by Keri Arthur
“Are you saying the queen has somehow found a way to do what the rest of Winterborne can’t?”
“No. Indeed, any communication remains impossible given the wide trench that divides and the shadows that conceal.”
“Then where did the bracelets come from?”
“They were found in ruins of Catlyn, in a store deep underground. There are only twenty-nine in existence, so every one of them is precious.”
Catlyn wasn’t a place I’d ever heard mentioned before. Certainly it had never featured in the little history we’d been taught about Versona. “And they’re a communications device?”
“Yes.” Her smile twisted. “And no.”
She drew back her arm and pitched the bracelet out into the air. The wind caught it, toyed with it, and then swept it beyond sight. She picked up the second, but didn’t immediately toss it into the hands of the darkness and the wind.
“At least by ridding the world of these two,” she said. “It gives them two less options for controlling either us or our children.”
The wind stirred, begging me to be gentle, to not go there. But I had to, if only for the sake of those children. How could we help them if we didn’t know anything about their plight? “So your children wear these things?”
Her gaze came to mine. Once again it was haunted, anguished. “They take them, you know. Take those who are gifted and kill those who are not.”
Kill? Dear god, who were these people? At least here in Winterborne, those of us who were unlit were given a chance at life, even if it wasn’t always under the best circumstances.
“How many of your children have met this fate?” I asked gently.
“Three.” A tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “Three perfect little girls, who were not even stained.”
I touched her arm lightly, though in truth I wanted to grab her, hold her, to try and protect her against such memories. Maybe in the face of such evil, it would be too little, too late, but I had a feeling Saska was in sore need of it. And yet the wind whispered she would not—could not—appreciate such comfort. Not when she felt so undeserving of it.
“You cannot allow history to repeat itself, Saska. You have to keep strong for the child you now carry.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But it is hard. So very hard.”
“Resistance is never an easy path to take against evil, especially when your strength is at such a low level. You need to eat—not just for the health of your child, but also in defiance of the voices.”
Her gaze came to mine, but again, she didn’t appear to be really seeing me. “It’s for the sake of my child that I should step over this barrier and throw myself to the rocks beneath this cliff. It’s a far better fate than what awaits under the queen’s rule.”
I wrapped my fingers around her arm. “You cannot do that—”
“You don’t understand. You can never understand.”
She placed her fingers over mine and, just for a moment, a connection formed. A connection that was air, mind, and something deeper, something that went to the very heart of our DNA. In it, I saw earth, darkness, and pain. The air was putrid, thick with despair and the screaming of babies. Light flashed; its source wasn’t the sun but rather the gleam of a rudimentary flare off a silver blade. I saw the hand that gripped that knife, and it was the color of my staining, but the fingers were thinner and longer than mine, with razor-sharp nails a good inch long.
I’d seen hands like that before, but only in pictures. They were the hands of an Irkallan. And yet those creatures couldn’t be at the heart of all this. They’d been in hibernation for centuries and there’d been no indication at all that they’d come out of it.
No, there had to be some other reason. Had to be.
“They want you dead, you know,” she continued.
Her words shattered the fragile connection, leaving me shaking and more afraid than I’d ever been in my life. I licked my lips and said, “Who? The queen?”
“Yes. She fears the strength I draw from you, sister.”
“I rather think it’s your strength she fears, not mine.”
“I have no strength.” Her gaze drifted back to the storm and the cliff’s edge. “That has been proven to me time and time again.”
In that darkness filled with despair, I knew. “You say that, and yet escaped them.”
“I didn’t escape. Not really.”
The words were almost inaudible, and yet they might have been shouted, so sharp did they seem on the wind. Never before had five words so filled me with fear. While I genuinely believed she was desperate to escape the grip of the queen, I couldn’t ignore the possibility that her presence out in the desert had been nothing more than a deliberate ploy to further infiltrate Winterborne.
I gently placed my hands either side of her cheeks and made her look at me. Her skin was like ice under my fingertips, and she was trembling, though I wasn’t entirely sure whether from the cold or fear of what might yet be coming.
“Did you, or did you not, escape them?”
“I did. And she was furious. But now, she uses me, and it makes me wonder if that was her plan all along.”
“Doubt makes the voices stronger,” I said. “Do not give them that edge.”
“You do not understand their persistence. You do not understand their power.”
No, I didn’t. But I didn’t have to understand to sympathize, didn’t have to understand to see what the relentless stream of noise was doing to her mind. A mind that seemed to be unraveling even as I watched.
But if that happened, if she lost this battle, we were all in trouble. Both intuition and the wind were telling me that.
“Saska, you can do this. You are stronger than you know—your presence here is evidence enough of that.” I paused. Pressing her for information was probably the worst thing I could do, but we had to know what was going on—especially if Trey’s intuition was right and events would come to a head in the next couple of days. “What can you tell me about the queen’s plans? What does she want of you?”
She gently pulled free from my grip, her mouth twisting. “She tells me nothing. She only gives me orders.”
“What is she ordering you to do, Saska?”
Moisture tracked down her cheeks, and I wasn’t sure if it was rain or tears. She didn’t answer. She simply stared out over the storm-held darkness. I let my fingers rest on the hilt of the knife. The voices jumped into focus, and they were fierce and angry. But all they were chanting was, do it, do it, do it.
“Saska, please—”
She opened her mouth, as if to reply. The voices sharpened, lengthened, becoming a long, high-pitched squeal that stabbed through my brain like a fiery lance. I jerked my fingers away from the knife hilt and the sound disintegrated. But its echo remained, beating through my head like a drum.
Saska’s body was still shuddering, shaking, under the force of the mental assault. The wind stirred around me, and my gaze jerked down to Saska’s hands. She was still gripping the remaining bracelet, and it was glowing with a fire as fierce and as cold as a blue moon. I wrenched it from her grip and tossed it into the air. The wind caught it and carried it far, far out into the ocean.
Saska practically collapsed, her breath little more than thick wheezing that shook her entire body. “I cannot stand this. I will not.”
I hesitated and then said, “Perhaps the healers can give you a potion that will ease the turmoil and take you into a deep sleep. The voices cannot force you to do something if you’re in a chemically induced slumber.”
She lifted her head and stared at me for so long uneasiness stirred. “You’re right. Abee?”
The maid came hurrying out; she was soaked in an instant. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Ask a healer to come here immediately.”
The maid curtseyed and disappeared again. Saska’s gaze came to mine. “Be wary of the Adlin. They will attack.”
“What?” I said, alarmed. “When?”
“Soon.�
�� She hesitated, her mouth twisting in bitterness. “I would tell you more if I could, but I know it not. They erase; they are always erasing.”
Was that what the sharp lance was? The queen—and whoever else it might be behind the voices and the bracelets—erasing what they didn’t want shared? Just because I’d heard it as little more than a squeal of sound didn’t mean Saska had.
It also explained the weird gaps in her memories, and Kiro’s inability to uncover any information from the three women—no matter how strong his powers, or how deeply intimate the reading, he couldn’t uncover what was not there to find.
“So this queen—she’s Adlin?” It was a logical conclusion given it was the Adlin who had originally snatched them, even if the hand I’d glimpsed in her memories was Irkallan.
“No. She merely uses them as she uses us.”
“Meaning they’ve enslaved them and are using them as incubators?”
A smile touched her lips, and it held the first hint of warmth I’d seen for a while. “She doesn’t need to enslave them—not when she controls the one who now leads them.”
The entire Adlin population under the total control of another race? It was a prospect I found rather hard to accept. And yet their actions in Tenterra when I’d rescued Saska had certainly been beyond their norm.
She wrapped her arms around her thin body. “The wind bites at me. I think she wishes me ill.”
“Nonsense. You’re just projecting your own fears onto her.” I tried to inject as much positivity as I could into my tone, because in truth, there was bitterness in the wind’s whispers. I touched Saska’s arm lightly; I might as well have been touching ice. “You need to come inside. Catching a chill will do neither you nor your child any good.”
“No.”
I thought for a moment it was a refusal, but she allowed herself to be gently guided into the warmth of her suite. The maidservant came rushing into the room, and she was carrying several blankets. I helped Saska strip, eased the blanket around her trembling body, then glanced at Abee and said, “Is the healer on the way?”
“Yes, ma’am. And I’ve taken the liberty of ordering some hot soup and bread for you both.”
“I have to go back to the masque, but thank you.” I guided Saska to the nearest cloudsak then squatted beside her. “Shall I wait with you for the healer?”
“The longer you remain in my presence, the more determined they are to get rid of you.” She hesitated, then added softly, “Watch your back, sister, because they are fiercely angry with you at this moment.”
“I fear them not.” I squeezed her arm then released her. “If you need anything—no matter what it might be—have me paged.”
She smiled, but her gaze wouldn’t meet mine. “I will. Go. I’ll sleep the sleep of the dead, and enjoy the peace of it.”
I studied her. She was exuding an odd sense of calm now and that stirred uneasiness within me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Sleep is all I need. A long, uninterrupted sleep.” Her gaze finally came to mine; the clouds I saw there did little to dispel the unease. “Thank you. You saved me out in Tenterra. You save me still.”
“Saska—”
She touched a cool finger to my lips. “Enough. You should go enjoy yourself while you can. And if you remain determined to seek answers, then perhaps you should go back into Tenterra, to the place where you found me. Everything you need to know can be found there if you look to the ground and what lies beneath it. Now go.”
Her gaze and her touch left me. She drew the blanket up closer to her chin and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sleeping; it was a dismissal. The questions that remained—and there were more of them than ever after that final statement—would not be answered tonight. I reined back my frustration and rose. “Night, Saska.”
She didn’t reply. I took off the coat, handed it to Abee, then put my mask on and left.
Once again, Trey was impossible to find but Lord Kiro made his way to my side almost as soon as I walked into the ballroom. “Lady N,” he said, smoothly ensnaring my elbow and guiding me toward the edge of the vast room, “walk with me.”
The desire to say no twitched my lips, and he obviously sensed it, because he dryly added, “Please.”
I took a glass of dark red wine from the tray of a passing drink boy and sipped it as Kiro led me toward one of the nooks.
“What can I do you for, Lord K?” I said, once we were both seated.
He crossed his legs, his foot lightly brushing mine. A ruse for those who might be watching more than an attempt to seduce—there was no heat in that brief touch, no underlying sense of power. “There’s a feel in this room I don’t like. I came to warn you to be wary, both with Ewan and when you’re circulating.”
“Do you think he’s the source of whatever it is you’re sensing?”
“Perhaps. Certainly there’s some anger directed his way.” His mouth twisted, though it was hard to classify the result as a smile. “Lord E, apparently, likes his sex a little rougher than some of his more genteel conquests would prefer.”
I snorted. “Surely his reputation for rough play has preceded him, given a masque is held every year.”
“Oh, I’m sure it has, just as I’m sure it’s disbelief and curiosity that has led many ladies to his bed.”
“The ladies of the Reaches,” I noted, “need to be a little more outspoken about what they do—and do not—want in bed.”
“Ah, but that might well cost them and their family a lucrative commitment.”
“And that’s all that matters here? What about love? Besides, Ewan’s already committed, so a relationship with him isn’t likely to go anywhere vital.”
“Unless of course, a child born with magic comes out of the liaison.” Kiro raised an eyebrow, but there was darkness and old pain in the deeper reaches of his eyes. “But I won’t have you thinking it’s all business here in the Upper Reaches. There are as many liaisons that happen for love as happen for advantage.”
I guessed if there was one good thing about being stained and classified as unlit, it was the fact that I knew, from the very start of any relationship, that even if love did strike, it was unlikely to end in anything lasting.
I took a drink and then said, “Saska confirmed the voices wanted me dead. Perhaps what you’re sensing here is the beginnings of another attempt.”
“This doesn’t feel specifically aimed at you. What else did she tell you?”
Instead of immediately filling him in, I said, “Do you know of a place called Catlyn?”
He frowned. “I believe there was a Catlyn temple on the far side of the Blacksaw Mountains near the Songbird River. But when Versona’s earth witches severed the ties between our lands and theirs, it would have been destroyed.”
“Well, not all of it was, because that’s where the bracelets came from. From what I’ve witnessed, and from what Saska has said, they not only enable sharper telepathic communication, but are also a means of implementing punishment and memory erasure.”
“And everyone who is a part of this scheme was given them?”
“It would appear so.” I hesitated. “Tell me, has there been any indication that the Irkallan are active?”
His gaze sharpened. “No—why?”
“I caught an image in her mind, and it looked an awful lot like drawings I’ve seen of Irkallan limbs.”
“If those creatures were out of hibernation, we’d surely know. They’re warriors first and foremost, and would not hesitate to attack the forces that now sit on their borders.” He paused, his gaze narrowing in thought. “I will, however, ask for scouts to be sent into the Blacksaw Mountains, just in case.”
Relief stirred. We’d know soon enough whether the image I’d seen was merely the madness of a disintegrating mind. “What about Heska?”
“Given she’s the only other woman in this place possessing the bracelets, we’ll need to round her up as a matter of urgency and make her talk.”
I nodded. “There is anoth
er possible problem.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That being?”
I told him everything Saska had said, from it being only the stained children who were kept to the possibility that Saska might have been allowed to escape. But it was the imminent threat of an Adlin attack that naturally caught his attention.
“I’ll contact your captain immediately and warn him.” He thrust up then paused, dug into his pocket, and handed me a small vial of clear liquid and a carefully folded piece of paper. “This potion is fast-acting, so do not linger here once you have administered it.”
With that, he nodded and strode away. I put my glass down and unfolded the small piece of paper. It turned out to be a hand-drawn floor plan of the Harken residence, including X’s to mark where the guards were located and where Ewan’s suite was in relation to Pyra’s, Hedra’s, and even Lord Marcus’s. I slipped both it and the drug into the skirt’s hidden pocket, and then began the search for Ewan. I saw Trey first—he was in standing in one of the shadowed recesses not far from Hedra, a drink in his hand and something close to distaste in his expression. It cleared the moment he saw me. He blew me a kiss for those who were watching, then raised his glass, as if in toast. But one finger was pointing in the direction of the long outside balcony. It seemed I was about to have another round with the wild weather.
I downed my drink, whisked another from a passing waiter, and then headed for the balcony.
The rain and the wind were even fiercer here than they had been around Saska’s side of the building. I paused on the threshold, my gaze searching the drowning shadows. Surely even the most ardent Romeo would reconsider seduction in such atrocious conditions?
A blue-clad footman stopped beside me and bowed lightly. “Can I help you, m’lady?”
I hesitated. “I was actually looking for a Lord E. I was told he was out on the balcony.”
“Would Lord E be from the Chetwind house?”
“He would indeed.”
“Then he has taken refuge in the ramada. If you take the door to your far right, the covered pergola will take you there.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded and slipped away. I finished my second glass of wine, claimed two more, and headed for the door. To say the wind was bracing was an understatement. She whipped around me in utter glee, tossing the scarf layers of my skirt around and pulling at what little material there was in the cropped top. Ewan was going to get an eyeful without the benefit of undressing me at this rate. The wind laughed, but her teasing lessened. I headed down the long, flower-draped pergola. Goose bumps fled across my skin but the stone was at least warm under my feet. Whether the stone was actually heated, or it was simply Mother Earth taking pity on me, I couldn’t say.