by L. L. McNeil
Amarah gulped.
‘Jato! Please!’ Kohl’s voice was almost lost in the wind.
Amarah felt his frigid wind as he flew close, his cloak whipping around him as the wind shifted into a gale.
‘Amarah, run! Please!’
‘I’m not running from her!’
‘Please,’ Kohl pleaded. ‘You can fight and brawl, but Jato served as a General. She’ll annihilate you!’
Amarah slapped him away, trying to keep eyes on Jato. ‘Go on. Fly away again. Abandon me like you abandoned Moroda and the others! Damned coward.’
Kohl shook his head, his hat lost in the violent winds. ‘I still love her. She’s still my daughter!’
A ball of lightning crashed into them, sending both Amarah and Kohl sprawling onto the bare rock.
Amarah staggered to her feet, and screamed, ‘Jato! You see that? Your damned father still loves you, even though you’re a brat! He doesn’t want me to chop your head off!’
Jato swooped in, arms outstretched, and Amarah leapt to meet her, bringing her scythe up in a slash that caught Jato on her side.
‘Stop, please! Both of you!’ Kohl screamed above the wind.
But Amarah had fallen into the singularity of the fight—avoiding Jato’s lightning attacks and attempting to get in a swipe of her own, when she could.
She danced back, leapt up, rolled out of the way. Jato absorbed or evaded most of her scythe’s attacks, but the blade itself drew blood, and Amarah tried to get as close to Jato as she could.
She needed to clip those wings.
Suddenly, Kohl joined the fray—flying up between them and blasting the pair in opposite directions with his own wind.
Bracing against it, Amarah shivered as the freezing air rushed over her skin, shoving her away from Jato and halting her scythe’s next attack.
‘I said stop this!’ He roared, cutting Jato’s wind away and replacing it with his blizzard. ‘Jato! Now!’
Jato whirled off, swooping away from his attacks, only to meet him in the sky again. Everywhere she went, he was there, blocking her path, keeping her away with a freezing gale that covered the bare rocks in ice.
‘Get out of my way!’ Jato shrieked, almost hysterical.
Kohl didn’t reply, focussed only on preventing her from getting closer to Amarah.
‘If you’d accepted Aciel to begin with, none of this would have happened!’ Jato continued, hovering in the air and pointing at her father. ‘Whose side are you on? You’re no leader! Bringing that foreign snake here and protecting her!’
The two Arillians dropped out of the sky, both glaring at each other, neither willing to cede ground.
‘The Golem’s chose to let her in. I’m carrying out their will.’ Kohl replied, his voice calm.
‘Kohl, move, or I’ll make you!’ Amarah spat, trudging back towards them from where she’d been pushed away. ‘I shouldn’t have trusted you. Went against all my instincts! There’s no magic here to get Moroda back, is there? You just used me as an excuse to get back and talk to her!’ She pointed her weapon at Jato, and it shimmered blue.
‘No!’ Kohl said, turning to Amarah briefly.
‘Get out of the way if you can’t help Moroda!’ Amarah sent another pulse of energy towards the Arillians, and Kohl deflected it away from Jato.
‘I’m not going to hurt either of you! Stop this, now! You don’t need to fight!’ He tried again, desperate.
Kohl was becoming more of an annoyance than Jato.
Amarah flicked her scythe over and over, sending wave after wave of attacks at the pair of them.
She’d force his hand.
He’d fight back or move.
When she finally felt the freezing wind, she smiled. A reaction from the stoic Arillian.
‘If I go down, I’m bringing you both with me!’ Amarah yelled, but when she tried to lift her scythe in another attack, she couldn’t.
Looking down at her weapon, Amarah cursed.
Kohl had encased the blade in ice, the weight too much for her to lift and wield.
‘Argh! You bastard!’ She kicked at the ice, sending a few shards flying, but unable to break her scythe free. ‘So, that’s it? Disarm me? Leave me defenceless for your brat to finish off?’ She continued to kick at it, and chipped away at the hunk of ice.
‘That’s not it at all,’ he said, landing beside Jato. ‘I’m stopping this. Now. There’s no need for you to fight! We need to work together, not rip each other apart!’
‘How dare you stop me!’ Jato jerked away from Kohl and scowled at him. She summoned another ball of lightning and hurled it at Kohl, who deflected it easily.
‘Jato…’
She threw more balls of lightning at him, but none came close to harming Kohl as he stood, impassive, shielding himself from her attacks but making no move against her.
Jato snarled. ‘What a terrible father! You’re a weak, shameful Arillian! Aciel was right about you! Why couldn’t you stay in exile? Coming back here with a thief and the one who hurt Aciel! How much more shame do you want to bring to Oren? The ones you say you care for? The ones you say you love?’
Amarah watched as Kohl slowly bent to her words, submissive and afraid.
‘I do love you, Jato. Whatever happened before, whatever will happen now. That’s unconditional.’
He spoke softly, and Amarah had to strain to hear him over the wind and the crunching of ice as she worked to free her weapon. She couldn’t believe it. After all her vitriol, he still loved her, still stood by her?
‘Get away from me! Get out of my sight! I don’t want you anywhere near me!’ Jato screeched, hurling another bolt of lightning at him.
The attack must have been stronger than all her others, as Kohl raised his hands to defend himself from the resulting crash and was thrown back. Thunder filled the air, and Amarah’s ears rang.
This was her chance.
Jato was so consumed with hurting Kohl, she’d stopped paying her any attention. Kicking away the last of the ice, she freed her scythe and charged forward, lunging at Jato blade-first.
The Arillian saw Amarah at the last minute and jumped into the air, but Amarah’s blade caught her wings and sliced into the feathers.
Jato screamed, but Amarah didn’t relent, and hacked away at Jato’s wings in a frenzy. ‘You. Ungrateful. Bitch.’ She punctuated every attack. ‘After everything you’ve done! Kohl still loves you!’
One wing fell to the ground in bloodied tatters.
‘I would have given anything for a father who cared! For someone, anyone, who cared! And you throw it away? You! Spoiled! Brat!’
Amarah raised her scythe, her arms weak but fuelled on adrenaline. She brought her weapon down with both hands, and Jato screamed as she jumped out of the way.
The blade sliced into—and through—Jato’s elbow, severing her forearm. ‘Just like your lover,’ Amarah hissed as blood poured. Her chest heaved, her fingers loose on her scythe.
Jato’s scream turned into a snarl as she brought a knee up into Amarah’s stomach.
Immediately winded, Amarah dropped her scythe, only to be knocked to the floor as Jato smacked her with her remaining hand.
Jato lunged, grabbing Amarah’s hair and pulling her back up again.
‘I said I’d destroy you!’ Jato said, her voice weak and trembling.
She grabbed Amarah’s face and squeezed tight, her index finger pressed hard against Amarah’s forehead.
Still winded, Amarah could barely struggle as Jato’s palm was replaced by bright, flickering light, and the unmistakable crackle of electricity whiting out her vision.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Forgive me, princess.’
Isa didn’t recognise his thin, scratchy voice. Didn’t recognise his smell.
Why did she hurt so much?
She tried to move but didn’t have the strength to even open her eyes. She gurgled in an attempt to speak, but her throat burned, and she couldn’t form words with her lips.
/> ‘I know it hurts. Keep still, please.’
Who are you?
What happened to me? ‘Urgh…’
‘Don’t try to move. I’m Aetos, by the way. You’ll be safe soon. Mateli left you for dead.’
Mateli?
That name meant something…
Aware she was moving, but unable to open her eyes or work out where up or down was, Isa groaned again.
She couldn’t focus, her mind flicked between dreams and darkness, and she hurt so much.
*
Warmth rushed over her, accompanied by a familiar crackle and spit.
A fire.
Isa opened her eyes and blinked rapidly. She saw a candle burning on the nightstand opposite, but she didn’t recognise anything else—not the bed she’d been tucked into, nor the room she found herself in. The soft linens smelled fresh, and she wanted to close her eyes again and drift off to sleep. If she hadn’t been in such a strange place, she probably would have.
Carefully, she lifted her head from the pillow she’d been resting on—full of goose down from the feel of it—and tried to get her bearings.
There was a distinct lack of gold and jewelled furniture, and the room was small and square.
Definitely not the palace—most rooms were circular there.
She smelled green tea brewing somewhere nearby, a comforting scent that reminded her of the palace kitchens.
The walls were rich mahogany, with heavy fabrics draped from the ceiling beams to cover most of the window. Through the gap, Isa saw night had fallen, and she gulped.
How long had she been asleep? What had happened?
Her left hand itched and when she moved to scratch it, she realised it had been bandaged.
‘Gently, princess. You’ve been through a lot.’
Isa span on the bed to see a tall, blonde woman watching her from the corner of the room. ‘Who are you?’
The woman dipped her head. ‘I’m Lathri, a healer. You’re in my home, in Little Yomal.’
Isa didn’t recall her name or face, but she knew the residential district. At least she was still in Taban Yul.
She looked back through the window, trying to gather her thoughts and work out whether or not she was in danger. Lathri didn’t seem threatening, but that didn’t mean anything. ‘How did I get here?
‘One of my companions found you bleeding in the street and carried you here.’
Isa recalled the name. ‘…Aetos?’ A man carrying her, telling her to keep still.
Lathri smiled. ‘An eagle. He’d been watching you in case you got into trouble with Mateli.’
Isa glanced at her bandaged hand, the memory of her encounter coming back in bits and pieces. ‘Mateli attacked me,’ she muttered, more to herself than Lathri. Then she remembered seeing an eagle soaring overhead while she’d been stalking the criminal.
‘Why are you watching me?’ She stood, and dizziness washed over her, but she weathered it on shaky legs. Her bare toes stepped onto a plush rug and she found the sensation oddly comforting.
Isa relaxed a fraction, despite being in a stranger’s domain. There was something bizarre about the woman with her pale skin and hair, and her orange-brown eyes that seemed to look through her.
Her throat still burned, and if there had been a mirror in the room, she had no doubt she’d see Mateli’s fingerprints pressed into her neck.
She swallowed and immediately winced.
‘How did you know about Mateli?’ Isa asked, a little irritated she’d not received an answer to her first question.
Lathri studied her, as if weighing up whether or not she’d fall over, before glancing at the closed bedroom door. ‘Voulhrik?’
Isa knew that name, too. From the palace.
One of the messengers?
The new Ittallan entered the room at Lathri’s call. Isa had never paid him much attention before—she rarely took notice of the palace servants—but in the small room, she saw how broad he was, with wide shoulders, barrel chest, moustache, and dark, piercing eyes. He wore a hoop of gold in one ear and stooped so he did not hit the beamed ceiling. When he spotted Isa, he nodded stiffly.
‘You’re from the palace.’ It was a statement, not a question.
He nodded again, eyes darting to Lathri, before returning to her.
‘Why have you been watching me?’ Why did she have to repeat herself so often? Getting answers seemed to be akin to getting blood from a stone.
‘We were worried you were in danger,’ Lathri answered, her voice as soft as silk.
Isa narrowed her eyes. ‘Forgive my…suspicions…but I am sister to the king. What could I possibly be in danger from?’
Her throat hurt to talk, but she couldn’t stand in silence. Not when she had so many burning questions.
Lathri’s stared at Isa’s hand. ‘In the city right now…I think you’re probably in the most danger of all. You’ll forgive me for not speaking as freely as you might wish, but your brother’s dislike of Ittallan is abundantly clear, and we’ve no desire to cause…a disturbance.’
‘Dislike for the Ittallan? He’s half one himself! As am I. There’s no disturbance,’ Isa said, tilting her head to one side.
‘On the contrary, princess, there is quite the disturbance throughout the city,’ Aetos said, entering the room and bowing to her.
Isa looked at each of them in turn, mind whirling.
Then it hit her. ‘You’re against Sapora, aren’t you? You want to overthrow him. That’s what this is, isn’t it? A kidnapping?’
Lathri laughed and raised her hand. Isa’s skin prickled for a moment, and then she immediately calmed. She shuddered, wondering where her panic had disappeared to.
‘Nothing so sinister as that, princess,’ Lathri said. ‘We had the chance to help you, so we took it. But…we are all in agreement here that we would see you in power, rather than a Varkain.’
Isa struggled to follow. ‘I am half-Varkain. The same as Sapora.’
‘You’re more Ittallan than he is. Your father might be a Varkain, but you’re one of us. You’ve always been one of us.’ Aetos said. ‘You’ve lived here your whole life, you care about Taban Yul and the Ittallan who live here.’
‘Of course,’ Isa said, frowning.
‘More than Sapora,’ Lathri added. ‘We want you to be our queen, and we’re not the only ones who think that, I assure you.’
‘What kind of king releases a terror like Mateli?’ Voulhrik said, eyebrows raised.
‘You took him on by yourself. That was brave,’ Aetos said.
Isa scowled. ‘More foolish than brave. I didn’t stand a chance.’
‘You tried. You saw what a threat he was, and you acted. I doubt Sapora knows what you did…?’ Lathri asked.
Isa bit her thumbnail.
‘Are you afraid of him?’ She pressed.
‘Yes. Who wouldn’t be? I’m not a coward, but I’m not stupid, either. By Rhea’s luck, I survived Mateli’s attack.’
Memories of her struggle against the crocodile came flooding back in explicit detail now she was fully awake.
Isa shuddered.
She’d need a long, hot bath to clear his stench from her mind.
‘You put yourself in danger for the good of the city,’ Lathri continued. ‘Aetos did the same, when he rescued you.’
Isa didn’t reply for a long while. None of them seemed to be dangerous. They’d also told her what they wanted, and it was certainly along similar lines to what she herself strove for.
But how?
Lathri blinked slowly, watching her every movement.
Isa wasn’t sure she liked being observed to that level of detail; there was something about Lathri’s gaze that made her feel like the healer was able to look right into her soul.
‘If you’re asking me to betray my brothers, you’re mistaken. I appreciate the support—and help—but the situation is what it is,’ Isa said at last. ‘I know that…if not for you, I’d have died alone on that road.’ She nodded
to Aetos. ‘I won’t tell them where you are…but I’m not going to help you, either. You’re asking me to betray my family.’
Aetos’s shoulders sank, and even Voulhrik looked uneasy.
Good. They knew she still held the power.
They glanced to Lathri, clearly in charge of the group, and Isa took a few steps forward, walking around the bed.
She slipped into her boots and stood by the small hearth, above which a teapot warmed. ‘So long as you don’t commit treason against my brothers, you’re safe to continue to work in the palace, Voulhrik,’ she said. ‘You have my word. I’m not the cruel dictator that Sapora seems to be. You saved my life. You think the same as me. That means something. But I’m going to leave now…You won’t stop me?’
‘It’s your city, princess. You can go wherever you wish. Might I take those bandages back?’ Lathri asked.
Isa lifted her hands and allowed the healer to unbind them. Slowly, as each layer of fabric pulled away from her skin, Isa’s fingers tingled. When her hand was freed, she gasped. Several small scars lined the back of her left hand—from Mateli’s fangs—all of which had healed. Her skin wasn’t even pink and puffy.
‘How…?’
‘I’m a good healer, princess. You know where we are, if you’d like to talk.’
A little unnerved, Isa backed out of the room to find herself in a lounge. Another Ittallan woman sat on the sofa, a hunter, with a striking resemblance to Aetos.
The woman nodded to her, and Isa hurried out of the front door, trying to think what she’d say to Sapora or Tacio if either of them spoke to her before she reached her rooms in the palace.
*
‘Mistake to trust that one. You brought her to your house?’ Kylos said, staring at the closed door as if Isa would charge back inside at any moment.
Lathri sat next to her and brushed down her sleeves. ‘Isa fears Sapora. Probably Tacio too. She just disobeyed their orders by going after Mateli. She won’t tell them our location.’
‘Why not? She could try and get back in their good graces by ratting us out.’ Kylos said, turning to face Lathri. ‘We need to be ready for a Varkain attack.’