Change of Darkness

by Jacinta Jade

  The broken one’s head tilted once more, and Siraay could see her processing what she had just seen as the memory continued to play out around her.

  Loce, Atalia, Renhed, Pyron, and Trelar were staring at each other when the broken one held up her hand.

  ‘Stop.’

  And the memory paused.

  Siraay’s eyes widened in amazement, her other self’s hand dropping from her shoulder in stunned silence.

  Broken Siray stalked through the frozen memory, looking keenly into the faces of each of the people remaining in the room, her head swaying back and forth.

  When the Lost One stood before Atalia and Renhed, she paused a bit longer before swivelling away. ‘Watch out for that one,’ she sang, moving across the space. She was about to pass by Pyron’s form when her steps slowed, then stopped.

  Siraay saw the broken one’s body tense.

  ‘This one … is interesting,’ remarked the unkempt female, her eyes squinting hard at something only she could see in Pyron’s face.

  Siraay exchanged a look with her other self.

  ‘What’s going on?’ the old Siray asked in a low voice, barely moving her lips.

  Siraay didn’t answer but continued studying the movements of the broken one who looked just like her. ‘You understand, don’t you?’ she asked the unkept female. ‘What this means?’ She indicated with a wave of one hand the memory that was still frozen all around them.

  The Lost One tilted her head as she continued to gaze at Pyron, but her eyes shifted a moment later to Siraay, wild emotion flashing through them. ‘Yes …’ the other hissed, resuming her inspection of Pyron’s mask.

  Siraay pressed on. ‘And you’ll agree to let me take control?’

  ‘What?’ The former Siray gasped out the word, but Siraay ignored her. She was going to win.

  The broken one paused for a long time, her body tensing and untensing as her instincts warred within her. Then, finally, the female relaxed and turned completely towards Siraay. ‘Yessss,’ she hissed. ‘But you must let us have some control … for a moment.’

  Siraay hesitated. ‘What do you mean?’

  Broken Siray didn’t answer but instead pivoted and began walking purposely towards old Siray, who stiffened at the wild female’s approach.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Siraay asked again, raising her voice.

  But the Lost One ignored her totally as she stopped close to the old Siray and leaned forwards to whisper in the Resistance female’s ear.

  Siraay began to pace a little, well aware that the pair was conversing about something they didn’t want her to know about.

  The old Siray remained tense, her hands halfway up her sides in a reflex position in case she needed to defend herself while the broken version of them was close. She only relaxed once the Lost One had wheeled around again and walked away once more.

  Siraay paused in her pacing.

  Each one of them—the Lady of Xarcon, the Resistance member, and the Lost One—now stood an equal distance from the others, all of them a separate part of the same person.

  Old Siray pivoted to look at Siraay. ‘It’s okay—she just wants control for a moment first. Wants to see something. Then she promises to relinquish control to you.’

  Siraay eyed the broken version of herself, who gave her a not-quite-right smile.

  Siraay angled her eyes back to her former self. ‘And you?’

  Old Siray shrugged, part resigned, and part … something else. ‘Even if I fight you for control and win, as soon as I woke, you would regain control anyway. At least while we wear that necklace.’ She shrugged again. ‘And if I support her,’ she said, nodding at the broken one, whose head titled in response, ‘and she wins control, then the guards you showed us will kill us. And I still lose. We all would lose.’ Old Siray raised her chin as she looked at both of her counterparts. ‘I will win another way, on another day.’

  Siraay merely snorted in response, but she did not want to break the accord they had all reached. Not that the others had much choice, really.

  She turned to look at the broken version of herself. Breathed in, held it, then released it in a slow breath before speaking rapidly to the barefoot female. ‘Control is yours,’ she acceded. ‘I’ll give you until the count of one hundred. Then you must relinquish control to me.’

  Siraay held the Lost One’s eyes, meaning to convey her authority, but the other merely grinned more widely at her, her own stare unblinking.

  So Siraay relaxed her own mental hold and began counting—through gritted teeth. ‘One, two, three …’

  Broken Siray grinned again and promptly sat down on the floor and closed her eyes.

  ***

  The Lost One was up on her feet again before Siraay had reached the count of eighty.

  ‘It is done,’ the female announced.

  Siraay stopped her count and frowned. ‘What is done?’

  Broken Siray just grinned. ‘The world watches. And waits. And when the moment is at hand, it will act.’

  Siraay’s eyebrows furrowed further, but the Lost One’s grin only increased in width with delight at Siraay’s consternation.

  Siraay shook her head. ‘By the Mother, I’ll be glad when you’re gone.’ She stepped forwards, addressing both of her other selves. ‘This ends now. Relinquish control to me.’

  The Lost One simply shrugged and sang out, ‘Already have. Bye-bye to me.’

  Siraay looked to her former self, who returned her gaze with a cold glare. ‘Done.’

  Siraay focused … and felt the tendril of power floating there in the dark, waiting for her to grab it.

  The smile that now came to her lips was both cruel and victorious as she glanced one last time, triumphant, at the others. Then she closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  SIRAAY’S EYES OPENED. And she let out a little gasp as all she could see was darkness.

  Her heart began to beat wildly. Had something gone wrong? Had the other two sabotaged her somehow?

  Then a small light flared off to her right, and she twisted away from the painful brightness.

  ‘My lady is awake!’ Someone with light steps ran to the bed and squatted down before her, grabbing hold of Siraay’s hand.

  Trelar.

  Then she could hear the sound of two pairs of booted feet striding in quickly for her location.

  ‘Hold!’

  Even brighter light flared from the chandelier above, making Siraay shrink and squint reflexively, and then someone else was by her bed, leaning over her, his face rotated away towards the two female guards who were halfway across the room.

  One of them had drawn a knife.

  Although her head felt thick and fuzzy, Siraay heard Pyron snap at Trelar, ‘Watch them.’ Then he turned to her.

  As his ice-blue eyes met hers, Siraay felt the usual contempt she held for him rising to the surface, and she tried to throw an insult his way about how he’d let get himself captured by Resistance soldiers.

  But all that came out was a dry, unintelligible, garble.

  Two pairs of boots began moving again, and Trelar gasped out a warning to Pyron, who spun.

  ‘I said hold!’ He growled out the last word, and a deeper sound came rumbling up his throat to back the implied threat.

  The guards froze, the faces of both females now showing flickers of fear.

  ‘Get her some water,’ Pyron commanded Trelar, his eyes not leaving the guards.

  Trelar hurried out of Siraay’s sight, her footsteps fading away for a moment, then returning. Resuming her place at Siraay’s bedside, the servant offered the water, holding and tilting it just enough so Siraay could take a sip.

  All the while, Pyron watched the guards, the promise of death on his face if they so much as twitched.

  As the water trickled down Siraay’s throat, it caused her to cough, and she sat up a little, clearing her throat.

  ‘My lady?’ Trelar’s voice was soft and full of hope.

  ‘D-Don’t hov
er over me so—this entire room, and you crowd me.’ Although she began speaking hoarsely, by the time she’d finished the sentence, her voice had a nice snap to it. Enough that she could watch in satisfaction as Trelar shrank back, the verbal slap bruising the hope that had begun to rise in the female once more.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ the servant murmured, withdrawing from the bed.

  As Trelar moved away, Pyron spoke to the guards. ‘That should be enough evidence for you. Go tell Lord Chezran the news.’

  The guards whirled about and almost fled for the door.

  Knowing that Chezran would soon be there, Siraay tried to sit up properly, but instead she crumpled back against the bed as fire rippled through her muscles.

  And that wasn’t all.

  Her face and neck were agony, pain shooting all across the right cheek, and her lip was so swollen it felt like it was standing out as far as her nose.

  A warm hand gripped Siraay’s wrist. ‘You’ll be fine—your muscles should recover quickly. Drink more water,’ ordered the chief archon.

  ‘I don’t need you hovering over me either,’ Siraay snapped at him, but she did drink more water.

  Surprisingly, Pyron was right. The pain that had flared up already seemed to be fading away.

  Siraay took another gulp of water, then held out the empty glass for Pyron to take from her.

  After a pause, in which he snorted, the chief archon did so, releasing her wrist.

  Siraay pushed herself up into a sitting position and brushed hair out of her eyes.

  Then her eyes widened in horror. Oh, Mother—what she must look like! She immediately ran her hands through her mussed hair, finger combing it in an attempt to calm the frenzied mass and get it to sit flat against her back.

  Pyron snorted again, but Siraay ignored him as she pushed herself off the bed and got to her feet.

  Trelar gasped from where she stood near the hidden closet. ‘My lady, please …’ But she trailed off as she realised the same thing Siraay had.

  She was okay. Her face hurt still, oh, by the Mother, it did, but the rest of her felt surprisingly strong, if a little in need of a bath after spending who knew how long in that bed.

  At that moment, the doors to Siraay’s room burst open and the Lord of Xarcon entered.

  And halted, his eyes widening as he beheld Siraay standing.

  Siraay raised her chin and curled one side of her mouth into a sultry smile. ‘It seems I’ve missed a few things.’

  Chezran smiled in a satisfied way and crossed the room to her, climbing the small set of steps as he extended a hand. ‘Allow me to fill you in …’

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  ALTHOUGH SIRAAY FELT mostly fine, after Chezran had caught her up on what had transpired since he’d met her in the dark on the streets outside of the palace two nights ago, the lord insisted that she return to bed to rest until the morning.

  Siraay swallowed her protests and simply nodded—after all, morning was just spans away. And it gave her time to digest everything Chezran had told her, including how happy the spymaster had been to have a new Resistance member to interrogate, and how they had found the dead body of the other member of Pyron’s patrol unit—the male who had warned Siraay and Drosni about the Resistance squad had indeed bled out.

  So after bathing, eating a much-needed meal, and sending Trelar away after the servant risked her wrath by fussing over her one last time, Siraay lay in bed once more, looking up into the darkness to where she knew the ceiling must be.

  Yet a moment later, she was swinging her legs from the bed and striding for the doors that led to her balcony, the darkness in her room feeling too much like the place she had only just managed to escape from. She needed to see the night sky.

  Pushing open one set of doors, Siraay stepped out onto the cool stone of the balcony and took in a deep breath as a slight breeze brushed over her. She let out the breath in a grateful sigh and then walked over to the stone wall that lined the edge of her balcony, her bare feet making almost no noise.

  Closing her eyes, Siraay breathed in through her nose, savouring the smell of the sea that wrapped itself into the dewiness of the night. She opened her eyes again, raising her gaze to fix on the specks of light glimmering high above her in the sky.

  She felt tension drain from her shoulders as she settled her arms against the balcony wall. There had been no smells, no breezes, when she had been trapped with the other two. So she stood there, enjoying the feeling of the real world interacting with her senses, even the chill air that caused goose bumps to lift on her skin, until the sun rose.

  When she heard cautious boots sound on the stone floor of her room, Siraay guessed that Trelar had popped in earlier than usual to check on her. Sighing out loud at the impudence of the female servant, but still in a good mood, she called out lazily, ‘Out here.’

  As the footsteps drew nearer, however, Siraay noted that the impact of each step was heavier than the ones she normally would attribute to Trelar.

  She spun swiftly, her light top and pants rasping against the stone wall of the balcony.

  Archon Renhed stood there, leaning against one of the open balcony doors, grinning. ‘Back amongst us again, I see.’

  Siray smirked at Renhed. ‘I’m surprised it took you this long to find out I had survived.’

  Renhed raised an eyebrow. ‘Alive and cocky—a good sign.’ She straightened and moved out onto the balcony, and Siraay pivoted again to face the view as Renhed joined her at the edge.

  The rising sun was coating everything in an orange light that belied the freshness of the air, and the dark purple sky was rapidly shifting to a lighter colour.

  The spymaster silently took in the view with Siraay for a moment longer before shifting back around to face the bedroom.

  Most people would have assumed that the archon’s casual move was just so she could relax back against the short balcony wall, but Siraay knew better.

  The spymaster was checking that they were alone.

  ‘I gather something else was holding your attention during the dark spans?’ Siraay asked directly.

  Renhed nodded. ‘News spread quickly about your return to health—especially to Atalia.’

  Siraay raised her eyebrows but didn’t turn. Better that they looked like they were having a casual conversation, and positioned as they were, any watching eyes from either direction would only be able to read one of their faces. ‘I take it she’s extremely happy that I’m completely recovered?’ Siraay asked dryly.

  Renhed snorted. ‘Happy, no. Experiencing an extreme emotion … yes.’ The spymaster folded her arms. ‘I’ve been thinking that it might pay for you to go down and have a look at the newer soldiers. Inspect their training, identify the highly skilled amongst them. Maybe even choose a couple as your own personal guards.’

  The archon said the last bit lightly, but Siraay angled her chin slightly and found the spymaster’s eyes were staring intently into hers.

  A warning.

  Siraay brushed a lock of her loose hair back behind one ear and turned to look back out over the city. ‘That does sound like fun,’ she agreed easily. ‘I’ll go inspect them this morning after my training session.’

  Renhed nodded, although the surprise on the spymaster’s face told Siraay that the archon hadn’t expected her to feel up to training this morning.

  Siraay hid a smile. Interesting to note that she had just educated the spymaster on her own strength. Even if, this morning, it was a lie. She still felt weak, of course, after her ordeal, but weakness was not an option here.

  Sometime later, well after Renhed had departed, the rays of the rising sun were caressing her balcony when Siraay’s sevonix ears heard the quick intake of breath that told her that Trelar had arrived in her room—and was anxious.

  She Changed back into her normal form, feeling stronger already for the time spent healing in her animal body, but she didn’t move from her position on the balcony.

  And then came the sigh af
ter Trelar realised where her lady was.

  Siraay waited long enough to give Trelar time to creep to the balcony door before she said without turning around, ‘After training this morning, I will be going down to inspect the soldiers from the latest intake. I’m curious to see how their training has progressed.’

  ‘Yes, lady,’ came the soft reply.

  Eventually, Siraay spun away from the view of a glowing morning and stalked inside, not even looking at her servant. Time to get ready.

  ***

  As she faced Loce, her staff raised, Siraay asked, ‘I was really out for four days?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah. I overheard the healers talking—seems like yours is one of the longest cases they’ve ever experienced. But I still don’t quite understand what they were saying. They said you fought yourself?’

  He attacked, and Siraay whirled her staff to deflect his blows, then let fall a barrage of her own.

  She waited until they had broken apart for a moment before answering breathlessly.

  ‘Something like that.’ She really didn’t want to get into it. Wanted to forget it, actually. Never mind how the story of her battling for control against two versions of herself would sound to Chezran. Even to her, it sounded like she wasn’t in control. Weak. And weakness …

  ‘What are you doing after we finish up?’

  Siraay’s keen ear picked up a note of desire in Loce’s tone—a note that only females who had experienced the attention of numerous males could detect. She hid her satisfied smile by spinning around and flinging her legs up into the air, her scissor-jump kick forcing Loce backwards to maintain his defence.

  When she landed in a crouch, her left arm out for balance while her right still gripped the staff, Siraay said, ‘I’m going to go inspect the soldiers who were part of the group I came in with before I was awakened. I’m keen to see what the results are like after their training was intensified.’

  She stood and nodded at Loce, lowering her weapon. That would do for the morning. Sweat ran down Siraay’s back and brow, but her muscles had enjoyed the physical release after being abed for so long. Yet it wouldn’t do to overwork them either.