The Captive King_A Royal States Novel

by Susan Copperfield

  Dr. Olheimer would not be happy when a fistful of Nahuatl punched his beloved Mayan in the gut and sprinkled Ch’olti’ on top. “You’re sure?”

  “He still lives, and I expect he will have many regrets about this before he accepts the new truths he faces.”

  Not only would I have to send Dr. Olheimer a sympathy card, I’d invite him to Alaska to escape reality for a while. Alaska had to be an entirely different world in the winter.

  “And Landen? What about him?”

  Coszcatl threw her head back and howled her mirth. “He is flighty as a parrot startled from its tree, as dangerous as the anaconda hunting through the jungles for sleeping prey, and more aggressive than even the jumping viper, who would bite because it can. He hunts for you without knowing where to look, stirring the ire of the other tribe chiefs.”

  Poor Landen. I anticipated a diplomatic nightmare looming on the horizon, one created by his determination to defy reality and create a future with both of us in it.

  “I want to return to him.”

  “I know. You need to make the magic you’ve earned yours. It works without direction, and so it kills you. It is yours to control, if you take it in hand and make it obey your will. I hope your workings are more elegant than mine. My stone is the jade, and I created the symbols of our vow, although his gift with the arts crafted mine. He was blessed with another stone.”

  “Which stone?”

  “The stones of our city sang for him.”

  I wondered if the city in Virginia was their domain, too. “Limestone. Tenextli.”

  She smiled. “Your test was harsher than ours, for our elements are far kinder. Your gift is yours to do with as you please, but your hands would best wield a ritual blade, so that you might offer his blood to the gods he defies. You need not take his heart. It is not a prize for any god.”

  Coszcatl vanished and left me alone in the cold, snowy dark.

  Sebastian fell prey to habit, which would eventually give me the opportunity I needed to break free of him.

  Every night, four hours before dawn, the sedatives would wear off enough I could function. While I staggered around with the coherency of a drunk, I had the presence of mind to watch him watch me try to make sense of the photographed writings. Little made sense when my vision blurred and my hands refused to steady, but I maintained the ruse I pursued understanding of the ritual he performed using my blood.

  As Coszcatl had claimed, he couldn’t take what was mine. I’d lost track of the days, but I found the truth in a single photograph.

  The fifth challenge wasn’t a challenge at all. It was nothing more than a confirmation of what had already been learned, an acceptance of what had been gained, and my vow to Landen for our shared future. Had we been part of the tribe, had we done things as they had done them, it would’ve been a journey we’d taken together.

  Every dawn, Sebastian dragged me to the altar, where I dripped more of my blood onto the limestone, which resumed its gentle glow, shifting between jade, the vibrant red of cinnabar, and gold.

  After he bandaged my hand, which had more cuts than I liked to think about, he waited until I made him nervous enough to sedate me again.

  It was only when my left hand was too torn to be used for a sacrifice that he descended into the pit with me, holstering his pistol so I wouldn’t fall from the staircase into the liquid mercury waiting beneath a thin veneer of cinnabar, waiting to kill us both.

  No, to kill only him.

  I hadn’t used my talent since exposing the altar, but I could feel the cinnabar and mercury slithering through my veins, waiting for me to claim it, make it mine, and return it to the ground. I didn’t even know what the cuffs around my wrists would do to me, but I missed my talent, I missed touching the ground and shaping it to my will.

  I missed Landen.

  Sebastian held my right arm in a numbing grip, supporting most of my weight. The sedatives dulled me more than usual, and it occurred to me I’d been nothing more than a tired puppet in his hands, staggering where he led. Taking up the sacrificial blade, Sebastian sliced it over my wrist, cutting alongside the obsidian bracelet.

  When people spoke of slitting their wrists as a way to escape the pains of life, I’d never imagined it would hurt so much. The pain jolted me back to consciousness, and I yelped.

  He dug the blade in deeper and yanked it out.

  My blood splashed over the limestone, as brilliant as the cinnabar surrounding us.

  My fury spilled over just like my blood. My left hand throbbed, but I reached for his hand, which still clutched my arm. I dug my nails into the tender skin of his wrist, tearing into him. When he didn’t release me, I tightened my grip and reached for the nearest source of cinnabar.

  It flowed through my veins, and it sliced through the bandages covering my left hand, wrapping around my skin, flowing to my fingertips, and covering my nails before sharpening into tiny blades capable of digging as deep as his obsidian dagger.

  He screamed.

  I clenched my teeth and refused to make another sound. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. When my blood ran out of cinnabar without him releasing me, I reached for the mercury.

  It vaporized when it contacted the air, billowing in a lethal cloud of gas. It enveloped Sebastian’s head, poured into his nose and mouth, and disappeared. He screamed again, sounding more like a dying animal than a man, dropping my arm and jerking away from me.

  The cinnabar stairway crumbled beneath his feet, dumping him into the elemental mercury below. He plunged through the thin covering of cinnabar, and another toxic cloud spewed up. The silvery mist ascended, covered the altar, and froze in place, a ghost fog capable of killing any foolish enough to breathe it in.

  It avoided me.

  Sebastian splashed in the mercury below, but it defied his talent, a liquid he couldn’t touch. Tendrils of the silvery metal reached up, wrapped around him, and pulled him under.

  The mercury rippled and stilled, and as though satisfied with what it had witnessed, the mists receded, dropping into the pool before it, too, vanished.

  Shifting under my feet, the staircase reformed, widening and thickening. The mercury seeped into the ground until nothing but damp, steaming soil remained. Of Sebastian, I saw no sign. A better woman would’ve felt something for the man’s death. Once, he’d been a friend.

  I wondered if I’d grieve for him later. I thought about it, but couldn’t imagine myself grieving for someone who had killed others in his pursuit of madness.

  The obsidian bracelets circling my wrists dissolved into powder and vanished before it could touch the ground. The cuffs Sebastian had forced on me remained.

  I tested my talent to shift aside a pebble.

  A zap bit into my wrists, and I winced.

  I’d found proof the tribal magic was nothing like our own. If I couldn’t touch the ground I longed for, I could still manipulate the cinnabar that had come so close to killing me.

  A tendril of the red crystal rose from the ground and circled my bleeding wrist, sealing the deep wound. My arm throbbed to the beat of my heart, but I no longer bled.

  I’d lost too much blood, which stained the altar to an alarming degree. Had I let him, he would’ve killed me to become a god, the same as he had tried to kill those he had viewed a threat to his goals.

  No, I would not mourn for Dr. Sebastian Hoover. I turned and staggered up the cinnabar staircase, each step dissolving behind me. When I reached the top, the ground shuddered, opened up, and consumed the altar and the temple beneath it.

  I thought it for the best. Some things were better left undiscovered, a mystery unsolved until the end of time.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sebastian had run the RV out of gas, there wasn’t a scrap of food in the vehicle, and the kitchenette was filled with evidence we’d been there a long time. I slated his attempt to kill me as desperation.

  He’d never been good at surviving in the woods.

  I searched the RV for
anything of use and discovered the satellite phone in several pieces, likely a precaution to keep anyone from tracking it. I scowled that he’d been able to thwart my efforts. Without the phone emitting a signal, the best anyone in Montana could do was pinpoint, roughly, where I was.

  Pennsylvania was a large place, and few knew how to get to Scranton. It wasn’t on most maps. It hadn’t been on a map since the United States had been a country. It had been among the first to fall, and by the time the Royal States had officially formed, it had been erased from history.

  I didn’t enjoy the thought of walking for thirty miles to reach Tunkhannok, but I saw little choice. If I wanted to return to Landen, I needed to march along the highway New York maintained.

  By the time I arrived, sometime in two to three days, I’d be on my last legs. Not only would I be on my last legs, I’d be up a shit creek without a damned paddle again.

  I didn’t know Landen’s number, and I had no idea how to reach him without sounding like I was a lunatic.

  At least I wouldn’t have to make the hike in bad clothes. Sebastian had planned well, and I found a good, heavy coat perfect for a Pennsylvania winter, warm, comfortable boots I could make the hike in without tearing up my feet, and fleece-lined gloves. He’d even gotten me a scarf to keep my ears and nose from getting cold.

  How considerate of him.

  As an added bonus, I wouldn’t run out of water. Pennsylvania enjoyed its attempts to drown everyone as winter approached. I just needed to tilt my head back, open my mouth, and wait for a few minutes. I’d be a soaked, miserable mess by the time I made it to Tunkhannock, but it didn’t matter.

  Landen would be a phone call away, and I’d walk far more than thirty miles to reach him. I considered walking to Alaska, but I’d get lost, he’d worry more, and I’d flirt with even more disaster. I made a new rule for myself: no more disasters.

  My first goal would be to fortify myself in Landen’s—in our—bedroom and stay there until hell froze over. After being safely nestled in our warm bed, wrapped in our extra warm blanket, and stuffed with as much warm food as I could swallow, I’d recruit Laden to get the damned cuffs removed.

  Once the cuffs were gone, I’d trap Landen in our bedroom for at least a week before letting him out and evict anyone who dared to interrupt us unless they were bringing us a meal. I looked forward to it.

  Reality sucked, as after a few days of walking through the cold rain, I’d be making close friends with pneumonia. I might still end up in bed with Landen, assuming I wasn’t slated to spend the rest of my life as a research subject for surviving my misadventures through the Royal States.

  Since I was so close to Scranton, I’d make my first stop my weeping willow. I didn’t know when—if—I’d make it back to the tree again, and I wanted to say goodbye to my old friend.

  It was time for me to let go of it and move on.

  According to Sebastian’s map, my tree wasn’t far. I’d have to pass near it to reach the highway, so taking the detour wouldn’t cost me much time. Pleased, I packed a bag and hiked, making use of the compass I’d found in the glovebox and my memories to guide my way.

  I arrived at dusk to find a hole instead of my tree.

  A few of the nearby apple trees had suffered my weeping willow’s fate, and tears burned in my eyes. I peeked into the hole, expecting the rotting ruins of its roots.

  Only dirt remained.

  Someone had taken my tree.

  Who the hell uprooted a twenty-seven year old weeping willow tree and stole it? When I got my hands on them, I’d beat them within an inch of their life, and I’d keep doing it for at least twenty-seven years.

  The weeping willow was mine.

  The cuffs zapped me so hard I fell on my ass and yelped. The mud squished beneath me while the rain pounded on the top of my head.

  I pounded my fists in the mud. “Damn it!” I howled.

  Thunder rumbled overhead, drowning out my voice.

  I’d intended to spend the night cuddled up against the trunk, taking comfort in its presence. Too angry to even think of sleep, I got to my feet, stomped through the mud, kicked a few of the scattered rocks, and cried for my tree.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, but the loss of my tree reduced me to sobs I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried.

  Why would anyone take my tree?

  With no reason to stay, I headed for the highway so I could make the long walk to the place I’d once called home. Tire tracks led the way, and I snarled curses at the evidence someone had dared to take my tree.

  As expected, no one traveled the abandoned highway, although it made my walk easier. The rain fell, weighing me down and making the hike miserable. In two days, if my injured wrist and malnutrition didn’t slow me, I’d reach Tunkhannok.

  I had no need or reason to stop, which helped cut down on the travel time.

  Tunkhannok had started its life as a one-horse town in the bush, serving as a place for miners to live, but when the mines had petered out, the miners had moved on, and the now no-horse town had a few tenacious homeowners with nowhere to go hoping someone would find a new vein of useful stone or move them somewhere else.

  I had no idea why my parents had stayed, but when I’d gotten up and left for better waters, they’d been determined to stay. Dad’s old truck was still parked in his gravel driveway, although the last time I’d seen it, it had had all four of its tires. The four black SUVs were new, and I wondered who’d be visiting and why.

  Well, I could make a few guesses at the why: me.

  I wouldn’t complain if I didn’t have to make any phone calls, but I’d have a lot of explaining to do if someone whipped out a ‘Your Majesty’ in my general direction. I could handle explaining my royal problems to my parents on my terms, sometime after I peeled the cinnabar off my busted wrist and found out how much damage I’d done to myself.

  It was a toss of a coin if I’d bleed or discover a boatload of infection and misery.

  At least I didn’t have mercury poisoning, which brightened my mood enough I almost managed a smile while stomping down the driveway to knock on my parents’ door.

  Someone answered mid-knock, and I didn’t know the man in the suit, but he wasn’t my father. He stared at me with his jaw slack and his eyes wide. I blinked at him, hand held up to rap my knuckles on the metal storm door again.

  “Hi. I don’t suppose the Cassidys are in?” I croaked. Ew. I hadn’t noticed the theft of my voice. I sounded like death warmed over. “They’re not expecting me.”

  “No one was expecting you, Your Majesty.” He opened the door and held it for me. “His Majesty is in the kitchen.”

  “Hey, he even made it to the right kingdom. He gets a gold star for effort.”

  The man, probably some sort of bodyguard of some sort, humored me with a smile.

  As I had as a naughty little girl, I shed layers as I went, though I mitigated the damage by leaving my soaked extras in a straight line between the door and the kitchen. I’d even mop the tiles up after I got dried off. Even freed of the coat, the sweater, gloves, and scarf, I dripped everywhere, and I fought a giggle as I launched my muddy boots through the doorway leading into the kitchen. They splatted to the floor, oozing muck everywhere.

  My father grunted as he always did when I did something he didn’t like. “Summer Magnolia Cassidy, you’ll never be too old for me to go in there and tan your hide something fierce. What have I told you about tossin’ your boots off in the kitchen like a little heathen?”

  “Not to do it comes to mind,” I replied in my best, cheeriest croak. I opened my mouth to regale him with a tale of collecting dirt from all corners of the Royal States, got a mouthful of Landen’s shirt, and hit the floor a moment later.

  Somehow, he twisted while we fell, taking the brunt of the fall. He grunted, I sighed, but as he was warm and dry and I was wet and cold, I made the most of an embarrassing situation, grabbed his suit jacket, and held on tight.

 
Landen wrapped his arms around me and squeezed so hard I squeaked. “You’re all right?”

  “Ribs,” I gasped. “Need my ribs.”

  He eased his hold on me, lurching upright and pushing me away enough he could look me in the eyes.

  The voice-stealing cold chose that moment to strike, and I sneezed.

  Lifting his hand, he wiped his face. “Bless you.”

  I giggled. “Oops. Sorry. I see you met my parents.”

  “While I am very appreciative you got a message through to Montana, the satellite phone you used went offline shortly after you sent the message, so we couldn’t track it. This was the closest town, but as you can guess, we weren’t able to find you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Not caring I was likely a plague carrier out to get him sick, he buried his face against my shoulder and neck, breathing in deep. “All we could figure out was that one of your work colleagues owned the phone, but no one knew where he was or why, only that he’d disappeared from a dig site along with the entirety of his team.”

  “He tried to kill them with a sinkhole.”

  “The temple he was working on is gone. That’s all we know. A few other teams have gone missing since, too.”

  Uh oh. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but Coszcatl likely knew, and I doubted Sebastian had anything to do it. “Sebastian wanted to get Dr. Olheimer out of the way; Dr. Olheimer figured out what Sebastian was trying to do. If you find him, he’s not guilty of anything.”

  Landen shifted beneath me, pulled me onto his lap, and pinned me to him. “And what was Dr. Hoover trying to do?”

  “He was trying to become a god.”

  I loved the stunned silence. It gave me time to make myself comfortable and bask in Landen’s warmth.

  “He wanted to what?”

  “If I tell you, you’ll get upset, then I’ll get upset, and I’m too tired to get upset right now, Landen. The bastard cuffed me.”

  “Maximum security zappers. No big deal. We can have them removed in a few hours. As long as you don’t use your talent, you’ll be fine. We’d already figured out he had a pair, as he stole them from a prison. He also robbed an RV dealership.”