The Empty Throne

by Cayla Kluver

  “Sir Leo Dementya of Sheness, and his daughter, the Lady Gwyneth Dementya.”

  Zabriel’s head lifted, his smile barely contained, and his eyes went to the head of the line; then he seemed to remember he wasn’t supposed to know Gwyneth and returned his attention to the stately couple standing in front of him. But I wondered if his slip might not have been noted, for Luka was very astute—he was, in fact, already examining his nephew. Given that Pyrite had often plundered the Dementya fleet of ships, my cousin should more logically have reacted with concern rather than anticipation.

  Hoping to divert Luka, I leaned past my father to tap the Lieutenant Governor on the arm.

  “At last, someone I know. I mentioned this to you previously, but Leo Dementya and his daughter were very kind to Shea and me during our visit to Sheness, inviting us several times to dine with them. Although I daresay he might not recognize me now.”

  I brushed my hand across the flowing skirt of my ice-blue gown and wiggled one daintily slipper-clad foot. He chuckled, and I beseeched Nature that he would accept my implicit assertion that Zabriel had heard good things about the family from me.

  Gwyneth was appropriately demure when she was introduced to Zabriel, bowing her head and murmuring a polite greeting.

  “Always a pleasure to meet a beautiful young woman,” he gallantly replied, kissing her hand.

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes, though the compliment was fitting. Gwyneth was breathtaking in a shimmering midnight-blue gown that hugged her curvaceous form in a manner no doubt calculated to capture the interest of every eligible bachelor in the room.

  Moving down the reception line, her father a step behind, Gwyneth greeted me unabashedly, there being no need to hide our acquaintanceship.

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Anya! I’ve missed you so much. And I must say you look positively radiant!”

  “Thank you. It’s good to see you, too.”

  With a sly smirk playing on her shimmering red lips, she continued, “I assume you found your missing cousin?”

  “Yes, I did. But I must apologize to both you and your father for the secrets I kept back then.”

  “Quite all right, my dear,” Leo assured me, taking my hand. “I don’t always want people to know who I am, either.”

  “We’ll talk and catch up later,” Gwyneth promised, moving on to address Ambassador Aster, the significant lift in her eyebrows telling me she had more than chitchat in mind.

  Another name caught my attention before I could give the matter further consideration, that of Kodiak Sandrovich. Though I had never before been introduced to the man, I had broken into his home, and now felt a chilling sense of intimacy with him. His manner when he greeted me was gruffer than I expected, while the woman accompanying him seemed to have her nose permanently elevated. I supposed I was “lower tier” royalty and therefore not fully worthy of their time.

  The only other guests to catch my interest were Fi, who arrived with a male companion and a dazed smile, and a couple attending with an otherwise unescorted young lady in her twenties. I recognized her as the woman seated beside Luka Ivanova at Pyrite’s execution who had reacted very strongly to the assertion that my cousin had murdered Ilia Krylov.

  Curiosity aroused, I watched her move down the reception line to greet Luka, who uncharacteristically kissed her on the cheek. She reached out to smooth his coat, shamelessly flirting with the Lieutenant Governor, and it dawned on me that he was to be her escort for the evening. Was this the “match” the Governor was arranging for him? Was this the woman Luka was supposed to marry? While she was dressed richly and was clearly well connected, she was rather common-looking. And her behavior didn’t exude intelligence, her fawning over him annoying even to me. I could picture Luka with someone like Gwyneth Dementya; I could not picture him with her.

  At last disengaging himself from the young woman, Luka passed her to my father and me, introducing her as Svetlana Krylov.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” she politely murmured, though the shifting of her body away from us suggested otherwise. Nor did she extend her hand, which was customary among humans. It was clear she did not like Fae, although in fairness, her father’s death at the hands of a Faerie may have influenced her opinion. Still, I doubted she would have become a human-hater if he had been killed by a human.

  “Likewise,” I replied, forcing the issue by extending my hand to her.

  She hesitated, then lightly touched the bandage on my right wrist, managing to avoid skin-to-skin contact.

  “That’s a lovely ring you’re wearing. Ruby, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. Thank you.”

  “I’m a lover of rubies myself.”

  She held out her left hand to show me a ring with a large diamond surrounded by rubies, which were then encircled by sapphires. It was stunning, extravagant, and probably worth a small fortune.

  “A gift from the Lieutenant Governor,” she confided with a giggle. “You might say he favors me.”

  “That would appear to be the case.”

  She moved on to greet the ambassadors, and I glanced at Luka, who was exchanging a few words with some other guests, feeling an inexplicable pang of sympathy for him. I wondered if he was under pressure to bear an heir, for the Ivanovas had been the ruling family in Tairmor for generations. My gaze went to Zabriel. Would he be viewed as unfit to govern on this side of the Bloody Road just as he was by some Fae on the other side? For the first time, I had a real sense of what he meant when he said he didn’t belong in either world.

  At long last, the introductions came to an end, and I was free to move about the room. Zabriel, I noted, was spirited off by Luka, whose arm was about his nephew’s shoulders. I wondered if the two of them had come to some understanding while I’d been in the hospital or if this was Luka’s way of telling Zabriel he was not to wander off. The Queen was escorted to a seat at the head of the room by the Governor, my father trailing, for he would see to her comfort. Though Wolfram and Luka had also been provided with chairs—Konstantin already in his accustomed place, serving to mark the Governor’s position—they were likely to spend a good portion of the event out among their guests. I doubted Ubiqua would stay long into the evening. She was still unhappy with her son and not overly impressed by human ceremony.

  “Anya, over here!”

  Recognizing the voice, I turned to see Davic hastening toward me, Ione a step behind.

  “How are you feeling?” she immediately asked. “We’ve been terribly worried about you.”

  I gave her my best attempt at a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Something I ate just gave me a terrible stomachache.”

  “I’m glad that rather long and ponderous set of introductions didn’t cause a relapse,” Davic joked. “I’m thinking we should show these humans how a celebration really works.”

  His grin was infectious and mirrored by Ione’s. And the thought of disrupting the status quo was extraordinarily appealing, especially in light of recent events.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “A little revelry—Fae-style.”

  “And a little dancing,” Ione added.

  “Zabriel might not like it.” In the aftermath of our escape from the mansion, Luka had put his nephew under lock and key; Zabriel would no doubt have been on his best behavior since then, hoping to redeem himself and regain some freedom.

  Davic cocked an eyebrow at me. “The Zabriel I know would have started it.”

  I laughed, unable to deny this. “Go right ahead—shake things up a bit.”

  He gleefully rubbed his hands together. “Then we’re off to arrange what we need.”

  With Ione in tow, he moved toward the musicians, and I glanced at the human couples on the dance floor. Their movements were practiced and poised, beautiful and yet exceedingly formal. This group was in f
or a big surprise.

  A light hand on my elbow drew my attention to Gwyneth. “Can we talk? Privately?”

  I nodded. “Zabriel, too?”

  “Yes, he already knows. You and I will make our way out together—girlfriends and all that—and Zabriel will follow.”

  With a practiced motion, she tugged on her upswept light brown hair, releasing a few strands. Then she clasped my hand, pulling me behind her on a meandering path across the floor, though her purpose soon became clear. Tottering on her heels, she bumped into Luka Ivanova’s elbow where he stood next to Zabriel, deftly sloshing wine from his glass onto his coat.

  “Oh my! I’m so sorry! I really should watch where I’m going,” Gwyneth breathlessly exclaimed. “It’s just, well, I’m falling apart.” She twirled one of her escaped strands around a finger. “That’s not a good excuse, but—”

  Luka cut her off with a wave of his hand.

  “No harm done.” He nodded toward a servant, who approached to lend assistance. “I’ll just excuse myself to change my coat. I do live here, after all.” Ever the consummate gentleman, he added, “Shall I summon a personal maid to assist you with your hair?”

  “Thank you, no. Anya has agreed to help me.”

  “Then let me escort the two of you from the ballroom. Zabriel, I’m afraid you’re on your own for a bit.”

  “Don’t worry, Uncle. I’m perfectly capable of fending for myself.”

  The two men locked eyes, Zabriel’s comment pointed yet perfectly appropriate. The undercurrent of tension between them seemed to build, finally broken by Luka’s smile.

  “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the young ladies in attendance tonight.”

  The Lieutenant Governor extended one arm to me and the other to Gwyneth, then escorted us out of the ballroom into a large foyer. Taking his leave, he headed toward the stairway that led to his rooms on the second floor.

  “This way, Anya,” Gwyneth urged once he was out of sight. “We’ll meet Zabriel in the gardens—they should be deserted this time of night.”

  She led me down a hallway toward the solarium at the back of the house, then out the rear door into the gardens. The day had been windy and cool, and I shivered as a breeze riffled my hair. Thinking I might sit while we waited for my cousin, I placed my hand on a stone bench only to recoil at its coldness.

  “Don’t suppose you could have picked a warmer spot,” I grumbled, drawing a pained smile.

  “My goal was privacy, not warmth, and this is the most privacy you can find around here.”

  The sound of the door opening and closing drew our eyes to Zabriel. He grinned, and Gwyneth rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly.

  “This fake death stuff isn’t all that funny, you know,” she scolded.

  “It’s a lot better than the alternative,” he rejoined, closing his arms around her. To my surprise, she raised her face to his and kissed him firmly on the lips. He didn’t seem to mind at all.

  “That’s enough, you two,” I called, wishing I had a shawl or cloak to toss about my shoulders.

  “I’m so sorry about Fane, Zabriel,” Gwyneth continued, ignoring me. “I can’t help but feel at fault. I should have written the note differently or delivered it in some other way.”

  “You’re not to blame. Fane lived a long life, by pirate standards. And he died the way he would have wanted—fighting.”

  I cleared my throat, beginning to feel about as necessary as a bush or the bench, and Zabriel strode over to me.

  “How are you feeling? Any aftereffects from your hospital stay?”

  “Hospital stay?” Gwyneth interrupted, her eyebrows lifting.

  “The belief around here is that someone tried to poison Anya, although I’m not sure that’s true. But it has raised the tension and the security around the mansion. It’s even been suggested that I might be the target of an assassination attempt tonight.” Zabriel tugged on the leg of his pants to reveal the top of his boot and the hilt of the dagger tucked inside it. “Courtesy of Fane, the old devil.”

  I silently debated whether I should tell him the true nature of my ailment and ease his anxiety, ultimately deciding against it. He looked more amused than troubled.

  “I’m fully recovered. No need to worry about me.”

  “That’s a relief. But because of that incident, guards will soon be out in force to find me. So is there an actual point to this meeting?”

  Gwyneth nodded. “There is—sky iron. Fane confiscated the shipment that was coming into Sheness the night you cousins broke into the castle on Evernook Island, but another one has arrived. And it’s quite a large quantity. I’m trying to find out its proposed use, but given how hard it is to acquire—and how expensive it is—it’s a safe bet it has something to do with the Fae.”

  Zabriel gave his hair a hearty tug. “That fits with everything else we know.”

  “What do you mean it fits? And what is it you know?” She glanced between Zabriel and me, then pushed my cousin harder for information. “We’re not likely to have more privacy around here than we do right now. It’s about time someone tells me what was going on at Evernook Island.”

  Zabriel’s expression grew grim. “Among other things, they were using Sepulchres to identify elemental connections, trying to infuse magic into objects, attempting to graft wings onto a human, and studying blood and tissue samples taken from Fae.”

  Gwyneth stared at him, aghast, struggling to absorb what he was saying.

  “But why?” she whispered.

  “Anya and I believe they’re trying to figure out a way to break through the barrier of the Bloody Road.”

  Gwyneth paled, and though I agreed with my cousin, the enormity of his simple statement sent me reeling. I stumbled to take a seat on the stone bench, feeling faint and suddenly too warm despite the chill of the night.

  “And the sky iron?” Gwyneth gasped, putting an arm around me as she sat beside me.

  “My gunshot wound proves it makes for good weapons. Think of it—bullets, daggers, cannonballs forged from sky iron, along with prison cells to contain the Fae people.”

  “You’re talking about war.”

  Zabriel’s dark eyes panned over us. “I’m talking about the annihilation of the Faerie race.”

  “The barrier will hold, won’t it, Zabriel?” I asked, for I knew little of how it had been established.

  “It has thus far. The magic that put it in place is ancient, from the Old Fae. Other than the Queen, I’m not sure who knows how to break the curse.” He hesitated, then revealed information that showed the high level of trust he placed in Gwyneth. “But I do think the magic flows through the Anlace, the weapon of Fae rulers, one of the last remaining relics from our ancestors. If my mother brought it with her, it might well be locked up in the Governor’s safe. Needless to say, I’d feel better if it were in Fae hands.”

  I paled, then uncontrollable shivers racked my body, causing Gwyneth to look at me in alarm.

  “What’s the matter, Anya? Are you ill?”

  When I didn’t answer, she turned to Zabriel, worry creasing her brow, and he came to sit at my other side. I laid a hand on his forearm, gripping it so tightly he winced.

  “I lost it,” I confessed. “The Queen entrusted it to me, and it was taken from me when Shea and I were arrested.”

  “I don’t understand,” Zabriel said, laying a hand on my forehead to check for fever. “What did you lose?”

  “The Anlace, Zabriel. I had it with me when I crossed into the Territory, and it was taken from me by a guard at the west gate. Spex and I were trying to recover it on the night Luka found me and brought me here to the mansion. It’s missing, although I think it’s still somewhere here in Tairmor.”

  A variety of emotions flickered across Zabriel’s face—disbelief, incr
edulity, anger, frustration—his expression finally settling into one of determination.

  “Then we’ll have to recover it. It’s doubtful anyone in the human world would know its significance, but it’s imperative we bring it back within Fae control.” He pried my fingers off his forearm one by one. “Don’t worry, Anya. We’ll find it.”

  “I’ll be glad to help, if I can,” Gwyneth chimed in. “I’m going to be in Tairmor for a few more days. My father has to attend to some business matters. So if I can help in any way, just let me know. The same holds true after my return to Sheness.”

  “That raises the question of how we can communicate,” I hesitantly inserted. “Zabriel can’t leave the estate, and Luka’s pretty adept at deciphering our messages.”

  My cousin shrugged. “I would assume Gwyneth can walk in the front door and demand to see whomever she wants. Or if she prefers a more subtle approach, I’m confident she can wheedle a dinner invitation out of Luka or the Governor.”

  Gwyneth laughed, the sound high-pitched and airy; then she fluttered her eyelashes. “I’ve never had trouble handling the men in my life!”

  “I think that’s the best we can do for now,” Zabriel said, drawing our conversation to an end. “Gwyneth, you and Anya had better return to the ballroom before someone notices we’re all gone. The last thing we need is to stir up speculation about the three of us.”

  Gwyneth and I stood and moved toward the door, leaving Zabriel alone in the dark. Just before we entered the house, I called back to him.

  “Davic wants to celebrate in Fae style, if you’re in the mood for it.”

  He gave me a tired grin. “Always. Besides, I’m fed up with rules, and would love to shake this party up a bit.”

  “Sounds like this will be worth the price of admission,” Gwyneth tossed out, a touch of admiration in her voice, and I laughed.