by Jeff Wheeler
I don’t know how to describe my emotions. I’ve never felt so conflicted before. And yet . . . when I look at her face, I still see the young girl Lord Fitzroy brought up from the Fells. And now we’re going back there. Why do we keep coming back to our origins? Why does the past torment us so?
Sleep, Cettie. I will wake you when we reach the prism cloud. For now, I can only wonder what they did to you. These enemies have no mercy, no spark of compassion. You’ve lived among them. How much of them is still a part of you? I wish I knew. I wish it could be different. That we didn’t have to endure so much. If I had been there instead, could I have prevented it? I don’t know what the Knowing wants. Sometimes, I think it asks too much of us.
—Adam Creigh, on the Serpentine
SERA
CHAPTER TWENTY−SEVEN
QUEEN OF THE UNBORN
When the whorl of magic from the Tay al-Ard ended, Sera was left dizzy and anguished. She was still trussed up with strong cords, arms wrenched painfully behind her back. They’d waited in the darkness of the lockroom for a miserable amount of time, the only light the illumination of Christina’s silver eyes. She’d disguised herself as Sera and put a ring on Sera’s hand that had made her invisible—and then jabbed her in the neck with a poisoned ring to make her limbs go slack and her mind fog with a stupor.
Sera had heard Cettie’s voice through that fog. She’d struggled to rouse herself, to scream a warning. But the poison had pinned her limbs in place. She’d simply lain there, limp and passive, as the trap was coiled and sprung.
The dizziness faded, and Sera looked around, trying to determine where the Tay al-Ard had taken them. Her heart sickened with dread. She recognized the stone walls, lit by burning oil torches set in iron rings. Felt the looming danger of the Prison Leering.
Cruix Abbey.
No, Sera thought in dread. She had suspected fate would bring her there. But she wasn’t prepared for it.
She’d thought it would be well protected. She’d tried to ensure it was so.
It wasn’t.
Her worries were distracted by the pain of two bodies crashing against hers. Her legs were crushed. The drug had faded, but not enough that she could even yelp in pain. She heard grunts and gasps and then, in the flickering light, saw Christina and Cettie writhing on the ground next to her, grappling with each other.
The Tay al-Ard went spinning away on the ground, the metal making a scraping noise as it rolled away from the combatants. Light from the torches reflected on its metal surface. If only she could get to it!
Sera’s entire body felt as it were made out of lead, so slowly did it obey her. She bunched up her aching legs and scooted herself across the floor toward the magical device. More cries of pain filled the air as Cettie and Christina grappled. Both were in her peripheral vision, and Sera marveled at Cettie’s skill. Though her friend had always been talented with the Bhikhu style of fighting, this . . . this was unlike anything Sera had witnessed before. Christina was struck in the face, in the neck, only to return the blows.
Sera scooted herself forward again. With her arms behind her back, her wrists throbbing, it would be difficult to grab the Tay al-Ard. But all she needed was to touch it, to grasp it, and it could take her back to Lockhaven. Sweat popped out across her entire body as she strained to move just inches at a time.
A gasp of pain. Cettie was leaning forward now, her arm twisted behind her back. But she jumped forward into a roll, unwinding the hold, and swept her leg back to knock Christina off her feet. Her advantage gave her a moment to lunge toward the Tay al-Ard, but she was stopped short by the other woman, who’d already regained her feet.
Sera heard footsteps coming down the tunnel leading back to the Aldermaston’s rooms. Help or additional foes? She would rather not be there to find out. Grunting herself, she moved closer, until her head bumped against the device. It rocked a little and then held still.
Cettie flung Christina off and reached out for the device. Her fingers almost brushed Sera’s head, but Sera was still invisible. She couldn’t see her own body.
And then Cettie’s face contorted in pain. She’d been stabbed or injured in some way, though Sera hadn’t seen how. She slumped onto the stone ground, her arm still extended, her fingers listless. Her eyelids quivered and then closed.
Was she dead?
Burning anger filled Sera’s heart. More desperate than ever to stop Christina, to bring soldiers to this place, she inched a little closer to the Tay al-Ard. A shadow appeared on the floor, approaching her. She blinked in recognition. It was the Aldermaston of Cruix!
“You didn’t kill her, did you?” said the Aldermaston in a stranger’s voice. The Aldermaston she’d met didn’t speak her language—this one didn’t even have an accent.
“No,” Christina panted, rising to her knees. “She almost reached the Tay al-Ard.”
“Where’s the empress?” the man asked, his voice angry.
“Somewhere . . . on the floor. Nearby,” Christina said, gasping.
“Apokaluptis,” the stranger said, and Sera felt a breeze brush across her. She was visible again, the magic tamed.
The disguised Aldermaston chuckled and knelt, quickly picking up the Tay al-Ard himself. She’d been so close . . .
Then his disguise melted away also, revealing a man with a short beard and cunning eyes. He wore a black cassock and had a musical instrument strapped around his shoulders.
“You did well,” he said, looking at Christina and giving a small nod. “We almost lost her.”
Christina nodded in return and stood.
“Hello, Your Highness,” the man said, still squatting near her. “My name is Jevin Toussan. I’m pleased to meet you at long last.”
“I can’t say I return the sentiment,” Sera whispered back.
Jevin smiled at the insult. He looked to be in his midthirties perhaps. Maybe forty at the most. “I imagine not,” he said. “But that’s no matter. You are here at last. That’s what is truly important.”
Christina rose, rubbing her wrist as if it pained her. Cettie was still immobile on the floor.
The bearded man met Christina’s gaze. “The kishion are coming. It’s time.”
“How are they coming so quickly?” Christina asked, her brow wrinkling.
“The ley lines,” Jevin said, but the word was incomprehensible to Sera. He tucked the Tay al-Ard into his pocket and then helped lift her into a sitting position since she could not use her arms. Part of Sera’s dark hair fell across her face. She stared up at the man.
“I won’t release her,” Sera said forcefully, feeling the dark menace of the Prison Leering brush against her thoughts. There was a yearning there, a yearning to be free, to end the entrapment.
Jevin eyed her keenly. “I think you will.” Then he rose and turned back to the entrance.
Sera, sitting upright, gazed around the entombed space. The walls were part of a natural cave that existed within the mountains of Cruix Abbey. The ceiling was vaulted, not because it had been built that way, but because nature had created it so. A crack ran along the apex where the slanted rocks joined together. Hollows had been carved into the rocks, forming benches where ossuaries had been made to store the remains of the dead. The space was neither cramped nor large. It was a cave within a cave, deep within the mountain itself, where no light could reach them. If not for the sputtering torches, all would be pitch black. The Leerings carved into the walls had been disfigured, the faces smashed by chisel and hammer.
That was different. That was new. It meant she couldn’t use them to summon help.
Sera swallowed. Cettie lay nearby, her arm still outstretched. Cettie, who had been missing for over a year. Who had been abducted and concealed. She still looked like her friend, but the fight might have been staged for her benefit. Sera didn’t know what to believe. The webs of deceit were too thick.
The kishion came noiselessly. Sera felt them before she saw them, and her blood ran cold as they arrived from t
he corridor. Five . . . eight . . . ten. Then more. They walked into the room, coming around in a circle, and then stood near the shadowed alcoves of the ossuaries. All in all, there were twelve of them. Jevin made thirteen. One of them caught her eye deliberately. He had awful scars on his face, but they didn’t conceal his true identity.
Will Russell.
A little smirk twitched on his face. He knew she recognized him, and it amused him. Then he looked at Cettie, and his eyes narrowed with anger.
What do I do now? she wondered in the darkness. She gazed at the others, trying to see if she recognized any of them. But she did not. Then their eyes all began to glow silver as their kystrels burned to life. Darkness began to dim the torchlight. They were using their dark power to invoke the Myriad Ones. How were they getting past the barriers of the abbey above?
The revelation came like a slap. The kishion had carried the beings inside. They were willing vessels. Fear crept up her spine.
How could she, one person, hope to stand against them?
Cettie’s fingers twitched.
“You will open the Leering,” Jevin said in a menacing voice, his hands clasped behind his back, much like Fitzroy used to do. The two men might share that mannerism, but it was clearly all they shared. “We both know that only you can do it. That you were meant to do it.”
The sickly magic made Sera begin to tremble. She’d never felt so abandoned, so alone. Please, she thought to the Mysteries. Help me!
“A prayer, Empress?” said Jevin, his voice full of menace. “You think that will help you now? Now, when you are kneeling before the altar of the Queen of the Unborn?” he said, holding out one hand in a reverent gesture to the Leering.
Sera felt a strangling feeling in her throat. She could sense the Myriad Ones gathering around her. Were she not wearing a chain, she would have been completely vulnerable to them. She tried to utter the word of power to banish them, but her mouth would not work.
Banirexpiare, she thought instead, since her lips could not utter it.
Nothing happened.
Jevin chuckled coldly. “They’re already banished. Here. Among the dry bones. Where else would you send them? A farrow of pigs? It is night still. The stars reign. Even the moon blushes to share its light. It is the moment of our greatest power.”
Sera wilted inside. There were no dragoons to command. No zephyrs that could reach her in time. If Durrant knew where she was, he would have sent legions to protect the abbey. No one was coming. She was alone.
Cettie’s head began to lift. Sera glanced at her erstwhile friend. Cettie’s eyelids were quivering. But a look of relief dawned on her face when she saw Sera. A little smile.
“Don’t . . . be . . . afraid,” Cettie whispered.
“Ah, our little traitoress is recovering from the poison already,” Jevin said with a look of disgust. “Christina. Would you help your daughter up?”
The woman bent down and hoisted Cettie up onto her knees, but the poison was still ravaging her body. Her limbs were slack, without strength, but her eyes were alert. She gave Sera a fierce look. Her lips moved without sound.
“Anthisstemi,” Jevin hissed. Another jolt of power shook through Sera. Her weariness fell away, all her senses sharpening. Cettie appeared to be restored as well—she sat up taller on her knees and turned to Sera and said, “They’re coming.”
Who was coming?
“No one is,” Jevin said with a mocking tone. “Lord Welles has started an insurrection. Many of your people are still loyal to him. Your mother persuaded him yesterday to join our cause.” He gave Sera a knowing look. “Hetaera can be so very . . . persuasive. He believes he will be granted governorship of certain lands on this side of the mirror gate. A governor, not a prime minister able to be dismissed by the whims of the privy council . . . or a peevish young woman. You destroyed him, Your Highness. You tarnished his pride, his sense of self. It made it all the easier to seduce him in the end. In doing your duty, you played right into our hands. There are no sky ships coming. The friends you left behind in the cesspit will be killed by the Fear Liath. As will all the children. Unless . . .”
He raised his eyebrows in a tempting manner. “Unloose her. Free our queen willingly, and perhaps we’ll be merciful.”
Sera swallowed again. The thickness that had blocked her speech loosened. It was strange, as if Jevin had loosened some sort of invisible noose he’d held around her neck. She felt his power, felt the firmness of his mind. But Sera had always been stubborn too.
“I won’t do it,” Sera said, shaking her head. She tried to wriggle loose of the bonds, but they cut into her skin. Her wrists were swollen, and her fingertips hurt from the lack of circulation. The cave had an earthy, mineral smell—the smell of death.
Jevin sighed. “Then I’m afraid you will have to be convinced. Christina?”
Sera’s courage began to waver, but she would not be cowed by his cruelty. “What are you going to do? Torture me?”
“No,” Jevin said with a menacing voice. “We’ll torture your friend. That’s much more painful, isn’t it?” Sera’s eyes widened with horror. “A pity Mrs. Pullman didn’t live to do it herself. She would have relished the opportunity.”
Christina had a firm grip on Cettie’s arm, but when two of the kishion approached, she relinquished her to them. One of them was Will. They grabbed Cettie’s arms to control her, but Cettie didn’t fight them. All her attention was on Sera.
“Whatever happens, they’re coming. Don’t save me. I accept thi—”
“Silence!” Jevin snarled, and Cettie went mute. She couldn’t say a word, and the throbbing power of the Mysteries filled the air, awful and wrong.
“There is no one coming,” Jevin said, his cheek twitching with barely controlled anger. Sera caught a glimpse of his rage, as if a furnace door had been cracked open . . . just a little, exposing the white-hot flames within. It quickly shut, and his calm facade was restored.
“You’re lying,” Sera said.
“I have no reason to,” Jevin said with an incredulous look. “We’ve won. Despite all your resources, all your power, all your goodness, we managed to bring you here where we wanted you. Your fleets are in disarray. General Montpensier is about to destroy Lockhaven. And the Queen of the Unborn will return in all her glory and majesty. What happens next is on your conscience, Sera Fitzempress. You chose suffering and death for your people when you chose to fight back. How easy to sit on your velvet chair with your velvet stool, giving commands but not living the consequences. The suffering. Well, now you get to experience it for yourself. What should we use first? Black henbane? Cettie is a poisoner. She already knows how this will feel.”
Sera’s heart wrung in misery. Would Christina deliberately poison her own child? Cettie continued to look at Sera with purpose and determination. Though she could no longer speak with words, those eyes did it for her. They were not the cruel eyes of Jevin, or Will, or Cettie’s mother. They were full of compassion. Of acceptance.
Whatever happens, they seemed to say. I accept it. Don’t let them deceive you.
The two kishion gripped Cettie hard, prepared for a struggle. She did not give it to them. Christina, coldly, reached into her own bag and produced a small vial. She nodded to the two men, and they forced Cettie’s lips open. She didn’t resist as her mother poured poison into her mouth.
CHAPTER TWENTY−EIGHT
PRICE OF BETRAYAL
Sera couldn’t look away. She was transfixed by the scene, by her own feelings of helplessness. Why was the Knowing letting this happen? She didn’t understand. Then the pain and convulsions started. It was like Sera could feel them herself as she watched her friend’s eyes squint, her body begin to tremble. The spasms became more violent, and the two kishion dumped her onto the floor to writhe and quake.
Groans came from Cettie as the poison ravaged her. Jevin must have released her voice, knowing the sounds she’d make would wring Sera’s heart. Tears pricked her eyes. Whatever Cettie
had done, she knew her friend’s heart. She did not deserve this.
“Stop it,” Sera shouted, unable to wipe the tears away. She looked at Jevin accusingly, but he seemed to be relishing the experience. His expression was hard as stone, yet there was a flicker of triumph in his eyes. He met her gaze, and she felt the awful darkness swirling inside him.
“Release the binding,” he commanded her.
“I won’t,” Sera replied, shaking her head, her voice trembling.
“Another, then,” Jevin said. “Earworm. Now.”
Christina reached into the poisoner bag and withdrew another vial, this one metallic in color. The two kishion grasped Cettie’s head, holding it to the floor while her mother poured the vial into her ear. Sera watched helplessly, and then the shrieks of agony started. Sera tried to rise, to come to her friend’s aid, even with her own hands lashed behind her back, but Jevin intervened. He closed the distance between them, then gripped her shoulder and shoved her back down on the floor.
“If you want this to end, then you know what to do. Release the binding!” he shouted at her. The anger in his voice struck her heart like shards of glass.
Cettie had said they were coming. Could she wait? Could she endure watching Cettie’s suffering, knowing she had the power to end it?
Do you?
Lies. These people told nothing but lies. If Sera released Ereshkigal from her prison, the kishion would likely kill her and Cettie both, and then the vengeful being would be unloosed on the world. Wouldn’t countless more be killed and made to suffer?
“Have you no sympathy for your friend?” Jevin asked in a low voice, between the screams and the gulps for air.
“Have you no soul?” Sera countered.
“Look what you are doing to your friend. She suffers needlessly.” His lips pursed. “Acetane powder is next. You cannot understand, Empress, how it makes one itch. These poisons will all kill her. But not soon. Slowly. And you will watch her die in the end if you do not stop it. The powder.”