Already back to sitting on his throne, Jem’s eyes slid to the nearest guard. “Do it.”
I stepped back a few feet to give the man access to the cage.
“No tricks, L’tarian,” Jem warned. “This is my gesture of goodwill. Don’t abuse it.”
I stood quietly as the guard unlocked the cage. He swung the door open wide and returned to his place. I didn’t know what Lirih’s awareness level was. I didn’t want to scare her. So I stayed back, my stomach knotting as she inched toward the exit. She lingered, and I used the time to let her new form sink in. I was glad there’d been some attempt at modesty. Though the simple shift she’d been given wasn’t exactly proper. A pale gray fabric (several shades lighter than her hide), the sleeves were capped at her shoulders and the hem rested on her upper thigh.
Abruptly, Lirih tilted her head, cocking it to the side as eldring do. Unlike Jem, the shape of her skull was roughly the same as before. Hair remained, though it was a silvery ash color and wiry in appearance. In places, a soft layer of black pelt graced her arms, legs, and torso. The contours of her cheekbones—my cheekbones—were miraculously unchanged, but her tiny nose was broad, and two round nubs were growing on either side of her widened mouth. The suggestion of emerging tusks.
Lirih stepped out onto the floor of the dais, and I silently thanked the gods her back was straight and her knees jointed normal. Only a slight animal-like lope affected her gait. Her bare feet were noticeably enlarged; her hands slightly less so. Extensive claws sprouted from the tips of both. Lirih’s talons were not the inferior version my father owned. I’d been intimate with an eldring’s bony protrusions more times than I cared to remember, and Lirih’s were the real thing; thick, black, long, and dangerous as hell.
Her gaze centered on me. A surprising vibrant circle of sunset orange ringing a splash of pure white; the wildness trapped within sent a chill up my spine.
It also broke my heart.
Emotion clogged my throat as I tried to speak. I gave up and pulled her into my arms. Lirih didn’t return the embrace. Whether it was due to Jem’s prying eyes or her own reserved nature, I didn’t know. My half-eldring daughter stood, enduring my affection, as I gripped her fur-clad body with far more strength than a young girl should be able to withstand.
“Gods, Lirih,” I whispered.
“It is good to see you, too,” she replied.
I pulled back. I put my hands on her altered face. Her bones were strong beneath my grip. “You can talk?” An unusual alertness lit her stare. “You can see me?” She cracked a feral smile, and I struggled to keep my voice down. “Like…an eldring?”
She nodded and I thought: it worked. The oracle spell worked.
Lirih was the eldring I was in.
“It hurt,” I said, remembering the moment. “You were in pain when Jem cast on you.”
“The change was gradual. It took days to complete. But the pain is gone now. My change is done. I am what I will be.”
I pulled her farther away from the long reach of my father’s ears. “How many?”
“We are thirty seven.” She curled her lips in distaste, exposing fangs. “I feel their fear.”
“You’re part of their shared consciousness?”
“Not just theirs. I feel all the eldring minds. I find it…” She tilted her head again. “Comforting. Their concern for each other far surpasses ours. They have no care for differences. Prejudice isn’t a concept they recognize. Discrimination doesn’t occur to them. They’ve taken me in, accepted me. They’ve accepted us all.”
“Where is Jem keeping you and the others?”
“Below the streets is a lower level, a network of room and corridors, where the undeclared are held.”
“Undeclared?”
“Untested newcomers. Those whose worthiness for admittance into the empire has yet to be decided, as well as those awaiting judgment and condemnation. Many nights I have fallen asleep listening to their screams.”
“You don’t sleep by day like true eldring?”
“The sensitivity of our eyes is less severe than theirs. And while our bodies prefer the night, the Emperor believes he can teach us to ignore the inclination. Each day we, and all other eldring, are brought to the arena. We’re conditioned to the light and trained for combat. Those considered usable will be sent to the army.” Concern darkened her tone. “It moves toward Langor even now.”
“We know.” I shot a glance at Jem. Leaning forward, chin in his hand, he was watching us closely. “His persuasion spell. Has he tried it on you?”
“No. Not all eldring are spelled. Some are tortured. Others have food withdrawn, or pain inflicted on offspring and mates.”
“Langorians train their eldring that way.”
“Jem does have Draken’s soul, does he not?”
“He does.” My gaze ran over her again. Thoughts of my future vision came to mind. “This is why you disappeared. Why Malaq couldn’t find you. Why your body never hung from the wall.”
Her slightly ridged forehead tightened. “The wall?”
“It was a spell, a vision. I went forward five years and you’d disappeared. Malaq thought you were dead. But you weren’t. You were…this.”
“I know the power of visions. I also know what happens when you put too much faith in them. King Raynan taught me that.” Lirih caught my eyes. “And yours was clearly not accurate. You said I could not be found, yet here I am.”
I attempted a smile. Lirih was trying to help, but my distress wasn’t abating. All I could think to relieve it was to channel. As I did, I gripped her clawed hand for reassurance, and the scars on mine pulsed. A sudden twitch of reaction ran across her altered features.
Pulling her hand away, Lirih stared at me in shock. “I felt that,” she whispered.
“You can still channel magic?”
“I…it would seem so.”
“If you weren’t aware then you can only sense it on contact.” Excited, my voice sped up. “Lirih, if you can cast and touch the eldring mind, you can shred the spell Jem cast on them. He must have had a focus to weave the coercion around, especially to encompass such a large group. Once we find out what he used to persuade them, what’s at the heart of spell, you can—”
“In this form?” she broke in.
Her skepticism dimmed my eagerness. “You have to try.”
As if sensing a conspiracy, Jem yelled from his chair. “L’tarian! That’s long enough.” His tone lightened as he addressed Lirih. “Come, my pet. It’s time to go back. You’ll have your walk soon enough.”
Lirih turned to comply.
I grabbed her. “What does he mean ‘your walk’?”
“The Emperor likes my company.”
“Has he hurt you?”
“Not at all. He shows me the city. What it is; what it could be. He’s quite proud.”
“I get that. But you’re not his dog.”
“Neither does he treat me as such. Jem’s attempts to win me over are not unpleasant.”
No, I thought, just creepy. “How does he treat his subjects?”
“His moods can be extreme. Yet, beneath his instability, I believe he wants us to stay of our own accord, particularly the Shinree.”
“And if someone wants to leave?”
“Leaving is forbidden.”
Jem barked again. “L’tarian!”
I ignored him. “We need to get you out of here.”
Gratitude shone in Lirih’s orange-rimmed eyes. Yet, she met my concern as always; like she didn’t need it. “There are too many guards. And if you fight with magic the price could ripple out into the city.”
“I can divert it.”
“All of it?” she challenged.
“I can’t promise that.”
Her breathtaking gaze took in the scars on my face and a sudden, distort
ed frown overcame Lirih’s half-eldring features. “I heard Jem talking. I know what casting the crown’s magic does to you. If the spell gripping you is allowed to run its course, you will not be like me. You will retain none of who you are. You will have no memory of what it was like to be a man. Will you be happy that way, being pure eldring?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I prefer you not endure it because of me.”
I ground my teeth at her stubbornness. “Did you think you’d reveal yourself to me and I wouldn’t care? That I wouldn’t want to protect you?”
“You received and accepted me far better than I imagined. But this is not your decision. I know how to survive here. I know what is expected of me. I will be fine until you return.”
“No way. I’m not—”
“Sometimes a daughter can protect a father, can she not?”
Even if I didn’t like it, her conviction impressed me. “How can you be so brave?”
“I emulate those I admire.” Lirih smiled. The expression was full of meaning and pride. It was gripping and took me unawares, preventing me from noticing the guard until he was upon us and clamping a hand on her arm. It wasn’t a rough grip. Lirih might have gone willingly, if he hadn’t gotten impatient and yanked.
Her balance lost, Lirih stumbled. The man sneered, watching her, and I went for a weapon, intent on pointing out his mistake. She was faster. Lirih’s claws flashed, and chunks of skin were gone from the Kaelish guard’s face before my mind even registered the move.
Awash in blood, he raised a fist to retaliate. “You ugly bitch!”
I grabbed the man’s arm in one hand and punched him in the throat with the other. “She’s not ugly.” Unsheathing my sword, I slid it into his gut and tossed him to the side. I pointed the dripping blade at Jem. “Lirih’s coming with me.”
She tried to pull away. “Ian, no.”
I shook her. “You nearly ripped that man’s face off. Do you think Jem won’t punish you?” Not waiting for her reply, I faced the throne. “She comes with me or we have no deal.”
Jem’s voice boomed across the dais. “I hoped your compassion for my failed experiments might eclipse your hatred for me—and I was right. I saw your reaction, the horror you tried to hide. You won’t condemn them to such a life. Not when you can play hero and save them. And…you are right,” he added, slipping into his familiar, mocking tone. “Even in this state, my granddaughter is far from ugly.”
On reflex, I shoved Lirih behind me.
“Ah.” Jem donned a satisfied smile. “There it is…confirmation.” His black nails tapped click-clack, click-clack, on the armrests of his chair. “She doesn’t have the look of a Reth. I would never have suspected had I not seen you together. Quite a touching reunion, actually. I’m surprised you’ve taken to fatherhood so readily, L’tarian.”
“So am I, considering what I had for an example.”
His tapping continued. “How messy will this get if I deny your request?”
“It’s not a request.”
“Do you think I won’t stop you? Without Lirih I have no way to entice your cooperation. You’ll save her and yourself and leave me as I am. But you’re missing something.” Jem paused, lengthening the moment, making sure he had my attention. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You already have.”
“A result of your error in judgment,” he pointed out briskly. “The girl would not be in this condition if you had shared her existence with me.”
“It’s my fault you experimented on her?”
“Yes, but the blame is unimportant. Regardless of her form, she is a gift. Lirih is the future of the Reth line. She is my granddaughter and my blood. I will teach her what you never wished to know. Lirih will have all that you never wanted. My affection. My throne. And the love you never deserved.”
My anger visible, before I could react, Lirih seized my arm. “If my good health serves his purpose, Jem will not hurt me. You know this to be true.”
“What a wise girl,” Jem praised. “Considerably more so than her father.”
“Shut up.” I looked at Lirih. “I’ll draw them away. When I open a door, run.” I ignored her argument and stepped toward the nearest line of guards. Channeling the nine auras of the crown, I focused on the fires blazing in the pots and took control.
Jem sensed my magic as it permeated the air. He started to rise from his throne. Then, slowly, he sat back down to watch what I would do.
That right there—his quiet allowance of my spell—should have served as a warning. But my thoughts were only on my daughter as I ripped the flames from their holders and roused the obsidian. My intent was to throw the fire up as a blockade against the encroaching guards, while simultaneously crafting a barricade around Lirih. Neither thing happened.
I released the flames. They shot across the platform like a whip. But instead of striking the floor in front of the guards, the wide tongues hit their bodies and held on. The men didn’t scream. The fire didn’t consume or destroy. It didn’t spread. It adhered, gripping them from head to toe, swallowing their features behind a casing of orange-yellow tendrils that flickered and danced, a good foot in all directions.
The obsidian worked no better. Instead of protecting Lirih, the dark opaque aura drilled into the floor at my feet and split the top layer. The crack expanded, splintering the wood. Pieces broke apart and pushed up, and a solid sheet of shiny black became visible beneath.
So did the truth.
Under the dais floor was a layer of hornblende. My spells never had a hope.
The burning men fell in line and advanced. Seemingly unconcerned with their new forms, as they prepared to attack, my father laughed. He threw out a biting comment, but it was drowned by the crackling flames as the guards closed in. Weapons were drawn and brandished. Fire swept up off their grips to swathe clubs and swords. My attackers were unaffected by the heat they were throwing off. To me, their presence was an encroaching inferno, warping the air, making my skin sweat and sting. My eyes teared with their glare. Breath became a painful necessity. My escape plan was near impossible now, with a floor of hornblende under my boots and no water to combat it.
Detecting a sudden increase in heat, I swung right, lunged left, and met burning steel both times. Stepping back, I blocked with a hard parry and sent one opponent’s arm wide. Fire trailed behind the flailing limb like sparks in a dark room. Making use of the brief opening, I snuck in a kick to his flaming chest. Heat breached the sole of my boot like it was parchment. Flames coiled up, singing my breeches. I cursed at the pain as I evaded the second man’s wild swing. I met his next, slid it away wide, and ripped my blade across the front of his thighs. Blood poured from the wound. Fire splashed like water as he fell. His weapon clattered to the floor and returned to normal. I squatted to pick it up. The hilt was scorching.
Wincing, I folded my hand around the grip, came up, and stabbed into the sweltering stomach looming over me. Steel sunk deeply. Sparks shot off, burning through my sleeve. The hairs on my arm blackened. Skin blistered and ruptured on my left hand. I screamed as the magic-scars bubbled and burst up to my wrist. Red soaked my sleeve. Ruined skin disrupted the pattern of scars—but only for a second before the broken outlines, glowing and throbbing, suddenly reached for each other. Reprinting as they stretched, trying to reconnect, as the marks came together to reform the design, my skin beneath them healed.
Taken aback, I staggered away. Whatever had just happened; I couldn’t think on it now. More burning men were advancing. I needed space and air that didn’t hurt.
There was none.
My only choice was to make it.
I tore into my approaching enemies. Flames licked my skin and clung to my clothes. Prolonged contact turned my blades red hot. It was all I could do to hold onto the hilts and keep swinging. Under normal circumstances, the fight would have been ove
r. Becoming walking bonfires hadn’t improved my enemy’s swordplay. But their flames had a long reach. Painful consequences came with each strike and parry as, over and over, the marks on me ruptured and reformed. Damaged skin repaired almost instantly.
The healing was still happening to the unscarred areas of my body, but not as fast, and the lingering sticky, wet mess of pustules and blood was near constant agony. With so much hornblende about, I couldn’t chance another spell. Not even to stop the pain.
Desperate, I channeled the ruby auras of the crown to soothe my nerves, and turned on the few remaining unaffected guards coming in on my flank. I moved to engage them, and Lirih intervened. Her beastly snarls and swiping claws, the ferocious way she lashed out, were effective—and hard to reconcile with her woman’s form. Yet, there was a strange gracefulness to her savage moves, even if it did make my heart ache.
I tore my gaze away as shouts erupted in the street outside the stadium. The soldiers rushing to defend their emperor had no idea what they were walking into. The dais was awash in flames. My magic-fed fire seemed to latch on with only one stray touch. The large number of advancing troops stood no chance against it.
And what chance do I have against them?
My father’s voice rang out to penetrate the chaos. “Hold!” His soldiers obeyed instantly. “This can end now, L’tarian. No one else has to get hurt. If it is her wish, Lirih may leave once you bring me what I require…and surrender the crown’s power.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I also know you can’t win here today. Not without putting your daughter at further risk. Lirih is like nothing we have seen before. Can you say for certain her half eldring make-up is fully immune to the draining effects of magic—especially with what you’re standing on? You have no idea how your spells might be warped…or who they might kill. You are at a disadvantage, son. And you clearly have no interest in seeing this city for what it is. So go. It’s safer for all involved if you return to Kabri now and leave her with me.”
“Lirih, safe with you?” I laughed.
“You have my word. As long as you keep our bargain and find those tablets, she will not be harmed. But if you force my hand…”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne Page 21