Curse and Whisper

by A J Gala

  “So, you think you’d send my daughters off to die in their stead?” Ayvar rose from his seat, his hands quaking. “You’re out of your gods damned mind.”

  “Your daughters are gifted with guts my people don’t have. Vandroya’s ways, the King’s ways, have spoiled the Hunters. I send them down here with a mission, and they look for a way back home every chance they get. Unfortunately, the chance many of them found was a long journey back in a casket.”

  “With bite marks on their necks.” Scara’s smile glittered in her glass.

  He arched back with mild surprise. “Yes. Just how much do you know? I’m afraid I missed most of your earlier conversation with the duchess.”

  She picked at a bitter pomegranate seed, dainty as ever. “This is about nightwalkers. Everything is about nightwalkers. You’re trying to kill them, or maybe one in particular. Or…” She paused, rolling the memory of the little stone hovel around in her mind, “… two in particular.”

  “You know more than I thought.”

  “People make such a mess, but it’s not hard to figure out how they made it if you look at it long enough.” The intent behind her eyes when she gazed at him was devious. “Do you really think a poison could work?”

  “I had hope, at first. When I was initially told about it, it boasted an impressive mind behind it. Mother Tryphaena is one of only a few Poison Mothers on this side of the mainland, but she’s gone into hiding since the poison proved to be incomplete. I’m not sure if it’s worth it to continue this route. Not without her formula and expertise.”

  “Incomplete?” Scara innocently licked her fingers of the red stain. “Sounds like she’s not the one you need anymore. You need someone who can give it the killing power she couldn’t.”

  “I suppose that’s exactly what I need.”

  “I could do it.”

  “Scara!”

  “Oh, calm down, Father. I could probably do it. Lords know I went to school long enough…”

  Cyrus set his glass down and folded his arms. “What you had back there was a sample of it, yes? Do you really think you could come up with a new one?”

  “If I had the proper equipment, I believe I could, yes.”

  Ayvar scoffed. “It won’t work. Why don’t you tell them who you’re trying to kill, Lord-Hunter? They deserve to know they’re not up against just any bloodkin.”

  Cyrus rubbed his jaw and finally nodded. “It’s only fair. I’m actually after two. Capture one, kill the other. The one I need dead is the one we’ve been calling the Raven. He has a history with us, believe it or not. My Hunters found him when he was just a boy. We had intention to keep him in our custody to study him, but in the end, his kin came for him. Recently, he’s found the nightwalker I want to capture, and he’s protecting him, hiding him from us.”

  “Wait a moment.” Oksana held her hand in the air. “You’re really trying to capture the Protégé? Why not kill him too? Isn’t that what this whole mess is about?”

  “No. Not exactly. What I am about to say cannot leave this room, do you all understand?” He received confused nods from everyone but Oksana, who already knew a great deal of the story. “King Mabus is old, and his grip on the city is slipping. His eldest son is set to take the throne when he dies, but the kid is a fool. The Council will wind up doing all the work, leaving young Caulwel Mabus nothing but a useless face.

  “But I am a force within Vandroya. The Hunters once numbered almost as many as the King’s army, and with better discipline, magic, and weapons. I could take the city over for myself with barely a struggle, but Mabus still has many towns sworn to him who could be roused to action and take all of that away. So, I have to cement myself as the best choice before I can even try to conquer the throne.”

  “Capture the Protégé.” Scara sighed. “And kill him publicly to gain support. Take the crown.”

  “That’s the idea.” He grinned, and she swooned.

  Sola picked at the dirt under her nails. “Someone’s always vying for someone’s big chair, aren’t they? But can you even use Royal Magic? If you can’t, the Union of Lapis will be here to shut you down so fast—”

  “I have been tested,” he assured her. “One of the Lapis Mages was able to confirm I have the ability. I have friends in lofty places.”

  Sola stuck her nose in the air anyway. “Yet you’re poaching two young women from Caequin for your dirty job killing and kidnapping.”

  “Why exactly is the Protégé important?” Ayvar asked. “I keep hearing everyone talk about him, but why? Why choose him for your public offering? What is he?”

  “Do you know where the nightwalkers came from, Sir Ayvar?” Cyrus asked.

  “I know the campfire stories. I do not know the truth of it.”

  “Their origin is vastly different from the vampires. It’s common knowledge that vampires were created when Ancients still walked the land. A human woman, Countess Elsbet, created them with her invention of Blood Magic. But Ancients, like our gods, were the ones who made nightwalkers. A Mother and a Father to create another race of beings. Whatever they wanted. They couldn’t agree on anything and instead went their separate ways, taking their powers with them to each create a species on their own.

  “But they found out they couldn’t, not without each other. The creatures they made weren’t like the other races of the world. They couldn’t procreate, they couldn’t live in daylight, and worst of all, they constantly craved blood. Since these creatures couldn’t be born, nightwalkers of both lines had to be created from other mortals by transfer of blood. The Mother left the mainland centuries ago. I have no reputable source on the way her ilk function, but the Father is alive and well here on Mirivin, roaming in secret. His nightwalkers turn others with a transfer of blood, similar to vampires, but he himself has an ability to turn someone too, so long as the circumstances are right.

  “He doesn’t do it very often. We speculate it could be that these circumstances are hard to come by, or maybe he imparts a piece of himself in every nightwalker he turns and therefore can only do it a finite number of times—whatever the details, the fact is the nightwalkers that the Father himself turns are the strongest bloodkin you’ll find. I believe they could become gods if we don’t stop them. Over the years, we’ve managed to wipe them all out, save for his newest. We call him the Protégé.”

  Scara’s high-pitched laugh reached every corner of the room. “And you think a poison is going to stop him? Wait, what makes you think it’s even a him?”

  “Well, it’s just a—”

  “I think I can take on a god,” Sola said. “And this Raven that you mentioned. I hate having my abilities tested, but in that same regard, I love a good challenge.”

  Ayvar’s eyes were wide. “Fighting a god isn’t a good challenge!” he shouted at her. “You’re mad if you think I’ll allow this!”

  Bickering erupted between the family at once, and Oksana reviewed her knowledge thoughtfully, sipping the bittersweet drink in her hand. There was a piece missing, and she realized she had sent it away to Suradia days ago.

  “That man,” she said, silencing them. “Peyrs Aldridge. He kept saying he didn’t know who the people in that little hovel were, but something felt off when he said that. I bet he knows. Knows who the people were that the poison was used on. And I’m certain those people would know everything you need to know about the Raven and the Protégé. They were nightwalkers, after all. A pity we didn’t know about your arrival beforehand, Lord-Hunter. He may have been quite willing to tell you.”

  “You didn’t torture him for the information?”

  She laughed. “He wouldn’t have survived a second. There was no point. He was bent on getting a few details to Queen Allanis of Suradia, however. He shared those with me, so I told him he could go, but he was to return here when he was done, or my assassins would bring him back in pieces.”

  “An unwise call, duchess.” Cyrus kept his distaste at that.

  “I see that now, only because
I don’t think he’ll survive his stay. Something tells me that Peyrs’s knowledge will get him killed.”

  Ayvar fixed on her expression carefully. It dawned on him that she had only fed Cyrus a part of the story. She hadn’t told him the details Peyrs shared with her, and she hadn’t told him her real reasons for allowing him to leave for Suradia. Oksana stared back at him, her eyes widening as she remembered just how much she had already discussed with Ayvar.

  “Surely, there are others we could ask, duchess.” He smiled. “There were others at the scene, weren’t there?”

  “Other Hunters,” she said, her grin taut. “All slaughtered by someone else who came to aide the two nightwalkers. Peyrs alone survived, or so he says.”

  “Are you certain? I heard him mention another name while we were bringing him to you. He was in so much pain, I’m sure it was all nonsense, but it is a bit odd that he was able to drop such a clear, specific name.”

  Oksana ran her tongue over her teeth. “Which name would that be?”

  He chose which one he would say with care.

  “Sinisia Alvax.”

  His choice surprised her. “You’re sure it wasn’t a different name?” It was her turn to smile.

  “That was the only one I heard. If she was there with Peyrs, I’m sure she would also know the identity of the nightwalkers.” Ayvar tried to hide his frown in his glass as he took a sip. Somehow, he’d given up the game already.

  “Who is this Sinisia Alvax?” Cyrus asked. “She is not one of my Hunters, yet the name rings a bell.”

  “She’s Queen Anavelia’s Master of Dusk,” Oksana told him. “I’m not sure what business she had there. Perhaps it was Peyrs’s idea to have her along. Maybe they know each other somehow.”

  “Or maybe it was Queen Anavelia’s idea,” Ayvar suggested. “Who’s to say she hasn’t been following this operation all along? You should focus on Saunterton.”

  Scara stared at the way Cyrus’s chest broadened when he sat back and made himself comfortable in the duchess’s soft white chairs.

  “Yes.” He swirled the remaining brandy in his glass. “But to what end, Sir Ayvar? Anavelia’s only part in all of this has been that of a nuisance. I never took her for an actual player.”

  “Maybe she found some of your Hunters sniffing around, and they didn’t keep quiet when she took them in for a little questioning. Now she knows something, and she wants to do something about it. Everyone knows how much she hates Vandroya. I doubt she draws much difference between you and King Mabus at all.”

  “Duchess, your thoughts?”

  She huffed. “The Queen of Saunterton has my idiot brother at her disposal, so I suspect if they had questions or suspicions, they would have asked if I knew anything. I’m afraid your assumption about Sinisia Alvax’s involvement is either flawed at best or flat out wrong, Sir Ayvar. I think if we want answers, we must look to Suradia, where Peyrs went. You have to look to Suradia.”

  Her little smirk made his blood boil. “Absolutely not. I am not your lackey, duchess!”

  Both daughters exchanged glances, then stared at their father.

  “You’ve been avoiding Suradia,” Sola said. “Why? Everything has been pushing us in that direction. Let’s just go and get it over with.”

  He ignored her and jabbed his finger at Oksana from across the table. “You! You care who those people are! But I don’t give half-a-shit about it, and stumbling across that ugly, dying moron Peyrs has been one of the worst things to happen to us! Let my family be!”

  “But, Father… I think I want to be a Hunter.”

  Scara’s words killed him inside. And then Sola’s.

  “So do I. You go on home to Mother if you like. She’ll be happier if you return without us.”

  “Sola, no, that’s not true.”

  “You keep saying that,” Scara pouted, “like you think we’re too stupid to see the truth. Or are you too stupid to see it? Either way, it’s true, and I’m not going back to see her stare me down every day, wishing she never had us.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with you!” Ayvar yelled. “You wouldn’t understand how she feels, but I promise it’s not about you like you think it is!”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Scara folded her arms. “I’m not going back.”

  Sensing he’d lost, he said nothing else and stared into the marble.

  “I will show you all where you’ll be staying,” Oksana said. “And the Lord-Hunter and I will come up with a plan. You will go to Suradia, and you’ll investigate every angle you can about Peyrs, which means you will probably pay a visit to the queen.”

  “When the plan is complete, I’ll outfit you as Hunters and supply you with the best. In the meantime, Lady Scara, I’d like to discuss your approach to the poison.”

  “Of course.” She blushed.

  Oksana dismissed them all soon after. She circled around Ayvar like a vicious dog as his daughters walked off with Lord-Hunter Cyrus.

  “You knew telling him about Rhett Hallenar was bound to get me in trouble,” she said. “But it would mean turning the attention toward Suradia, and you would do anything to prevent that. That’s all it came down to, wasn’t it?”

  “I want nothing to do with that family!” he hissed. “How dare you. I remember what you said to Peyrs. You told him that you hold all the cards, and I see that now. You’ve got an impressive hand, but I promise you this, duchess—someone out there has one better than you.”

  He walked away and found Sola roaming by herself. Scara was dominating a technical and boring conversation with Cyrus, so the other sister left them without parting words and instead explored the palace.

  As soon as Scara had the Lord-Hunter to herself, she dragged him away into an empty room.

  “A gallery.” Cyrus arched his brow and perused the Undomien family paintings and artifacts. “Lady Scara, I don’t see how this is relevant to our discussion.”

  “Because it’s not.” She stood too close to him. He looked down at her, his face twisting in anger and annoyance.

  “Stop your conquest, Lady Scara. This isn’t appropriate.”

  “You don’t intimidate me.” Darkness glimmered in her eyes. “That’s what you’re trying to do, isn’t it? Scare me off with that mean look of yours? You’re only digging a deeper hole, my lord.”

  “My interest in you as a Hunter seems to have backfired.”

  “You take that risk when you seek a specialist. What makes us twisted is often the same thing that makes us—” she rolled her head to the side in search of the word and held it in her mouth with a smile, “—talented.”

  He kept silent, still gazing down in disapproval. But this time, Scara could see his eyes moving around, taking her in, assessing her. They were bluer than anything she could have dreamed of. She brushed her fingertips over a smudge on his uniform that wasn’t there, and he snatched up her hand.

  “It’s unbecoming of a lord to have dirt on his clothes,” she said with a shrug.

  “It’s unbecoming of a lady to court a man twice her age.”

  She laughed, but there was nothing pretty or coy about it. It was shrewd and condescending.

  “Is that the best you’ve got? You couldn’t handle me anyway. I bet you like those fair little ladies with the tight corsets and big skirts and the shoes they can barely walk in. Those dainty ones who submit and take your every command, who won’t make a move without being told to.”

  She had him riled up. His jaw clenched, and she could hear him breathing.

  “You don’t want a woman who’ll make you fight. And believe me, I will.”

  He kept her hand in his grasp, squeezing it harder. She only grinned, then twisted it around and grabbed his wrist and stood on her toes to kiss him. To devour him. She pulled him in, her other hand on the back of his neck, fingers weaving into his hair. He didn’t back away. And then, his hand drifted down to her hip.

  Her pace was too fast for him, she could tell, but she wasn’t about to slow down.
He would keep up or else. Her pomegranate stained fingers reached up and parted his lips further so she could taste him, sweet and bitter like brandy. She would have taken him to the ground and ridden him right there in the gallery had her game of cat and mouse been over.

  “I will be in your room tonight, Lord-Hunter. Do not hide from me.”

  She left him with a little skip in her step, heading down the grand hall in search of directions to her temporary quarters. Sola caught sight of her as she toured the palace with her father.

  “There she goes prancing around like nothing is wrong,” he grumbled. “How can she be so carefree around that man? I don’t trust him.”

  Sola let out a light, amused sigh. “You have nothing to worry about, Father. She’s after answers for us.”

  “The only thing she’s after is that man’s—”

  “Father.” She stifled a laugh. “Scara’s a detective. Let her do what she does best.”

  12

  The Man with Three Ears

  The orange glow of sunset bathed Suradia in the final moments of day. Allanis looked out to the town from her balcony yet again. A cold breeze carried through her, and she shuddered with purpose.

  “Come back in, Little Bird. Let me have a look at you.”

  The queen obliged and left the view, coming back into her room and staring at herself in the mirror. Lora joined her, straightening the stiff black sleeves of Allanis’s tailored gown.

  “You look like you’re out for blood.” She smiled, combing back Allanis’s curls with her fingers. “I see you found all my dark makeup.”

  Allanis was at a disconnect with the image she saw. She didn’t feel like the woman in the mirror. She didn’t even feel like she belonged in her own skin. Her soul was a thousand years away.

  “It feels like it’ll happen any second.”

  “Is that why you keep looking for him out there?”

  She didn’t want to answer. They had learned a lot about what was to come, and she’d had to convince herself she was ready for it. She didn’t feel ready, not since the outrage had died down, but she hoped it would pick up again when Mariette’s predictions came to fruition.