The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price

by C. L. Schneider

  “That would explain the changes.”

  “But the purpose of the ritual is to make two souls better, not worse.”

  “The spell shares and distributes what it believes each needs from each other. It probably saw Draken’s madness as one hell of a need and didn’t know what else to do but try and distribute it between them. It might still be doing it, altering their minds in some futile attempt to eradicate it from both of them.”

  A little pale, Sienn lowered the book onto her lap. Runes were carved on the front, but her arms were blocking them. “This never leaves his side. I had to wait until he fell asleep to take it.” She patted the cover. “According to the title, it’s the journal of Emperor Tam Reth. But the pages are blank. I know it’s spelled. I’ve tried everything.”

  “Then try everything again. If Tam wrote about the Crown of Stones, what’s in there could help me gain an advantage.” I stepped closer. “I want you with me on this, Sienn. But before we go any further, I need to know. Do you condone what Jem Reth has done? The lives he’s taken? Do you believe what he’s doing with Draken is right?”

  Sienn set the book beside her on the bed. “The Shinree deserve to be free, Ian. The Crown of Stones can give us that. Jem can give us that. He could be a great leader.”

  Not surprised, I nodded. “If that’s how you feel...”

  “It is. But Jem has gone too far. The Langorians are butchers. I can’t accept a future with them as our allies. I won’t.” A tear slid down her cheek. Sienn swiped at it furiously. Another one fell. Her shoulders began to tremble, slightly at first, and then harder. “Damn you, Jem,” she wept, “how could you?”

  I crossed to the bed and crouched down in front of her. “I’m sorry, Sienn. Jem Reth isn’t the man you knew. Not anymore.”

  Nodding, Sienn leaned forward and rested her head on my shoulder. My hands settled on her knees, hers rested on my arms, and we sat like that as she cried for a while.

  After a time, her breathing slowed. It fell in step with mine and I felt the anxiety go out of her. A measure of apprehension left me as well and it struck me that I was more than a little content in our half-embrace. I enjoyed the smell of pine on her clothes, the scent of soap in her hair. I was aware of the places where our bodies touched. Not lustfully. That was there, but below the surface. This was a comfortable moment. A shared easiness that told me I could hold her for hours and it would be satisfying and tantalizing in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. Is she right? Is it because we’re the same, both of us with pure Shinree blood? Or was it simply the fact that Sienn was real? That she wasn’t imagination like the Arullan girl.

  She has a name now, I thought, and I suddenly felt sick all over.

  “Sienn,” I said. “I need your help.”

  She sat up. “The dream spell? Jem cast it on you, didn’t he?”

  “He claims he doesn’t want me dead, but I feel half there already.”

  “I’ll do everything I can.”

  “Then do it quick, before I change my mind.”

  Her head tilted. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because he’s got me, Sienn. He’s fucking got me.” I pulled away and stood. “What I see when I dream is something I should never want to see again. But there’s this part, these moments that are so beautiful, that when I’m not dreaming, I want to be. I crave it. I need it,” I said, my jaw grinding. “I suffer through all the bad just to have that that one, small morsel of good.” I turned from the look in her eyes. “I know how it sounds.”

  “It sounds like magic. Come here.” I sat down beside her. Gently, Sienn guided me to lie back. “You need to dream for me one last time, Ian. But I swear, after that, it’ll be over. Whatever demons plague your sleep, you will never have to see them again.”

  Sienn was wrong. What plagued my sleep was waiting for me in Kabri. But I closed my eyes and wished that it wasn’t.

  Bit by bit, my Arullan girl’s body was coming apart, separating like smoke caught in a strong wind. The pieces were pale, ghost-like.

  They tore off, shredded and blew away.

  The whole world was shredding. But I cared only for her. I felt her leaving, deep in my chest. And I had no idea how I was supposed to breathe when she was gone.

  “Wait…” I tried to catch her. She was like sand in my grip. “Don’t go. Don’t leave!”

  The last of her drifted out of sight and I was alone.

  It was dark, barren.

  Panic and darkness swallowed me.

  “NO!” I raged.

  There was no light without her. “Come back!”

  The scream still in my throat, I threw open my eyes. In the room with me, Sienn spun around, startled.

  Running both hands through my sweat-drenched hair, I rose up onto my elbows and panted at her, “Is it done?”

  She nodded. Her smile was tentative, almost placating; a look she no doubt reserved for the sick and unstable. “The nightmare will never come to you again.”

  I felt a twinge of alarm and locked it away. “Thank you.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Tired.”

  She gave me that smile again. “That’s to be expected. You should feel better in a few days. You can remove your bandages,” she added kindly. “While you were out, I sealed the cuts on your hand and corrected someone’s disgraceful attempt to mend your wrist. I also arranged for private accommodations for your messenger so I could look at that hole in his leg without drawing attention. I checked on the wound to his face as well. Though, fixing you and your friend is becoming quite a habit.”

  “Thanks,” I said again.

  “There’s an extra bed for you in Prince Malaq’s room. Or, you can stay here.” For Sienn, it was a subtle proposition. “I want you to stay here.”

  So much for subtle, I thought.

  “I can change back into Imma,” she offered, “if you prefer.”

  “Is that what you think?” Shaking my head, I slid off the end of the bed.

  “I don’t understand, then. Why don’t want me?”

  Her voice held such an odd mix of passion, neediness, and shame that the words were out before I could stop them. “What happened to make you like this?”

  Sienn’s face turned as white as her hair.

  “Never mind,” I said. “You don’t have to answer.”

  “If it matters to you.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “It might.”

  “No, Sienn, really. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  She took a resolved breath. “It’s all right. It may help you to understand.”

  Sienn stood up. Hugging her arms to her chest, she moved about the small room, back and forth, passing the fire, walking in and out of its glow. It was distracting. One second the light breached the fabric of her dress. The next it didn’t. I just wanted her to stand still.

  “You, Ian,” she said at last, still pacing, “perceive Kayn’l as a means to curb the danger we pose to the world. And you are correct. But coming off it, being aware of what you did and what you were deprived of…you can’t imagine the confusion and the anger, the fear. The shame.”

  “It must have been a lot to take in at once.”

  “It doesn’t happen like that. My senses didn’t work right for days. My mind returned in pieces, in these vivid, frustrating, random flashes. It took months for the details to fill in. Eventually, I remembered.” She hugged herself harder. “I remembered men. Lots of men.”

  She was right. I couldn’t imagine. But the look in her eyes got me damn close. The ache inside Sienn, the animosity toward those that owned her and used her; I could see how it fanned out to encompass pretty much everyone, including herself. It made me think, this is Jem Reth’s doing. He may have rescued Sienn, but he’d done nothing to help her recover. If anything, his manipulations had broken her even more. “You’re safe from that now, Sienn. That part of your life, what you did, it’s over.”

  “For me, perhaps. But so many others are being abu
sed and neglected, and I want to help them, Ian. I want to show them what it means to live, to be free to choose.” She gave me a quick smile. “To find someone.”

  I tried not to flinch. “I hate what happened to you. But we aren’t together, Sienn. We can’t be. Not now.”

  “Why, so you can concentrate on recovering the Crown of Stones? I think Jem’s spell had you more out of focus than anything I could do in one night.” Sienn lowered her eyes, bit her lip, and the gesture went right through me.

  “I’m not so sure about that.” I forced myself to move. “I should go,” I said, reaching the door. “We’ll look at the book together in the morning. Maybe between the two of us we can figure out the enchantment. I want to break it before we reach Kabri.”

  My hand was on the latch when Sienn came up behind me. She pressed her long, lean body against my back. Her arms wound around my chest. I could feel her breath through my shirt.

  Still, for a moment, I entertained the thought of pushing her away.

  Then her hands slid down my stomach.

  They moved lower and I sucked in a breath.

  Lower still, and I did nothing to stop them. I couldn’t—Sienn’s hands held me. They hardened me. Her rhythmic caresses were skillful and intuitive. Her vigorous strokes raised a heat that made the leather between her skin and mine melt away.

  Her stroke quickened. Blood thundered through my veins. Tension had my body pulled so tight; easily, she could bring me with just her grip.

  If it were Imma, I could live with that. But it was Sienn. Whatever it was between us, it made me want far more than just her hand.

  With a growl I seized her wrists and pulled Sienn around in front of me. Lips parted, breath coming quick, desire had her white eyes sparkling like icicles in the sun.

  It was too much.

  Overcome, I gripped her face in my hands, pushed my fingers into the delicate bones of her cheeks, and pulled her mouth to mine. As my tongue pushed in, Sienn fumbled with the rigging for the sword on my back. Sliding the straps down my arms to the floor, she stripped off both my braces and my shirt, and went for my breeches.

  As she untied them, we stumbled toward the bed. All I had to do was lie down; from sleeping with Imma, I knew Sienn was well versed in pleasuring a man.

  Now, I knew why. And it gave me pause.

  I couldn’t erase what she’d been through. But maybe I could make her forget for a little while.

  Capturing Sienn’s head in my hands, I held her eyes. “Sit down.” I placed her on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of her. Her frost-colored hair clung to the sweat on her face. The neck of her dress was off-kilter and I made it more so, tugging it down off one shoulder so that I could pull her breast into my mouth.

  Moaning, Sienn arched her back, forcing the smooth mound deeper in.

  I lifted her skirt. I ran my hands over her thighs, then my tongue. I was spreading her knees apart when something moved in the corner.

  Moved wasn’t exactly the right word though. Nothing was there to be moving. No form. No light. No breeze; the window was closed. There wasn’t even a shadow.

  I stopped to stare. Sienn pawed at me, trying to win back my attention. But as I focused, I could make out two darker forms hovering inside the larger one.

  Small and slightly oval in shape, they were aimed right at me.

  They looked like—

  Eyes, I thought.

  He’s watching us.

  “Son of a…” I pushed myself back away from her and stood up. “What’s the matter?” I shouted at the corner. “Threats and torture not enough, you sick fuck? You had to send your whore to win me over?”

  Craning her neck, Sienn followed my gaze. Her expression was wild as she looked back at me, but she didn’t even try to come up with a lie. She just sat there.

  Furiously, I fastened my breeches. “How could you let him use you like this? Or was that story you told me just a tale to play at my sympathies?”

  “That was true, Ian. All of it was true. Please,” she begged. “Stay with me. We belong together. Fate—”

  “Don’t!” I reached down and snatched up my gear in one swift lunge. “Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it.” I threw the door open, so hard it slammed back into the wall and bounced off. Catching it as I stormed out, I threw a violent glance at the corner. “She’s all yours.”

  THIRTY EIGHT

  I looked at Malaq’s empty bed and groaned.

  I wanted to roll over and ignore it. Sleep pulled at me like hands in the dark. My blankets were warm. The bed was a welcome change from the ground. I’d dreamt of nothing for the first time in as long as I could remember and it felt good. But I’d played this game with Malaq once already and it didn’t end well. So I threw my legs over the side of the bed, armed myself, and went in search of him.

  The upstairs hall was quiet. The majority of the rooms were unoccupied and empty. The rest were locked, with sleep sounds emanating from the other side.

  I thought about finding Jarryd’s room, but Malaq had no cause to be there. Between the drink and Sienn’s magic, Jarryd was likely out cold till morning.

  Muffled voices filtering up from downstairs, I headed toward them. Flames from the hearth painted hulking shadows on the wall of the stairwell as I descended into the main room. The shadows took form and became the stocky bodies of six Langorian soldiers. Marking their positions, I walked out onto the floor.

  One man directed me with a hostile glance and an impatient jerk of his head to a grouping of three, tall-backed chairs near the fire. Two were occupied. Having a good idea by whom, I kept a hand on my sword and made my way over.

  Malaq, in the middle, was hunched down in his seat. Eyes aimed securely downward, legs outstretched, ankles crossed, with a mug of something sitting on his chest, he didn’t acknowledge me in the least. Sitting to his left, his brother’s hawk-like gaze was on me in an instant.

  Adorned in enough black to be night itself, King Draken of Langor took a sip of his drink and smiled. “Troy,” he said, revoltingly pleasant, “how good to see you. I trust you slept well?”

  “Bastard.” I threw myself down in the empty chair to Malaq’s right. Gesturing at the cloak on his shoulders and the bag on the floor, I said to him, “Going somewhere?”

  Maintaining a silent, stony vigil of his boots, Malaq replied, “Darkhorne.” And Draken laughed; a low, amused sound that instantly stabbed holes in my patience.

  I glared at him. “How’s my spell treating you, Your Grace? You still look crazy.”

  “Then I am in like company, am I not?” His laughter dying, Draken tilted his head, examining me. “No,” he said with disappointment, “I’m not. You’re not quite there yet, are you? How unfortunate. I thought the dreams would have crippled you by now.” He sniffed. “It would have been nice to have you grovel at my feet tonight.”

  “You know,” I said, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  He flashed a tense smile. “Speaking of being crippled…how does it feel to be using magic again?”

  “You tell me. You must have a good idea what it’s like for a Shinree to channel…since you own half of Jem Reth’s soul.”

  “Ah. I told Reth you were smarter than you looked.”

  “Smart enough to get his dream-weave broken.”

  Worry lines contorted Draken’s highborn features. “No matter,” he said, shrugging them off. “The damage is irreversible.”

  “I’ll find a way. Maybe in that old book Reth kept under his pillow?”

  The lines came back. He rubbed at them. “I don’t know why I agreed to his damn dream spell. Having you drawn and quartered would have been much simpler.”

  “Hold on,” Malaq barked. Curiosity had finally eaten through his steady demeanor. “What dream spell? What damage? And who the hell is Reth?”

  “Reth is a dead man,” I said plainly.

  Draken spared me a frown. He transferred it to Malaq. “The spell, my dear brother, was to keep your friend
busy and out of the way. Break him, if I was lucky. Apparently, I wasn’t.”

  Malaq chewed on his lip. His eyes darted between us like he had a head full of questions and accusations—for both of us. But Malaq was in a dangerous position. He couldn’t afford to show me sympathy or be too eager to cow to his brother. So he lowered his head and drank.

  “The book,” I said to Draken. “Where did Reth get it?”

  “Let’s see,” he sighed, “where would one find an ancient Shinree artifact?”

  My lips curled at his sarcasm. “You dug up the ruins of the old empire.”

  “Not personally. That was Jillyan’s project.”

  “What was she looking for?”

  “Something to tell her how to make me sane. You know, that poor girl was never meant to be Queen. She was such a timid little thing when she was young. Our father never appreciated her...sensitive side,” Draken said delicately. “He tried to beat it out of her, actually. I told him it only made things worse, but…luckily, she outgrew it. Jillyan actually took to ruling quite well when it was forced upon her. But she never stopped looking for a way to save me. As a result, with all that research, she’s developed quite an extensive knowledge of the Shinree. Not to mention a peculiar fascination.” He winked at me. “Jillyan does like her pets.”

  Thinking of what my healing cost in Kael, I said dryly, “So I’ve heard. How did she learn about the journal?”

  “She didn’t. Jillyan had no idea it existed, until she found it. All she knew was that the answer to breaking your spell must lie within the Crown of Stones. So she went to the one place that might have information on how it worked. It took years—tunneling at night, working in secret to keep the Rellans from discovering. But, eventually, she unearthed miles of structures buried beneath the ground.”