Sapphire smiles, and it’s not the awkward one I’m accustomed to seeing. It’s big and real and full. They swoop down in one motion and capture my lips.
The height difference doesn’t make it easy, even when I stand on my toes, but Sapphire smoothly wraps a hand around my waist and stoops to even us out. Their lips are soft as silk and their tongue is . . . talented. Kissing Melidia would be like this. My hands find their way up Sapphire’s slick, metallic arms to their powerful shoulders, up a slender neck corded with muscle.
When I finally step away, I’m gasping for air. Thelia’s hand reaches out to steady me. She presses my palm—Isn’t it amazing? I pull her against me, my other arm still wrapped tight around Sapphire. I’m so full of the two of them that I might burst.
“Look,” Thelia says, breaking the silence. “Sapphire, I . . . I was taught not to be emotional.” Her voice breaks. “Not to let anyone really see me.” Sapphire takes her hand in theirs and the look they give her, it is love and admiration and something even more profound, something I can’t place. “But I don’t want to die. I don’t want to lose Percy. And I don’t want to lose . . . you.” She’s crying again. So much for Delia’s training. I’m proud of her.
Thelia rises up on her strong calves and stares into Sapphire’s eyes. Something passes between them, something fierce and hungry, before Thelia presses her lips to Sapphire’s. She pours everything into it, all the uncertainty and fear and pain that has followed us like hounds. They are both so beautiful. Thelia hasn’t let me go, and I know she won’t ever.
“Now, now,” I say as they continue on. “I’m feeling a little cold here.” Sapphire grabs me hard around the waist and pulls me against them. Thelia releases Sapphire’s mouth and takes my chin in her hand.
“Then it’s your turn,” she says, and her lips seize mine. I have always longed to be ravaged by her. A circle has finally, perfectly, been completed.
I pull away from them both and lean against the cool wall. Whatever this is, whatever we are . . . this world can’t bear us. “Parsifal?” I hear Thelia ask. I just shake my head, knowing I’ll break if I try to talk.
Sapphire pulls us both to their chest, tucking our heads under their sharp chin. The wisp flutters around our faces. “I will get you two out of Four Halls,” they say. “You must be ready to go when I say.”
“What’s your grand plan, then?” I ask.
“You need to get very sick.”
Thelia
It’s simple enough: once we show enough signs of illness, we’re rounded up and quarantined. Then we will be put in a wagon and sent as far from Four Halls as possible. The elves won’t dream of coming near us if we’re contaminated, and we’ll be free of this city forever.
“It’ll be obvious we’re faking it,” Parsifal says, using his reason-and-logic voice.
“You underestimate how much The People fear filth,” Sapphire says. “Disease, sickness. Any bodily fluid. Our kind has never existed in the same place as humans—we have no bodily systems to prevent cross-infection.”
It makes perfect sense to me. I put my hand on Parsifal’s arm. “It’s the best chance we have.” Not just the best chance, but the only chance.
“All right,” Parsifal says. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if that big silver trit throws us in the moat.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be too dead to say anything.”
Sapphire wraps us in an embrace. “All I need is to know you two are out and free.”
I suddenly understand: Sapphire doesn’t plan to come with us. “No!” I grab their arms. “You can’t send us off alone.”
Sapphire kisses the tops of our heads fervently. I gasp when a tear lands on my head. “Sapphire?”
“I haven’t cried since I was a child.” There’s a sniffling sound and an embarrassed laugh. “I wish this all had been different and I had met you both under better circumstances.”
Parsifal tries to smile. He holds out one finger and the pink wisp lands on it, chattering softly. “This life is long and full of chance meetings, if we’re lucky.”
At the door of the suite there are no guards in sight. Sapphire was right—the idea of disease was enough.
“It will not be me returning for you,” Sapphire says, pulling the gold mask back down over their face. Their blue eyes vanish into empty eye sockets. “Appear as sick as possible. Convince your family to do the same, if you want them to go with you. Boils, blisters—”
“I understand,” Thelia says.
Sapphire leans down and delivers one last kiss to each of our foreheads, through the gold mask. They go stiff and intimidating once again as they open the door.
Morgaun, Daddy, and Bayled all surge out of their chairs as we enter. Daddy hobbles toward me, looking me over from head to toe. He glares at Sapphire. “Where did you take my daughter?”
Sapphire says nothing. They leave the room in a swish of their black cloak, sealing the door with Magic once again. Morgaun opens his mouth, but I don’t give him a chance to speak. I feel like I’m on fire.
“We have a plan—and it doesn’t involve burning the world to the ground.”
Bayled
I’m the only one who isn’t surprised to see Thelia and Parsifal return, unharmed. But I’m also the first to volunteer for their plan. Thelia kneels in front of me, opening a wooden box to reveal four colors of clay.
“Close your eyes,” she commands. I obey, and she works on my face for what feels like ages.
Corene peers down at me. “What are you doing to his beautiful skin?” Something about the way she says it makes me feel dirty, as if she thinks this skin belongs to her.
“I’m making him sickly.” Thelia scrubs my cheek with a stick of purple kohl. “Good welt there, Bayled. Looks like something’s trying to crawl out of your skin.” While she gets to work on Parsifal next, I take her hand mirror and examine myself.
Dark pustules and boils decorate my forehead, face, and collar. Upon close inspection, they’re clearly fake—but Thelia and Parsifal are certain the long ears won’t risk getting close enough. I reach to touch one when Corene says, “You’ll smear it.”
She drops her chin onto my shoulder, her strawberry hair dripping down my chest. She tries to smile but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Actually, you look good all diseased like that,” she says, winking, as if we never argued the other night. She squeezes me around the middle and I close my eyes, wishing myself far from Four Halls. If I’d never come back for her, Harged would still be alive.
Duke Finegarden, who hasn’t said a word about our plan yet, evaluates his daughter’s riddled face. “It’s rather unbecoming.”
Thelia smiles. “Thank you. Can I do yours next, Daddy?”
Morgaun sits at the table, fitting the piece of conductive ore into a wooden box he’s built. “This plan is idiocy.”
Thelia shrugs. “It’s better than yours.”
I’m tired of this back-and-forth, just like I’m tired of Morgaun seizing Corene’s desperation and wielding it against us. And I hate that I still want to make excuses for her.
I slam myself into the chair across from Morgaun. “Do what you want, you rat-faced craggon.” I lean in close so he’s forced to lean back. “But you are not taking us down with you. When we’re gone, you can blow this place to the demon plane for all I care. But we will escape first. Understood?”
Morgaun’s jaw flexes, but he says nothing. He fiddles with the device in his hand. Biding his time.
Sapphire
In the morning, I go to see the Commander. I have not slept. The only thought inside me is of Parsifal and Thelia, their smell, their hands tangled in my hair, the rapid beating of their tiny human hearts.
In the temple atrium, the plants have all wilted to brown and gray stalks. Papery petals scattered from dead flowers cover the floors. When Commander Valya answers his door, his face is drawn. Lines like canyons crisscross his gray, dull skin, deepening his eyes and his mouth. As if centuries have passed in o
nly a few days.
“Mahove, friend Sapphire.” He returns to his chair slowly, like he is in pain.
“Commander, I have an urgent matter,” I say. “My prisoners are sick.”
His face turns hard and dark. “How did that happen?”
I have withheld information from the Commander before, but never have I lied to him. “I believe it came with the new prisoners—those who arrived with the King’s ward.”
“Ah.” He gives a slow nod.
“It should only have affected those in the dungeons, and those with whom the King’s ward has come into contact. Like the Princess—and any others kept with her.”
The Commander’s eyes narrow. “I will have Ellze deal with them.”
My Magic heart freezes. Ellze cannot be in charge of Parsifal and Thelia’s fates, or they will not make it out of Four Halls alive.
“Commander, would it not be better to—”
“Sapphire.” My name hangs in the air while the Commander inhales, wobbling the skin under his eyes. “Do you know why I brought you into the Jaguars?”
Once, I had ideas. Perhaps he was attracted to me; but that was vain. Perhaps he was impressed by my speed and diligence in battle; but that was proud. I am certain now that my only attribute was being Ellze’s friend, and Ellze asked for the favor.
I shake my head.
“You showed so much promise,” the Commander says, his voice thin. “Young, quick, smart. And above all . . .” He takes a breath. “You are dedicated, Sapphire.”
I sense the turn coming, the multitudinous ways in which I have failed to live up to expectations.
“I thought that in a new place, under uncertain conditions, that dedication would make you a rock. The one who would work hardest, while remaining honest.” He leans forward so his face is very near mine. I do not lean away—it is no time to show weakness.
“I will still always do that,” I say.
He sits back again and breathes as if just moving is taxing. “Is what Ellze told me the truth?” he asks. “That your concern for the humans in South Hall is . . . personal? That you are attached?”
I must stay in control. Not let my surprise and fear show on my face. “E-Ellze only wants an excuse to destroy it all, to eliminate the rest of the humans and hurry on the operation. He wants to become King of the new—”
“Sapphire.” Commander Valya sounds so tired. “You are going to great lengths to protect them, aren’t you?”
“They do not deserve death.”
“No? Not for the centuries of warring and conquering? What about butchering animals and consuming trees? Who will stop them from stealing even more land?”
“They are too temporal, Commander!” I find my voice rising. “They forget their agreements with us from centuries ago. You underestimate how much they can learn and grow and feel in such short lives. They are not all the evil things you paint them to be.”
Commander Valya considers me, and for the first time, it feels as if he might actually see what is in front of him. “Nevertheless, you lied to a soldier in order to gain entry to one of the human rooms.”
I cannot deny this. The Commander’s eyes close, and for a moment, it looks as if he has fallen asleep. Why doesn’t he sleep? Why won’t he eat? With a great sigh, his eyes open once more. “I think you know what comes next.”
I do. In some ways, it is a relief. I can leave this place. I can forget Parsifal and Thelia, and all the pain that came alongside caring for them.
The Commander’s mouth widens, exposing his teeth—no longer straight and white and perfect, but yellowed and pointed. “As your Commander, I strip you of your post as Jaguar.”
The words carry no sting. At one time, this mask and this cloak meant so much. Now they fill me with remorse. The Commander holds out his hands and I remove the gold mask—heavy now that its enchantment has released me—and return it. He rises laboriously to unclasp the cloak. I remember how his hands felt like Magic when he put it on, but now all I feel in his fingertips is a seething hatred. It has crippled him, filled him, until there is very little left that is The People.
It is eating him alive.
I face the commander who once gave me so much hope for the future. “I will return to Viteos and tell the High Seer everything,” I say. “She will not allow this to continue. Ellze will not get his palace.”
Commander Valya turns away. “We will already be done by then. The High Seer will find that we have successfully contained the well and harnessed the most powerful source of Magic ever known. She will have nothing but appreciation for my nephew’s work here.”
There is nothing left for me to say. As I exit his room, I know one thing.
Ellze is going to kill everyone I care about unless I stop him.
Parsifal
Duke Finegarden has given in and sits before Thelia’s brush. The suite’s filled with the sound of a knife whittling down wood. Morgaun fits one piece into another, sealing up his small box. The long wick of a candle protrudes through a misshapen hole in the top. I don’t know how he intends to light it. Does he know it functions, or does he simply believe it does because Melidia’s willed it?
I suppose it’s fitting that what I hate most about the Holy Kingdom will be the thing that kills me. Where will Melidia be when Morgaun sends a spark of flame into the very heart and soul of Magic and blows us all to ashes? Maybe she’ll die too. One can only hope that the Goddess will suffer at the hands of what she created.
“All right, everyone,” Thelia says. “Who knows when they’ll arrive—lie low and fake it.”
Morgaun sneers, gets up, and leaves the room. After a moment Corene follows. I lie on the floor by Thelia’s feet, looking as pathetic as I can manage, trying not to imagine what they’re doing. Bayled shows no interest in them whatsoever, lying like a corpse against the window seat. I’m proud of him.
After many candlestick-hours of thinking and then trying not to think, a familiar sound echoes in the suite: the tsssssssszit of the Magic seal around the door releasing. When it opens, three elves stride in—including the elf with the green hair, his face hidden behind a gold mask.
He surveys us silently. I hear Duke Finegarden’s breath pick up. The green elf stops near me and pushes me back. I let myself fall, as if I have no control left over my own body. Pretty good acting, I’d say.
After circling the room, the elf pulls up his mask and grins at us. “What has befallen you?” His gaze stops on Bayled. “Where is your Princess?”
“Hiding,” he says blandly. “She’s not infected yet.” He protects her, even now. I suppose no amount of abuse could kill his decency.
“Then we must remove you at once. You will be cleansed, then tossed from these walls to die alone, far away from here.” I let my head fall forward, as if devastated. Thelia lets out a sob.
“Tragic end for the King’s heir,” the green elf says to Bayled with a keen smile. “I will return shortly.”
With that, the elves leave, sealing up the door behind them. Thelia falls backward onto the floor next to me. “That went well,” she says with a great sigh.
“Where do we go once they set us free?” I ask, starting to believe that Sapphire’s plan just might work, that another life lies ahead of us. “I don’t care how cold it is, I’m going straight for a wash.”
Bayled shakes his head. “Don’t be stupid.” He sits up, his brown eyes narrowed. “That elf is going to kill us.”
Chapter 19
Bayled
My great mistake was trusting. I won’t make it again.
“Sapphire said they would let us go,” Thelia insists.
I scoff. “Do you really believe that? After all this?” I gesture at the frozen windows, at the Bellisares’ scattered belongings, at the skeletal Duke under his blanket with his eyes closed.
By the stunned way that Thelia’s staring at me, I’m sure we’re thinking the same thing—we have crossed each other’s paths and taken it up as our own. She trusts and
believes, because she loves that elf with the blue hair, maybe as much as she loves Parsifal. Her feelings hide the truth from her, as my feelings for Corene hid the truth from me.
I quickly cross the room and begin to rifle through Morgaun’s trunk. “Be prepared to fight. They won’t come back peacefully.”
The door to our room opens and Corene steps out, her face shifting when she sees me. “What are you doing?”
“Defending us.” I find what I’m looking for: Morgaun’s dagger. The same one that cut open Thelia’s face years ago. I wrap it up in a shirt and shove it into the belt of my trousers.
Morgaun appears in the doorway. “What are you doing with my stuff?” He grabs my arm. I wheel around, landing my fist in his nose. Morgaun howls and stumbles backward.
“Bayled!” Corene gasps. “How could you—?”
“Oh please,” I interrupt her, just wishing she would stop. “I followed you around like a chick for so long, you thought I always would. But I do have a mind of my own, and I’m tired of being used by you.” Corene stutters with fury, and I turn to Thelia and Parsifal. “Prepare yourselves. Find whatever you can use as a weapon.”
Thelia grins at me and grabs a poker out of the fireplace. “Ready.”
This is our last stand. We’ll be ready when the Green Demon returns.
I’m unsurprised when the point of a sword tears through the door like it’s paper. The wood splinters to pieces. Two elves rush in, faces covered, hands tucked into thick, heavy gloves—led by the green one with the cheetah-fur cloak and the gold mask. My target.
The first soldier runs at the Duke, sword out. The most frail and defenseless among us. “Daddy!” Thelia shouts.
The blade punctures the only part of him exposed by his blanket—the throat. His eyes bulge, and blood springs from his lips with a squawking, gurgling sound.
A scream of rage fills the suite as Thelia lunges at her father’s murderer. She aims the poker to impale the elf’s chest, but it bounces off metal armor. “Horsefish,” she says, leaping backward. The elf spins around and charges.
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