mptoms of the blood switch still had her off point.

  She tried her best to focus. What do I need to do?

  She needed to take down the enchantments, but that would have to be done somewhere else, somewhere the eyes of a predator couldn’t bore into her skull. Making a run for it was pointless; they’d know something was going on and they’d have the enchantments back up before Theone could even get his feet wet.

  Maybe Lorcan could create a distraction? He was out there somewhere, fighting that dragon. For that to work, she’d have to work out how to speak to him the way Theone and Harrion would speak to her when they didn’t want anybody else eavesdropping. But Theone had only really shown her how to take down the enchantments. This she was going to have to figure out herself.

  Wanting. Feeling. Willing. Believing. She inwardly repeated the mantra a few times, then she closed her eyes and pictured Lorcan. She thought about his eyes and how the gold halo that edged the green glowed subtly, like a ring of tiny embers. She thought about how his hair fell, and the little horns that hid amongst it, one to each side. She thought about how his smile made the little flame in her chest burn hotter, and she felt her own cheeks flush as she imagined his voice. His voice had changed since the first time she spoken to him. It was so full of pain then, where as the more she’d got to know him, the more the pain had seemed to ease. The last words he spoke to Theone as he left – ‘I’m not fighting for you’ and the look he gave her. He was so gentle, even with the chance of revenge at his fingertips.

  Her mind began to talk, and she directed the words to the image of Lorcan she had conjured in her head. Lorcan, I need you to create a distraction. I’m on the west side of the castle. There’s a big balcony outside the room. If you can hear me, please hurry.

  She opened her eyes and crossed her fingers.

  THE SOUND OF wing beats was all the warning she had, and then there he was, hovering over the balcony but for no longer than a second. The Black Dragon, the same beast that had killed Macken, came crashing into him, pulling half of the balcony down with its gargantuan clawed feet.

  A fireball erupted from the Dragon’s mouth and it was that moment that two of Eleazar’s daughters began to scream. Orchid and Rowhannah ran from the room, without so much as a look back.

  Anya wished she had reacted quicker. She should have, given that she was the one who had called on Lorcan’s help, but watching the dragon collide with him and not knowing whether he was okay caused a momentary lapse in her motor skills.

  He’s immortal, you idiot! Pull it together.

  Evarain didn’t leave the room. The happening didn’t have her fazed at all, and she called after her sisters as they fled. ‘Don’t run, it’s only Morcades pet, for the God’s sakes!’ She turned around and flew across to the balcony.

  Anya went to Steph and grabbed her hand. ‘Steph,’ she whispered urgently, shaking her arm. Steph looked at her like they were strangers. ‘Steph, we need to get out of here. When I say now, you need to run with me, can you do that? Steph?’

  Evarain was shouting over the balcony, calling below for someone to get Morcades to take care of his beast.

  ‘This is her first drink of the Dark Blood, isn’t it?’ the Princess said from across the room. Even her voice was stunning, smooth and soft and sweet, like a peach.

  Anya turned to Abeytu and nodded. ‘How do you know?’ she whisper-called back.

  ‘The first drink is the worst. You lose yourself entirely. I was so withdrawn after my first few drinks, I can’t even remember what happened on those days. It took sometime before I even spoke again.’

  Evarain returned ranting, silencing the girls. ‘A dragon – foolish God. A dragon has no business being here at the castle. Clumsy, oaf-like reptile, and all the bloody men are off, drinking in the tavern. Drunks. Defenders of the castle, indeed! Never around when that awful beast makes a nuisance of itself.’ She went back to the mirror, back to perfecting herself for dinner. ‘Looks like my sisters will be eating with the serfs tonight after all, those fawning flakes!’

  BOOM.

  The dragon was back, falling with much more force than the first time. The horn-ridged back of the creature skidded along what remained of the balcony, and in through the vast, arched doorway, straight to where Evarain was preening herself magically. She fell to the ground along with fragments of wall and furniture, and her head cracked as it hit the marble floor. More flames launched from the dragon’s nostrils as it struggled on its back, and Anya knew it was time to leave.

  She grabbed Steph’s arm but she didn’t move. ‘Come on, Steph!’ she yelled.

  Anya could feel each of the dragons’s shuffling movements beneath her feet. She looked over her shoulder and directly into the eyes of the beast. The dragon paused for a breath, and then his struggle to get up became more frantic, his sights set on something new; them.

  ‘Shit, Steph! We have to go now!’ The dragon was almost up, grunting and snarling, his hungry eyes still fixed on the girls. Anya’s gut took over. She grabbed Steph, lifted her over her shoulder and made a break for the door. ‘Abeytu! RUN!’

  Luckily, the Princess did as she was told. They darted into the corridor and the dragon, finally on all four feet, crashed after them, walls cracking and crumbling around its titanic body as it forced its way through the castle.

  They rounded a corner and heard something collapse behind them, and the dragon let out an almighty roar. Anya turned to see a tsunami of flames hurtling towards them. Her eyes widened and her hand shot up instinctively towards the wave. A purple-white candescent stream flowed from her hand, flooding the space all around her, Steph and Abeytu.

  The dragon’s fire rolled on, over them and around them, but it did not break the barrier of light Anya had created.

  When the flames died, the girls carried on running, rounding a corner and slipping into a darkened room, closing the door behind them.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Abeytu demanded of Anya as soon as her breath was caught.

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ she said, putting Steph down on a bed, much more modest than the eight-poster that was just obliterated in the Queen’s chamber.

  ‘You can answer me now! Not even Royals have that kind of power. What are you? A witch?’

  ‘No,’ Anya said, trying to ignore the Princess and recall the countercharm to undo the protective enchantments.

  ‘I don’t consort with witches, you know. I am the Princess of Virtue, of purity.’

  ‘That’s nice, now shut up, please. I’m trying to save us.’ Anya looked around at the walls and took a guess that any spot was as good as another. She placed her hands flat against the cool stone. ‘Mihte, sceadwest ús, eac ús béonne, eac ús stand – ’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Down the hall, the dragon shrieked, and the sounds of further destruction gave Anya’s burning heart a jolt.

  Stay Calm.

  She shook it off and began again. This might be her only chance, so she had to take it now.

  ‘Mihte, sceadwest ús, – ’

  ‘You are obviously moonstruck. There is no way you can take down the castle’s defensive enchantments. They are too powerful, and you are so tiny.’

  ‘At least I’m trying,’ Anya growled back.

  ‘Well, it’s hopeless. No one is getting out of here. And anyway, you’re saying it wrong. Continue saying it that way and you’ll protect the castle twice over.’

  Anya’s face planted in her palm. ‘I was supposed to say it backwards, to undo it, wasn’t I?’

  The Princess’ eyes shrank to slits and she gave a quiet little clap.

  Anya pursed her lips and turned her back on Abeytu. ‘Letsac seþ tsellehá, sú tsedlicsá, musærdnoéf marf, sú tsellehá, mulðíneghroef dno mutúrd, aneís á marf. Dnats sú cae, ennoéb sú cae, sú tsewdaecs ethim.’

  Nothing happened.

  She looked around for a sign, some kind of noticeable difference, but everything was just as it was. ‘How do I know if it’s
worked?’

  Abeytu rolled her dark, red eyes. ‘I doubt it has – your pronunciation is terrible – but you won’t tell. Not unless someone marches in here, which I can’t imagine happening.’

  ‘That’s kind of the point, actually. Theone is waiting for me to –’

  ‘Theone is alive?’ The Princess’s hard exterior cracked at the mention of her brother, and she stood, actually looking at Anya properly instead of just casting her superior eyes over her. ‘Eleazar said they were dead. He said that they had all died during the ambush that day at Silver Forest.’

  ‘Ambush?’

  ‘We were racing away from a heard of manticores and as we neared Silver Forest, and something struck me and I blacked out. When I woke, the village was on fire. There were bodies everywhere, burning – the smell,’ she flinched at the memory. ‘Eleazar and I were trapped in the home of the village doctor. My brother had fixed my wound, but he said he wanted to keep me somewhere safe until I came to. He could never have known that we were to be ambushed like that. That’s when Morcades came. He saved us. We were the only survivors. Even Lynessa – pregnant Lynessa and baby Harrion, my little nephew – ’

  ‘He’s alive too. Harrion is alive.’ Abeytu broke at the news and sobbed. ‘And he is so cool, you have the best nephew,’ Anya reassured her.

  A smile emerged on Abeytu’s face. The iceberg was melting.

  The hallway outside had turned quiet, an unfortunate double edged sword. It meant the dragon must have gone but equally, it meant that Eleazar or his daughters would be looking for them.

  Without knowing if her attempt had worked, there was only one thing they could do to ensure the plan played out right. They would have to dine with their captors.

  Anya managed to convince Abeytu to keep quiet about everything she had told her. Abeytu agreed, and Anya was pleased to see a ray of hope breaking through the gloomy grey.

  As Anya got Steph to her feet, the door swung open, and in walked Evarain, up and looking fresher than ever; head uncracked and clothes without so much as a hair on them, let alone any dust or rubble.