by Elly Blake
It was a breathless, frightening minute before Arcus’s tall figure appeared at the end of his ice slide, Marella in his arms. At the ladder, he slung her over his shoulder like a bag of grain and climbed up. I heard him grunt, as if each rung pained him.
I rushed over. When he finally reached the top, he handed Marella to Jaro and fell to his knees.
My arms were around him in a moment. “Arcus? Are you all right?”
He groaned, then slumped forward, his weight against me.
Alarm made my voice sharp. His body had gone slack. “Help me!”
Two sailors came to either side, lowering him gently to the deck on his back.
Dimly, I heard Kai barking orders. Sails snapped, ropes creaked, and the ship jumped forward, skimming the waves as we fled to open sea. I didn’t know if any of Eurus’s ships were following, but right now I didn’t care.
Willing Arcus to open his eyes, I pressed my hands to his cold cheeks, then two fingers to the side of his throat.
“He’s alive,” I said shakily.
“That must have been an extraordinarily draining use of his gift,” Brother Thistle said behind me. He was looking at Arcus in awe, then turned to me, his expression softening with understanding at the fear that I knew must show in my expression. “He merely needs rest.”
I closed my eyes and said a prayer of thanks. The alternative was unthinkable.
At the sound of a knock, I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the uncomfortable wooden chair, wincing at the ache in my back after hours spent at Arcus’s bedside. “Come in.”
Kai entered, his hair and the shoulders of his black velvet jacket dusted with snow.
“He hasn’t woken,” I reported, then realized Kai might not be coming to check on Arcus, but to tell me something. “Are we being followed?”
“No, no. Don’t worry. I’m just checking on you… on you both. Do you need anything?”
“Like I said, he’s asleep.” More accurately, he was unconscious, but I didn’t want to see it that way. It was easier to think of him in a deep slumber than passed out cold.
“What part of both did you not understand? Do you need anything, Ruby? Food? Something to drink? Perhaps some rest so you don’t end up passed out next to him?”
“I don’t want any of those things, no.” Before I could add a thank-you, he continued.
“So you plan to pass out next to him.”
“If need be.”
He sighed. “I can’t believe I am going to offer this, but I will watch him for you. Go to your cabin and take a nap.”
“You’re not going to watch him. You’re going to get bored after five minutes and you’re going to assign poor Jaro to do it. And he’ll be too flustered by being near the Frost King, so he’ll order one of the other sailors to do it.”
“What difference does it make as long as someone is watching him?”
“The difference is that I care.”
Kai straightened, his lips going flat. “Fine. Let it be known that you are stubborn, Ruby, even for a Fireblood.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant as one.” He turned away. “Have fun staring at your ice statue.”
“Uncalled for, Kai!” I shouted as the cabin door shut behind him.
Arcus continued to sleep soundly.
After a while, I rested my cheek against his arm where it lay under the blanket. The sound of his deep, even breathing calmed me. As always, he made me feel safe. It was a feeling I never wanted to give up.
Even though I knew he couldn’t hear me, I found myself talking to him.
“So, remember when I was in Sudesia and you were in Tempesia, or so I thought, until you showed up at my engagement announcement?” Suddenly, the memory made me smile, which was nothing like my reaction when I’d looked down from Queen Nalani’s balcony to see Arcus in the crowd, realizing how confused and hurt he must have been, terrified that the queen’s guards would catch him.
“Well, maybe you don’t want to remember that,” I said, waving it away. “What I meant to tell you was, sometime before that, I wrote you a letter.”
I waited, as if he might reply, then nodded as if he had. “Actually, I think it was the night before my first Fireblood trial. I wasn’t sure if I’d survive, so I wrote you a letter and gave it to Kai to deliver.” I paused thoughtfully. “I don’t know what he did with it. Burned it, most likely, when it was clear I’d survived and it was no longer necessary.” I tapped my chin. “Or he could have lost it—not that he’d ever admit to such carelessness.”
I waited again, listening to his soft, even breaths. I touched his hair gently, smoothing it from his brow. “I said some things in writing that I’ve never said to you in person. Do you want to hear them?”
There was no change in his breathing at all, but I took the gentle rise and fall of his chest as a yes.
I squinted, trying to remember the letter exactly. I could still picture the tiny burn marks on the parchment where my hot tears had fallen. “First of all, I said thank you for… for rescuing me from prison. Even though you did it for self-serving purposes, needing me to melt the throne and all. Plus, you didn’t exactly make my life easy with your distrust and disapproval and general ill temper. Still, the abbey was a vast improvement over the prison. Also, I met you, so… there’s that.”
My hand rested on his chest for a moment before I moved it up to press against the pulse in his neck, reassuring myself with the feel of it beat-beat-beating against my fingertips.
“The next thing I said was how you’d changed my life,” I told him. “How at first you drove me mad with your arrogance, and then you drove me mad with your lips, and then later with the way your eyes could look so warm even though the color is so cold. Something like that.” I made an airy gesture. “Better than that.” I leaned forward. “I might even have said something about wishing I’d kissed you more often while I had the chance, but I don’t want to embarrass you.”
I sat back, waiting, imagining how silly I would feel if his eye popped open and he asked me what in Tempus’s name I was blathering on about. But his eyes stayed closed, and his pulse remained steady like the young man it belonged to—steady and dependable and strong.
“The last part was… personal,” I confessed. “I think you might have liked reading it, but on the other hand, since it was only to be delivered in the event of my death, I guess you wouldn’t have. You might have actually cursed me to the skies and raged and… well, I don’t know. I’ve never seen you curse the skies, but I think you might, for my sake.” I tilted my head, trying to imagine him doing that, though the picture remained unclear. I shrugged. “I also said sorry. Sorry for leaving, that is. I even admitted that you were right after all, when you’d warned me about the risk of going to Sudesia. You would have liked that: me admitting you were right.”
The ship hit a swell and Arcus shifted, his head moving on the pillow. I held my breath, then exhaled when his breathing didn’t change. His eyelashes were long and dark and looked so soft. I bent and pressed a kiss to each eyelid, the lashes tickling my lips.
“Also,” I whispered near his ear, barely audible above the rising wind outside the hull, “I said that I love you.” My hand closed on his shoulder, holding him as if I could keep him from all harm with that determined touch. Or maybe I was gripping it for comfort since I suddenly felt as if I’d leaped off a cliff and he was the only thing keeping me from crashing to the ground and breaking into a thousand splintered pieces.
I had known how I felt for some time now. It seemed like forever. Any future I imagined for myself included him. I was tired of fighting, tired of the distance between us. There had to be some way to bridge it. If only he would wake.
“So now you’ve heard my confessions,” I said softly, even though he hadn’t heard a thing. “And I won’t repeat myself, either. In fact, if you bring this up later, I’ll deny it.” I smiled, though for some reason, I found my eyes were wet. I rubbed them
with a frustrated gesture.
“I hope you wake up soon,” I whispered.
I must have fallen asleep again, because this time when the door opened, my face was pressed to the quilt.
“What is it, Jaro?” I asked when I turned to see the sailor nervously swiping a hand over his sparsely haired head.
He shrugged, looking apologetic. “The woman wants to see you.”
I yawned and shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind. “Lady Marella is awake?”
“No, not the young lady. The other one. Lucina.”
My lips twisted into a scowl. “Does she need something?”
He shrugged. “She says she needs to talk to you.”
“Thank you, Jaro.” I sighed. “I suppose I’d better go. Will you sit with the king until I return?”
As I stood outside the cabin being used for the two recovering prisoners, the Minax struggled inside me, whispering warnings of danger. I had a nearly overwhelming urge to turn around and leave.
Stop, I commanded it, unwilling to give it that much control.
When I entered the cabin, Marella was asleep on one bed and Lucina stood with her back to me, her long white hair flowing loose. I was glad to see both of them looking clean and fresh, which I knew was a relief after being in the filth of a cell for so long.
“You asked to see me?” I said as politely as I could manage.
Her shoulders moved as she took a deep breath, but she didn’t turn. “I have waited a long time to see you again, my Ruby.”
“I’m not your anything.” I didn’t try to hide my annoyance. I already regretted the decision to come here.
Her head turned slightly, showing one papery cheek. “You were once my granddaughter.”
My blood heated with anger. “The only grandmother I ever knew is dead.”
She turned slowly, her red-veined hand pushing her white hair back. Dirt and darkness had hidden her face in the prison. Now I saw her clearly. There was nothing particularly remarkable about her features, except for the fact that they were utterly and unforgettably familiar.
For the blink of an eye, I was a small child again, sitting by the fire begging for another story.
I stepped back and clutched the doorjamb for support.
Her once-dear face wore a sad smile. “I’m sorry your mother and I had to lie to you. As you see, I’m very much alive.”
TWENTY-FOUR
“I’LL ADMIT, YOU LOOK LIKE THE woman I knew as my grandmother,” I said shakily. “However, there’s one problem. My mother’s mother was a queen, and I’ve been told she died long ago.”
Lucina nodded. “We needed a way for me to be part of your life, something the people in your village would accept. Your mother was the one who decided to tell you I was your grandmother.”
“Why?” None of this made sense.
“Because I needed to watch over you. To teach you. In a way, you were like my granddaughter. I have always loved you as if you were of my own blood.” I was shocked to notice a sheen of moisture in her golden eyes. “In fact, some of my blood runs in your veins.” She smiled. “Though not in the usual way.”
Her words jumbled together, tangling in my mind. I could only focus on the familiar color of her eyes. Eyes like mine.
“I always thought I inherited my eye color from you. From my grandmother, I mean. My mother’s eyes were brown.”
“Your eyes were brown, too, when I first held you as a babe.”
That made no sense at all, so I just shook my head.
The Minax sensed my distress and confusion. She’s a threat, it whispered. Dangerous.
“You’re a stranger to me,” I said.
“Just because I’m not exactly who you thought doesn’t make me a stranger.” She took a step toward me.
The Minax reared up in fear. With more calm than I felt, I held up my palm to ward her off.
Part of me regretted the flash of hurt that crossed her features.
“You know me, Ruby. I taught you how to use your fire. Remember?”
“You gave me a few lessons, and then you left. Mother told me you died on a voyage.”
“I had no choice but to leave you.”
I didn’t accept her remorse. “We made a headstone for you and placed it in the woods, the clearing where you used to rest when we were gathering herbs. I went there every week to pray for your spirit.” I jerked a hand toward her. “And now, here you are.”
“You’re angry that I left you. I assure you, I didn’t want to.”
“It’s not just that. I can’t trust you. I don’t know who you are.”
She swallowed. “Then I will tell you, and you will learn to trust me again. My name is Lucina, though that name has been lost in history.” She paused, watching me intently. “You know me better as Sage.”
A laugh burst out, with an edge of hysteria. My eyes grew wet, tears of disbelief at the absurdity of it all. “First you’re my grandmother—though not really—and now you’re Sage. Make up your mind, would you?”
“I’m the same person I always was, Ruby. You know me. You just didn’t know my true name.”
In my mind, I ran through my visions of Sage, with golden skin and hair, her face unlined.
“You don’t look like Sage,” I said, still skeptical. “She’s younger and… shinier. Like she’s covered in gold dust.”
“I am different in your visions. I come to you through the sunlight, a bridge between the mortal world and the afterworld. What you see is a projection of my spirit. My mind works differently in that in-between place, and so my messages to you have been rather… brief. There is much I am not allowed to tell you.”
“I’ve had my share of unhelpful visions lately.”
So many thoughts and questions crowded my mind. Pieces coming together. I had asked Cirrus how to find Sage, and she had shown me a vision—of Sage. I’d been so focused on Marella, I’d hardly noticed her cellmate. When Cirrus had said, “Help her,” she had sounded as if she cared, as if she was worried about the woman in the vision. Would she have cared that much about Marella?
I didn’t think so.
But Sage, on the other hand—Lucina—had saved the goddess’s life when she fell to earth. They had a bond. Cirrus couldn’t interfere in the mortal realm anymore, but she could ask someone like me to work on her behalf.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
Still, my instincts warned me not to trust this woman. Maybe she would reveal something that would help me decide either way.
“What do you know about the Gate?” I asked, deliberately vague.
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything.”
She chuckled. “The Gate of Light was created by Cirrus, and it is the only thing standing between us and the hordes of Minax trapped in the Obscurum. If you think to test me, you should pick more difficult questions.”
“Cirrus showed me a vision of Marella in the cell,” I said, leaving out the fact that I’d seen her, too. “We think she can lead us to the Gate.”
Lucina looked down at the sleeping figure with sympathy. “Marella does not know where the Isle of Night is. Taking her was merely a whim for Eurus, and he quickly tired of toying with her.” She met my eyes. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he meant to use her against you somehow.”
I poured out heat to ward off a chill. “You seem to know a great deal about how Eurus thinks. Maybe you’re working for him.”
She laughed. A real, hearty laugh that made her lose her breath. “Oh, child, how you amuse me. No. Long have I studied him, and I have my own visions that tell me things.”
“How did you end up as his prisoner?”
“His Servants have been searching for me for a long time, even before his return to the mortal realm. For many years, I have been the only thing standing between this world and the Obscurum. I have spent that time sailing the waters near the Isle of Night, creating illusions to keep it hidden. Periodically, I use my
gift of sunlight to repair the Gate.”
The Minax reared up at the mention of her gift, sending prickles of revulsion over my skin. Lucina watched my reaction with keen eyes.
“Continue,” I said abruptly, not liking her attention. “I’m listening.”
“A few weeks ago, the Servants finally found me. My ships fought theirs, but there were too many—so many more than I had ever seen before. When I was captured, I despaired, thinking it was the end, that my goddess had forsaken me. I should have had more faith. Now that I am here with you, I think that this was all part of Cirrus’s plan.”
“Ships? You have more than one?”
“Had. The Servants sank one and stole the other two. I sailed the Golden Dawn, and my other two ships were Fleeting Night and West Wind’s Chance. For years, we’ve patrolled the area near the Isle of Night. We call ourselves the Order of Cirrus—small in number, but mighty in will.”
It was so much to take in. I hardly knew what to ask. The Minax was sending out pings of warning, urging me to leave. My gaze shifted to Marella. She slept peacefully, her wheat-gold hair spread over the white pillow. “Did you tell Marella all this?”
“I saw no reason to. Her need was for a sympathetic ear and healing light. She confessed that she had betrayed her friends by bringing the Minax to Sudesia. I listened and comforted her.”
“How touching,” I said bitterly. If it weren’t for Marella, the two Minax wouldn’t have been able to create a portal for Eurus to enter the mortal realm. He wouldn’t now be on his way to the Gate.
“I hope you can forgive her, Ruby. She is merely a victim in Eurus’s game. Like so many before her.”
“She’s not as innocent as you think.”
“She has light in her. She merely chose the night for too long.”
I shook my head, not ready to think of all this. “I have to get back to Arcus.”
After the shock of all these revelations, I longed to sit in his comforting presence, even if he was asleep.
“You love him, don’t you?” she asked softly.
My eyes snapped to hers. No one had ever asked me that. She was a stranger, and now she wanted to know the secrets of my heart?