Silverblood

by Jamie Foley

  “You’re leaving already?” Granny Zelle’s mannerisms told Lysander she was yelling.

  “We think Cori’s imprisoned in Quin’Zamar,” Lysander said. “I have to get them out and talk some sense into Illiana.”

  “Cori’s what?” Granny Zelle exclaimed. “I’ll pack your favorite dinner!” She whirled and hobbled toward the kitchen.

  Lysander stepped close to Brooke, taking her hand. “Please stay here with Felix. You’re hurt and the consequences of you being captured are too great.”

  “I’m fine. Felix cauterized the wound.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s healed,” Lysander said.

  Felix formed some letters beside them, which they ignored.

  “Your salve really helped,” Brooke said.

  Lysander gave her a knowing look. “I’m deaf, not blind. I can see every time you wince.”

  The letters floated closer, but no one looked at them.

  “My healer is the one in prison,” Brooke said. “But you don’t want me to go after her?”

  Lysander tilted his head. “You’re too crafty for your own good.”

  The letters flew in between them. They faced Brooke, so Lysander read them backwards: IF YOU DON’T STAY HERE, I WILL TURN INTO A WHALE AND SWALLOW YOU.

  “I thought you couldn’t touch the keystone, but suddenly you can swallow it?” Brooke said. “And how would a beached whale protect it?”

  Somehow, the fox appeared to be vexed.

  Lysander folded his arms. “Felix, I know you’re bored. You can’t tell me honestly that you don’t want to go with us and overthrow Zamara’s legacy.”

  The fox’s tail twitched. The letters disintegrated, then after a moment, the silver cloud formed: IT’S TRUE THAT I CANNOT SAY THAT HONESTLY.

  Lysander smirked. “My one condition is that Illiana not be harmed. She’s young and was brainwashed by Zamara, but she’s still my sister. Got it?”

  Felix laid his ears flat. NO PROMISES.

  “Promise,” Lysander demanded.

  I WILL ACCOMPANY BROOKE. THIS IS THE BEST DEAL YOU’RE GOING TO GET, OATHBREAKER.

  Lysander sighed and turned to Brooke. “Let’s go together and split up once we reach the palace walls. Felix can easily sneak you into the prison to release everyone, while I’ll go through the front gate and speak with Illiana. We have a good relationship—I can speak peacefully with her.”

  Brooke frowned in concentration. “I don’t like the idea of splitting up.”

  “Me either, but you can’t go directly into the palace. Illiana is the paranoid type so she keeps a ridiculous amount of guards. We can’t risk you being recognized.”

  “Why doesn’t Felix just sneak me into the palace, then?”

  “I thought you were rescuing your healer.”

  Brooke pursed her lips. “Of course, but we also need to put Coriander on the throne.”

  “Then you’ll have to break him out of prison first, right?”

  She sighed, but her eyes flickered with allure. “Touché.”

  Granny Zelle reappeared, waving a bulging sack. As she hobbled closer, Lysander kissed Brooke on the forehead. “Felix is all talk. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I MIGHT IF YOU DO SOMETHING STUPID. I HAVE OTHER VESSELS.

  Brooke ignored Felix. “I’ve already experienced his protection first-hand.” She pushed up on her toes to kiss Lysander on the cheek, lighting him aflame. “You won’t have the same luxury, though. Be safe.”

  “Here you go!” Granny Zelle shoved the bag into Lysander’s hands. Then she used sign language uncomfortably close to Lysander’s face. “Don’t hurt Illi. Don’t get hurt. Bring Cori and Iraleth and my babies back here, okay?”

  Lysander leaned back. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Bring her back here, too.” Granny Zelle looked at Brooke with a roguish sidelong glance. “I have questions.”

  Vines and branches gave way to sunlight cresting on an idyllic coastline and distant mountains. Black sand accentuated deep blue waters and vibrant green palms along the shore. The beach was interrupted by magnificent docks that housed ships larger than Kira had ever seen—some with sails taller than a house.

  And as their cart continued along the hilly path, which sloped down into Quin’Zamar, foliage retreated to afford them a view of the gleaming city at least four times larger than Navarro. Straw-topped huts surrounded a colorful marketplace and pyramids made of glass. A sprawling castle crowned the city from a cliffside where the river met the sea. The blinding palace appeared to be made entirely of glass-gold.

  Kira gaped. She’d never seen a more breathtaking sight made by the hands of man.

  Perhaps Vylia could have just brought the Malo stone here.

  “Don’t fall off the cart.” Tekkyn was watching her with a teasing grin.

  Kira had trouble retrieving her jaw. “How can you not be impressed? Have you been here before?”

  Tekkyn shrugged. “Been lots of places.”

  Kira glanced back at Aegwyn, who rode her xavi behind their cart. Her eyes were wide, and her olive skin paled. She looked like she was going to be sick.

  “Hey,” Kira called to her.

  Aegwyn startled and found Kira’s face as if she’d been lost. “Yes?”

  “You okay?”

  “Uh, yes.” Aegwyn sat up straighter and made a clicking noise to guide her xavi beside the cart. “Let me lead. There’s a guard tower around this turn.”

  Kira watched her for a long moment, concerned about whatever had her spooked. “You sure you’re all right?” she asked as quietly as the space between them would afford.

  “As good as I can be.” Aegwyn flashed a smile. It was unconvincing.

  Kira turned her gaze downward to Quin’Zamar. “What makes the beach black like that?”

  “The volcano, Sleeping Panther,” Aegwyn said, pointing to the closest mountain to the west. “The lava it belches cools into black stone. It slides into the sea and becomes sand.”

  “Amazing,” Kira breathed. Ryon and Aegwyn had grown up in this paradise? Why would they ever want to leave?

  “Beauty can be deceptive,” Aegwyn said under her breath. “Stay close. Illiana no doubt brought Ryon to the palace. I can get you inside by giving you as gifts to the palace staff, assuming they have a couple of open positions.”

  Kira found the idea of “giving” a human being revolting, but it did seem like a quick way to get behind whatever guards surely watched the palace. So she swallowed her opinion.

  “And they’ll just let us run around over there?” Tekkyn asked.

  “I really can’t say,” Aegwyn said as she led her mount around a curve in the road. “My bangle should allow me some leeway up front, but honestly I don’t know how Illiana will react when she sees me. If she’s done something awful to Ryon . . . I . . .”

  “Have we thought about how we’re getting out of this place after all the fun’s over?” Tekkyn said. “If we go in as slaves, they’ll come after us when we escape with Ryon.”

  The girls looked at each other. “I’ve been trying not to think that far ahead, honestly,” Aegwyn said.

  Even entering the city seems like a monumental task for her, Kira thought to herself. “Do you have a better idea?” Kira asked.

  “Not without lookin’ at the grounds and guard posts and whatnot,” Tekkyn said.

  “We don’t have time for that,” Kira said. “And you know what? Ryon can use his invisibility to sneak us out, no problem.”

  Tekkyn didn’t appear convinced, but he tipped his head as if to concede that point.

  A roar from a thousand throats suddenly split the air. Kira craned her neck and found a crowd—no, a multitude—gathered in the market square below a balcony overhang that gracefully dove from the palace above.

  Two figures strode out from the palace and stopped, but the cheering continued.

  Kira’s guts knotted. They were so far away, but her heart dared to guess who they were.

 
“Wait,” Kira said to Tekkyn, and he pulled the reins until the cart slowed to a halt and stopped creaking.

  “My good people!” A young woman’s voice warbled as its volume was amplified by Phoera sound manipulation.

  “Illiana,” Aegwyn whispered.

  Kira’s heart pounded as she squinted at the figures. One appeared female in a flowing white dress, the other male.

  Ryon?

  “I present to you your new king!”

  “All right, get off.” Felix transformed from a dragon to a trace cat the moment he landed, sending Brooke and Lysander tumbling from his shape-shifting back in a heap.

  “Hey!” Lysander yelled.

  Felix shuddered, tossing his thick beige mane. “Romance nauseates me.” He hacked up a chunk of silver that dissolved into mist, then formed Phoeran script in the air between them.

  “We didn’t do anything on your back!” Lysander protested at the same time Brooke said, “Didn’t you have a mate once?”

  Felix’s hind quarters plopped on the forest floor. “Say your goodbyes and let’s go.” His letters followed suit.

  Brooke straightened her split riding skirt and went to fix her headdress, then remembered it wasn’t there. She’d left it at Granny Zelle’s pyramid after extracting the keystone, which rested hidden in a large leather pouch on her belt. She wasn’t wearing face paint either, but her clothing and the style of her braids would give her away as a Katrosi if anyone gave her a second glance.

  She pulled up her hood and looked up at Lysander. His enormous frown looked as reluctant as she felt.

  “It’ll just be an hour or so.” Lysander took her hands in his. “We can use thought-speak to find each other in the palace. This will be over before a d’hakka strike, and then we can finally have some peace.”

  Brooke found his optimism foolhardy yet adorable. How had they become so inseparable so quickly? It was like they were two mag-stones, pushing away from each other by some unseen force for so long. And now that their situations had flipped, that same force brought them together with startling speed.

  Her feelings felt childish. And yet they made her so inexplicably happy that even her rational nature couldn’t stop her from enjoying Lysander’s presence. The warmth of his embrace and the strength she felt in his arms. How small her hands felt in his.

  Still, she gave herself a healthy warning: love wasn’t a feeling. True love was a commitment.

  A commitment she didn’t want to think about yet.

  Brooke moved her head to eye him sidelong as she sent a thought to his mind. A d’hakka strike? Could you at least use a different analogy for your deceptive assurances?

  “Not deceptive.” Lysander looked up at the sky. “As fast as a . . . xavi.” His grin put boyish glee on his masculine face. “I hope you know the only reason I’m leaving you is because one of the most powerful creatures on the planet is keeping you safe.”

  “Your hair is a powerful creature,” Felix called, and his syn-script changed in mid-air to match his words.

  Brooke giggled as Lysander ran hands through his windswept black hair. His efforts did little to fix the problem.

  I will probably accompany Felix to guide the prisoners to safety, Brooke thought to Lysander as she reached up on her tiptoes to help tame a stubborn lock. We’ll see how the timing works out. But I’ll find you regardless.

  Lysander took advantage of her closeness to kiss her forehead. “Promise you won’t take any chan—”

  “Ryon is here,” Felix said, drowning out the rest of Lysander’s words.

  Brooke’s smile turned downward. “What?”

  “I can sense him.” The trace cat’s enormous head drooped low in the direction where Brooke assumed Quin’Zamar lie ahead. “But he has a lot less syn than I left him with.”

  Brooke hurried to Felix, but couldn’t see anything but vine-wrapped trees in the direction his pupilless eyes gazed. “It can’t be Ryon. I left him in charge of . . .” She trailed off. If Jadenvive had been overtaken by the Malaano, any number of awful things could have happened to Ryon. But how could he have ended up here?

  “It’s him. But he’s not with other silverbloods—he’s alone. So I don’t think he’s in the prison.” Felix’s eyes swirled like galaxies, as if he were peering through the veils of time and space and magic itself. “He’s higher up. Must be the palace, but in the upper rooms or a tower or something.”

  Brooke watched Felix’s ears lie back on his head. A low growl rumbled in his throat.

  “Something else is wrong,” Brooke said as more of a statement than a question.

  “That half-blood who calls herself the queen,” Felix muttered as the silvery script flowed and wove itself into new words. “She has more syn than what’s safe for a trai’yeth. If she’s not already lost her mind, she’ll be mad or dead or both before long.”

  “That can’t be right.” Lysander came alongside, his boots cracking fallen leaves beneath.

  Felix’s letters shifted into new ones: THERE IS NO MISTAKING THAT LEVEL OF POWER. THAT MUCH SYN WOULD KILL ANY HUMAN. THEREFORE IT MUST BE THE HALF-BLOOD.

  Lysander looked crestfallen until Brooke took his hand. He gave her a quick glance of appreciation before turning back to Felix. “Okay, so we tell her it’s dangerous and remove some of her syn?”

  SHE WAS RAISED BY ZAMARA; SHE KNOWS. BETTER TO WAIT AND LET HER DIE THAN RISK CONFRONTING A MADDENED YOUTH WIELDING THAT MUCH POWER.

  “She’s my sister.” Lysander clenched his fists. “I’m not going to just—”

  SHE IS A NARCISSIST WHO HAS ABSORBED A CONTINENT WORTH OF SYN. Felix’s letters grew larger and thicker. He turned his head to focus on Lysander. HAVE AN IOTA OF PATIENCE, AND THE SITUATION WILL SORT ITSELF OUT.

  “Maybe it’s dangerous for you, but not for me,” Lysander said. “I have to at least try to save her.”

  Brooke sent a gentle thought toward him. Remember what you are risking. It’s not just your life any more; it’s also my heart and our future.

  Lysander’s eyebrows raised, and Brooke realized too late how he might have interpreted that.

  A moment of silence passed. Lysander’s brows knit together before he spoke again. “I’ll get Ryon out first. If the syn has driven Illiana mad already, there’s no telling what kind of situation he might be in. Once he and the others are safe, I’ll confront her.”

  Brooke squeezed his hand. Can you do both safely?

  He smirked. “It’s me and Ryon we’re talking about here. Unseen and unheard are the best ways to get around, wouldn’t you say?”

  All Brooke knew was darkness, the coarse coat of Felix’s trace cat form, and the softer patch of fur on his throat that she clung to as she leaned down on his back. She could discern his pace by the way enormous shoulder blades moved beneath her and guess at their location from echoes and voices.

  The sounds were faint now: soft murmuring, dripping water, distant footsteps. She couldn’t hear the insects of the rainforest or the commotion of the streets any more. And the air now felt stuffy and smelled of mildew.

  Were they inside the palace prison already?

  Going in with Felix felt like cheating. Everything was less terrifying and more exhilarating than it should have been.

  His tail tapped on Brooke’s back twice. She squeezed her arms around his neck to signal her readiness. Then she sat up straight on his back and held her hands up, palms out into the darkness.

  Light returned in a blinding instant. The sound of crumpling armor alerted Brooke to two guards crashing to the ground on either side of her before her eyes could clear. She moved her hands to aim at each of them, pretending like she’d downed them herself.

  It must have looked awesome to anyone who watched. She should take credit for Felix’s powers more often.

  A long hallway stretched out before her with prison cells on either side, metal bars stretched from floor to ceiling. Dozens of pairs of wide eyes peered out at her.

  Brooke slipped from Felix’s b
ack and patted his head as if he were no more than her mount. She moved to one of the fallen guards, looking for keys and trying to avoid the horrified expression frozen on his face. She didn’t want to think about how Felix had dropped them so suddenly.

  She found the keys on the wall inside a small guard post instead. She glanced over her shoulder before hurrying into the prison, toward the desperate whispers and pleas for her attention. She didn’t see anyone in the hallway behind where Felix sat and groomed himself like any other tame trace cat.

  Brooke raised a finger to her lips as she approached the first cell, but the noise from the prisoners only grew more excited. She scanned face after face of people stuffed into the large cells, not recognizing anyone. She couldn’t just release Quin’Zamar’s most dangerous criminals.

  “Brooke!” Nariellyn waved from a cell in the back.

  Relief surged Brooke forward. She dodged reaching hands as she found the lock on Nariellyn’s cell and fumbled with the keys.

  “Thank the skies you’re okay,” Nariellyn breathed. Her clothes were smeared with mud and her hair unkempt. “Where’s Dimbae? What’s with the cat?”

  A pang of worry for Dimbae knifed into Brooke’s chest. Hopefully Granny Zelle was right to be optimistic about his recovery. “I’ll explain later. Is Coriander here?”

  “He’s in the back.” Nariellyn pointed down the hall.

  Brooke tried a thick metal key and glanced at the faces of the people crammed into Nariellyn’s cell. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Are these people . . . ?”

  “Yes, they’re Coriander’s.” The bolt clanged, and Nariellyn grabbed Brooke in a hug as the door swung open. Men poured out but didn’t leave the prison. Instead they watched her, waited, and pointed out other cells for her to open.

  Brooke went straight for Coriander’s cell as soon as she saw him. His children clung to his legs. Her heart melted at the sight.

  “Good to see you.” Coriander patted the heads of his children and instructed them to stay near him as other prisoners slipped out.

  Brooke handed him the keys, but Coriander gave them to another man beside him as he turned back to walk further into the cell.