Portia

by Christina Bauer

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tempest and I walk along the basin of a red stone canyon. The air is still and quiet. No one else is around. Striped rock walls rise on either side of us. A pale blue sky arches overhead. A bubbling stream meanders through the yellow scrub grass on the canyon floor. We’ve followed this slim waterway for more than an hour. Not far from here, it should pass the cave where the third seedpod’s hidden. My heart lurches at the thought.

  Only two seedpods left to go.

  Small stones tumble down the canyon wall with a clickity-clack. My chest tightens with alarm. I twist around, scanning for trouble. Evil energy oozes out of the shadows.

  “It’s the Scintillion,” I say in a low voice. “That monster’s nearby.”

  Tempest scans the swirling rock formations. “I can sense it too.”

  I cup my hand by my mouth. “We know you’re here and we’re not afraid of you!” The word ‘you’ echoes for an extra-long time through the canyon. It sounds badass that way, which makes me feel a bit more confident, even if I don’t really feel that way on the inside.

  Tempest and I approach the mouth of a small cave. This is it. He pauses beside the darkened entrance. “We go in as a team. Safer that way.”

  “Sure.” My voice comes out clipped and anxious.

  Together, Tempest and I step inside. The cave is a long and low space. Corrugated metal boxes are stacked everywhere. Each one’s marked with different magical ingredients. I scan the labels. Dried eye of newt. Elder dragon scales. Powdered reindeer horn.

  “Is this Hexenwing storage?” I ask. If there’s one Furor tribe I know something about, it’s the Hexenwings. Outside of Tempest, they’re the only ones who use magic.

  Tempest strolls around the room, inhaling deeply. “Yes, but they haven’t visited this place in years.” He pauses. “Someone else has, though.” Tempest’s tail arches over his shoulder as his body goes into battle mode. An eerie sense of menace seeps out from the darkened corners of the cave.

  A jolt of awareness skitters across my skin. This is exactly how I felt in Atlantis when I met the Scintillion.

  “You can come out now,” I say.

  The Scintillion’s gurgling voice creeps in from the shadows. “There’s no need to worry. I’m not here to kill you.”

  Sure, you aren’t.

  A hulking silhouette steps out from behind a stack of crates. Although I’ve fought this monster many times, I’ve never gotten a good look at the thing. The Scintillion is tall and broad with a barrel chest and long arms. Blackened goo oozes off every inch of its body. The monster’s fiery eyes focus right on me.

  My chest tightens with dread. That thing wants me dead, there’s no question about it. The stench of rotting flesh slams into me, making me sick to my stomach.

  “I know the two of you are powerful,” says the Scintillion. “You proved that in Atlantis. I’m here to make a deal.”

  Tempest moves, placing his body between the Scintillion and me. I grab the dagger from my thigh holster and hold onto it tightly. My hand shivers with nervous energy, and the blade taps lightly against my thigh.

  “What kind of deal?” I ask.

  The Scintillion steps closer, its movements making nasty slurping noises against the floor. Tempest raises his arm. “That’s close enough.” The monster pauses.

  The Scintillion’s long black tongue licks its thin lips. “This is my proposition. The Marked are rich with Firmament energy. I need just a little taste of that power. Give it to me and I’ll hunt you no more.”

  “Bollocks,” says Tempest. Dragon scales appear over his exposed skin. The scent of charcoal fills the air as he preps his lungs to breathe fire.

  “My offer isn’t for you,” says the Scintillion. “What do you say, Marked?”

  I tap my chin, considering. I haven’t spent my life poring over research only to ignore the facts now. They tumble through my brain, the information taking a new shape in my mind. A realization slowly seeps over me. I don’t have to be afraid of the Scintillion. He should be afraid of me.

  “Want to know what I think?” I ask. “You were telling the truth before. You didn’t come here to kill us. You already tried that in Atlantis. Brought along an army, too. And you failed. So, you know you can’t win in a head-on fight.”

  The Scintillion’s eyes flare with fire. Warm satisfaction spreads through my chest. His silence says that I’m right. I feel like a shark that smells blood in the water. I’m going in for the kill.

  “And now you’re negotiating.” I shake my head. “With what, exactly? Want to get your ass kicked again? Bring it on. Like hunting us across the after-realms? Be our guest. Only make no mistake. Get out of my way. I have seedpods to open and I swear, if you slow me down, I will kill you so dead you’ll never ooze your way out of battle again.”

  The earth trembles. Tiny rocks careen down the cave walls. Metal boxes rattle against the floor. Somewhere, more sinkholes are opening up and doing damage. The thought makes my blood boil. “Want to know what scares me right now? Not you.” I point at the cave wall. “That scares me. The after-realms falling apart. Are we clear?”

  The Scintillion lets out a gurgling roar. Tar flicks off its body as it shudders with rage. For a moment, I think the thing’s going to attack again. My body tenses, waiting for the blow. But that doesn’t happen. The Scintillion collapses into a puddle on the rock floor and oozes away into the ground. I stare at the spot in disbelief.

  He left. He really left. Guess I’m better at giving speeches than I thought.

  My gaze stays locked on the cave floor. “Do you think we saw the last of him?”

  Tempest steps up behind me. “No.”

  “Me neither.” I turn around to face Tempest. “Let’s get that see—”

  Tempest’s mouth is on mine in an instant. Our tongues meet. His hand fists my hair. I loop my arms around his neck and press myself against him, hard. It’s the best feeling in the universe. It’s over way too soon. Tempest breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to mine. We’re both panting for breath, our arms still entwined.

  “What…” It takes me a few seconds to organize my thoughts. “What was that for?”

  “After that speech? I gad to give you a kiss. You’re magnificent, Portia.” Another jolt hits the cave floor. “But the after-realms? They’re a bloody mess. We better go.”

  “Right.” It’s an effort to unwind my arms from him. “Time to find that seedpod.”

  There’s an awkward moment where we’re standing close and not doing anything about anything. The kiss replays in my mind. Unbelievable. Tempest and I are coming together while the after-realms are falling apart. That makes it official. My love life is actually a bad country-western song. If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.

  Time to focus to the quest again.

  “Where’s the deepest part of this cave?’ I ask. “I’m guessing that’s where the seedpod will be.”

  “That’s the sub basement, two floors below us.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Tempest and I climb down a rough-hewn staircase. It looks clawed out of the rock by dragons. Maybe it was. We reach the sub-basement. Floor lights blink on in succession, revealing the space. What I see is a mess. The floor’s jammed with random-looking piles of junk. There are open urns of powder, cracked chests of gemstones, and piles of dried-out herbs.

  Closing my eyes, I reach out with my senses, searching for Firmament magic. The liquid power instantly rushes through my soul. “The seedpod is nearby, no question about it.”

  “Let’s tidy up then.” Tempest whispers a quick incantation in dragon tongue. His deep and rumbling voice echoes through the small space. Instantly, all the junk slides into neat piles along the walls, or arranges itself onto shelves.

  With all the garbage out of the way, it’s clear what to focus on next. A large, circular lump juts out of the center of the floor. My pulse quickens. This thing is about the same size as the other seedpods. I take a
cautious step closer. The energy radiating from this spot is overwhelming. My hands turn slick with sweat.

  I can’t stop thinking about the seedpod in Atlantis. When I tapped into the Firmament’s power there, I blew out the entire cavern. And before that, I wiped out the Library in Heaven. Not the best track record.

  My knees tremble with worry. “I think we need a plan here.”

  Tempest moves to stand behind me. “Perhaps we team up again, only on purpose this time. Maybe we cast a spell of opening together?”

  My shoulders slump with relief. “That’s it. We’ll cast the spell of opening first. After that, I’ll touch the stone. No need for both of us to get stuck.”

  “Right.” Tempest moves to stand behind me. His firm chest presses into my back. Bit by bit, he slides his hands down my outer arms, stopping when his fingers grip my wrists. “Have a preference for the incantation?”

  I stare at our arms. The physical connection is comforting. “Dragon tongue. There’s one that starts with the words ‘karrah raz.’ Do you know it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s begin in three, two, one.”

  We start casting together, our voices chanting in unison. The power of Tempest’s magic surrounds me, strong as a mountain. My heart lightens.

  Our magic has met before, but this time, it does something else. Combines. His firm Furor strength and my liquid Firmament power. Our casting builds off the abilities of the other. The spell takes on a new meaning and strength. It becomes its own entity, gains its own magical signature. Fluid yet strong. My stance firms with confidence. Our magic is entwined. Together, we can do this.

  I set my hands onto the round stone. The words of our casting grow louder and more intense. The rock cracks beneath my fingers. Golden light shines through.

  There’s no need to speak. Both of us know what to do next. Moving as one, we pull our joined arms away from the glowing sphere of power. The movement is easy and smooth. The yellow orb of power sinks into the earth, just like all the others.

  An odd memory appears in my mind: the canopic jar spell on my penthouse floor. How will these golden spheres help the Sacred Trees? A happy thought occurs to me. Soon I might see the answer to that question first hand.

  “We did it,” I say numbly. “The third seedpod.”

  “We’re a good team.” Tempest releases my arms and steps away. “Question is, what do we do now?”

  I rub my neck in an anxious rhythm. “About that. Do we still need to do that trip Verus asked for?”

  “That we do, luv.”

  I press my palms onto my eyes, like I can squeeze this reality out of my head. We were so connected while casting that spell. Now, we’re back to crazy stuff like oracle angels. “Why does Verus want us to do this again?”

  “Verus saw the Firmament fall apart. She tells us only what we need to know in order to stop that from happening. And right now, we need to dress and go to this chamber. I can’t tell you why. I know it sounds daft.” He steps in front of me, taking my hands in his. The touch is firm, warm, and electric. “But it’s not crazy, luv. Trust me. The after-realms depend on it.” Every line of his face is marked with intensity. “And it would mean the world to me, too.”

  Our gazes lock and a realization moves between us. We are a team. And in a team, you cover the other person’s back, even if it seems crazy at the time. “Can we be done in an hour or two?” I ask.

  “Less than that.”

  I give his hands an encouraging squeeze. “In that case, let’s get ready.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tempest and I stand before a blue stone castle topped with dozens of golden towers. The thing looks like it fell out of a fairy tale. Tempest swings open the fancy front gates and we step inside a large reception room. This space towers two stories high and is decorated with marble archways, blue murals, and golden accents.

  “What do you think?” asks Tempest.

  I turn around. My gown swishes across the marble floor with the movement. It feels strange to be out of my fighting suit. However, Verus said I needed to wear a gown, so a gown it is. For his part, Tempest wears his black combat pants with a Henley.

  “This is lovely,” I say. “Did you evict Cinderella to get it?”

  “Not quite.” Tempest chuckles and the sound warms my heart. “One of the Chieftains gifted it to me when I became Emperor. Now, I use it as a private retreat of sorts.” He scans me from head to toe. The attention makes me blush. “You look beautiful, luv.”

  “Thanks.” I shift my weight nervously from foot to foot. “When does this get started exactly?” I don’t know what Verus has planned, but I’m ready for it to be over. Tempest and I already checked the wicker sphere. The last seedpod is at the Grove.

  Tempest leans against the wall, his left biker boot hitched over his right. His eyes are glazed over.

  “Tempest.”

  He shakes his head. “What?”

  “Did you hear my question?”

  “Missed it.” He rakes his hand through his loose, black hair. “Apologies. I suppose I’m a bit distracted.” He eyes me from head to toe again and smiles.

  I tilt my head and wonder. What’s up with him, anyway? “You act like you’ve never seen a girl in a ball gown before.”

  He folds his arms over his chest and chuckles softly. “Funny you should say that, as a matter of fact.”

  New sounds fill the reception hall. There’s the lilt of a Viennese waltz, along with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses.

  I frown in confusion. “Sounds like someone’s having a party.”

  “It’s a formal ball.” Tempest nods toward an archway at the far end of the reception room. “That’s where you need to go.”

  My brows lift with surprise. “And you’re not going with me?”

  “Funny you should say that, too.” The look on his face is unreadable. “Knock on the doors at the far end of the hall. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Right.” I have a dozen questions I could ask, but I’m guessing Tempest can’t answer them anyway. Ah, Verus and her visions. Oh, well. The sooner I finish whatever this is, the faster we can open that last seedpod. “Be right back.”

  I feel Tempest’s eyes on me as I follow the hallway to a set of golden doors. Here the music and chatter grow louder. An electric sense of anxiety charges my bloodstream. I don’t like formal balls, even when I know who’s going to be there.

  Stop stalling Portia. There are bigger things at risk.

  Screwing up my courage, I knock on the door. It swings open to reveal a servant in a crisp tuxedo. His black hair is gelled over neatly to one side. “Good evening, Miss.” His British accent is very proper.

  I curtsey. “Good evening. I’m here for the ball.”

  The man spots my markings and frowns. “You weren’t on the guest list, I’m afraid.”

  “Emperor Tempest invited me.”

  The servant steps backward and swings the door wide open. “Come in. You’ll find his Imperial Majesty at the bar.”

  My brows lower with confusion. “That can’t be right. I just left Tempest in the outer Hall.”

  The servant bows slightly at the waist. “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

  “That’s fine. Thank you.” I step inside the ballroom. Marble arches line the blue walls. A string orchestra plays in one corner. Furor nobility talk in small groups or waltz across the dance floor. The men all wear black tuxedos; the ladies are in gaudy gowns. I’m no fashionista, but those dresses went out of style twenty years ago.

  What is this place?

  I wander along the fringes of the crowd. I’ve never had a chance to watch the Furor, and their society is fascinating. So are their armscales. Many of the women wear sleeveless gowns to show them off. Men toss off their jackets and roll up one sleeve to display theirs. Couples have matching patterns, too. It’s sweet. Before I know it, I’ve meandered my way to the bar. What I see makes me freeze in place.

  He’s here.
Tempest.

  Only it’s not him. This version of Tempest has slicked-back hair and a smug grin. He’s missing some of his scars, too. There’s a full glass of whiskey in his left hand and a woman under his right arm. She’s a dark-haired beauty with bright red lips. At least, she doesn’t have a pattern to her armscales. They aren’t a couple. My eyes widen with a realization.

  They might not be from this time, either.

  I scan the ballroom. All the make-up and hair looks decades out of style. And Tempest seems so different, too. Verus must have sent me back in time? Why?

  Tempest downs his whiskey in one gulp before leaning over to nibble at the woman’s neck. She moans with pleasure.

  A sense of betrayal sears my heart. Tempest is acting exactly like the ‘hit it and quit it’ guy that Maxon warned me about. It’s a younger version of Tempest, but still. A knot of sadness tightens in my throat.

  A Furor man steps into my line of vision, blocking my view of Tempest. He’s tall and slim with neat blond hair and a square jawline. A nest of scars winds up his neck.

  “Good evening, Miss.” The man’s accent is British, clipped, and formal. Funny how the English can say the same words and have such different meanings. The servant’s ‘good evening’ was deferential. This man thinks I’m pond scum.

  “Good evening to you.” I skip the curtsey this time around.

  “You’re thrax.” The way he says the word ‘thrax,’ I can tell he’s not a fan.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

  I blink hard with disbelief. “Not welcome? Maxon was in line for the throne.”

  “You know that traitor? He just turned into an elemental and deserted us.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” I say carefully. “When did that happen again?”

  A dragon’s growl sounds in the man’s chest. “Last month.”

  My mind races through what this means. Verus sent me twenty years into the past. But why? Without meaning to, I whisper under my breath. “Verus, what are you doing?”

  “Are you a friend of Verus?” asks Mister Friendly.