by Elly Blake
Not that one, it whispered, shaken. I felt its revulsion and pain. Shock rippled through me.
Marella’s eyes were narrowed to slits as she examined Arcus, who stood with his arm still raised as he watched the Minax return to her.
She shuddered as it disappeared into her fingers. “I guess I’ll have to let you stay for now. But I think I’ll close that opening, in case anyone else decides to join us.”
Her arm shot forward and frost surged out to strike the ceiling with the force of a battering ram. A deluge of rock shook the floor, clogging the opening. When the ground stopped trembling, she smiled, self-satisfied. “Didn’t think I could do that, did you? The Minax lends me power.”
Arcus and I shared a brief look. She truly was unstable. Weeks of possession by the Minax had tangled the threads of her mind.
“I’ve dreamed of this day for so long.” She smiled benignly. “To reunite them both. I can hardly believe I’ve done it.”
“Why would you want to?” I asked, wondering if her reasons would make any sense to me.
“The frost Minax and fire Minax are like twins. Not only did the frost Minax feel the constriction of its own bonds, it could feel the pain of its twin in the fire throne. The fire Minax was isolated here, kept from its true host, the queen. The best it could achieve was a partial bond, blocked by rock and castle stone. How do you think that felt, Ruby?”
The bond had been strong enough for the queen to execute any Frostbloods who didn’t agree to servitude. I couldn’t imagine what a full bond would look like.
Marella’s eyes were shrouded by shadows, but somehow they managed to glow with a restless fervor—nearly fanaticism—that terrified me almost more than the Minax.
“I could hear it,” she continued. “The Minax speaking to me from the frost throne. My mother’s family worshipped Eurus, the creator of the Minax, though I only found out after her death. My father wouldn’t let me speak to her when she took ill, probably because he knew she’d tell me secrets about the Minax before she died. But I’ll never know for sure, will I? Thanks to his small-minded fear of power.”
“Small-minded fear?” I breathed with disbelief. She spoke as if exposure to the Minax were no great risk.
“Don’t you want the power to control your own life, your own destiny? Having authority over others only makes that easier. I was groomed to marry a king. But when it became clear that would never happen, I was forced to come up with an alternate plan. I will rule. Just not at anyone’s side. I have a much more powerful ally than any king.”
“Who?” I asked.
“It’s time for you to find out. Come here, Ruby.”
“No,” I said. “I know how hard it is to resist the Minax, but don’t let it control you. Don’t let it win!”
“I’m the one who has won.” She opened her hand to show the black shard resting on her milk-white palm. It seemed to absorb the light, making everything around it dim and colorless. “Let me see how well you resist now, Ruby.”
“Give me the shard, Marella,” said Arcus in a low, persuasive voice. “Whatever you think—”
With decisive speed, she dashed the shard against the floor and crushed it under her heel.
The sharp crack was followed by wisps of obsidian mist rising from the shard’s remains. The tendrils coalesced into a roughly humanlike shape. Rising from its brow were several curved points that moved sinuously, like flames. A crown of fire. The fire Minax.
The inky creature gathered itself and twitched toward me.
Arcus moved to block its path. The creature changed direction and slipped around him and behind me, flowing into the nape of my neck like a splash of hot water. I clapped my palm over the vulnerable skin, but the Minax had already seeped in, taking hold, curving into the dark, hidden spaces of my mind and clinging like a bat to a cave’s ceiling.
We are one, the Minax said—or was it I who spoke? It didn’t matter. In seconds, I’d forgotten who I’d been and what I’d wanted. I was whole in a way I’d never been before. I experienced the relief of no longer fighting something inevitable. Fear left my body in an exhalation and loosening of limbs.
I met Marella’s eyes and she smiled. I felt peaceful suddenly. She and I were in tune with each other. Her plans were no longer a mystery to me. If I hadn’t been fighting so hard against my connection with the Minax, I would have known her intentions sooner. Now all that was left was a final joining, to touch my twin for the first time in a thousand years. It could have been a million. Or yesterday. When the separation was over, it would no longer matter.
I moved toward her, arm extended, hand seeking.
The Frost King—Arcus—caught me around the waist and I cried out, hating his very nature, his touch. His essence repelled me, made me writhe and want to leave the safe and perfect shell of the Fireblood girl Ruby—the Daughter of Darkness who had come to free me.
“Ruby!” he said sharply, and I pushed at him, lashed out with hands and feet, drew in breath to wield my fire. His arms tightened like cold steel bands pinning my arms to my sides. I focused on expelling him with a flash of heat over my skin. If I had to burn in order to escape him, I would.
But while he held me, she—Marella, host to my twin—came forward. Her hand sought and found mine. As our flesh touched, cold to warm, my twin and I reached our shadow fingers through our hosts’ skin and touched as well.
A wavelike pulse rippled out into the air, shuddering through the walls, drawing cracks on the stone floor, shearing through sections of the ceiling and pulling down rocks into shivering piles of rubble. The Frostblood was thrown off his feet.
From our linked hands came a bubble of light that swirled and grew larger until a lozenge of blinding white spun between us. All that was left was the recitation of words of power that would complete the ritual. We said them in unison, old words no longer remembered, an ancient tongue only spoken by gods. Saying the words was a joy because it meant we were no longer alone, we had found each other and would soon be reunited with our creator. We would never be alone again.
The Frostblood—Arcus—surged to his feet. A gash on his head leaked blue liquid, the lifeblood of his frail mortal body, and I noted that weakness in case I needed to attack.
“What is that?” he demanded, staring, the white of the portal reflected in his wide-open eyes.
We didn’t respond. We didn’t need to. We didn’t answer to him.
The portal steadied, its borders stabilizing. My twin and I stepped back, our arms falling to our sides.
Moments later, a figure strode through the shining portal, his skin too bright, glowing like moonlight and sunlight and crushed pearls, smelling of spring buds and the wind of eastern storms.
“Who brought me here?” The voice of the east wind was resonant, immense, and implacable.
“We did,” we said.
“And where is my vessel? The mortal body that will host my essence so that I might remain in this world?” he asked.
We lifted our arms to point at the Frostblood man.
“An imperfect vessel,” said our master. “He is bleeding.”
“There is a Fireblood prince in the tunnels,” I offered humbly, hoping that Prince Eiko was still there. I was shivering now in all my human limbs, and in my shadow self as well. To risk his displeasure was to risk great suffering. We had no power over him. We had learned that unmistakably when he put us in the thrones and we’d begged for freedom, for mercy, and found none.
The god of the east wind turned to the tunnels and a bolt of purple light shot from his hands, making us cower and cover our heads with our arms and whine in fear. His light scorched. To let it touch us would be anguish.
The rocks that blocked the tunnel entrance were blown into a cloud of choking dust. When the debris settled, not one, but two figures emerged, their mouths covered by their sleeves.
“Ruby?” one called. Kai. He had hair like a summer sunset. He came closer, waving at the dust that clouded his vision. He froze in
shock as he caught sight of Eurus, a being made of glowing light. “What—”
The other figure who followed was tall and dark, his eyes the green of wet leaves. Prince Eiko. He had brought the Fireblood and the Frostblood to destroy my throne.
“There are two of you,” our god Eurus said, his skin too bright to look at. “And I only need one. Who shall be my vessel?”
Neither spoke.
“You, then,” said Eurus, pointing at the bright-haired Fireblood prince—Kai—and I felt a strange bolt of something unpleasant. Some unwelcome human feeling. Fear for another’s safety. It was my host who made us feel this unpleasant thing. We didn’t want him to hurt Prince Kai with the hair of glowing coals and the eyes of golden brown.
Eurus moved toward the mortal.
“Wait!” The sound had come from my own mortal throat. The part of me that was still Ruby had surprised me, taking control. “Take the other one.” I spoke without wanting to, without thinking, and then trembled in fear of the god’s wrath.
But Eurus was merciful for once in an age, and he changed direction and slid into the other body, the tall man. Prince Eiko’s green eyes turned white for a moment as the light entered his thin body, then returned to normal.
Eurus-Eiko turned to the sunset-haired man. His expression spoke his intentions clearly. Our god had no use for Kai and so he would get rid of him.
We struggled with ourselves, the Daughter of Darkness trying to assert her consciousness.
“Kai!” Ruby’s will once again took control of our voice. “Go! Run!”
Kai shook his head, his gaze flinty as it latched on to Prince Eiko—Eurus. “You are no longer Prince Eiko. Are you?”
“Eiko is gone,” said Eurus.
“Then I don’t have to worry about hurting him,” said Kai. The bend of his knees, his wide-legged stance and posture all screamed his intention to fight.
“Kai, no!” I called out.
Fear had brought me partially back to myself, but the Minax struggled for dominance, bathing my mind in a cocktail of sweet numbness and a sense of futility. What does any of it matter? the thoughts said. Everything is fine.
I forced myself to focus on Kai and Arcus, on memories of my mother and grandmother, finding the parts of myself that feared and cared and hurt. I rejected the floating joy the Minax offered and grabbed at thoughts of affection, empathy—even grief. Every second was a power struggle between myself and the Minax. I phased in and out of awareness as a separate entity.
I was pulled from my self-absorption as fire flew from Eurus’s fists, or rather it was Prince Eiko’s fire coming from fists he no longer controlled. The attack caught Kai off guard, throwing him backward. He slid across the floor for several feet before coming to a stop. I took a step toward him, relieved when I saw his chest rise and fall.
“Leave him,” said Eurus. “He is of no consequence.”
I jerked to a halt. Arcus had moved beside me. Eurus’s gaze sharpened on him. If he meant to do to him what he’d done to Kai…
Fear broke through the remaining mist in my mind.
I’m Ruby, I thought, beating away the velvety layers of numbness wrapped around me, wresting my identity from the mind of the Minax. I’m in control.
I must have spoken aloud, because Eiko—Eurus—smiled condescendingly. “You are no longer merely a simple Fireblood girl. You are something more now. And though you will not live long enough to see the final triumph that comes from your sacrifice, your life will be given for a greater purpose. You will serve as host for the Minax as we travel to the Gate of Light. And when my Minax destroy the sentinels, I will break the bars that keep the Gate closed, so the rest of my living shadows will pour from where Cirrus trapped them in the Obscurum. So, you see? You’re not dying in vain. You’ll be remembered by the gods.”
“As the one who helped you unleash the Minax on the world?” I asked, more fully myself for the moment. “That’s not how I want to be remembered.”
His green eyes narrowed, but his smile widened. “Somehow you’ve retained more than a little of yourself, haven’t you? Remarkable. The Minax chose a strong host.”
The Minax inside me grew excited, murmuring something about a true vessel and Daughter of Darkness, and though I was careful not to form the words with my lips, I sensed that Eurus could hear its voice anyway.
He lifted a brow. “Are you certain, pet?”
The Minax eagerly answered yes, and then the heart-shaped scar near my left ear burned. I clapped my fingers over it, but Eurus stepped closer, grasped my wrist, and drew my hand firmly away. His eyes met mine, and even in the dim light, they looked brighter green than ever. “There is only one person on this earth my Minax would mark this way.” His eyes seemed to glow.
“You are my daughter.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
I HEARD ARCUS’S SHARP INHALATION. If it hadn’t been for the Minax half in control of my limbs, I’d have staggered. The moment was an echo of the queen’s revelation that I was her niece, but far less welcome. And my mind was still hazed with the Minax’s thoughts—chaotic and disordered, always striving to regain control. I wanted to refute Eurus’s claim, but I couldn’t even manage to open my mouth.
“Not truly my daughter.” Eurus’s satisfaction gleamed from Prince Eiko’s green eyes. “Not blood of my blood. My interfering mother, Neb, had long since forbade dalliances with fair mortals, I’m afraid. But your mother, the Sudesian princess, she was possessed by the Minax while you grew in her womb.”
“That’s a lie.” I’d meant to shout the denial, but the words emerged in a trembling whisper. I wanted to use my fire to attack him. I wanted to run. But my arms hung limp at my sides. It was as if I were made of stone and could only watch and listen, helpless to stop the words coming from his smiling mouth.
Eurus crossed his arms over his chest in a way that was eerily similar to what Eiko might have done. “Though I could not interfere with mortals, I have always had the ability to communicate with the two Minax I’d trapped in the frost and fire thrones. I decided on a small experiment: a mingling of the shadows with fire to create the first in a possible new race. A Child of Darkness.”
“No,” I whispered. My worst fear was coming true.
“I told the Minax to leave its host, the Fire King at that time, and inhabit his younger daughter, Princess Rota, who happened to be expecting a child.” He smirked at the memory. “An infant in a mother’s womb surrounded by the essence of the Minax, day in, day out. Things looked promising for a while after you came howling into the world. By the Minax’s account, you were a demonic little thing, with the characteristic quick temper of a Fireblood princess. But your mother didn’t seem to mind. She was tender and endlessly patient, barely showing signs that she’d been possessed for months. And when you were born, she shook off the Minax like a dog shaking off water.”
At the mention of my mother, a pang of grief pierced my heart, and then the power of the Minax eased the hurt back into numbness.
Eurus tilted his head to the side. “She was a problem. She kept soothing all your discontent into patience and your fury into love. Your darkness had no chance to grow. I decided to get rid of her, but before I could act, Rota took you away, somewhere far enough that the Minax could no longer sense her. I suspect Sage assisted her somehow. I have a few scores to settle with Cirrus’s favored mortal when I find her.”
I sensed the Minax rattling around in my mind, but it had grown almost placid, as if Eurus were telling it a bedtime story and it was soothed. I felt its leap of recognition when he mentioned my mother. Horror was laying siege to my body—thickening my throat, forcing beads of sweat to my forehead, twisting my stomach—but the Minax’s influence blocked the feelings from taking hold. I was trapped in a strange, echoing limbo between my own agonized reactions and the Minax’s numb indifference.
“But why did you want to create a Child of Darkness at all?” I asked hoarsely, half-lost in my inner battle.
“Why, the
Child of Darkness was to be the first one. The first of a new race of Nightbloods. I want to create my own people, people who are strong enough to host the Minax permanently, people who will do my bidding. My living nightmares will leave the Obscurum and possess mortals… and I’ll rule the shadows. After all, Sud created Firebloods, and Fors”—he gestured to Arcus, who emanated deadly cold on my left—“made his walking icicles. It was my turn. I set out to create humans filled with the very essence of darkness. Nightbloods.”
A wisp of fear penetrated my mental haze. My first night on the ship, I’d dreamed of a creature with shadow arms spreading wide, as if the night itself longed to embrace me. My nightmare was coming true.
Eurus’s eyes glittered, his pupils dilated wide—little windows into a pitiless, obsessive mind. “But instead of creating my own people, the Minax scampered from person to person, using them up like an otter with a pile of clamshells, cracking them open and sucking out the meat before discarding them.”
“You weren’t creating. You were destroying. Taking away identity and free will.”
“Bah! Mortals would do far better if they relinquished control. You make a hash of everything anyway. You warred with each other before Frostbloods and Firebloods were created. The gods have merely made the conflicts more entertaining.”
Arcus made an angry sound. I turned to him with a warning look.
“And now that I have you,” Eurus continued, “the first successful Nightblood, the very thing I’ve wanted to create for a millennium, I can make more of you. You have shown me that sending the Minax to possess an unborn child is the only way to create a vessel that can accommodate one indefinitely. I’ll form a people who will conquer both Frostbloods and Firebloods—or kill them all off, for all I care—and rule the mortal world.” Ice ran down my spine as he rubbed his hand over his chin and added thoughtfully, “I haven’t decided whether to let the rest of the mortals live. The ones without any powers are so dreary. But I suppose they’re useful in their own way. Serfs. Servants. Chattel. What have you.”