The Consort

by K. A. Linde

  And then she vanished.

  The bridge collapsed.

  Cyrene tumbled into the water to drown.

  Cyrene awoke with water filling her lungs, choking the life out of her. She coughed and coughed, spilling the water onto the floor and bed. Then, she lay back, panting. Her hand was on her heart, and she took another deep breath.

  She wasn’t dead.

  She hadn’t drowned.

  It was a dream.

  Just a dream.

  Except…if it had been a dream, where had the water come from?

  She glanced around the room and found Elea asleep in a chair next to her bed. She was the only one in the room. Cyrene breathed a sigh of relief. No one had paid witness to what had just happened.

  “Elea,” she said, then louder, “Elea!”

  Her sister started and then jumped up when she saw Cyrene was awake. “Cyrene! Oh my Creator! You’re okay!”

  “Yes. I’m…I’m okay.”

  Understatement of the century.

  She had just had an actual conversation with Serafina and almost drowned while in bed. Not to mention, that second voice. The one that Serafina said she dare not even speak her name. She shuddered, just remembering it.

  “You’re soaked!” Elea said. “You must have sweat through the sheets. Let me get you something else.”

  Elea dashed out of the room, and a servant came in and stripped the bed. Cyrene peeled off her soaked shift and changed into a clean one. But she was weak and could hardly stand. Yet, at the same time, she had never felt better. Magic still sang through her veins. She could have remade the world with all the power brimming in her.

  “How long was I out?”

  “All day. It’s nearly midnight.”

  “And…and Edric?”

  “He’s recovering. His wound…it, well, it didn’t look as bad as when I remember you opening his shirt. I think I was just too lost to the battle and the…the death,” she said again. Her eyes filled with tears, and she glanced away. “The healer says he’ll make a quick recovery.”

  “Mother and Father?”

  “Gone,” Elea spat out. “That assassin killed them in cold blood. Reeve is sending word to Aralyn for her to return, but I don’t think she’ll make it in time.”

  “And Reeve?”

  Elea shrugged. “He’s Reeve.”

  Cyrene nodded. Her brother was a fighter. He wouldn’t let anything stop him or slow him down. He would grieve in his own way, in his own time.

  “I’m more worried about Aubron.”

  “Aubron?” Cyrene asked in confusion.

  “The High Order who was with Reeve and me. The one you sent to fetch supplies. He’s only been here six months. He’s from really far in the north. Some small village. Fen, I think.”

  “He didn’t take well to the bloodshed?”

  Elea shot her an exasperated look. “None of us did, but he will have to deal with Reeve.”

  “Why?”

  “Cyrene, honestly, do you not pay attention?”

  Clearly not.

  “They’re together,” Elea told her. “Love at first sight.”

  “Oh!” Cyrene gasped.

  Her brother was in love! And she had missed it. So self-absorbed. Dealing with her own problems. Didn’t see anything at all.

  “Don’t be a prude.”

  Cyrene almost laughed, but she realized there was nothing funny about the situation. Nothing at all. Her mother and father were dead. She and her siblings were orphans. Edric had nearly died. And she…she had accepted blood magic.

  She needed to make a choice—stay or go.

  She couldn’t let her life guide her any longer. Look at how well that had gone for her. Her life had been thrown into shambles all because she stayed. There was no right answer. Only the answer that her gut told her was true.

  “And, now, they’re telling me that my Presenting has to be postponed.” Elea pouted.

  “Postponed?”

  “With all the bloodshed, they’re concerned about having another big ceremony so soon.”

  Cyrene frowned. “They can’t do that.”

  “Well, it seems that they can.”

  “Last I checked, I’m consort,” Cyrene told her. “And I say that they can’t.”

  Even though it was the last thing she wanted. Postponing Elea’s Presenting should have been welcome. But with everything else going on, she couldn’t leave Elea like this. Without their parents, what else did Elea have?

  “You think you’ll be able to convince the king otherwise?” Elea asked, hope returning to her voice.

  “I think I have some leverage.”

  Like saving his life.

  “Cyrene, please, please, please. I would be indebted to you forever. I have waited for this my entire life. I can’t have one more thing taken away.”

  She knew how that felt all too well.

  “I’ll work on it.” A plan was forming in her mind. Serafina’s words echoed through her head. She knew what she needed to do. “Elea, you said Aubron was from…Fen?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  If she needed to trust her friends, then she would trust her friends.

  “Can you bring him to me?”

  “We can’t just do nothing!” Ahlvie argued again. “I knew that something was going on with all those attacks in the country. I should have knocked Cyrene out and dragged her back with me.”

  Matilde and Vera pursed their lips in mirror images of each other.

  “From what you tell me, her magic has grown much more powerful than when we last worked with her. I think you stood no chance,” Matilde said.

  “Thanks for the confidence,” Ahlvie spat.

  “Ahlvie,” Avoca said, “it’s not about confidence. It’s about keeping everyone alive. Something is wrong with Cyrene. I’ve been scouting the palace and our bond. You all know that something is not right. I should be able to reach her. Yet I’ve been blocked.”

  “Warding.” Vera mused. “Yes, it would explain much. Likely keeping her in as much as us out.”

  “Another obstacle.” Orden fretted. “We’ll have to bring those wards down if we hope to succeed.”

  Ahlvie swore loudly and ignored the frustrated looks from the twins. He didn’t see how it could possibly get any easier than Lady Cauthorn sneaking him into the castle and then sneaking Cyrene back out. Anything else they planned would be futile. If she wasn’t going to come with them, then they needed to use something else to get her out.

  “Hey, lover boy,” Ahlvie spat at Dean.

  He was sitting in the corner and hadn’t said a word since the meeting began. Dean lifted his head to look at Ahlvie and raised an eyebrow in question.

  “You have anything important to add, or are you here to mope?”

  “He’s here to mope,” Avoca said savagely as she turned her back on Dean.

  No one was particularly happy to have Dean with them. Not that he was a bad guy. He was fine. Ahlvie had even sort of liked him for a time. He’d liked that he made Cyrene smile, made her live for a bit. Live for something other than her mission. But, now, all he saw was red when he looked at Dean.

  “I can get us in whenever you’d like,” Dean said, leaning back against the rock wall.

  “That’s what you keep saying,” Ahlvie bit out.

  “I’m here to make things right, but I don’t know enough about magic to take down wards or stop a Doma from wielding air magic on me,” Dean said. “And, if Cyrene is as powerful as you claim, then I don’t think she would hesitate if she saw me.”

  “Yeah, she’s not the only one.”

  “Stop fighting!” Matilde shouted. “You two are always at each other’s throats, and if I have to hear any more of it—”

  “She’ll likely box your ears,” Vera finished.

  Ahlvie pinched the bridge of his nose and walked further away from the group. Their crew was splintered without Cyrene to hold them together. That much was certain. He didn’t know how much long
er he could keep this up. It was bad enough with the Indres in the countryside. Bad enough that he had to deal with…that…while trying to figure out what to do about Cyrene.

  “Let’s just…take a break,” Ahlvie said, waving them off. “Reconvene in the morning.”

  He retreated deeper into the cave network, trying to get his thoughts in order. Avoca was at his side in a second, as silent as ever. She placed her hand on his back, and he turned into her, pushing her into the wall and capturing her lips. She released a sigh and opened her mouth to him. He slipped his tongue inside and devoured her.

  He could never have enough of this woman. Not ever.

  No matter that she was a Leif, nearly a hundred years older than him, and had magic that he could never comprehend.

  She was the only woman who he had ever felt matched him. And she did in every way. Wits, intelligence, bravery, charm, looks. She had it all, and she constantly kept him on his toes. The time they had been apart was torture. She hadn’t come to see him off, and he’d never gotten to tell her how he felt.

  He still hadn’t actually.

  The words kept slipping on his tongue.

  He knew it was dumb to hold the words in. While he had been stuck in that dungeon, he had thought of how stupid he was not to tell her. Knowing that he might never see her again and had wasted his chance. Yet, now that they were together—his hands on her fair skin, her mouth against his, their bodies melding into one—the words were lost.

  “Ahlvie,” she murmured his name like a prayer.

  Then, she stiffened.

  “What is it?”

  “Alarm tripped,” she said.

  Then, they were both running down the tunnel, back to the others. Avoca had her ice-white blade in her hand before she even reached the entrance. Orden and Dean had both drawn their swords and were striding after her. Matilde and Vera had their hands linked and were chanting some unheard words.

  He was rushing after them to the entrance, praying they hadn’t been found, when he stumbled to a stop. Avoca had a young High Order locked against her. Her blade at his throat.

  “Who sent you?” she snarled.

  “It’s okay,” Ahlvie said. “It’s okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Ahlvie,” the boy cried, fear blatant in his eyes.

  “Release him. He’s my brother,” Ahlvie said, plunging forward.

  “Your…brother?” Avoca asked.

  “Aubron.”

  She released Aubron at once, and the boy tumbled into Ahlvie’s arms. They embraced.

  It had been years since he saw his younger brother. Years since he had left Fen behind to become a High Order. He hadn’t known that Aubron had followed in his footsteps and become a High Order himself. He would never have wished that for him. Aubron had been everything that Ahlvie wasn’t. Soft, where Ahlvie was hard. Kind, where Ahlvie would cheat. Caring, where Ahlvie was callous.

  And, now, he was…here. In the bloody lion’s den.

  “How did you find us?” Avoca asked harshly. “He could be a spy sent to root us out.”

  “I went to find Lady Cauthorn. She told me how to find you after she read what I had,” Aubron explained. He produced a piece of paper from his pocket. “The consort sent me.”

  “The…consort,” Ahlvie said, taking the paper. “Cyrene?”

  “Yes!”

  “We should get farther inside,” Avoca warned. Her eyes cut across the horizon, like the sentinel she was.

  Orden and Dean sheathed their swords now that the danger had passed. The group hurried Aubron deeper into their lair. Orden quickly explained to Matilde and Vera who Aubron was and how he had come upon them. They instantly took to the boy and busied about making him comfortable.

  Ahlvie knew that he should stop thinking of him as a boy. But it was nearly impossible not to think about the thirteen-year-old boy he had left behind. Plus, he was still so small. It was hard not to see him as younger than his seventeen years.

  “Now, tell us, why is it that Cyrene sent you?” Vera said calmly.

  “I brought news from the consort,” Aubron said. “From…Cyrene.”

  Ahlvie held up the paper Aubron had offered him and then hastily read through it.

  He shook his head. Cyrene. Welcome back.

  He handed the piece of paper around, and once everyone read it, he could see that finally, finally, they had a plan in place.

  “Well,” Avoca said with a toothy grin, “let’s do it.”

  “But, first,” Ahlvie said, turning to Aubron with wide eyes, “what is this about you having a boyfriend?”

  Aubron’s cheeks heated pink. “What? He’s not my first.”

  The entire party laughed, and the tension they had been holding all these weeks vanished. They were a team once more.

  Cyrene paced back and forth in front of the wooden door. It was the night before Elea’s Presenting, nearly a week since the attack at her Investiture, and as consort, she was completing her final duty before the ceremony. Though she technically didn’t have to be standing here at this door in the castle at this precise moment, she was too anxious not to.

  She held in her hand a folded piece of paper that she’d had on her person since her own Presenting ceremony a year ago. Her eyes narrowed on the riddle.

  WHAT YOU SEEK LIES WHERE YOU CANNOT SEEK IT.

  WHAT YOU FIND CANNOT BE FOUND.

  THE THING YOU DESIRE ABOVE ALL ELSE RISKS ALL ELSE.

  THE THING YOU FIGHT FOR CANNOT BE WON.

  WHEN ALL SEEMS LOST, WHAT WAS LOST CAN BE FOUND.

  WHEN ALL BEND, YOU CANNOT BE AS YOU WERE.

  Nonsense. She still believed it to be so. Even though she knew the Circadian Prophecy existed and that this was somehow part of that prophecy. She suspected the first two lines were about her magic. The second two lines, she hated to believe were about love. But the last two lines, she had no clue. Still, a year later, she knew nothing. Didn’t even know if her ideas regarding it were right.

  And, as the door swung open, she took a deep breath. Today, she wanted answers.

  A stooped and withered old man stood in the doorway. His hair was shot through with white, and he leaned on a cane. “Can I help you?” the man asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, recovering her voice. “My name is Cyrene. I am the new consort. I have come to collect the Presenting letter.”

  The man’s bushy eyebrows moved together. “I usually dispatch it to a guard.”

  “I understand. Since I’m new to the role, I wanted to come meet you in person. What is your name?”

  The man looked at her, flabbergasted, as he handed over the letter. “Owel is my name, miss. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I have been writing these letters for a long time, and I’ve never had anyone try to meet me.”

  Cyrene tucked the letter into the pocket of her gown. “I know this might not be typical, but I wanted to meet you. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”

  “I…don’t understand.”

  “About my Presenting letter.”

  Owel’s features deepened further. “I just write the letters, miss.”

  “Yes, but mine is…well, it’s unusual.” She thrust the piece of paper out toward him.

  He took it in shaky hands and opened it. He read it through and shook his head, his eyes bulging. “Where did you get this?”

  “Like I said, it’s from my Presenting.”

  “I see here that it’s my handwriting. So, I must have written it, but I can’t recall ever writing it.”

  Cyrene’s heart deflated. “Truly?”

  He passed it back to her. “You’re the consort. You know that the letters prepare you for your Presenting and help you decide what you want to accomplish in your time in residency. Miss, this letter doesn’t tell you any of that. If I’ve done wrong, I apologize.”

  “No, no,” Cyrene said quickly, stuffing the letter out of the way. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It was clearly a misunderstanding.”

  Cyre
ne hurried off. Her heart was hammering, her magic sparking under her fingertips. All of that time, she had put so much stock in the writer of this prophecy…these silly words. But the man didn’t even remember writing them. If he were a seer, then he certainly didn’t know it. That had been a waste of time. Another stupid dead end.

  She was in such a hurry that she ran smack into Kael as she rounded the corner. Their magic collided with a fury, shaking the floor and sending them both toppling to the ground. Cyrene tried to rein it in, but this new magic, this blood magic, fought her, as if it had a mind of its own. Kael touched her again, and she cried out, as it felt like an earthquake was about to hit the castle.

  Cyrene scrambled away from him. She held her hands out in front of her. “Don’t touch me.”

  Kael appeared wounded for a moment and then schooled his features. “What are you doing out in these parts?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I didn’t come here to fight with you again,” Kael said, rising to his feet.

  He held out his hand to help her up, but she ignored it.

  Cyrene bared her teeth at him and stood on her own.

  When Kael had come to visit her as she was recovering this week, she had completely blown a gasket. She had needed him when she was at her most vulnerable, and he hadn’t been there. No one had. Alone. Again. She hadn’t wanted to hear his excuses and had nearly shoved him through several feet of stone wall to get him away from her. He hadn’t approached her since.

  “Then, leave me be.”

  “I can’t,” Kael said, his voice almost pleading with her. “You know I can’t.”

  “You had no problem abandoning me when your brother was dying.”

  “I was righting the throne room. I had no idea that you were in harm’s way. I had no idea that Edric had even ventured into the battle. Your safety is and has always been my first priority.”

  Cyrene hated how hurt she felt that she didn’t believe him. No matter that he had been her enemy for so long, something had shifted between them in the past couple of weeks. Their last week of training together, they had almost seemed like…friends. She had almost let him crack open her black heart to see what it could be like to feel again.