Had she been better rested, had she been able to keep anything beyond wine in her stomach for the past fortnight, she might’ve fared better against his assault. As it was, she just tried to keep her hand from shaking.
Alshiba forced a smile. “I’m sure whoever is chosen to chair the committee will give every suggestion due consideration.”
Mir’s crystalline gaze gleamed with dubiety. “The way I hear it, there is only one Seat being considered for the position.”
In spite of her best efforts, Alshiba went a little pale. If that was true, it was a frightening responsibility Aldaeon was placing on her shoulders alone. She felt utterly inadequate to the task. The only reason she hadn’t turned the Speaker down outright was for fear of who he would be forced to choose in her stead.
“Really?” Alshiba drank her wine to cover her consternation. “I…hadn’t heard that.”
Mir saw that he’d thrown her—damn the man. His smile became predatory, his gaze viciously amused.
Epiphany give her strength, she hated these games! And the worst of it was, whether you attacked, feinted, placated or surrendered, there was no way to win against Mir Arkadhi. You merely hoped to crawl off the battlefield with most of your limbs still attached.
Mir downed the last of his wine and angled her a look beneath his brows while he refilled his glass from her bottle. “You realize that your predecessor would not have hesitated to claim the committee chair.”
The last thing she needed was to be reminded of Björn—or to let Mir trap her into admitting that she’d been offered the position.
Alshiba stared hotly into her wine. “There are many things Björn did that I would not.”
Mir gave a dark laugh, but his eyes bore ever more powerfully into hers. “I applaud the care you take in phrasing your ambiguities, Alshiba. I had no idea what I’d been missing—the sublime enjoyment of a tête-à-tête with the Alorin Seat.” He set down the bottle of wine and raised his glass to her. “I shall endeavor to place us at odds more often.”
Alshiba forced a swallow, which Mir no doubt noticed. The bloody man noticed everything.
Sitting back again, he hooked an elbow on his chair and waved airily with his wine. “Perhaps, you’re right to be cautious.” He eyed her quietly. “The position would doubtless be very difficult…perhaps too strenuous for a woman of your nature? All those predators in the Hall would quickly make a meal out of a pretty little morsel like you.”
Beneath the sexual innuendo, Mir layered a host of lustful intentions, images of violent encounters, a ready confession of his own dark hungers.
Alshiba might’ve been adept at shielding her own thoughts from Mir’s attentive mental ears, but she was not so competent at protecting herself from the thoughts he was forcing on her—as ineffective as she would be in trying to stop him from physically doing the same.
He made this point clear in his thoughts as well.
Feeling shaky, Alshiba lifted her gaze to meet his. The smile he was leveling her sent a chill down her spine.
Oh, he was simply trying to shake her composure—Alshiba knew this. If only it wasn’t working so effectively! If only he wasn’t so good at it.
Oh, Alshiba, my sweet, I am very, very good at what I do.
He cast this thought of layered innuendo like a spear to which he’d attached a rope of compulsion. Alshiba barely fended it off with a mental gasp. Had it penetrated her shield, it would’ve snared her mind like a grappling hook, and he could’ve climbed his rope of compulsion to infiltrate and overcome all of her defenses.
Alshiba could think of nothing more horrifying than her mind, body and thoughts lying at the mercy of Mir Arkadhi. She hastily reassembled the shards of her composure, reminding herself that if she could stand up to Björn van Gelderan, she ought to be able to stand up to Mir.
Except that you didn’t stand up to Björn.
Alshiba hastily drank the last of her wine and set down her goblet. Mir refilled it for her with an accommodating smile.
“To be clear…” she summoned a bravado she didn’t feel, “letting you refill my glass should not be construed to mean we have forged some accord.”
He gave a low laugh. “Well spoken, Alshiba. I dare say I’ve not yet misconstrued any of your intentions.”
No, I dare say you haven’t. Indeed, he seemed too clearly to know her mind, despite her best efforts to shield herself.
Alshiba watched the wine swirling in her goblet and felt her head doing much the same. She said too faintly for comfort, “I can’t imagine the Speaker agreeing to a plan that would give one realm so much power over the rest.”
Mir pushed her wine glass towards her. “And yet, he must’ve known when he put the measure forth that it would necessarily lead to this end, for Eltanin’s offer is the most obvious path to a quick and effortless implementation.”
Alshiba accepted the wine but not his insinuation. She didn’t for a moment believe that Aldaeon H’rathigian was in collusion with Eltanin. That would’ve been merely trading one monopoly for another, when the purpose of the measure was to bring new freedoms to all the realms.
Mir sat back and eyed her quietly again, but his perfect smile had a guileful shape. “Do you not think it odd that our illustrious Speaker refuses to say which Seat wrote the measure?”
“Perhaps he wrote it himself.”
Mir arched a chastising brow. “Alshiba, you are too canny to believe that.”
If only she was canny enough to figure out what in Tiern’aval Mir Arkadhi hoped to gain from this conversation!
Alshiba set down her wine. “It’s not unheard of for a Seat to request anonymity to ensure neutrality during the Council’s vote.”
“But the originators usually step forth after the measure is approved. In all my centuries here, I’ve never seen one not step forward after the fact.”
Alshiba frowned at him. “What’s your point?”
He draped an arm across the back of his chair again and turned his gaze towards the glimmering ocean. “I see but one rationale for maintaining anonymity at this late juncture.” He waved an elegant hand to emphasize his point. “The Seat is either dead…or disavowed,” and with this, he cast her a very sharp and very dangerous smile.
Oh, no. Oh, Björn…please, no!
There were so many reasons in that instant why she hoped Mir Arkadhi was wrong, but her every instinct shouted he was right.
Mir casually studied the wine in his glass. “I haven’t seen your Fifth Vestal in many a long century, though I hear he’s paid a few illicit visits to you and our illustrious Speaker of late. I seem to recall he and Aldaeon were close friends before Björn abdicated his Seat in favor of playing god.” He chuckled and leaned towards her. “Not that I presume to disapprove.” The smile he gave her in that moment was daggered indeed. “Eltanin rewards men of ambition, even the ones with obvious…what’s the word I’m looking for, sweet Alshiba? Ah yes: megalomania.”
Alshiba felt weak—cold and weak; of heart and of mind. Of course Björn wrote the measure. Who else would’ve dared to imagine operational statutes in direct opposition to the vested interests that had been working to keep the realms separate and isolated for millennia? And who but Aldaeon would’ve dared to see it got passed?
And now that both had set themselves so wholly in the line of fire, who else but Alshiba could see it fairly enacted?
Oh, she hated Björn in that moment—hated Aldaeon, definitely hated Mir Arkadhi for putting all the facts together and presenting them to her so mercilessly. He knew, as she now knew, that she would unequivocally accept the position.
Alshiba sat back in her chair and let her hands fall into her lap. She turned her gaze out to sea. At least now she understood where all of this had been heading.
“More wine, Alshiba?”
She held up a hand to refuse him but then spun turned a look to her goblet. Yes, she’d drained it. She didn’t even remember doing so.
Mir, damn him, was leveling her a sa
tisfied smile, colorless eyes glinting mirthfully. He’d certainly achieved the effect he’d set out to cause. A fine application of the First Law.
“Well then,” he exhaled decisively and got to his feet. “I suppose I should leave you to your thoughts. Doubtless you have much to think upon.” He cast her a smile of parting, darkly victorious. “As I’m equally sure we’ll have much to discuss in the coming weeks.” He nodded to her. “Lady Torinin.”
“Lord Arkadhi.” She couldn’t even look at him.
Whereupon, chuckling softly, Mir took his leave.
Alshiba walked Illume Belliel’s winding streets back towards her estate, feeling queasy, lightheaded and wholly unnerved. The cityworld’s days were long—sometimes the sun set just one hour before midnight—but even so, the streets had grown dark by the time she left the café.
Mir’s conversation had so unsettled her that she’d had to consume another two glasses of wine just to stop her hands from shaking. Now they were shaking for another reason.
Whatever was wrong with her, the trouble lay beyond her skill to detect—beyond any of the cityworld’s Healers—but she had no doubt elae was being used to make her ill.
Perhaps Mir Arkadhi was quietly planning her demise and had merely come to ascertain how well she was faring against whatever dark working he’d set upon her. It would certainly fit his temperament to stand there and jab her with fire-flamed stakes while she was lying helpless and begging for death.
But more unsettling still, what if Mir wasn’t the only one who’d figured out she stood to become the Interrealm Committee Chair? The Eltanin Seat enjoyed toying with his prey, but most of the others would simply hire an assassin to eliminate anyone they viewed as competition for their own candidate.
And you’re certainly making it easy for them, aren’t you?
It occurred to her with a sudden faltering step that walking alone late in the evening without her usual escort was an imprudent choice at the best of times, much less when she’d been offered one of the highest positions of power in the cityworld.
Her knees felt suddenly weak, and a spell of vertigo set upon her. Alshiba stumbled towards the nearest building and clung to its corner, pressing her forehead against the stones while the dizziness faded.
That’s when she heard them.
They must’ve been keeping enough distance that they rounded upon her all at once, not expecting her to have stopped. She heard their footsteps halt and then heard those same feet darting away, as if making silently for the shadows.
So she was being followed. But to what end?
She tried summoning the first strand to show their life signatures on the currents, but found the strand almost entirely beyond her reach.
Oh, Dear Epiphany…
A cold dread slithered down her spine.
She was a Healer. If she couldn’t reach the first strand…
Alshiba forced a swallow against her queasy stomach. Had it been so long since she’d worked the lifeforce? How could she have not noticed that her connection with elae was eroding? Alshiba swore vehemently. If she died now, she would only have herself to blame.
On the brighter side, the realization brought a renewed clarity.
She cast the second strand behind her—it at least was still responding—to warn her of their next approach, and pulled on the fifth to place a shield around her person—
It felt like immersing herself in flaming oil. She released it instantly with a sharp gasp.
This was very, very bad.
If she’d had any doubt her situation was dire, she doubted no longer.
Trying not to let her own fears panic her, Alshiba pushed shakily off the wall and started down the street again as quickly as she could manage. Her legs felt unsteady, her stomach in a flutter. She dared not reach for the fifth again but had no other means of protection.
No sooner did she start walking than her second strand pattern told her they were once more in pursuit.
Alshiba kept a hand near the wall for support and made herself focus. She was trained in combat. She could use the fourth as a weapon—what she could gather of it; if it would even comply—but it had been so long since she’d fought with the lifeforce, and she was already so weak, that she didn’t hold much hope for her chances.
They must’ve known this. They must’ve chosen that night to attack her for this very reason.
Perhaps Mir had seen enough in her responses to know that she would never bend to his will. Perhaps someone else entirely stood behind these acts against her. Whoever stood to gain, their men were gaining on her now.
Alshiba tried to push herself into a run, but moving faster made her dizziness so severe that she worried she would lose her balance and fall. She slowed at once back to her halting shuffle. Her stomach was rotating on a sickly spit, making her boiling hot one moment and chilling her the next.
Up ahead, she saw a long rock wall framing both sides of the road, while the cobbled street angled steeply downwards. She wasn’t far from her own estate now, but they could catch her long before she reached the safety of its gates.
Oh, if only she could’ve been thinking more clearly!
That’s what happens after weeks without proper food or rest.
Yes, they’d taken care in planning her end. How easy it would be for these men to catch her now, and from there…? A sheer drop from the nearest overlook. She’d be too weak to protect herself from the fall upon the rocks, and very likely too weak to recover from it, even should the Healers find her quickly enough. They would call it a suicide. She could just see Niko van Amstel now—
Stop it! Think what to do!
Alshiba braved a glance over her shoulder. Five men were following her. They weren’t even trying to hide themselves now. They must’ve noticed how weak she was.
She mustered what she could of the fourth and threw something at them. Ineffectual. It bounced right off their…shields?
No, they weren’t wielders, these. They must’ve been wearing elae-enhanced armor beneath their cloaks.
Alshiba reached the long stretch of wall and paused just before it, trying to catch her breath. That stone-lined corridor suddenly seemed a gauntlet from which she likely would not emerge alive. Yet, if she could reach the other end…
She dared another glance over her shoulder. Her pursuers seemed much closer than the last time she’d looked. Turning back to the way ahead, Alshiba mustered everything she had, forced a sickly swallow, and threw herself into a sprint.
The men bolted after her in pursuit. Their pounding feet were hitting the stones much faster and harder than hers.
An arrow whisked past her ear. She gasped and ducked as it ricocheted away. Two more arrows whizzed awry of her. It seemed impossible they were missing her at that distance.
Already her breath was coming in painful gasps, her vision was starting to blur and her legs felt leaden. The end of the wall was still so—
Something grabbed her arm and yanked her forcefully sideways, off her feet and—through the wall?—into disorienting darkness. Alshiba inhaled to scream but a hand closed hard over her mouth. She struggled, but the arms holding her were like iron.
He held her bound against his strong form in utter darkness and opened a window—
Nay, not a window. He was using the fifth to make the wall transparent to her view. Did he have her inside the wall…?
On the street, the men had halted and were turning fast in search of her. They spoke to each other in low, angry voices in a tongue she didn’t recognize.
Suddenly they stilled…stiffened.
She felt her captor wielding the lifeforce, but her own connection was too weak to tell what he was doing. When elae’s tingling ceased, the men spun and walked back the way they’d come.
Alshiba let out a desperate sob and turned her face into her captor’s shoulder. “Björn!” His name crossing her tongue sounded both curse and prayer.
He pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m so sorry they frig
htened you, love.”
“You frightened me!” She beat at his chest with her fist, but he only caught her hand in a gentle hold and pressed it over his heart.
“I’m sorry I frightened you.” He kissed her fingers. “I would never have let harm come to you. I only needed them close enough to cast a pattern over all five at once. Here, come…” He turned her in his arms and drew her—
Into a moonlit garden. Beside her stood a tall, cobblestone wall. So she had been inside it.
Björn took her face and with his thumbs smoothed away the tears from her cheeks. The moon illuminated the near foliage and highlighted Björn’s features—so aristocratic, so revealing of his damned immutable certainty.
To be standing there with him after all those centuries, to see him in the flesh and be held in his arms after so many untold frustrating dreams…she almost couldn’t bear it.
Alshiba sucked in a shuddering breath and pressed her forehead against his coat. She could hardly stand to look at him, she loved him so…she hated him so.
By Cephrael’s Great Book! She truly wanted to be done with all of it—his betrayal, her confusion, the Council’s wretched machinations… She felt so weak, so unprepared to face him. He had no right to own her heart so completely. She’d have gotten more mercy from one of Eltanin’s dreadful banks.
“You should’ve let those men take me, Björn.” And she meant it. Oh why, when he’d just saved her life—when he’d returned and was holding her in his arms—why did she feel now that she simply couldn’t go on?
“Never.” He tightened his hold on her.
Alshiba turned her cheek against his shoulder and stared hollowly off into the night. Grief clutched her in a vicious grip, such that her lungs refused to function, and what meager air they gathered burned. “The torture of seeing you is far worse than anything they would’ve done to me.”
He tucked her head beneath his chin and gave a slow exhale. “I believe you.”
“I hate you so much for what you’ve done.”
“If it’s any consolation, it was fair torture watching you sitting with Mir Arkadhi this afternoon.”
Kingdom Blades (A Pattern of Shadow & Light 4) Page 52