The Empty Throne

by Cayla Kluver

  Though we did not speak on our way down the corridor, Tom’s manner toward me was relaxed, easy, and my nerves began to settle. He was the person I had been worried about seeing, and yet being with him was better than I’d feared. In fact, it was quite pleasant.

  Upon reaching Luka’s door, Tom knocked once, loudly, then entered, escorting me inside.

  “Tom, I need you to—” Luka was at his desk in discussion with Constable Farrier and had clearly been anticipating the young man’s arrival. I, however, was a surprise sidekick. He straightened, recovering to give me a smile. “Anya, I didn’t expect you to be with Officer Matlock. By all means, come inside.”

  “I won’t take up much of your time. I’d just like to send the letter I discussed with you earlier.”

  “Yes, yes, I remember. Tom, my business with you can wait a moment. Please escort Anya to the aviary and help her send the note she has written. If memory serves, it is to be dispatched to Gwyneth Dementya.”

  “That’s right,” I confirmed, admiring the subtle way in which the Lieutenant Governor was instructing his officer.

  “Yes, sir,” Tom replied, lightly guiding me with a hand on my elbow out through the door we had just entered.

  “I can see why that was difficult for you,” Tom murmured once we were in the hallway. “Asking Luka to grant a request he’s already granted can be terrifying.”

  I shot him a sideways glare. “You’d better be careful—you’re starting to sound like Zabriel.”

  He laughed; then his expression grew more serious, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Life’s been busy, giving us little time to talk. How are you doing these days?”

  His question sounded innocent enough, but I knew better than to think he was making casual conversation. Besides, his right hand had dropped to the hilt of the pistol at his hip, revealing some unease on his part. He was working up to asking me about the Cysur. I squared my shoulders—if he was going to pry information from me, he was going to have to work at it.

  “I’m quite well, actually. It’s nice to have my family here with me. And I’m enjoying the warmer weather with an occasional walk.” I kept my tone light, testing my newfound ability to lie as we descended the staircase to the main floor.

  “All starlight and roses, is that it?”

  “I suppose you could put it that way.”

  We walked through the solarium and stepped out the rear door into the gardens, strolling along the main path toward the aviary that housed the snowbirds. The beauty of the day buoyed my spirits, and Tom’s posture likewise seemed to relax, giving me reason to think he might not pursue the issue of my well-being further. But when we entered the structure, he reopened our conversation.

  “Do you really expect me to believe everything’s fine?”

  “A girl can hope.”

  I moved away from him, examining the birds as though to choose one, all the while knowing my attempts to evade wouldn’t work on him—Tom had always been one of the few people I’d never been able to fool. He watched me for a moment, looking slightly amused, then came to my side. I released an exasperated sigh and turned to face him, aware he was done playing games.

  “I’d like to know how you’re really doing, Anya,” he said, gazing into my eyes. “You’ve been through more hardships than any one person should have to bear, so don’t tell me you’re fine. Such things have a cost.”

  I examined his face, trying to discern his motivations. Though I didn’t want to discuss what I was feeling with him or anyone else, the sincere worry and affection he so openly displayed tugged at my heart, and I guardedly relented.

  “If you must know, I don’t sleep particularly well. Perhaps because of that, I always feel on edge—sometimes worse, sometimes better, but always an edge of nervousness, anxiety. A feeling of pins and needles.”

  “Nightmares?”

  I laughed, though the sound lacked humor. “That goes without saying.”

  He nodded. “Is that why you don’t eat?”

  I once more looked at the snowbirds, impressed by his powers of observation. Then I tried to brush him off, not wanting to be forced to delve too deeply.

  “Who says I don’t eat?”

  “Anya, please, anyone can see you’re wasting away. I doubt you eat as much as these birds.” He ran a hand along the tops of the cages. “I may not have known you for long, but even I can see the effects of the stress and trauma that go back to the loss of your wings.”

  I struggled to contain the tears that now threatened my eyes. I hadn’t expected him to speak so boldly of my mutilation. Virtually everyone tiptoed around it, alluding to it, but never saying the words: the loss of your wings. The memory of my meeting with Davic—and of his reaction to my scars—achingly surfaced, chilling me to the bone. I was no longer perfect in his eyes, no longer pure. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, then lifted my gaze to Tom’s face. Unlike Davic, he didn’t seem to be afraid to look at me and actually see what had been done to me. And he didn’t seem to think it diminished me.

  No doubt aware he was breaking down my defenses, Tom tried again, his voice gentler, more coaxing.

  “Tell me honestly—how are you feeling? Right now, at this very moment?”

  I bit my lip, afraid to let the truth out, but my tongue betrayed me.

  “I feel afraid. All the time, and it doesn’t matter where I am, or whose company I keep, or what I’m doing. And I’m angry, so angry, at myself and the world in general.”

  Words were now tumbling from my mouth, pouring forth like water through a broken dam.

  “And I feel guilty. So much of what’s happened is my own fault. Then there’s the shame—shame that I’m not stronger, shame over my ugliness, shame that I’ve become a reminder to others of the dark side of Nature.”

  Tears were now falling on my cheeks, but I wiped them away with the back of my hand.

  “I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to hurt myself, I want to hurt the hunters who stole not only my wings but my life. I feel helpless, lost...cowardly. I just feel...”

  “Broken?” Tom quietly offered. “As if there’s nothing that can ever set you right again?”

  I nodded, marveling at how he had so adeptly found a single word to describe the constant whirl of emotions in which I lived. There was no way he could understand, that anyone could understand, unless...

  “What’s going on here, Tom? Why do you know so much about how I’m feeling?”

  He lifted a small tube from a table and extended his hand to me for the note I wished to send, and I knew I’d hit a nerve, for he no longer met my eyes. I took no satisfaction in this fact, however. Instead, I was worried.

  “I’ve been going through a trauma of my own—small stuff compared to what you’ve suffered, but it’s taken a toll nonetheless.”

  While he rolled the note and inserted it into the tube, I furiously sorted through recent events in my head, for some faint recollection nagged at me. When I dredged up the answer from the recesses of my memory, I blanched, shocked by my own stupidity and thoughtlessness.

  “The night you saved me from Hastings...” I deliberately avoided the harsher phrasing that was no doubt in both of our minds, that he had killed Hastings. “You were stunned—disoriented.”

  He nodded, still avoiding my gaze. “It may sound trite, but I’d never before killed a man. I guess every soldier, every Constabulary, has a first time, and that was mine.”

  I laid a hand on his arm. I’d been so wrapped up in my own life that I hadn’t considered what he might have been through that night.

  “I’m so sorry, Tom. I truly am. I may be dealing with a lot, but my suffering doesn’t lessen yours. And I’ve never had to take another person’s life. I imagine that brings its own set of nightmares.”

  He shrugged, dismissing my concern
s. “I don’t mention it to get your sympathy—it’s something I knew could happen when I became a Constabulary, something other Constabularies have had to struggle with and learn to put behind them. And I have people willing to help me.”

  “Your mother? That night, at the station house, I heard Luka tell Farrier to take you to your mother’s house.”

  “Yes, my mother, among others.”

  Beset by curiosity about his family, I pushed him further. “And your father?”

  He sighed, and for a moment I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But whatever issue he was grappling with seemed to resolve in my favor. “I was born out of wedlock. When my brother and I were four, my mother married and we gained a stepfather.”

  “Your brother and you were four? Do you have a twin?”

  “I did. He and my stepfather died when I was ten.” He held up a hand to stop any further questions. “It was an accident, but it means my family is just my mother and me. Now be quiet and let me get to my point. What I’m trying to say is I’m not alone, and neither are you. You have Zabriel, and perhaps your father. I don’t know who else.”

  He straightened and looked into my eyes, his gaze so intense that I momentarily couldn’t move or breathe. “But I want you to know you also have me. You can talk to me, Anya, and I promise I’ll listen. And I’ll try my best to understand.”

  Feeling as if he had released some pressure from my body, I flashed him a smile. He gave the tube he held a shake, reminding me of the reason we stood in the aviary, and handed it to me. Then he lifted a snowbird from her cage, holding her out to me so I could attach the note.

  “Follow me,” he instructed, leading me up a set of winding steps to the platform from which the birds were launched. “Would you like to do the honors? She’s trained to fly to the Dementya aviary.”

  I took the bird from him, then gave her a gentle skyward toss, enjoying the sound and feel of her wings as they flapped against the air to send her into flight. We watched her climb against the haze of blue until she had disappeared from sight, his hand at some point taking hold of mine. Part of me wanted to stand side by side with him for the rest of time, not speaking, simply sharing the same joyful experience. But he leaned back against the platform’s railing, breaking the spell and tugging me into painful reality.

  “We have to talk about the Cysur, Anya.”

  I gave him a weak smile. “I thought that might come up.”

  “Look, I’m not going to lecture you, and I’m not going to tell anyone about what I found in your pack. But I won’t keep your secret if you continue to use—I can’t stand by while you hurt yourself. I’m assuming you haven’t acquired a new supply?”

  He waited, and I gave a minute shake to my head, filled with relief that he hadn’t reported my illegal activities to Luka.

  “I know you’re in pain, Anya, and it’s natural to want relief. You’re not the first person to seek an escape when life becomes...overwhelming.”

  He looked out across the grounds, a shade of regret bordering on bitterness in his voice, and I wondered what painkilling approaches he might have considered. Then he took a deep breath and returned his attention to me.

  “But Cysur never cured anyone of anything. It’s dangerous—people don’t just lose their pain, they lose themselves...and sometimes their lives. And Cysur has been killing more people lately than ever before.” His voice became more strident, and he took both my hands in his. “Please listen to me. There’s some really bad stuff out there right now. Luka has us trying to track it down, but it’s hard to find the source. Too many users, too many points of distribution.”

  “Is that why the Constabularies have been tracking the homeless?” At his look of surprise, I added, “When I was busy avoiding arrest, I saw Constabularies checking the shelters, writing information into logbooks of some sort.”

  “Yes, Luka is trying to get an idea of the numbers missing and possibly dead. When the homeless disappear— Well, we sometimes don’t hear about it. But, Anya, I don’t want you to become a victim, too. I couldn’t bear it if...” His voice trailed off, then he tried again, struggling to control his emotions. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” I meant the words to be reassuring, though in truth, I said them by rote. The mere thought of Cysur had awakened a craving for it inside me that even Tom’s passionate warnings couldn’t counter. Trying to lighten the mood a little, I added, “Don’t worry—I won’t saddle you with guilt.”

  “I’m not worried about guilt. What I’m trying to say is that you’re important to a lot of people, and—” He straightened and ran a hand through his hair. “Why am I pretending? You’re important to me. So please, promise me you won’t do something stupid like getting yourself killed.”

  I stepped closer and leaned my forehead against his. “On that you have my word, Tom Matlock.”

  “I appreciate that,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “But much to my surprise, it’s not really your word I want right now.”

  The next thing I knew, his arms were around my waist. I tensed, waiting for him to react to the gnarled and raised scars hidden from view by the fabric of my simple gown. But there was no hesitation. His hands caressed me, bringing me closer. Then our lips connected, the sensation so sweet, so pure, so sensual that no amount of Cysur the world could offer would ever match it.

  A noise from below us in the aviary startled me, and I jumped back, afraid of being caught. I didn’t fully understand my weakness when it came to Tom, but I certainly didn’t want whisperings to reach my family or Davic.

  “That bad, huh?” Tom teased, grinning. “Relax, Anya, it’s just the fellow who tends the birds. And I happen to know he’s as old as the marble bridge spanning the Kappa and just as hard of hearing.”

  “It doesn’t really matter,” I scolded, valiantly trying to suppress a smile, not wanting to give him any encouragement. “We shouldn’t be doing what we’re doing.”

  Tom’s brow furrowed, and I turned away from him, hoping to escape the question he was sure to ask. But he caught my arm, gently pressuring me to look at him.

  “What’s going on here? Why shouldn’t we be doing what we’re doing? I enjoyed it, and I’m pretty sure you did, too.”

  I stared at him, my face growing hot, but though the words of explanation were simple, I couldn’t force them from my lips.

  He sighed and leaned against the railing once more. “Then let me try to figure it out. Is it because I’m just a Constabulary? You are a princess, so I’d understand if...”

  “No! That’s definitely not it. I’d never consider myself above your station—or anybody else’s for that matter.”

  “That’s a relief. But I can only come up with one other possibility, and in truth, I like it far less. But there’s this young gentleman who arrived with the Queen’s delegation, even though he doesn’t seem to have any particular role to play—unless you count gazing at you. So why don’t you tell me about this fellow named Davic?”

  I stared at him, my blood pounding in my ears. Then I looked toward the steps, wondering how quickly I could descend and whether he would give pursuit. But now that the question had been asked, it couldn’t be un-asked. Even if I ran, it would hang over me like a thundercloud, preventing me from ever enjoying Tom’s company. I sighed, chewing on my lower lip, wishing he weren’t so preternaturally observant, though that was one of the things I found fascinating about him. Though the hollow feeling in my stomach told me this would not end well, I forced myself to meet his gaze.

  “Davic and I are betrothed,” I softly confessed.

  For a moment, Tom didn’t react, and I wondered if he had heard me. Then he turned and slammed his hands down on the railing, and I cringed.

  “You’re betrothed,” he muttered, though I wasn’t sure
he was talking to me. “Betrothed.”

  I gathered my courage and touched his shoulder. “Tom, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I’m not the same person I was back in Chrior. So many things have happened to me that I’m not really sure who I am...or what I want anymore.”

  He spun to face me. “I can’t say that makes me feel any better, nor does it change the facts. You’re betrothed, and you have been since the first time we met. So tell me. What’s been going on between us? Have I been an experiment in human interaction? A test subject of sorts?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that!” Hit by panic, I began to babble. “I never intended to stray from Davic, never intended to be attracted to anyone else— That’s not something you plan. And I never told you because, well...the truth is when I’m with you, I just can’t seem to remember I’m promised to him!”

  Tom’s brows shot up; then he broke into laughter. I stared at him in utter confusion, thinking he had either misheard me or lost his mind. Regaining some control, he took hold of my hand.

  “I feel a little sorry for Davic right now.”

  “What? I mean, why?”

  “You’re clearly with the wrong man, Anya, and he doesn’t know it yet. So when are you going to tell him?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I hadn’t thought—” I stopped, gazing into Tom’s eyes, my initial desire to protest his conclusion slipping away. He was right, and I’d known it in my heart for quite some time. But with Davic in Chrior, I’d never been forced to confront my feelings. My time in the Warckum Territory had changed me; just as important, Davic had not changed, nor did he wish to do so. He didn’t want to live in the human world, would never be happy in the human world.

  Aware Tom had been watching my thoughts play across my features, I gave him a brilliant smile. “I suppose sooner would be better than later.”

  “On that we agree.” He pulled me into his arms for a deep kiss that made my head spin. “Now, why don’t you hunt down Davic while I return to work? I’m pretty sure Luka knows it doesn’t take this long to send a message by snowbird, and I’ll never live it down if he sends Constable Farrier to find me.”