Serpent's Crown (Snakesblood Saga Book 5)

by Beth Alvarez

  A knock at the door made her jump, but she sighed in relief. Another distraction. Exactly what she needed.

  “Your Majesty?” Timid, the servant girl did little more than peek into the office. Medreal had always been the one to carry messages through the castle. Without supervision from the stewardess, no one seemed to know how to approach her. “Begging your pardon for interrupting.”

  “It's all right.” Firal smoothed her blue gown and turned to face the girl. She tried to look serene and queenly. The nervous look plastered on the girl's face made her doubt she was successful.

  “There's someone here to see you,” the girl said. “The Chief Overseer of Core. He says he was summoned, Majesty.”

  More relief. Firal smiled and nodded. “See him in at once.”

  Requesting the Overseer's presence had been Vahn's idea. Firal regretted she hadn't thought of it on her own. The underground city of Core was extensive, most of it now uninhabited. If the woman who took her child was still on the island, Core presented an ideal hiding place.

  On top of that, Core held one of two permanent, anchored Gates. The other was in Ilmenhith. Both led to the Grand College in Lore, far to the north. With Envesi being a free mage, it was unlikely she'd need an anchored Gate. But it was an easy escape route, and one that wouldn't leave behind any traces of power for other mages to find. The Gate in Ilmenhith was used for politics and closely supervised trade, guarded by her own mages, but the Gate in Core was used for the transport of goods to and from the mines. Mages would have to be assigned to watch it.

  All this depended on the idea that the woman was still on the island, of course. Firal couldn't imagine where else they might be. According to Kytenia, the former Archmage hadn't been seen by anyone connected to the Grand College in years. Firal tried not to think of that little problem, much like she tried not to think of the woman seen in the palace with Ennil at all.

  Firal had never reconciled with the knowledge that the former Archmage was her mother. For all those years, her lonely upbringing in the temple made her long for a mother who had been there the entire time.

  The door opened again, this time without a knock. The same servant girl led two people into the office, gave a curtsy and ducked out as soon as they were through the doorway. At the front was a man in his middle years, with bronzed skin and sleek black hair, though it was graying at the temples and more gray was sprinkled throughout. He had a squared jaw and a hard look to him, though that wasn't unusual for the people of Core. They were the original inhabitants of the island, before the Eldani conquered it and drove them underground. They'd been called Underlings when Firal took the throne. Now they were called ruin-folk, a name they all liked better.

  He knelt before her desk with his head bowed and a hand pressed to his heart. The loyalty of the ruin-folk was solid, if hard-earned. It had taken a great deal of effort and compromise to gain their love, but the dedication that came with it sometimes made her wish she still lived among them.

  “Welcome, Tobias. Please, rise, so I may greet you as a friend.” Firal spread her hands in invitation. Her eyes traveled to the cloaked figure behind him, who only curtsied, and stiffly at that. “Who have you brought with you?”

  “She insisted on coming.” Tobias offered a half smile as he rose. “She said you would find a use for her.”

  “And she will,” the small woman said, chuckling pleasantly as she removed her dusty travel cloak. She'd been near Firal's height once, but was now stooped and gray. Her darkly tanned face was creased and leathery with age, but there was no mistaking the lively spark in her brown eyes. The woman had changed a great deal in the handful of years since Firal had seen her last. Those eyes hadn't changed at all.

  Out of everyone Tobias could have brought, the man had brought his mother. Minna, the woman who welcomed Firal into Core and fussed over her like the mother she'd never had.

  Despite all her worries, Firal felt a burden lift, and she laughed. “You always know when I need to see you, don't you?”

  “I tend to have a feeling, Miss Firal. Oh—Queen Firal, I ought to say. Bless me, I'll never get over that.” Minna smiled. She folded her cloak over her arm and stepped forward to pat Tobias's bicep. “He's a bit more gray than the last time we visited. Distinguished, isn't he?”

  Firal nodded. “Yes, he looks every bit the part of leader. Strong and capable, just the sort of man I need overseeing things in Core.”

  Tobias made a small sound of displeasure and brushed Minna's hand away. “Now, you two. You'll make a man's head swell.” Then his face grew solemn, and he caught Firal's eye. “I've heard what happened. You have the condolences of everyone in Core, my queen. Whatever you've called me here to ask of me, know I will see it done. More, if it's in my power.”

  “Thank you, I will rest easier knowing it.” Firal paused, unsure where to begin. She gestured to the chairs before her desk. “I have two matters to discuss with you, though I hope one of them will not require you to act. Sit, please, both of you.”

  Tobias helped his mother to a chair. He waited until both Minna and Firal were settled before he took a seat for himself. His posture was good, his manners excellent. How had anyone ever thought his people uncivilized?

  “First is the matter of security in Core,” Firal began. She rubbed her forehead, weary. “We cannot afford to close the Gate at the mine, but I will need to post several mages there to watch it. They will not interfere with your men or their duties. I expect they will leave them alone entirely, unless disturbed, in which case they will be given leave and authority to protect themselves.”

  “Of course,” Tobias said. “But... guards, my queen?”

  “I doubt she would use it, but if Envesi wants an easy way off the island without leaving any trace of her own magic, the Gate is a perfect avenue for escape. It might also be of use to any followers she may have gained, so it will need to be watched.” Firal's amber eyes flicked toward the door and she raised a hand to spin an invisible barrier around them. Neither Tobias nor Minna were Gifted; they wouldn't know what she was doing. But the door was still open a crack, and she wouldn't indulge anyone who might be outside listening. The ward would keep their voices in, but it wouldn't block anything out.

  “I will need you to provide housing for the mages somewhere in Core, of course,” she continued. “Will you need any additional food or supplies delivered with their arrival?”

  “No, we should get along fine.” He hesitated, then offered a nervous grin. “I have to say, things are much different now than when I was a child. We've lived well since integrating with the kingdom. I've never heard of anyone going hungry. It's hard to imagine anyone ever did.”

  Firal allowed herself to smile. It was a fine compliment, and another reminder that claiming Core as a part of her territory had been the right thing to do. Of course, even without merging the underground city into her holdings, she would have been their queen by marriage. That thought was troubling, and she lowered her eyes. “Then I'll trust you to manage things after their arrival. They will report directly to me on a daily basis, which brings me to another matter I'll need you to oversee. I realize the caverns under the ruins are vast, so I won't ask you to search them. It's unlikely you would find anything, anyway. But in the event your men notice anything out of the ordinary in the ruins or in the underground, have them report it to my mages for further investigation.”

  Tobias nodded. “Consider it done.”

  “And you ought to tell them all to be more mindful,” Minna said. “No one ventures far from the mines these days, but routine makes for lazy eyes.”

  He chuckled. “Of course, mother.”

  “Thank you,” Firal said. “Both for your work in tending this, and for what you've already done.”

  “It is my duty and honor, my queen.” Tobias inclined his head and pressed his palm to his heart. “Is that all you wished to discuss today?”

  Her cheer evaporated. “No. There is one other matter we need to discuss
before you go.”

  The Overseer raised a brow, but nodded. “Of course. What else?”

  This was the sticky part, full of awkward questions she didn't want to ask. Firal double-checked the ward around them before she began. “I know my leadership of the ruin-folk was only accepted because of the status granted to me by my first marriage.”

  Tobias frowned. Minna did, too. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said slowly. “They are content with your leadership now, though. You have more than proven yourself, even if relations between the ruin-folk and the Eldani are not perfect.”

  The imperfections in relations were part of what worried her. “There was a great deal of passion in your armies when I took the throne. Some initially refused to honor my lead because of what happened to your newly-raised king. Are there still loyalties to him among your people?”

  Tobias opened his mouth, but his mother scoffed before he could speak. “You certainly sound the part of queen with all that dainty word-mincing, Miss Firal. There's no one here but the three of us, no reason not to speak plainly. Lord Daemon was loved.” Minna sniffed and raised her chin. “But, Miss Firal, you must understand that we aren't like you mage-folk in the city. Our lives are fast and fierce, and the men in our armies now have only ever heard of him through their fathers and grandfathers.”

  “And even the old men who served him see that life beneath your rule is what's best for us,” Tobias said. “But why do you ask?”

  “Because a weakened flame can still be rekindled.” Firal clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them. “And a new war is the last thing I need.”

  Minna's brow furrowed, but before she could ask, the office door creaked open.

  Temar stepped in and bowed, but lingered by the entry. Sensing the ward, she awaited permission to step within its bounds.

  Firal beckoned her forward, concerned.

  “Your Majesty,” Temar said as she passed into the ward. She turned her hand to display the small, three-colored envelope she held. “An urgent message from King Vicamros II of the Triad. It just arrived.”

  Firal stiffened. “Did you read it?”

  “Yes, Majesty.” The white-haired mage bowed her head, but not before she spared a worried glance for the two ruin-folk.

  “Out with it!” Firal almost snapped.

  “They've found him,” Temar said in a rush, keeping her head lowered. “A party has been sent for his arrest. We expect them here by mid-afternoon.”

  Weakened, Firal fell back in her chair. Mid-afternoon! There was no way she could have things in order by then. And if the mages had already read the note, word would escape the palace within moments. “I hope you're right about their loyalties, Tobias,” she murmured.

  A shadow crossed his face. “You don't mean—”

  “Yes,” she said, smoothing her black hair back from her face. “It seems Lord Daemon still lives, after all.”

  For the first time in what seemed an eternity, it was quiet. In reality, it had been a handful of days, but the constant flow of people and their poking and prodding made time drag. It was only made worse by the girl's crying, which Envesi found more distressing than she wanted to admit.

  She didn't resent the girl's tears; they were more of a frustration than an annoyance. But Envesi didn't know how to cope with a distressed child, didn't know how to calm her or entertain her. In truth, she knew little about children at all. Despite the child she'd borne herself and another she'd created through power, she had never been a mother.

  No part of her was nurturing. She had no patience, no understanding, and no idea how to offer comfort to a child who only wanted someone to love her. It was hard not to find the child endearing, with her large violet eyes and cherubic face, messy dark curls and sweet pink lips. But Envesi didn't know how to love. It was a bizarre notion she hadn't entertained since her own childhood, now centuries past, and while being around the girl was pleasant—when the child wasn't crying, that was—Envesi felt nothing more toward her than the amicable warmth one might feel for a favorite pen.

  After all, Lumia—a name that made Envesi grimace when she'd learned it—was a tool, nothing more. There was no reason to feel anything else.

  The girl lay sleeping on a chaise beside Envesi's desk, a cloak drawn over her to serve as a blanket. She cried herself to sleep most nights, though tonight had gone better. One of the other mages had stroked the girl's hair and murmured to her until she drifted off. It bought a few hours of peace, at least, for Envesi to study.

  It wasn't necessary for the girl to be awake, just nearby. The field of energy around her was like nothing Envesi had ever felt. After days of study, the former Archmage still did not know what to make of it, and she had come no closer to determining how to use it. It was frustrating, but expected; the child's Gift was nothing like her own.

  Oh, it was true they were both free mages, but Envesi's power bore a taint that was more than the strange corruption of her body. She'd learned a great deal through studying herself after she had gathered a new team of mages and unbound her power. Free of her healing affinity, she could manipulate energy from all sources and feel the flow of magic in everything around her. The white scales and the misshapen hands and feet that bore them were a small price to pay for that sort of power. But there was still a taint, a thread of wrongness in her power, like a drop of ink blossoming in a vial of water. It made her magic work in unpredictable ways, sometimes.

  The girl's power, by contrast, was clean. She didn't summon magic; as far as Envesi could tell, she didn't seem to touch it at all. There was no spark of power within her, like that of bound mages. Nor did she have to wait to grow into her Gift. Like the magic that ebbed and flowed around them, it was already part of the girl. She was magic, in its purest form. And in that, she was more powerful than Envesi could ever hope to be.

  She'd met free mages before. They could be conquered as easily as any other mages, especially when their odd customs and beliefs kept them from wielding as much power as they potentially could. They were conservative, to say the least, which had been their greatest failing. Envesi had no such restraints. Magic existed to serve mages, and mages existed to wield it. There was no reason not to explore the fullest extent of her strength.

  While she could not outmatch the Alda'anan in power, she exhibited finesse in her Gift. Many of those she faced had been clumsy, almost as if they had never practiced wielding magic at all. And perhaps they hadn't. After all, the very first thing they taught their children was how to cut oneself off from the power around them, to rob their eyes of their beautiful glow. The poor fools.

  But there were other things to worry about now. Learning to connect her magic to the girl's, to begin with. Envesi sighed, reclined in her chair and tapped a claw against the edge of her desk.

  Everything she'd tried had failed, as if the girl's power rejected her. Whether it was because of the child's age or the taint in her own magic, Envesi didn't know. The former seemed more likely, given how oblivious Lumia was to her Gift. One couldn't simply seize another's magic for the purpose of sharing it. It had to be offered freely before one could grasp it and wield it in conjunction with their own. Trying to take hold by force ran the risk of severing the girl from power, which the former Archmage couldn't afford.

  Twining her power with that of any unbound mage would have given her the extra might she desired, but anyone she unbound would face the same bodily corruption as her, and she knew from experience that not every unbinding went well. Hers had worked because she was in control. Likewise, her first two experiments had worked because there had been a team of mages present, able to tame the wild energy that surged as the bonds of affinity came free.

  Her other attempts had not gone so well. Four other times she'd tried, and all four times, the mages she'd freed had burned up, consumed by the flames of raw power they couldn't contain.

  Creating a new council of mages who knew how to unbind affinities and hold the new power at bay was one solution, but E
nvesi was unwilling to lose more to the taint. Magic flowed like a river, etching paths into the earth, digging deeper and resisting diversion. To teach others the method she knew ran the risk of pulling them into a path already colored with corruption. Finding a new method of unbinding would be difficult, but it was a necessity. Few were willing to become monsters, even for the promise of power.

  The only solution was to find a new path. Studying the girl's Gift would help Envesi determine which way to go.

  Behind her, someone knocked on the door frame. Simple as their headquarters was, few rooms had doors.

  “Archmage,” the white-robed mage murmured, glancing toward where Lumia slept, “another report has come in. Shall I order them to track the target?”

  “No,” Envesi said as she pushed herself up from her desk. She paused to adjust the cloak over the sleeping child before she stalked toward the doorway. “I shall handle it myself.”

  The woman nodded and stepped aside to let her pass.

  It was not how Envesi had planned to spend her evening, but she wouldn't miss the opportunity. She'd lost count of how many free mages she'd exterminated, but like rats in a shabby cellar, there always seemed to be one more.

  Until I am able to free more of my own, she thought grimly as she made her way to the front of the tiny chapter house. Then, together, they would stamp them out, like the smoldering cinders of a forgotten flame they were.

  8

  Extermination

  Rikka, Master of the House of Wind, shivered and folded her arms across her chest. The breeze stirred her hair and ruffled her white robes. She had often wondered why the Archmage's tower had no glass in the windows. Most of the time, she thought it was a deliberate choice, meant to capture the island's breezes and funnel them into a building that would have been stifling otherwise. But sometimes, such as now, when cold droplets of night rain blew in to patter against the bare stone floor, it seemed more like an oversight. “There's something in the air. Do you feel it?”