by Casey Odell
She nodded quietly.
Lianna took the heart in both hands and lowered it into the orange flames. The fire leaped, blazing higher.
Claire jumped back in surprise. She watched as Lianna poured the contents of the vials in. It looked like spices, dark sand, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. It made the fire snap and crackle.
“Your hand.” Lianna reached over the fire with her own and picked up the dagger with the other.
Without protest, Claire gave her hand. She winced as the blade pierced her thumb. Lianna squeezed the drops of blood out and they fell into the fire. A blue puff of smoke rose from the brass bowl. She released her hand and Claire clutched it close.
The other woman then held the goblet out to her. “Drink,” she said simply.
Claire took it, tipping the cup to inspect the contents. Her stomach lurched.
“I have to drink its blood!” Her voice was shrill.
“In order to bind it to you, yes.”
She gave Lianna a doubtful look. “Is… is this how you did it before? With Farron?”
Lianna chuckled. “I told him it was wine. Needless to say, he never trusted my drinks ever again.”
That made her smile at least. She would have liked to have seen Farron’s face back then. She lifted the cup up to her nose and sniffed. It smelled foul. But, if it must be done…
Quickly, she tipped back the goblet and drank, trying her best to pretend it was just some sour ale. It was the worst thing she’d ever tasted, like spoiled meat with a metallic edge— at least nothing Farron had ever given her felt like it was going to kill her. When she was done, she wiped her mouth with the long sleeve of the robe and clamped a hand on her lips to keep it from coming back up. It burned down her throat slowly, like molasses. After a few moments, a light blue glow started around her mark, followed by an itch, then searing pain. Claire gasped, dropping the cup as she doubled over.
Lianna said a few words in a different language. The flames seemed to grow brighter, the smoke thicker, darker. She lifted both hands to the sky and a bolt of lightning descended from the clouds with a piercing crack and struck the bowl. The flames extinguished suddenly.
And so did her pain. Slowly, Claire straightened again, her body sore, and peered into the basin. A deep blue gem lay in the bottom.
“Go ahead, it should be cool to the touch,” Lianna told her.
Claire reached in, hesitating for a second before touching the stone. It was cool. She picked it up. It was smooth and rounded, an oval-like shape. She held it up to the remaining light of the day. The center was a deeper blue, lightening at the edges.
“All of that, for such a little thing,” Claire said softly.
“An important thing.”
She looked at Lianna. “How do I know if it works?”
Lianna gave her a smile, but it was sad around the edges. “We can only wait and see.” She held her hand out. “Now give it here. I suppose you will be wanting a necklace out of this. Or would you prefer something else?”
Claire handed the gem to her. “A necklace will be fine.”
“Then a magnificent necklace it shall be.”
She hoped she was joking. Simple and wearable was what she needed.
“In the meantime, you should rest up, mien anaire. Soon, we will have a ball to attend.”
Yes, and what a wonderful time it would be. At least there would be no beasts to fight. Or blood to drink. And for that she was thankful.
Claire stood in front of the tall mirror set up in her room before the ball. A gift from Lianna to admire the fine craftsmanship of Monnesito. At least, that’s what she’d told her. She stared into the reflection, trying to recognize the girl she saw in it. Surely it wasn’t her. But, no matter how long she stared, it was. The king’s voice sounded in her head. Spellbinding. Although normally she didn’t believe that, tonight she most certainly felt it.
The dress had come out beautifully, fitting her as perfectly as it was meant to. Black lace overlaid the softest black silk, cascading down in tiers to make up the full skirt. The bodice was form fitting and sleeveless, laced tight in the back like a corset, but still leaving enough room to breathe. That she made sure of. Black gloves covered most of her arms, effectively and elegantly hiding the mark. The whole ensemble would have looked somber if it wasn’t for the most striking feature. A bright red sash covered her waist, tied in the back with a great big bow, the ends left to trail down to the floor.
Thankfully the many small bumps and bruises from the other day had faded. Marla had spent most of the early evening doing her hair and makeup. Her neck already felt stiff, but the results were worth every second of it. Soft curls fell across her left shoulder. The rest of her hair was styled in an elaborate up-do. Her eyes were painted dark, with a hint of red stain on her lips. She was beginning to look— and feel— like Lianna.
The sun was just setting outside her terrace. Hooves on stone echoed incessantly from the courtyard as the carriages arrived. The guests of honor— that’s what Lianna had called them. Important people, bringing important treaties.
She took a deep breath and ran her hands down her dress. She could do this. She had done it before. But back then it had felt like a fairy tale. Now she knew that fairy tales weren’t always what they seemed.
She wondered how many of the men from the Council would be there. If she would even be able to spot them. Would they try to bribe her? Question her? Surely their patience was wearing thin. She just hoped they weren’t all as cunning as the old Lord Ryell. If they were, by the end of the night, she could be agreeing to something without even being aware of it.
There was a soft knock at the door. Marla opened it and Lianna came sweeping in.
She looked wondrous and exotic. Purple silk swished around her as she walked. Her black sleeveless bodice sparkled under a long swath of sheer purple cloth that draped over one shoulder to her waist, giving only a slight glimpse of cleavage. Something that will surely drive the men at the ball mad by the end of the night. Soft golden curls were pulled back into a loose up-do. A delicate band of gold decorated her forehead with a dark jewel in the middle; it was hard to tell in the fading light exactly what color it was.
“Mien anaire!” she exclaimed. “You look marvelous.”
“Thank you.” And she felt like it. It was one of the few times she didn’t feel embarrassed next to the other woman. “So do you.”
“Here,” Lianna turned her back toward the mirror. From behind, she draped a golden chain around her neck and clasped it. “I think it suits you.”
Cut and polished, the stone glimmered, almost glowed, wrapped in gold at the top. Immediately, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her. Like a hot bath, the anxiety melted away, leaving her feeling more relaxed than she’d felt in weeks.
“I have already infused some of my magic into it,” Lianna told her. “Let us just hope that it works.”
Claire looked at Lianna’s reflection in the mirror. “Thank you for helping me.” She meant it from the bottom of her heart. Lianna didn’t have to help her. But she had, and for that, she would always be grateful.
Claire glanced down at Lianna’s bare arms. “You’re not going to cover it, your mark, I mean?”
“Everyone who matters already knows what I am, my dear. Those who do not will think it just an exotic custom of mine.”
That made Claire chuckle. “I did the same thing once, back in Lendon. And it got me into a heap-load of trouble, too.” Now she gladly hid her mark. It was the important people she wanted to hide it from the most.
Lianna smiled at her in the mirror. “In that case, I could use a bit of excitement in my life.”
Yikes! Claire remembered the look Lianna had worn when she had fought the Maelin. Her idea of fun truly was terrifying.
The throne room had been transformed into a sort of receiving area. Chandeliers and candelabra had been lit, flowers brought in, tapestries hung to make the space more intimate and inviting. The
doors on the left of the room were propped open to lead further into the palace depths.
Lianna led Claire, arm in arm, through the gathering crowd. Men and women dressed in their finest filled the room, with more streaming in. Colorful and exotic dresses, similar to Lianna’s, decorated many of the women, along with more traditional garb on others. Lianna smiled and greeted a few of the guests, but soon pulled her on their way again down the dark hall, led by lines of lanterns.
This area of the palace had somehow escaped Claire’s many explorations.
“There will be many important people here tonight,” Lianna told her in a low voice.
Which meant that she better be on her best behavior. Claire just nodded.
The ballroom was different from the one in Lendon, smaller and much more dimly lit. The walls seemed to be carved from rock, much like the secret room underneath the palace with the huge map. Marble floors shone like glass with dark veins of black and blue. The crowded room would have felt stifling if it weren’t for a great open arch that led out to an enormous terrace. Lights from the city below sparkled under a starry sky. A small ensemble of musicians wove together an upbeat tune.
A few more guests stopped Lianna before they finally made it to the king. He looked splendid as usual, relaxed yet regal at the same time. An indigo-hued jacket swept to his knees, the edges decorated with a swirling gold design. A simple white shirt hung half open underneath. His silver hair tumbled around his shoulders in loose waves.
Claire curtsied in greeting, a flush creeping up to her cheeks. It was hard to look him in the eyes, especially after their last encounter. Would he be questioning her as well tonight? At least the king was more direct, not to mention easier to spot, than the Councilmen.
Surprisingly, Lianna curtsied as well instead of a more intimate greeting. Perhaps they wanted to keep their arrangement a secret. But surely everyone knew by now, or if not, they’d have suspected who Lianna was. Would they think the same of Claire by the end of the night? A shiver ran through her. She hoped not.
No other woman was present at the king’s side, meaning his other paramour either did not want to attend or was even on her way back home by now, safe in the north.
Claire looked out at the sea of people while Lianna talked to the king in a hushed voice. She looked for old men, spotting several in groups along the walls, a few on the small dance area in the middle of the room, some out on the terrace. Most of them were accompanied by younger women. She rolled her eyes. Figures. The men were clearly from influence, but it was impossible to tell if they were on the Council just by looking at them. They had to be there, though. Watching the king and Lianna. Watching her.
It wasn’t long before the king and Lianna were busy greeting guests. Claire stood awkwardly to the side, watching the dancers enviably. She’d much rather be out there than by the king. When they weren’t looking, she took the opportunity to sneak away. They wouldn’t miss her anyway.
A long table was set up along one of the walls, covered with flowers and drinks and finger foods. She grabbed a silver chalice of dark wine and sipped at it. It would help calm her nerves.
Not seeing a single familiar face, she silently wished for Aeron. He may have been a fool, but he knew how to have fun, knew how to make her smile. Something she had desperately needed the past few weeks. Would he be back in the forest by now? Her stomach sunk when she realized she may never see him again. Not if she stayed here. Not if she didn’t want to become his prisoner again. Or his enemy.
She took a lingering sip of the drink, sweet and tart at the same time. After trying a few of the different kinds of foods, she picked up a small pastry with a pink glaze and stepped out onto the terrace.
Cool air greeted her. The half-moon shone dim, low on the horizon. The music faded into the background. Couples mingled all around her as she made her way to the railing, but not too close. She tried her best to ignore them as she took in the view and nibbled on the pastry and sipped at the wine.
Somewhere past the sprawling city, rolling hills, and immense mountains, he was out there. Alive hopefully. But she would be fooling herself to think that no harm would come to him. It was the whole reason the Council sent him out there, after all. To get rid of him. They didn’t want him to come back, but she did. Now more than ever, even though she knew she couldn’t have him anymore. Just knowing he was safe would be enough, though. That he wouldn’t get hurt because of her any longer.
The same for her mother. A pang hit her stomach and her appetite was lost. It probably would be for the best not to think of her mother now. The man in the dungeon, he knew where she was. Gave her a clue even. But that was all. A clue was useless if no one was able to decipher it. When she’d tried to go back to the dark cells underneath the palace to ask the man, the guard just turned her away. No one in the palace seemed to know about the blue gill fish either.
Claire refused to believe he was lying. He had to be telling the truth. Her gut told her so.
She tossed the rest of the pastry over the side of the balcony, hoping some bird or other wild animal may enjoy it more than she would at the moment.
After a few more drinks, she was spinning on the dance floor, first with a kindly older man, not a Council member hopefully, and then a younger fellow in a long jacket of red silk from Zaqar. Her troubles seemed to ease away as the night went on, falling to the back of her mind, hidden, but not forgotten. But that seemed to be the best she could hope for and was all she wanted from the night, full of dancing and drinks and sweets. For the first time in weeks, she had fun.
The music sped up then, and so did the dance. Claire tried her best to keep up. It was an upbeat number that had couples spinning wildly together, laughing and smiling, until it was time to switch, cued by a slight shift in the music. One never knew who they were going to get, but that was part of the fun of it. Back and forth, back and forth, her partners seemed to come and go in a blur. Soon Claire was breathless and giggling. Lightheaded. Not a care in the world.
“My, my, Miss Claire, what a surprise,” said her new partner.
Instantly, she froze, her body growing cold, all the blood draining from her face as she recognized the voice. No, it couldn’t be. Not here. She swallowed and looked up at her partner, her eyes drifting up his crimson jacket to rest on his glorious smile. No, not glorious. Not anymore. Now she knew better.
Her stomach dropped to the floor. They stood unmoving while the other couples swirled around them, laughing, having a good time. He couldn’t be real, couldn’t be here. It must be a dream, one of the nightmares she’d grown so used to by now; any moment she would wake up.
But it wasn’t. And he was as real as could be, in front of her as fresh and bright as ever.
“Miss Claire, you look wonderful tonight,” Bren said.
She tried to jerk away, but his grip tightened on her hand and waist, pulling her closer instead.
“Eh, eh,” he warned, his voice low and sharp. “We have an audience.”
With a quick glance, she knew that much was true. The king eyed her intently, Lianna still at his side. Here and there people cast glances their way, looking away when spotted, but she knew she was the object of their attention.
It took her a moment to find her voice. “Why are you here?”
“Miss Claire, I did not lie when I told you I had an important treaty to sign.”
But he had lied about everything else. How gentlemanly of him. “You are the emissary?”
“One of many, I suppose, yes,” he said. The music had wound down and started up on a slower note. The General pulled her along into another dance. “Now it would be my turn to ask what you are doing here. However, I think I already know the answer to that. It seems our silver-haired friend has… connections in high places.”
Claire struggled to keep up with the slow dance. Her knees felt like jelly. And he was the last person she wanted to cling to.
“And where, if I may be so bold, is our little friend?” He looked
around the room, but he already knew he wasn’t there. Farron had wanted to stab the man since the day he met him.
Now she wished he had. “He is elsewhere at the moment.”
“That is a shame. Ever since I have crossed into Derenan, I have been hearing strange rumors that the Silver Dog is back. It would have been nice to look upon the legend himself once more. All this time, who knew?” He looked down at her. “I would also like to thank him for saving you, and for stealing you away from me.”
Her fear started to subside then. “I was never yours!”
A few couples looked their way. Bren flashed them one of his smiles and they turned away again.
“I have to say, Miss Claire, Lord Byron and I were quite impressed by your little display of… power,” he said. “If I would have known that that was what you were, I would have brought you to my king instead. Needless to say, His Highness was quite upset when I told him what you were and how you managed to slip through my fingers.”
“And what makes you think I would even consider working for you or your king?”
“Because I have what you yearn for the most, Miss Claire.”
She doubted it, but she asked anyway. “What?”
“Your home.”
Her heart jumped just at the mention of it. Her old life— could she really go back to it? Of course not. But that hadn’t stopped her from dreaming of it. “What do you mean? Stockton was destroyed.”
“It will be rebuilt. The centaurs have moved on. It seems they have not found what they are looking for.”
“How do you know this?” Her voice was breathy.
“Stockton is now under Lendonian rule. Did you not hear?”
She stumbled a bit but quickly regained her footing before he could help her. No, she hadn’t heard the news. A momentary feeling of relief filled her, joy even, that Stockton, her home, was still there. Would live again. But it was soon followed by dread. Because now it belonged to Lendon. When it was in its weakest state, Lendon came in and scooped it up to claim it for its own.
That was when the thought hit her, so hard it took her breath away for a second. “The army…” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked back up at the General, her eyes wide, fingers digging into his hand. “That was you.”