Silverblood

by Jamie Foley

  Illiana shot him an annoyed look. She waved at the now-empty chair beside her. “Then sit and speak.”

  He really didn’t want to have his movement restricted by the table, so he pulled the chair out and sat on its edge. “Did you attack Cori’s camp?”

  Her face soured. She sat her glass back down, hard. “He was plotting against the throne.”

  “Do the people think it’s his throne?” Lysander asked.

  Illiana snapped her eerie gaze on him. “Does it matter?”

  Lysander couldn’t determine what she said next through lip-reading, but he could safely assume her message.

  “Yes,” Lysander whispered. “Isn’t that why you married Idryon? To win the people’s favor?”

  Illiana’s lip curled, and she looked back at the fire-dancers. Lysander couldn’t tell what she said.

  He grew annoyed and looked into her mind.

  Thoughts swirled around his presence like a maelstrom, jolting abruptly in different directions. It was loud, but not loud like Kiralau’s clear and distinct thoughts. It was a cacophony with each chaotic thought screaming for attention. He’d never encountered a mind like that before. But he was new to thought-speak. Maybe it was normal.

  Even so, he backed out of Illiana’s mind and tried to guess where their conversation left off.

  “Marrying Ryon won’t change people’s opinions enough,” Lysander said. “Coriander is next in line, and everyone knows it.”

  “Treason!” Illiana looked back at him with ethereal fire in her eyes, her jeweled earrings catching in her hair with the sudden movement. “It was mother’s wish that I be her heir, and you know it. It was her plan to claim Idryon for me. Are you jealous, brother?”

  “No, I’m concerned about you,” Lysander said, his hand itching for his dagger in case her twitching hand snatched that steak knife. “I fear a coup.”

  “The coup is locked in the dungeons and will soon be dealt with.” Illiana turned back to the entertainment and took another drink.

  Lysander stared in silence for a long moment. Did she mean to execute Coriander? What about his family and his men? And all of his sympathizers in the city?

  He didn’t have to return to her mind to confirm it. Her thoughts vomited gore.

  “Illi, please, consider peace,” Lysander said. “You will always have a home in the palace. We have larger threats to—”

  “The only threat is the Katrosi, and I’ve ruined them. Not even father’s war caused as much devastation as I’ve inflicted on them.” Illiana’s face stuttered in soundless laughter. “Did you know your mission to set fire to Jadenvive was my idea? I’m a genius. That’s why mother appointed me as her heir.” Her expression abruptly fell into a twist of sadness and anger. “But you let her die. I didn’t know she could die.”

  Lysander leaned away from her. “How much syn have you absorbed?”

  “As much as I want,” she said. He didn’t catch what else she said as she turned away, but it involved her being a half-blood.

  “Illi, even trai’yeth elementals have a limit to how much syn they can hold before—”

  “No! Mother didn’t have vessels like—” She stopped herself. “She held as much as she could.”

  “And it drove her mad, too,” Lysander murmured.

  Illiana shot to her feet, knocking her elaborate chair back. Her nose wrinkled like a wolf’s as she screamed something unintelligible at him. “Mother was a goddess! And I am a demigod!”

  All movement in the room suddenly stopped. Lysander followed the direction that the nobles had turned their stunned faces.

  Coriander stood in the doorway. Instead of the guards, he was flanked by Brooke and Felix in trace cat form.

  A gleaming blade pointed at Illiana. “Step down,” Coriander said, his thoughts ringing with cool-forged anger, “and you will be treated with mercy.”

  Illiana crouched like a cornered cat and bared her teeth. She whirled on Lysander and thrust her hand at him.

  It felt as if she’d taken control of his bones and thrown him across the room with them. He flew backward and slammed into the elegant metal struts of the balcony railing. Pain arched up his back as he caught sight of the marketplace a lethal drop below.

  Silver mist appeared in Illiana’s hand and coalesced into a long spike. She reared back and the spike followed her movement in mid-air. She pointed it at Coriander as if to hurl it at him, and it shot forward at a sudden and terrifying speed.

  Coriander dodged and sprinted for a fire-dancer’s pedestal. The dancer jumped down and cowered beside the prince for cover.

  The nobles scattered like bees from a jostled hive.

  Lysander noted the pillars lining the sides of the room that displayed busts of his forefathers and previous monarchs. They weren’t thick enough for someone to safely hide behind. He glanced at the double-doors that nobles and servers ran screaming from. That was the only escape route, unless someone had a way to fly or climb from the balcony.

  Brooke hurled her spear at Illiana. The silver mist that surrounded the queen ballooned outward, then solidified into a shield before Illiana. The spear slammed into it and dropped to the table, sending cakes and wine splattering over the decadent display.

  Illiana reached a hand out toward Brooke, whose eyes went wide as she lifted into the air.

  Lysander tackled Illiana, hitting her hard enough to send them both crashing across the table. Her metal claws dug into his shoulder, but he didn’t let go until he caught a glimpse of Brooke falling back to the floor and gasping for breath.

  A whirl of movement spun over him. Lysander glanced up into the enormous face of a green-eyed ember hawk. Blue-white flames danced inside its beak as it inhaled.

  Lysander scrambled to his feet and ran as searing heat exploded behind him. He covered his face and didn’t stop until he was at the edge of the room. Yet still the inferno raged hot enough to sear his clothes.

  Through the flames, he saw his sister shielding herself with an outstretched hand to Felix. Fire consumed her dress and hair, and the spikes of her crown drooped like wilting leaves.

  Felix reached the end of his breath and the flames ceased. He reared back with massive wings glistening like cinders, then down again to snap Illiana in his curved beak.

  Instead he got a mouthful of syn spikes that formed in themselves faster than a blink. Silver lances protruded from his red-feathered face, and he roared loud enough for Lysander to hear.

  “How dare you take her form?” Illiana said as Lysander rushed to stand between them, arms outstretched with a plea for them to stop. He noticed a drip of silver blood falling from Illiana’s nose, then the world tumbled end over end. He hit something hard.

  Silver blades shot from Felix’s open mouth like ice shards. They crashed into Illiana’s syn shield and absorbed into it. She laughed as the mist surged into her skin, her dress still alight with flame.

  “Illi, stop this!” Lysander yelled.

  She dodged a strike from Felix and sent a silver spike into his chest.

  Felix stumbled back, his wings flailing as he collapsed onto the floor.

  Lysander stared in horror as Illiana strode to Felix’s still form and reached a hand out to him. The silver blood that poured from his wound flowed to her palm and skittered along her skin.

  “Illi!” Her name tore from his lungs.

  This time she turned to him with a crazed smile. “Now you will all face my justice.”

  Illi, listen to me. Lysander sent the desperate thought to her mind, doing his best to strip it of his panic and reinforce it with command. You are hurting yourself. The syn is killing you!

  His body froze. Miniscule spikes of pain sparked to life by the thousands. They pushed from his veins and out his skin like needles.

  Illiana said something about his half-Valinorian heritage, but Lysander couldn’t lip-read exactly what it was through her expression of disgust and his haze of pain.

  He was being ripped apart from the inside
out. The feeling was familiar from when Zamara had nearly killed him.

  Lysander heard himself scream, distantly, like his broken ears only picked up the echo through the resonance of his skull.

  He couldn’t survive this a second time.

  And Illiana couldn’t be saved, he realized with a sadness that dulled his agony. The little sister from his memories would never have done this to him. To anyone.

  She was already gone. And Lysander wanted someone to avenge him.

  The pain stopped abruptly, changing from a horrible ripping to a sort of aching relief. Lysander gulped in air and looked around, trying to orient himself. His gaze landed on Ryon and Kira in the doorway.

  “Illiana!” Lysander read from Ryon’s lips. His cousin’s eyes were sharp with clarity and ablaze with rage. “Put him down!”

  Brooke rushed to the table to grab her fallen spear and run Illiana through, but someone grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

  She snarled over her shoulder at Nariellyn. “Let go!”

  “You’ll tear yourself apart,” Nariellyn said. “Did you forget about your wound?”

  “She’s killing him!” Brooke roared, and the injury in her back sent a skewer of agony through her. Her vision swam and she nearly lost her balance.

  “Give me a minute!” Nariellyn sent healing energy lancing through Brooke’s back like ethereal stitches. The sensation was even more debilitating than the cut in her back that had re-opened when she’d thrown her spear.

  Brooke went down on one knee and steadied herself, cursing her friend but knowing she was right at the same time. Warm blood poured down her back and slicked her riding-skirt.

  “The two of you are friendly now?” Illiana glanced between Ryon and Lysander, then considered Ryon as if trying to determine how much of a threat he was. “You still haven’t figured out that we killed your father?”

  Brooke’s pulse stalled as Ryon’s face paled. They looked at Lysander, who had collapsed to the floor in a heap. It was apparent that he hadn’t heard what Illiana had said.

  Lysander, Brooke called to him with thought-speak. Did you assassinate Ryon’s father?

  What? No, came Lysander’s exhausted reply. He met Ryon’s disbelieving gaze. “I . . . I trained her but I didn’t know who the target was.”

  “Liar,” Illiana spat. “You knew full well.” She smiled as silver blood from her nose spilled onto her lips, and she licked it up. “I was the perfect choice because the traitor never suspected me—I was so young. But my success guaranteed my place as mother’s heir. Alunette was too weak to target family.”

  “I didn’t know!” Lysander insisted. “Otherwise, I never would have . . .” He begged Ryon from his collapsed position on the floor with wide, desperate eyes. “Ryon, I’m sorry. Forgive me!”

  Ryon looked like he’d been struck by lightning, but Kira’s hand on his arm revived him as guards approached them from behind.

  “Stand down!” Ryon yelled at them. “Am I your king or not?”

  The soldiers slowed as they neared him, then turned their backs to Ryon, forming a wall between him and anything that might approach from the hall.

  Brooke released a breath as the red-feathered guards complied. Kira took a bow and quiver from one of them, nocked an arrow, and aimed it at Illiana.

  “Illiana, you’re outnumbered,” Ryon called in a firm voice. “You can’t win. Stand down.”

  “Surrounding and threatening an unarmed girl. How pathetic you all are,” the queen sneered. Silver mist hovered around her like a shining cloud on a summer day. “But I’m not alone. Xavier!”

  Movement caught Brooke’s eye. Ceiling-length curtains waved to reveal a side door. An Emberhawk man stepped out—one who matched the description her azure masks had given of the assassin who’d poisoned her tea with dreamthistle.

  He hauled a young woman out by her arms, which were tied behind her back. Her wide eyes fixed on Ryon. She screamed his name.

  Aegwyn? Brooke grabbed the dagger on her belt.

  “Stay still,” Nariellyn commanded as her ethereal stitching continued, and Brooke gritted her teeth.

  “Let’s see what color her blood is after I drained her,” Illiana said. “Slit her throat. The rest of the traitors will die this day.”

  Xavier didn’t move. He looked at Ryon.

  “Release her,” Ryon said.

  Xavier withdrew a blade. His face was blank as he cut Aegwyn’s bonds. The girl fell forward and staggered to her brother.

  “You are all traitors!” Illiana screamed. A silver lance coalesced from the mist and shot toward Xavier. It skewered him through the middle, and he fell.

  Brooke ripped free of Nariellyn and dashed for her spear.

  Illiana saw her and swiped her hand sideways as if backhanding Brooke from afar. Brooke felt her body seize up as she careened into the chairs the nobles had fled from. Her vision darkened and returned slowly with floating spots.

  Realization dawned on Brooke. Even though she wasn’t a Phoeran elementalist, or a royal silverblood, she was still of Phoeran descent. Syn still swam through her blood. Syn that Illiana controlled.

  They were all Phoeran.

  Except Kira.

  Brooke breathed through the pain and rolled onto her side to catch a glimpse of the Malo girl who exuded more ferocity than her small body should be able to hold. Illiana must not know that Kira had been the one to end Zamara.

  Kira fired her arrow. Illiana’s mist became a shield again in the next instant, and Kira’s arrow clattered across the marble floor.

  Illiana bore a demon’s grin. Her shield dissipated and formed hundreds of silver spikes. With a wave of her hand, they shot like knives at every human in the room.

  Brooke squeezed her eyes shut and braced for the pain. But it never came.

  She dared to open her eyes and saw a misshapen blade hovering a hand’s length from her face. It shuddered, then exploded into silver dust.

  Brooke held her breath as she looked at Felix’s still form. The giant ember hawk had one eye open. Each spike the green eye focused on fell into a pile of silver dust like sand from an hourglass.

  “Bleed you,” Illiana swore as she turned on Felix. The pool of silver blood that poured from his wound flowed into Illiana’s hand and absorbed into her skin.

  Brooke reached out for her aether. It resonated from her spirit, quiet and timid, yet strong. She gathered her energy and hurled her presence into Illiana’s mind.

  Inside was a typhoon of incomplete thoughts. Insecurity. Defiance. Rage. It was so dizzying that Brooke nearly lost her own identity. Never before had she felt a mind so . . . wild. Detached from reality. Self-absorbed.

  Get out of my head, witch.

  I am no witch, Brooke replied as she gathered herself. My abilities come from the creator. He offers forgiveness. Abandon your syn before it ends you.

  I am the only god I need!

  Hatred swirled around Brooke’s presence like the cutting winds of a desert storm. But this desert had a black sun and a blood-red sky.

  Brooke concentrated and created a visage of Zamara from memory. A tall, beautiful stature. Ruby lips and judging eyes.

  Stop this madness, Brooke made the image say. Reach out for peace.

  You only say that because you’re losing, Illiana thought. That’s not my mother.

  Illiana’s memories of Zamara emerged through the haze of stinging sand. The voice of the dead elemental spoke all at once from a dozen images in a cacophony.

  Never compromise. Never surrender. If you even consider it, I’ll kill you myself before you can disgrace me any further.

  My last half-blood daughter in the Kioan desert wasn’t half as weak as you.

  If she is truly your friend, then kill her as a sacrifice to me.

  You cannot be my heir until you show true strength by spilling the blood of family. You will kill your uncle, the traitor, and if you fail, you will take your own life instead.

  You’re only a half-blood
. You will never truly gain the adoration of our people until you transform into an ember hawk and fly from this palace balcony.

  Brooke reeled from the onslaught of horrifying scenes. How had this creature ever called itself a mother?

  Illiana focused on the last memory. Repeated it. Again and again.

  Your mother was evil! Brooke called through the haze. Reject her and let us help you!

  Felix cried out like a dying eagle as Illiana ripped more syn from him. “I am a godkiller,” she yelled, “and the power of a god is mine!”

  Illiana ran and leaped from the balcony. She spread her arms and disappeared below the edge.

  Brooke rushed to the edge and looked down.

  Illiana hadn’t flown. She hadn’t transformed into anything except a broken body on the marketplace pavement far below. Screams echoed as a pool of silver blood grew around the queen’s burned dress.

  Brooke looked at Lysander, who remained frozen with a terrified expression. She’d have to console him later.

  She rushed to Felix. His massive chest of blazing yellow feathers still rose and fell with breath.

  “She’s gone,” Brooke said as she leaned close. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” Felix said with effort. “I can’t survive this.”

  Brooke’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m dying.” Felix closed his giant emerald eye. “But not yet, apparently. I think she nicked my core. I’m bleeding out.”

  “What can I do?” Brooke placed her hands over the wound, but it was too large to hold closed. “Illiana . . . doesn’t need her syn any more. Would that help?”

  “It might keep me alive a little longer. But I can’t slip out of this one.” Felix’s beak twitched as others approached and Ryon tried to help Brooke stop the bleeding.

  Felix’s form slowly shrank, the fiery feathers slimming and tightening into fur until he became a fox once again. Brooke cradled him in her lap and gently turned him to examine his chest. A puncture wound still oozed silver blood.

  “When I die, keep my stone,” Felix said with effort. “You can resurrect me in seven years with aether and a willing vessel. When I wake up, the world had better not be overrun with evil. Understand?”