Rayne blindly took Lyr’s hand, but she did not look at him. All of her attention was on the rock which had once been beneath the water. She squeezed his hand tightly and took a deep breath, and at her silent command the rock began to split much as the water had.
Keelia gasped as the very walls of the grotto shook. Sian uttered what Lyr recognized as a curse word in the ancient tongue of wizards. Rayne did not respond to the shaking at all. She focused all of her attention on the rock, as it cracked open to create a chasm that grew deeper and deeper, and a little bit wider.
The opening of the rock and the vibration stopped, and Rayne glanced over her shoulder to Keelia. “Enough?”
Keelia shook her head. “Not quite.”
Rayne squeezed Lyr’s hand hard, and once again the rock cracked and split. How could such force be created by one so small? Rayne was delicate, but she was not without power. The sounds of the rock coming apart were deafening, as if the earth itself groaned and protested. Perhaps it did. Rayne continued to work at the rock until Keelia said softly,
“There.”
Rayne released Lyr’s hand reluctantly, her fingers trailing over his palm, and then she nodded at him. Now it was his turn. He took the blackened crystal dagger from the sack he always carried, as he could no longer bear to have the weapon against his skin. He peeled away the purple fabric in which he had found it wrapped so long ago, and held the weapon over the chasm Rayne had opened.
He hesitated. “Will the dagger break when it hits the rock below?”
“No,” both Keelia and Rayne answered. They sounded very sure, and he had no choice but to trust these two extraordinary women.
Lyr held the dagger over the opening for a moment, and then he released it. He let the dagger drop into the chasm. He heard it fall, scraping against rock, pinging as crystal met stone, and then, finally, falling silent.
That was it, or so he thought. Rayne stepped forward, removed the blue stone she had worn around her neck for so long, and dropped it in after the dagger, chain and all. The gem also hit against the stone, but the sound it made was lighter, as if it sang a song as it fell. The chain gave the occasional soft cling, until it was too far down for them to hear.
Rayne glanced up at him. “For keeping,” she said softly.
That done, she closed the rock as easily as she had opened it. Again, the walls of the grotto shook. Small stones loosened from the walls and fell, some splashing into the water, others pinging sharply against the rock floor. Keelia began to back toward their exit.
“We need to go. Now.”
“Not yet,” Rayne said calmly. She saw the rock she’d opened firmly sealed, and then she allowed the water to rush over the dagger’s burial place. She no longer moved the earth, but the damage had been done and larger rocks began to fall.
This time Keelia screamed. “Run!”
Lyr scooped Rayne up, his arm easily encircling her waist, and followed a fleeing Keelia and Sian. As they reached the exit, a large boulder came loose and fell directly behind him. He jumped into the hallway, Rayne in his arms, and hit the ground as the boulder all but sealed the grotto.
And then the shaking stopped. A few small pebbles continued to fall, but the danger was past.
Lyr sat up. It was finally done. Ciro was dead, the demon was buried deep in the earth, and at last count, most of Ciro’s Own had been accounted for. The prophesy had been fulfilled, and Rayne was safe. In the dim purple light he caught her eye and held it.
“Can we get out of here?” Sian suggested sharply when Lyr and Rayne did not immediately rise from the ground.
Lyr jumped up and offered Rayne a steadying hand as she stood. Everyone was eager to leave this place and what was left of the Isen Demon behind, once and for all.
He heard his mother’s relieved words first when Keelia appeared beneath the hatch. The others spoke also, in relief and congratulations. Ropes were lowered, and one at a time those who had ventured into Level Thirteen were pulled up into the light. The women first, then Sian, then Lyr.
When Lyr reached the top, Emperor Jahn peered into the darkness. “My father placed his enemies in this pit?”
“Yes.” Isadora’s voice shook as she answered.
The new ruler studied the hole in the ground for a moment and then lifted stern and determined eyes to the sentinels who had done their duty in lowering and raising those who were forced to venture into Level Thirteen. “Fill it,” he said simply.
“Pardon me, m’lord?” the elder of the two sentinels said.
“Fill. It.”
“With what?” the sentinel asked, adding a belated, “M’lord.”
“Rock, dirt, wood. I don’t care what you use, but fill it.”
“That task will take years,” Sian said wearily.
“I care not how long it takes,” Jahn said tersely. “I want it done. I command it to be done.” He tried a smile which was somewhat miserable. “My first command.”
In a voice that continued to tremble, Isadora said, “You might make a decent emperor after all.”
Jahn did manage a true smile then. “Only time will tell, m’lady.”
Lyr could not wait to leave this palace. His mother had already said she would wait for her husband and the rest of their party to return before traveling to Tryfyn, but Lyr was anxious to be on his way. Rayne would come with him, of course. He stepped around Keelia and Joryn, intent on speaking to Rayne about when they might leave, but the emperor cut into his path and offered his arm to her before Lyr could do so.
“Earth Goddess, I am told,” he said, respect in his voice.
“So they, say, m’lord.”
The emperor and Rayne led the way, and all others followed.
“I believe it would be most excellent to have an Earth Goddess at my command.”
Lyr waited for Rayne to tell this man who was supposedly her friend that she would never be at his command, but she did not respond at all. She did not look back at him either, though certainly she knew that he wished to speak with her about their travel plans.
“Celebration tonight!” the emperor shouted as he, with Rayne on his arm, sprinted up the stairs. “We have much reason to rejoice!”
Lyr hung back, moving slowly as the others did. He had never chased after a woman before, and he did not intend to start now.
The emperor and Rayne disappeared from view fairly quickly. Ariana and Sian, arm in arm, were not far behind them. Keelia and Joryn increased their step, eager to be well away from today’s chore. The sentinels stayed behind to contemplate the task of filling in Level Thirteen.
Lyr found himself plodding up the steps beside his mother.
“I did not believe I would ever be able to say that there’s hope in this world for one of Sebestyen Beckyt’s sons, but I’m beginning to think that boy might make a more than worthy leader.”
“It’s a bit soon to pass that judgment, isn’t it?” Lyr asked, only a bit sour.
“He is very young,” she said thoughtfully.
“He’s older than I am,” Lyr grumbled.
She took his arm. He wasn’t sure if it was for moral support or for physically necessary assistance. There were lots of stairs between Level Twelve and ground level Ten, and there would be more after that before they reached their quarters. “You’ve been horribly spoiled,” she said without heat or emotion.
“Thank you, Mother,” he responded with more than a little sarcasm.
“It’s true. You’ve been gifted in so many ways, and everything you’ve ever wanted has always been given to you.”
“I’ve earned my position.”
“You were born to your position.” She shrugged slightly. “You earned the worthiness and respect of that position, and still, nothing has been particularly difficult for you. Your talent for swords and your gift for time have always come easily. Yes, you work, but you do not toil. You do not sweat. Do you know the difference?”
“No.”
“You have never had to work pa
rticularly hard for what you want. You ask, you reach, and it is yours.” A smile tugged at her lips. “You might have to sweat for what you want this time.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His mother sighed. “I am not blind, Lyr. The girl you’ve been avoiding for days? This woman you tell me is an Earth Goddess?”
By this time, all the others were out of sight. “I thought you wanted me to marry a Tryfynian princess.”
“I do. I did,” she amended. “All mothers want their children to be happy, above all else. I worry about you, Lyr, because you don’t often seem truly happy.”
“There was little happiness in what I was called to do.”
“You’ve done what you were called to do. You succeeded wonderfully. Now what?”
Now what? Good question. “I don’t know.”
“I do. Sweep the girl off her feet. Woo her. Court her. Get down on your knees and beg her to be yours.”
Lyr twitched. “I do not get down on my knees for anyone.”
“Brat,” his mother said under her breath.
It was not the first time in his life that his mother had accused him of being spoiled, so he did not take the allegation to heart. “In truth I do not trust my own judgment at this time. Look at what happened to Segyn. He was in league with a demon, and I did not see the darkness in him. He killed two Circle Warriors, he almost killed me, he almost killed Rayne. I never saw it coming.”
“None of us did. He fooled many.” No one could sigh quite like Isadora Hern. “Segyn betrayed you and that’s terrible, but for heaven’s sake, Lyr, let it go.”
“Let it go?”
“Yes.” Her step slowed. He realized she was tiring so his step slowed, too. “If you want sympathy for all that has happened to you, wait for your Aunt Sophie to arrive. She’ll coddle you if you wish it. She’ll give you a hug and a pat on the cheek and she’ll tell you what a horrible episode you’ve endured. And when that’s done, nothing will have changed.”
“What do you suggest?” Lyr asked sharply.
“Trust your heart,” his mother responded quickly, a touch of warmth in her voice. “Trust your strength and your integrity and your mind as well, but most of all, you must trust your heart. It will guide you.”
***
For months Rayne had been chained in the cellar with no time for styling her hair and putting on pretty clothes. After Lyr had rescued her they’d traveled almost constantly, with even the quickest bath a true luxury.
She’d been well cared for since coming to the palace, and on this evening the emperor had sent not one but three maids to assist her. As in days past, he had ordered her not to inquire as to Lyr’s whereabouts, not to so much as mention his name. She was to be pampered, and she was not to give a moment’s thought to any man. Easier said than done. For all she knew, Lyr had ridden away from the palace as soon as the dagger had been buried!
Much as she hated that idea, she had grudgingly come to agree with Devlyn on that point. If Lyr rode away from her now, then he had never loved her and she’d lost nothing.
So why was her stomach currently lodged in her throat?
Her hair was washed and styled, and though she’d suggested that she could prompt a garden plant to flower, Devlyn had insisted that jewels were more appropriate for tonight’s celebration. One of the maids had positioned a sparkling emerald adornment in her short hair. The bath was luxurious, warm and scented with rose oil. The dress they had provided was made of a fabric she had never seen before, one which sparkled green and gold at once, and which clung to her form in a way which revealed more than it disguised.
It even clung to her belly and surprisingly tender breasts in a way that told her it was not her imagination that a bulge was forming there. A child, the child Gwyneth had promised her, was already growing inside her. Lyr’s child, though she did not wish to tell him of its existence until he had decided whether or not she was worth fighting for.
One of the maids applied cosmetics to her face, but not much. Rayne’s eyes were lined, and a touch of color was added to her lips.
When they were finished with her all the girls smiled widely, pleased with their efforts. Together they led Rayne to a mirror and posed her before it, and for a moment she did not recognize herself.
Her breasts seemed to be too large in this dress, and she did not look entirely like herself with the dark liner beneath her eyes. The hairstyle... she found the new hairstyle oddly appealing, and the jewel there was eye-catching without being too ornate. She supposed it would do.
Rayne had already decided that she was not going to follow Devlyn’s plan, not exactly. Lying did not come easily to her, and she could not bring herself to play games with the man she loved. But in many ways the new emperor was right in suggesting caution where Lyr was concerned.
Even if she was Fynnian’s daughter, she deserved to spend her life with a man who loved her.
Chapter Nineteen
The Prophesy of the Firstborn had been fulfilled, but the duties of those who had been called were not yet complete. Sian and Ariana had agreed to remain in the palace for a few months, in order to help the rediscovered twins Jahn and Alixandyr learn what was expected of them. The ministers and priests a new emperor might normally turn to for assistance had either escaped or been killed. Some would return, when news of the victory spread. Others would need to be replaced by those who had proven their worth in the war, but that rebuilding would take months.
Keelia and Joryn were anxious to return home to the Mountains of the North, but they had decided to remain in Arthes until Queen Mother Juliet and her husband Ryn—Keelia’s parents—reached the capital city. Then they, along with those Anwyn soldiers who had joined in the fight, would return home to begin the task of uniting Anwyn and Caradon.
The prison on Level Twelve was nearly filled to capacity with traitors, thieves, and a handful of Ciro’s Own who had survived. It was thought inevitable that the few remaining soldiers of Ciro’s army would have to be executed. There could be no redemption for the soulless.
One particularly important prisoner had been caught as she’d attempted to flee the capital city. Many people recognized her as one of Ciro’s closest companions. Some days she referred to herself as Diella, but on other days she insisted her name was Lilia. There were a few in the palace who demanded that she be put to death immediately, but others were understandably squeamish about executing a woman who was with child—no matter what nature of child she might carry. The woman remained in Level Twelve, hysterical, perhaps mad, and oddly demanding for a prisoner.
Lyr was very glad the woman’s fate was not in his hands.
There were those who expected bad blood between the brothers, those who expected a struggle for power. But while they had experienced or heard of Sebestyen and Arik’s ways, they did not know the ways of these boys who had been taught to stand together. That’s exactly what they did. Jahn and Alix—Devlyn and Trystan—stood together as their mother had taught them.
Lyr had reluctantly agreed to remain in the palace and attend the emperor’s coronation festivities before beginning the journey home. It seemed he would be making that journey alone. As much as his mother claimed to hate this palace, she insisted upon remaining until the traveling party from which Keelia had collected her in such an unusual, winged manner arrived in Arthes. She wished to say a proper farewell to her sisters, since it might be a while before the Fyne family found the time for another reunion, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, Isadora Hern had confessed that she already missed her husband terribly and could not bear to travel toward home without him.
Though Lyr had accepted the invitation when it had come to him, in truth he had never cared much for formal celebrations of any type. He occasionally endured the festivities in the Tryfynian King’s court because it was expected of him, as Prince of Swords, but he had never enjoyed meaningless chatter or shrill music, which always came with the expectation that he would dance.
As in Tryfyn, the women present had taken extra efforts to make themselves beautiful. Thanks to Ciro’s gutting of the palace, there were few minister’s wives or imperial relations to lend beauty to the relatively small gathering. Ariana and Keelia and Lyr’s mother were present, as was the middle-aged wife of the Minister of Agriculture, a sturdy woman who had escaped the palace but had remained hidden in the city. She, her husband, and their daughter had returned soon after Ciro’s death.
And then there was Rayne, who was too beautiful for words. Literally. For a while after arriving in the warm, music-filled ballroom Lyr did not even approach her. He did not know what to say. For the first time in his life, he was anxious. It was not a welcome feeling.
The women who attended Emperor Jahn’s gala were all surrounded by attentive men. There were soldiers who had earned this celebration, the new emperor and his brother, as well as Sian, Joryn, and a handful of ministers who had rushed to the palace when it became known that Ciro had been defeated. Many of the ministers were less than thrilled to have Sebestyen’s sons in residence, but the twins were doing their best to charm them. One at a time. They were succeeding. Even those who had hated Sebestyen realized that his sons were better suited to this palace than a demon-possessed soul sucker.
Emperor Jahn also seemed intent on charming Rayne, Lyr noticed from the wall he had propped himself against. The man smiled too widely, winked too often, and touched her as if he had the right. True, he only touched Rayne on the elbow to guide her, or else he held her at a respectable distance as they danced, but still... he touched her.
When the emperor leaned in close and whispered in Rayne’s ear, Lyr pushed himself away from the wall and weaved past the revelers. It was time to get this over with, one way or another. He had come to the celebration armed as if he were going into battle. In truth he would feel naked without his swords, and his position required him to be prepared for battle at all times. At least he no longer carried the blasted crystal dagger. A long sword hung to one side, a short sword to the other. A small dagger of steel housed in a leather sheath was strapped to his thigh.
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