by White, Gwynn
He didn’t need to see color to know that Mom’s intelligent Norin eyes stared back at him. They were set in a copy of Lukan’s distinctive Avanov face—a face he’d always hated, but which was instantly recognizable to anyone who knew Lukan. There could be no doubt about whose son he was.
He fingered the emblem on a pocket over his heart. Instead of the Pathfinder comet he’d seen on every other alliance uniform, someone had embroidered the constellation he was named after. This uniform had been made just for him. It set him apart from every other person in the alliance, including Axel. No one could do what he was called to do.
He offered Lukan a salute. “My name is Nicholas the Light-Bearer. I will meet you in Cian.”
“Cowpat, if you don’t stop talking to yourself and get out here, I’ll come in there and fetch you,” Farith called.
Anna shuffled, then whispered, “Farith! Stop calling him that. He’s the Light-Bearer.”
And that was part of the problem with trying to get to know Anna. “I’m also just Nicholas,” he muttered under his breath. But he shot one last look in the mirror to make sure that nothing was out of place before leaving the shower room.
They were only a couple of steps away from him, but by the time he joined them, his hands were clammy and his throat dry. Anna’s eyes widened when she saw him. Quick as lightning, they shot down his gangly body and then back to his face. Her lips parted—they glistened enticingly—and then she looked away, dismissing him as if he weren’t worth looking at.
He shifted from foot to foot. Only Anna could repel and attract him at the same time. Would it never get easier being with her?
Farith punched his arm. “If you’re quite finished gawping, can we get out of here?”
Trust Farith to bring everything back to normal. He loved her dearly for it. He offered her his arm. She took it and led him back into the well-lit tunnel that snaked past his new home. He waited until Anna was out the front door and then pulled it closed. There was no way of locking it. Perhaps that didn’t matter in the mines. But then, as far as he’d seen, Mom and Axel owned precious little for anyone to steal.
Farith’s walked briskly. Her little steps were no match for his big ones, so he kept pace with her. Anna trailed behind them. They passed a series of closed wooden doors. “This is where my family lives,” Farith said. “Before the war, my parents owned the palace in Maegkin.” She shrugged. “I never lived in it so I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”
Like her, he should have been raised in a palace. Having seen the outside of Lukan’s forbidding domain, he infinitely preferred his cottage in the forest.
The tunnel narrowed and the lights thinned until they walked alternatively through patches of darkness and dull light.
He was instantly back in that dark cell in the slaughterhouse, tearing his fingers apart on rock as cold and forgiving as this to escape. It took all his will not to stop and refuse to go any further. It got worse when they were forced to walk in single file between a soaring forest of ice crystals. Hating the press of stone on his skin, he gulped in a lungful of dense, humid air. His lungs still wheezed as if starved. He focused on the next pin-prick of light to stop himself hyperventilating.
“Pity you can’t see color,” Farith said. “Ice crystal really is beautiful.” She swung through a crevice and dropped out of sight. “The ones in this chamber are blue and green. Come and see how they shimmer in the light.” Her voice sounded muffled.
“The shapes are interesting,” he said lamely. Discussions on color were always a bit pointless. Grateful that he hadn’t eaten properly for a year, he squeezed through the crevice—and dropped four feet into a wide, brightly lit chamber. Arms flailing, he stumbled, almost falling before he found his footing. “Thanks for the warning,” he groused.
“Stop moaning and enjoy the view.”
The vaulted roof bristled with ice crystals. Some were like spears, piercing the rock floor with their razor-sharp tips. Others spiked through the ceiling like a bed of foot-long nails. He saw no beauty in any of it.
Anna appeared at the crevice.
He moved aside to make space for her to jump down. As graceful as a doe in the forest, she landed next to him without mishap or flourish. She caught his eye and quickly looked away. He turned pointedly to Farith. “Where are you taking me?”
“Do you like books?”
He looked at her blankly. “Books?”
“Paper with writing on it, bound in leather.”
“I know what a book is,” he said peevishly. “But I don’t see how they’re going to help.”
“Of course. Silly of me. You can’t read.” Her nose scrunched. “So, no books… Do you dance?”
He gave her a flat look. “Like a chorus girl. It was all I ever did in the forest. Me, myself and I.”
Farith huffed.
Anna’s perfect mouth twitched.
“He can’t dance and he doesn’t read,” Farith said to Anna as if he wasn’t present. “There’s nothing else to do. At least that I know of.”
“Come on,” Anna said. “I know where we can go.” Without acknowledging him, she darted across the cavern.
“Ah!” Farith’s face lit up. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She grabbed his hand. “Come on, Cowpat. You’re going to love this.” She pulled him to a set of narrow, slippery stairs that cork-screwed up into pitch blackness. Anna had vanished into it, leaving him with nothing but the echoing scrape of her boots.
Every instinct he possessed rebelled at climbing up there. He racked his brain for an escape. The answer came in a stomach rumble. He snatched at it. “Is food involved in this expedition? We haven’t eaten since we arrived here.”
“You need to see this.” Farith shoved him toward the stairs. “We won’t stay long, and then I’ll raid the party for food for all of us.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Have some trust,” she hissed.
He sighed loudly and started up the stairs. After three twists, he caught the sound of a door rolling open. On he climbed. And then the air freshened. He sped up, breathing more easily. By the time he reached the top, the air was pleasantly cool. He stepped eagerly into a small cave—and gulped.
Ethereal as a wood sprite, Anna stood in a pool of silver moonlight. It streamed in through an open trap door high above her head. Its soft glow also spread across a wall of rock that flowed like petrified water.
Desperate to see the sky, he joined her. She stepped back, leaving him alone below a wide, round hole. He looked up—and smiled.
Nicholas the Light-Bearer was perfectly framed above his head. Each star twinkled, calling to him as they had from his earliest childhood when Uncle Tao had first pointed the constellation out to him.
“Can we go outside?”
Anna strode to a shadowy corner. Metal clunked on rock. Moments later, she returned holding a ladder. He moved out the way. She lifted it up and wedged the two sidebars into two gaps in the metal ringing the opening. She looked at him, maybe for the first time since the Blade Furnace. “Wait here.”
Heat pooled in his core. He wasn’t sorry that she skittered back into the shadows before seeing his blush.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Farith said smugly. “Yet.”
Anna returned holding three shotguns. “We keep a stash here just in case.” She tossed one at him and the other at Farith.
He caught his and frowned. “What am I supposed to do with this?” He looked at Anna for an answer. She was already halfway up the ladder. Her shotgun was slung across her back. He shrugged and did the same. “You’re next,” he said to Farith.
Her shotgun was still in her hands. “After you, Cowpat.”
He wanted to argue, but she glared so darkly he decided not to bother. When Farith made up her mind about something, nothing would change it. A mere five feet away, the wind blew and the stars flickered. That’s where he wanted to be, not stuck in a hole in the ground. He scrambled up the ladder.
&nbs
p; It opened onto a wide lip of rock on the side of the mountain. Tall and winsome, Anna stood near the edge. Instead of watching for him, she stared out into the night. A gentle breeze plucked at wisps of her hair that had escaped from her braid. Even with her back to him, she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Throat as dry as dust, he hopped off the stepladder onto the ledge.
She didn’t acknowledge his presence.
He sighed, racking his brain for something to say to her.
Below him, steel rasped on stone.
He spun to look at Farith.
She’d pulled the ladder away from the opening. Bleeding defiance, she peered up at him. Then she let go of the ladder. It clunked against the far wall.
“What the heck are you doing?” he demanded. “How are we supposed to get back in?”
Anna’s boots crunched as she strode over to join him. Her breath hissed. “Farith—”
“Enough. Both of you,” Farith interrupted. “We’re all sick to death of your moping. You have three choices.” She counted off on her fingers. “One… kiss. Two… be friends. Ones that actually speak to each other.” Her eyes rolled. “Shocker! Or, three… decide you hate each other and avoid each other forever. But whatever you choose, don’t bother calling me to rescue you until you’ve decided.” She stomped to the stairs. “I’ll be in my room waiting for your call.”
Nicholas—and Anna—peered helplessly into the entry cave.
Anna walked away first. She sat down on the ledge.
He dithered for a moment, then joined her. Keeping a foot of space between them, he sat.
Silence hung hot and heavy between them.
He knew exactly why he moped around her. The solution was simple. Pluck up the courage to kiss her.
But would she welcome it? If she was moping because she was intimidated by who he was, then no. But what if that wasn’t at the root of the problem? And should he even be exploring this right now when he had so much else on his plate?
“She’s right, you know,” Anna suddenly said. “We can’t go on like this. It’s my job to protect you. I can’t do that if we aren’t talking.”
Talking. So kissing wasn’t on her mind? That was sad. But probably not surprising. She was beautiful. He was a wreck. No sane girl would choose to be with a walking skeleton. He cleared his throat. “I can be friends.”
Anna stared out into the night. “What happens when all of this is over?”
“You mean when Lukan is dead?”
A strand of her hair clung to her lips.
His fingers itched to brush it away. “I guess you can take back your palace in Maegkin.”
“Will you take back your palace in Cian?” She swept her hair back, pulling that tantalizing strand away from her mouth.
It made it easier for him to concentrate. “It was never mine.”
She pointed down into the darkness. “I can say the same about the one in the city down there.”
Unaware that Maegkin lay below them, he blinked in surprise. He faced her. “What are you really asking?”
She still didn’t look at him. “I don’t think I want to stay in Treven. After it’s over.”
He decided to humor her even though she hadn’t answered his question. “Where do you want to go?”
“Will you keep the Chenayan throne? Or will you go looking for new adventures?”
He laughed. It sounded bitter. “Do I have a choice?”
She faced him for the first time. “Isn’t that what this fight is all about?”
Stunned by her question, he rocked back—and heard stones rattle somewhere below them on the mountain. Inwardly cursing his ears for intruding, he opened his mouth to answer her.
Something cracked. A stick breaking?
Head canted, he allowed his ears to stretch as far out as they could hear.
More stones rasped. It sounded as if a young buck had missed its footing. He whispered, “Is there any game left here?”
“Hunted out,” she murmured. Silently, she eased her shotgun off her back. Weapon at the ready, she watched him expectantly.
Bushes rustled.
It had to be people. “Who else is out here?”
“Hard to say. Everyone should be at the party. What’s going on?”
“I’m hearing people. They’re trying to be quiet—”
She eased her informa out of a pocket. “How far away?” She stared into the darkness.
“At the outside limit of my hearing. But coming closer.” Without any landmarks for reference, he had no way of knowing the distance. “Unlikely that they can hear us.”
Another scuffle.
“They’re light-footed, yet they’re making so much noise. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. Xipal.”
The noise clicked into place. Children shuffled up the side of a mountain far to the right of them. “Where’s the hangar where we landed?”
“On the other side of the mountain. But there are air vents on this side. The Chenayans used them to target us with poisoned gas.”
“I think that’s where the children are headed.”
Anna brushed her thumb across her informa. No light flashed to indicate that it was on, but she still spoke into it. Focused on the noise, he listened with half an ear as she called for Clay, and he answered.
The hair on the back of his neck stood. He pulled his hearing closer to find the threat.
People breathing. Feet shuffling. The footsteps were too heavy to be children’s.
Xipal’s Blades?
If so, they couldn’t be more than thirty paces away.
He clamped his hand over the informa to shut Clay up and whispered urgently to Anna, “To my right. Three… four adults.”
Before he knew what had happened, he was holding the informa, and Anna and her rifle had circled around him. “Get back inside,” she hissed. She dropped to the ground and lay flat on her stomach.
His heart stuttered. She would be alone on the mountain with no cover and an enemy stalking her. He dropped the informa and reached for his shotgun. “No.”
“Light-Bearer!” Anna grabbed him and dragged him down. “Move. Now.”
Thwack! Light flashed. Seconds later, he and Anna were peppered with sand and grit.
Stunned that someone had shot at them, he jerked the trigger of his shotgun. It kicked back at his shoulder with such unexpected force, he cried out before he could stop himself. Where the bullet had landed, he didn’t know.
“Get inside. Now!” Anna snarled. “Before you kill one of us.” She scooped up his fallen weapon.
“And you?”
“I’ll cover you. Then I’m right behind you.”
Using his hands and his hips, he wriggled across the ledge to the opening.
Anna kept pace with him. But despite her covering fire, a barrage of shots struck the rock between him and safety. Dirt kicked up into his eyes, but none of the bullets came close to hitting them. Still, it was obvious that Xipal and his Blades didn’t plan on letting them escape.
Anna stopped firing—she must have come to the same conclusion. She smiled wanly at him. Even in the cacophony, he heard her say, “Rifles can be loaded with more cartridges than shotguns. I’m saving my ammo for when they storm us.”
Icy with rage that Xipal dared threaten them, he thumped his chest with his fist. “May the Winds be my witness. Xipal’s not leaving here alive.”
He settled down to await the fight of his life.
Thirteen
The Crap Chute
Grigor peered into a dark recess beyond the little doorway. It stank as if something had died and rotted in there. He was about to head off to find a better hiding place when the plod of Natalia’s boots reached him. She could not have been further than one turn in the passage away.
Out of time.
Still, on his haunches, he shuffled into the doorway—and retched.
Beneath him, a slimy floor sloped sharply away. Above, the ceiling brushed h
is hair with more filth. Squealing softly in unseen sludge, his boots slid out from under him. His hands shot out to grip the walls to stop the rest of him from sliding away, too. They were also slick with unseen grime.
“If you don’t stop being so prissy, it will be you who dies. And then rots,” the woman’s disembodied voice said sharply.
A sudden draft slammed the door. Plunged into absolute blackness, he sucked in a startled breath. Cramped, dark places had never worried him, but he usually liked a warning. Especially if they stank as bad as this one did.
A lock clicked.
He felt around for the door handle.
There wasn’t one.
He started to swear, but she interrupted. “Forget getting out, Grigor. You’re here for a ride.” A small chuckle. “Have fun.”
“You want me to slide down this...?” He searched for words to describe this crap hole—and then rolled his eyes at his stupidity. Not all of the high-born had flushing toilets in their apartments. The low-born had to toss the contents of their chamber pots somewhere.
The woman laughed softly. “Indeed.”
“You couldn’t figure something less disgusting?”
Still, as crazy as the idea was, some of the tension drained from him. Only a dead person would behave like this. She probably knew Father.
“I thought you wanted to escape the palace? If I’m wrong, I’ll open the door. Natalia and her dagger are less than five paces away from it.”
“Me? Ungrateful?” The stone bit coldly through his trousers as his butt hit the chute. He pushed off with his hands, quickly gaining speed on the foul slope. “Not at all.”
“Good,” she said dryly. “Your father would not be happy with me if anything happened to you.”
His stomach knotted. “He hasn’t—”
The floor fell away from beneath him. He screamed as he careened legs first into a vertical tube.
“Oh, and just so you know,” the woman said casually, “sometimes the inclines are a bit dramatic.”
“It’s the landings I’m worried about,” he gritted out. Was she really enjoying watching this?