Nightblood

by Elly Blake

  He didn’t look haggard, just a little disheveled, and he must have known it only made him more attractive.

  “I can believe more than ever that you were once a swashbuckling pirate,” I said rather than admitting my thoughts.

  “Once?” He grinned. “Oh no. Once a pirate, always a pirate.”

  “I am sorry to interrupt your… empty prattle,” Brother Thistle said, sounding anything but sorry, “but did you see Sage in your vision, Ruby?”

  “No.” At his crestfallen expression, I added, “I saw Cirrus.”

  His eyes rounded, and he gripped the side of the wardrobe as if he needed the support. “The goddess herself!”

  “Maybe that’s why I got the fever,” I mused. “Seeing a goddess must be much more powerful than seeing Sage.”

  “Perhaps,” Brother Thistle said, noncommittal. “Did Cirrus speak to you?”

  I smiled. “She was a regular gossip.”

  “Miss Otrera! That is no way to speak of a goddess.”

  I wrinkled my nose, remembering my complete awe while in Cirrus’s presence. Maybe he was right. And “gossip” was a gross exaggeration, anyway. I’d had to pry answers out of her. “I asked her where the Gate of Light is, and she said she couldn’t tell me.”

  “What else?” Brother Thistle prodded.

  “She said that frostfire will weaken the Minax, though nothing can destroy them. ‘No mortal can destroy the creation of a god’ were her words, I believe.” My lips twisted. “So that was encouraging.”

  “If that is true,” he said thoughtfully, “then we must have both Frostbloods and Firebloods together when we approach the Gate. In case the unthinkable happens.”

  “One problem,” I reminded him. “Only royalty—direct descendants of kings and queens—can create frostfire. That’s what The Creation of the Thrones says, isn’t it?”

  He stroked his chin. “It says that only royalty can create true frostfire, the element in its most powerful form. However, a weaker form could still be useful, if such a thing exists.”

  “You and Kai could conduct a test,” I suggested. “If you two can create frostfire, others should be able to as well.”

  He nodded. “We can try. Did the goddess tell you anything else?”

  “Yes, but it’s confusing. I asked her how to find Sage, and instead she showed me a vision of Marella in a prison cell and told me to rescue her.”

  Kai’s brows rose. “At least we know she’s alive. I was sure Eurus would have… discarded… her after they disappeared in Sudesia.”

  I nodded. “Yes, but I don’t know for how long. It looked like she’d been mistreated. Her clothes were more like rags, and she had a burn scar on her shoulder. The guard wasn’t gentle with her, either. He had a rather brutish, piratey look about him. No offense, Kai.”

  “What made you think he was a pirate?” he asked.

  “I suppose it was his tattoos.”

  “Do you remember them?”

  I closed my eyes. “There were so many. An anchor, a rope knotted in the shape of a heart. A lock overlapping a coin. A door with an arrow through its keyhole.”

  His brows rose. “Now that’s something. Was the lock open?”

  “Did I mention this was in the midst of a vision of someone hurting Marella, Kai? I wasn’t exactly focusing on the tattoos.”

  He swore. “Still. I think you’ve found one of Liddy’s people.”

  Brother Thistle leaned forward eagerly. “Who?”

  “An old acquaintance. Liddy the Lender—although she has expanded her operation to include other, more lucrative endeavors. The dart through a keyhole is a reference to one of her more infamous assassinations. The open lock with a coin means the guard was a mercenary, open to working for anyone who pays a fee.”

  Brother Thistle tilted his head. “For what purpose would this Liddy imprison Lady Marella?”

  “Who knows?” Kai replied. “Maybe she raided the ship Marella was on and realized she’s valuable. Probably plans to ransom her.”

  That made sense. “But… Eurus kidnapped Marella, so that means he might have been on the same ship,” I pointed out. “Liddy might have captured him, too!”

  “That would be very convenient,” Kai replied. “But we can’t depend on it. I imagine he’s wily enough to evade capture.”

  “Can you get us to your moneylender?” Brother Thistle asked.

  “She’s not my moneylender.” Kai shuddered. “Liddy is as bloodthirsty a pirate as you’ll ever meet. But yes, I can get us to her.”

  Everything was coming together, finally. “Good. We can leave tomorrow for Tevros, stopping at Collthorpe for Arcus on the way.”

  Kai scrunched his face up. “About that. He might be on his way here. We sent word to him that you were ill.”

  “You what?” I slung an arm over my eyes. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “If he were ill, wouldn’t you want to know?”

  “Yes, of course. Just… he’s going to be worried for nothing.” More specifically, he was going to shout and make a ruckus and be impossible. “You’ll have to catch him on the road and tell him I’m better. We need you in Tevros anyway to start preparing to sail.”

  “There’s the princess side of you coming through,” Kai said with a laugh. “I’m truly convinced you’re fine now.”

  I dropped my arm, looking up at him gratefully. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “Of course. I’ll leave first thing.” He slid his fingers through his tousled hair. “Well, I’m going to have a bath and shave before bed. If I’m to be murdered by an irate king, I want to look my best for the funeral.”

  “Ruby’s illness was not your fault,” Brother Thistle stated. “Using the relic to spark a vision was my idea.”

  “Yes, but I’m here, and he doesn’t like me,” Kai reminded him. “A convenient scapegoat for his worry. I had better sharpen my sword.”

  My hands curled into fists. “You’re not going to fight! Your gifts are evenly matched. You could kill each other.”

  “All the more reason to have a sword ready.” Kai chuckled. “Be at ease, Ruby. I was teasing.” He took my clenched hand and smoothed his thumb over my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re better. I missed you bossing me around. Now that you’re well, I’m going to enjoy a good night’s sleep. If you’re sure you’re all right?”

  I waved him away. “Go. Good night. Brother Gamut should be here any minute with his special tea. It’ll put me out like a light.”

  Kai grinned, bowed, and moved to the door. “Sweet dreams, Princess. Don’t sleep so long this time.”

  When the door shut, Brother Thistle came to sit on the edge of the bed, his manner unusually hesitant. “You saw a burn scar on Marella. Was it…” He cleared his throat. “What did it look like?”

  I gave him a curious look. I hadn’t really thought about it. I closed my eyes again, letting the images form. “It was dark in the cell, but from what I could see, the scar was sort of a semicircle with lines coming off it. Oh!”

  “What?” he asked.

  I opened my eyes, examining his pinched face curiously. “It reminds me of Brother Lack’s seal. Lord Grimcote.” I waved a hand. “Whatever he’s calling himself now. I told him a sun was too cheery for him.”

  “It looked like a sun?” he asked, his pale blue eyes burning.

  “Yes, I guess so. You’ve seen that symbol before?”

  He swallowed but didn’t reply. His expression went from strained to fearful. Trepidation crept up my spine.

  Just then, the door burst open and Brother Gamut bustled in, beaming as he held out a cup of tea. “Nice and hot, just the way you like it!”

  “I must consult my books.” Without looking at either of us, Brother Thistle grabbed his cane and rushed from the guesthouse.

  An erratic trail of frost coated the floor in his wake.

  NINE

  INSTEAD OF NIGHTMARES, SLEEP brought a memory.

  “Do you want me to finish telling
you the story of Eurus?” Grandmother asked from her perch on a three-legged stool. Night darkened the window at her back. She wore her brightly patched cloak, her white hair loosely braided and hanging over one shoulder. Her golden eyes crinkled at the edges.

  “Yes!” I was a child, about five or six years old, huddled under the quilt she’d sewn for me, warm on my pallet next to the fire.

  Mother was already asleep, tired after a long day of making medicines to sell in the village. Fragrant bunches of herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling, filling our cozy little hut with pleasantly green scents.

  “Where did we leave off?” Grandmother prompted.

  I summed up the previous night’s tale, using my hands to illustrate the story, just like Grandmother did. “Eurus tried to kill his sister Cirrus, which made their father, Tempus, furious! In punishment, Tempus banished him, throwing him as faaaaar as he could across the seas. Eurus flew through the air, tumbling end over end, until he landed on a deserted island. He lived there all alone for a long, long time. That was where you stopped.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember now.” She shifted on the stool, settling in. “So, there he was, the great god Eurus, who’d once commanded the very winds.” She leaned forward. “Banished and powerless. All alone on a bleak island in a desolate, wintry sea. Well, his sister Sun had another punishment in mind. She refused to shine her light on him. She drew clouds over her face so the island would be cloaked in deep shade. Over time, the god of the east wind became pale and sickly. His mind grew sluggish in the perpetual gloom.”

  “What’s sluggish mean?” I asked.

  “Slow and dull. He couldn’t think very well anymore. And finally, after many, many years, he lost the power of speech.”

  “He couldn’t talk at all?”

  She shook her head, spreading her hands. “Not a bit. He forgot how. Now, you’ll remember, he also had two other younger siblings.”

  “The twins!” I chirped. I loved the twins.

  “That’s right, the god Fors and the goddess Sud were young then, with a thirst for adventure and an absence of fear that only children such as yourself have.”

  I grinned, enjoying the idea that I was fearless.

  She smiled back. “In their travels across the world, they came across Eurus’s island quite by accident and found themselves drawn to explore it. As they wandered the beach covered in fine black sand, they met a grizzled stranger wearing little more than rags.”

  “They should run,” I whispered, hands cupped around my mouth.

  “They were fearless, remember! Dangerous though it was. So, their first reaction wasn’t fear but curiosity.”

  “Curious like a Fireblood!”

  She put her finger to her lips, glancing at my mother to make sure she was still asleep. But her golden eyes beamed approval. “Yes, and you should always be proud of your curious nature.”

  I tucked my hands under my chin as gentle warmth filled my chest.

  “Then Sud, the goddess of the south wind, stepped forward and asked his name, as bold as you please. But Eurus merely shook his head, having forgotten the way his tongue and throat could work together to form words. He merely pointed to the east and picked up the one thing he’d been able to hold on to when he was banished.”

  “His palm frond that made wind!” I said.

  “That’s right. And Fors asked, ‘What is that?’ So Eurus waved it in the air, producing a rush of wind that bent the treetops and changed the direction of the waves. Sud, ever clever, declared, ‘You are Eurus, our brother!’ She recognized the wind-maker for what it was. ‘We have heard of you,’ she said. ‘But you are dangerous.’”

  “I wish I had a wind-maker,” I whispered conspiratorially.

  “I know,” Grandmother whispered back. “But I wonder what kind of mischief you’d get into if you had that much power.”

  I giggled. My head had begun to feel heavy, so I rested it on my pillow, breathing Grandmother’s scent, something flowery and pleasant.

  “Eurus shook his head,” she continued. “He didn’t want his siblings to think him dangerous. He wanted to give them something to make them like him. So he rushed to a tree and climbed it, returning with two pieces of fruit as an offering of friendship.”

  “They shouldn’t take it,” I said, then pondered whether it would have been rude to refuse. “Maybe they should sniff it first.”

  Grandmother laughed. “I’m not sure that would have helped. In any case, he was their brother. They trusted him. Or maybe they just felt he deserved a second chance. Either way, the fruit tasted sweet and good. The twins gobbled it up in two bites. But, alas, the seeds were poisonous, and the twins fell down, insensible. Eurus, panicking at his terrible mistake, reached into their mouths and removed the seeds. Then he carried the children, one in each arm, to the edge of the beach and splashed their faces with water until they woke.”

  My eyelids kept sliding closed, but I struggled valiantly. “So he poisoned them by mistake?” I asked.

  “It would seem so. Lucky for him, the twins recovered quickly, and they were very forgiving. They knew he’d saved them. ‘We must bring him with us,’ they decided. But how could they get home? They were too weak to fly back to the realm of the gods. There was only one way.”

  Grandmother made a motion as if she held a fan. “Sud grabbed Eurus’s palm frond and created a great wind that blew the black clouds away to reveal their sister Sun. They called to her—‘Sun!’—and begged for her help. Eurus squinted up at the blue sky, cringing away from Sun’s light and heat. But she saw there was a tiny speck of light still in his heart. If her siblings were willing to give him another chance, she would, too. She sent out a golden beam as a bridge, and the twins each took one of Eurus’s hands and led him back into the realm of the gods.”

  “Sun was very nice to do that,” I said.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Now, when they arrived, Tempus and Neb were frantic with worry. They’d searched everywhere for the twins—except on the Isle of Night, the only place they never thought to look, for it was shrouded in shadows and no one ever dared pass that way. Neb cried as she embraced the twins, and then Tempus kissed their foreheads and looked up to see who had rescued them. At first, he didn’t recognize his eldest son, but when he did, his face twisted in anger. He opened his mouth to banish him again, but Neb put a hand out to stop him. She saw the regret in her son’s eyes.

  “‘He saved my babies when he could have let them die,’ Neb said. ‘We will give him another chance.’”

  I could no longer keep my eyes open, so I let her words flow over me like a warm breeze.

  “But Neb warned Eurus, ‘If you ever defy me again, even once, your banishment will be permanent, and your gift taken from you. Then you will know the pain of living without that which has become essential to you.’”

  Images of the gods crowded into my mind. Neb and Tempus sat on alabaster thrones. The twins were dark-haired children. Sud had flames in her eyes, and Fors had hands coated with ice. Cirrus was older, tall and lovely, with dark skin and golden eyes. She stood watching while Eurus swore obedience, his leaf-green eyes glittering.

  I suddenly realized I could no longer smell Grandmother or feel the warmth of the fire.

  Eurus turned and looked directly at me. “My Nightblood daughter. What foolish things occupy your mortal mind. Better to dream of the dark throne I made for you.”

  He waved a hand and the scene changed. The alabaster thrones were replaced by an onyx throne, its polished surface reflecting the dance of torchlight. Desperate whispers rose from somewhere out of sight.

  Take your throne. You command. We serve.

  I wanted to run but couldn’t move. Everything was wrong. This was no longer a memory.

  It’s just a dream, I told myself, trying not to panic.

  Eurus smiled, showing even white teeth. “I hope you’ve had time to consider my offer.” He came closer, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek. I flinched mentally but was unable
to move away. “These mortal bodies are so frail.” His fingertip touched the spot near my ear where the Minax had left a heart-shaped black spot. “See how it marked you? You belong to the Minax now. This is proof.”

  Get away from me! I screamed in my mind. Every particle of my consciousness ignited, desperate to fight or escape.

  A cold, deadly fury darkened his eyes, but then his lips curved up. “Solstice nears. I hope you enjoy my gifts. A Minax for every mortal.” His teeth flashed in a predatory grin, and he leaned close, his breath smelling of soil and plants and blood. “Together, we could create a dynasty. A world ruled by Nightbloods, with no more wars between Frostbloods and Firebloods.”

  Because everyone possessed would obey you! I wanted to scream. With no wills of their own! My throat seized as I tried to speak.

  “Still no?” He laughed, whipping the wind into a frenzy. “Don’t hurt yourself, Ruby.” He straightened, smirking at my helplessness. “I’m not even here. As it turns out, I don’t need you after all.”

  He turned away. Despair sank razor-sharp teeth into my chest. I couldn’t stop him, couldn’t fight him.

  “I will give you one last chance when we meet again,” he said over his shoulder as he disappeared into darkness. “For sentimental reasons. You are my creation, after all.”

  TEN

  ARCUS ARRIVED THE NEXT MORNING.

  I woke with a headache, exhausted, knowing I’d dreamed but unable to recall the details. Brother Gamut brought two bowls of porridge and enough tea for both of us to help with the pain. As we ate and sipped, he filled me in on the latest news of the fever sweeping through the abbey. One of the sisters was very ill and wasn’t expected to survive the day.

  When he left to check on his patients, I packed my small washtub full of clean snow, heated it into bathwater, and used a bar of soap to lather off two days’ worth of sweat. My clothes needed a good scrubbing, too, so I dressed in a brown robe belonging to one of the monks.

  I was on my way to the kitchen to raid the larder when a rider approached. A rush of joyous anticipation surged as I recognized Arcus’s tall, broad form riding a glossy chestnut stallion. His cloak with the hood covering his face looked so much like what he used to wear at the abbey that a dozen memories cropped up, from my first sword lesson when he’d backed me into a pond, to the first time I’d run my fingers over his cold lips, wondering what they’d feel like on mine.