Copper Veins

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  Dad blinked. “Now?”

  “Why return to your family now?” Micah picked up his wineglass and gestured to our entire family. “Even if you did not know the specifics of the Institute’s fall, surely you knew that it was destroyed some months ago. Why did you not investigate the site, if for nothing more than to learn if your son still lived?”

  “I did investigate,” Dad said, his ears getting a little red around the edges. “When I learned that Max had escaped, I came out of hiding and returned to the Mundane world. Eventually, my contacts pointed me here.”

  Mom made a strangled noise. “You left this world just as we arrived, and it’s taken you this long to show your face?” she demanded. “A simple message would have been enough—no, it would have been more than enough. It would have given us hope.”

  Dad turned to her and grasped her hands. “Maeve, it is no longer a simple matter for me to travel to and from the Mundane world,” he said. “Every Peacekeeper knows to look for me.”

  I nodded. “Our images are playing on vid chips all over the place,” I said. Well, I’d only seen them playing in the Promenade Market, but I assumed there were other places, too, and maybe a few wanted posters in post offices and such. “Micah had to glamour us so we could get married.”

  “Micah,” Dad murmured. “You almost don’t need me with him around.”

  “That’s not true,” Mom said softly. “We’ve always needed you.”

  Conversation died down after that, what with Dad mostly talking to Sadie, Max’s quiet satisfaction with Dad’s botched jailbreak, and Mom gazing contentedly at her husband. As for me and my husband, we were making plans of our own.

  “A copper staircase?” I asked. I hadn’t forgotten about Micah’s promise to let me add a few copper accents to the Silverstrand manor. “A swirling spiral one, three stories tall?”

  “And where will this staircase lead?” Micah indulged.

  “Maybe to Sadie’s library. Can the bookshelves be copper?”

  “Anything you like can be copper,” Micah said, kissing my temple. “This is our home, Lady Silverstrand. It should reflect you as well as me.”

  Lady Silverstrand. I suddenly had the urge to take Micah upstairs and make him repeat those words over and over, and after I fell asleep in his arms to whisper them to me in my dreams. Before I could figure out a way to classily demand he take me to bed now (Right then I’d have traded dreamwalking for telepathy in a heartbeat), Dad shoved back from the table.

  “Max,” he said, “Walk with me.”

  Max snapped to attention, and without another word, the two strode off toward the orchards. Mom stared forlornly after them, but didn’t follow.

  “All he did was interrogate me,” Sadie murmured.

  “He just wants to get to know you,” I said, trying to soothe her.

  “No,” Sadie said, shaking her head. “He didn’t ask any questions about me. He asked about my power, how I’d used it, if anyone at school had ever realized that I was the Inheritor. He asked me who my college professors were, but nothing about me.”

  I pursed my lips, not wanting to agree with her. Yeah, Dad had been a bit distant, but he had been gone for a long, long time. Shouldn’t we cut him some slack?

  “Beau has changed,” Mom said, her eyes shining. “War…changes people.”

  “That it does,” Micah murmured.

  And not always for the better.

  3

  Dimly, I heard my name being whispered. My eyes opened, and I saw Micah sitting next to me. “Hey.”

  “And hey to you,” he said. I realized that I was lying on the vine couch in the sitting room. I also noticed the faint glimmer in Micah’s eyes, which meant only one thing.

  “You’re dreamwalking?” I asked as I sat up. My physical body was indeed asleep on the couch. I remembered our wedding feast, then Dad walking off with Max, and Mom going to bed alone. Micah and I had tried to go to bed, too, but Sadie wanted to talk about Dad’s return, about how she couldn’t look at this copper-haired man and accept that he was her father. I understood her trepidation—I could hardly remember him myself, but at least I had a few real memories.

  Sadie and I had eventually holed up on the couch, and Micah had given us our privacy. After a time, the silverkin had brought us cocoa and a few blankets. I didn’t even remember falling asleep.

  “I am,” Micah replied, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

  “Where are you?” I asked. In an instant, we were in our bedroom, Micah’s physical body tangled in the sheets.

  “We’re sleeping apart on our wedding night?” My dreamself had always been a bit slower than my wakeful self.

  “I couldn’t bear to wake you,” Micah murmured, caressing my cheek. “You looked so peaceful, I thought it best to leave you be.”

  “You could have carried me up here,” I said, pouting.

  “Not without waking Sadie.” He pulled me to the bed. “You had a very hectic day. I would rather you were rested for our first time.”

  “It won’t be our first time.”

  “As husband and wife it will.” Micah tilted my chin up to his. “My Sara, you make me so very happy. I only wish to make you happy in return.”

  “What about now?” I asked, looking at him through my lashes.

  “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “It should be with our wakeful forms. I… regret the circumstances surrounding the first time I loved you.”

  “You didn’t like it?” I asked, my heart fluttering to the floor.

  “On the contrary,” he murmured, his long fingers stroking my collarbone. “I can hardly put into words how wonderful it was.”

  “Really?” He couldn’t be serious. “But—”

  “But,” he said over me, “my wife deserves more than a dirt floor and a meager fire. I wish to make up for that now.”

  “None of that mattered,” I said, gripping his hand. “Only you mattered.” He kissed me then, and wouldn’t you know it, my dreamself yawned right into his mouth.

  “I guess I really am tired,” I apologized. Micah kissed my forehead before settling our dreamselves alongside his body.

  “In the morning, I will fetch you,” he promised, pulling a blanket across us and snuggling me close. “Then we shall spend the day in this room, ignoring the outside world.” I smiled at that—a whole day of nothing but Micah was like winning the Otherworldly lottery.

  “How come our dreamselves can walk through walls and lie on beds?” I asked with a yawn. “And why doesn’t the blanket fall through us?”

  “Sleep, love,” Micah murmured.

  “But I want to know.”

  “Tomorrow,” he murmured. “Tomorrow, we can talk of dreamwalking all day, if you like.”

  I snuggled against him, tucking my head beneath his chin. Before I could offer up another witty retort, I was asleep.

  A woman’s scream jarred me awake. My eyes flew open, and I saw Sadie on the other end of the couch, wide-eyed and clutching a blanket to her chest as if it were a shield. Before I could ask Sadie what the hell she was squawking about, Mom ran into the sitting room—she’d been the one screaming.

  “He’s gone!” she shouted.

  “Who?” I demanded. “Max?” Then Max came running in, and my heart fell.

  Dad.

  We all started talking to Mom at once—where did he go, was he kidnapped, would we ever see him again? Was he even really here? Amidst our collective freakout, Micah burst into the room.

  “What has happened?” he demanded. With a pang, I remembered falling asleep in his dreamself’s arms. His glance toward me confirmed that he remembered it, too, and that our day together would have to wait.

  “Dad’s gone,” I explained.

  “Gone?” Max repeated. “Gone where? When?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Mom wailed. “He came to my room last night, but he was restless. I asked one of the silverkin to fetch us some wine—Beau and I always used to enjoy a glass befo
re bed—and we sat together, sipping it. I must have fallen asleep, and when I woke, he was gone.” Mom sat heavily between Sadie and me. “I’ve looked everywhere. He’s not in the manor, not in the gardens or even the orchards. It’s like he was never here at all.”

  In that moment, Micah was no longer my new husband. He became the Lord of Silver, issuing orders to the silverkin and even Max as he organized an all-out search. Shep, the silverkins’ de facto leader, handed one of his many keys to his master, and Micah strode across the room and opened a cabinet I’d never noticed before, probably because its silver door blended into the rest of the walls. Inside the cabinet were maps and compasses and other paraphernalia I couldn’t hope to name. As Micah unrolled a map and fixed it to the wall, we heard a male voice call out from the next room.

  “What’s all the commotion?”

  We turned as one and saw Dad standing in the entrance to the sitting room, seemingly none the worse for wear.

  “Beau!” Mom cried, rushing to embrace him. “When you were gone, I—I thought—”

  “I only went for a walk,” he admonished. “While I was in hiding I hardly ever slept at night. Better to move at night, you know, and go to ground during the daylight hours. I suppose I’ll have to work on breaking that habit.” He took in the rest of us as he untangled himself from Mom’s arms. “All this over me? Come, let’s have breakfast together. Sadie, you sit beside me. I want to go over a few things with you.” And just like that, my father traded all of our concerns for a plate of bacon.

  I watched Dad lead Sadie into the dining room, Max trailing behind them like a little puppy. After a moment, Mom squared her shoulders and followed as well. To say I was dumbfounded would have been an understatement—my father, who I remembered as a kind and thoughtful man, had hardly even acknowledged that we’d all been beside ourselves with worry. I mean, it wasn’t like he didn’t know that we’d been without him for sixteen years. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that we’d searched for him across two realms, desperate to find him.

  I glanced at Micah, but he merely shook his head, nonplussed. Like us, he couldn’t understand why Dad would just slip away in the dark of night without even leaving us a note. Micah relocked the cabinet and assured the last few silverkin that they could return to their duties, then faced me and grinned. For a moment I couldn’t understand what he was so happy about, until I realized that Micah and I were alone in the sitting room.

  “Hey,” I began, intending to mention our unfinished business from the night before. He already had that on his mind, though, and he grabbed me by my waist. We landed on the couch, little more than a heap of limbs and lips.

  “Would you like me to carry you to bed?” he asked after we’d kissed for a while. “I understand that it’s a Mundane tradition.”

  “I think I would like that,” I murmured. Micah hoisted me into his arms, but we were off-balance and he nearly toppled over. We laughed as he steadied himself against the wall, and I ended up facing him, my legs wrapped around his waist.

  “How are you going to make it up the stairs?” I asked.

  “I’ll manage,” he murmured. He took a few steps, but something tugged us to a stop. I looked over my shoulder and learned that the source of the tug was Shep. I slid down Micah’s body while Shep informed us that the Golden Queen Oriana had just sent a request that Micah and I attend her at the Golden Court immediately.

  “Right now?” I sighed. “We can’t wait until later?”

  “That would not be wise, my Sara,” Micah said, his brow furrowed. “Oriana rarely sends requests of such an urgent nature. It is best if we leave now.” After a quick change of clothes and a few longing glances toward our bed, we left the manor and stepped onto the metal pathway. I had no idea what Oriana wanted to talk about, but I hoped it would be quick.

  4

  A few heartbeats later, Micah and I stood before the glowing radiance of the Golden Court. Unlike our prior visits, the court was less than welcoming. Oh, the walls and floors were still the same rich, warm metal, and the roof had once again been retracted to let in the sunlight. The servants were as attentive as they’d ever been, smiling and genuflecting and inquiring if we would care for any refreshment, and we were quickly escorted to Oriana’s receiving hall. Still, there was a coldness to the air, a chill that had little to do with the temperature.

  When Micah and I entered the receiving hall, we found the source of the chill—Oriana herself. The Gold Queen wasn’t seated upon her throne, but on the topmost step of her dais. She was shrouded in what looked like a monk’s robe, with only her head and golden fingertips left uncovered. The robe was the color of old parchment, and though it was only a single garment, it gave the entire hall the appearance of being overcast.

  Micah opened his mouth to greet the queen, but she whispered, “You killed my advisor. His body was found choked by silver yesterday morning.”

  I blinked, I didn’t remember killing—oh. Him.

  Oriana was correct—Micah had killed Old Stoney. What she apparently did not know was that the rock had had us followed from the Goblin Market and had gone out of his way to try to kill us first. Lucky for us, Micah was faster and stronger than the stone Elemental had been.

  “My lady,” Micah began, “it was an act of defense.”

  “Defense?” Oriana asked, not bothering to look at us. “Why would you have a need to defend yourself from Grey?”

  “Do you not recall the many messages that were sent to you stating that I was unwell?” Micah countered. When Oriana nodded, he continued, “Sara’s family and I had reason to believe that her father was at the Goblin Market. We traveled there to intercept him, but instead of locating him we were attacked, kidnapped, and drugged as part of a ransom attempt. Once we escaped our captors, Farthing Greymalkin approached us. The five of us were alone on the road, and he was accompanied by nearly a score of iron warriors and orcs. I believe that he was the one responsible for our kidnapping.”

  “And what makes you hold Grey responsible for that incident?” Oriana asked.

  “As I stated, he met us on the road, iron warriors in tow. Why would one of stone be accompanied by those of iron? How would he have known we were at the Goblin Market if he hadn’t been privy to the plot? Moreover, how would we have been captured if Greymalkin hadn’t offered his resources? I can assure you, those orcs were no mercenaries,” Micah said, a hint of desperation in his voice. I wondered what the penalty was for killing another Elemental lord.

  “So, instead of bringing your concerns to me, you killed him.” Oriana raised her head then, and we saw her eyes were red from crying. “I do not like those close to me dying.”

  “My lady, I promise you I had no choice!” Micah approached the dais and knelt before it. “I did not intend to kill him. Greymalkin lashed out at Sara, and my first instinct was to protect my wife.”

  “Wife?” Oriana regarded me for the first time, her head cocked to the side, birdlike. “When last we met, she was naught but a consort.”

  “She is now my wife,” Micah stated. I stood beside him, my hands on his shoulders. I probably should have knelt, but the crazy queen didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

  “I was once a wife,” Oriana murmured.

  “I remember,” Micah said. “Your husband was a great man, and a great king.”

  “Didn’t Ferra kill him?” I blurted out. Micah shook his head slightly, but the words were already said. Oriana descended the dais and walked a slow circle around us, her fingers trailing across Micah’s shoulders and my hips.

  “Ferra did indeed kill him.” She sang the words like a nursery rhyme. “She wanted to punish me by using him as her plaything. Even after his head had been severed, she animated his body, made it dance before her. But she was too rough, and his form did not last long under her iron touch. Then she threw me into the oubliette, so Grey couldn’t have me.” Oriana took up a length of my hair and began plaiting it. “It’s why Ferra had Selene killed.”


  “Selene?” I asked as Micah shot to his feet.

  Selene Silverstrand. Ferra wanted to eliminate all of the female royal Elementals so Grey only had her to lie with. Selene was quite lovely, you see.” My stomach dropped to my feet, but the queen went on plaiting my hair as if we were friends at a sleepover. “She even tricked Grey into doing the deed himself. Surely you knew this, Micah?”

  “I did not,” he said, his voice hardly audible. “She… my mother ordered the silverkin to protect me. I saw nothing of the attack.”

  “Now you are aware.” Oriana dropped my hair and regarded Micah, her hands on her hips. “May I have your word that you’ll kill no more of my advisors?”

  “As long as they do not threaten my wife, they are safe from me,” Micah replied.

  A smile touched the corner of Oriana’s mouth. “That is a good response, Micah. A good response, indeed.” She began another, slower circle around us and murmured, “I trust you understand how damaging this is for you?”

  “Damaging, my lady?”

  “First the Inheritor of Metal refuses to pledge herself to me. Then you bed her sister and kill my advisor.” Oriana made one more circuit around Micah and me, stopping before us. “Planning a coup, are we?”

  “No,” Micah replied. “Farthing Greymalkin killed my mother, and you ask this of me?”

  “You yourself said you never knew of his role in Selene’s death,” Oriana said, shaking her finger as if Micah had been caught stealing a spoonful of sugar. “You cannot blame your actions on vengeance.”

  Micah clenched his fists, but his tone remained civil. “You have my loyalty, along with my wife’s. We pledged freely to you.”

  “Yes, yes, you did,” Oriana conceded. “But the lack of the Inheritor’s blood pledge to me worries me greatly. If she continues in her refusals, I will count this as the second time you have abandoned me.”

  “Abandoned?” I repeated with a glance toward Micah.

  “My queen, I have never abandoned you,” he ground out, but Oriana shook her head.

  “Oh, but you did,” she countered. “After you stepped down as my general, I was overwhelmed by iron. My husband lost his head, and I my dignity.” She looked down, and picked at her dingy robe. “I suspect his fate was the more pleasant of the two.”