by K. E. Blaski
“Yes,” Argathe agreed. “A suicide poison can easily be hidden in a fake tooth. Crushed and swallowed without detection.”
“Excellent. Quintus, you and Marcis will set this plan in place. You’re dismissed.”
Quintus left without even a glance at Jennica. Quintus made her miss Logan even more.
Once he was gone, Noble spoke to Damen. “Was his assessment truthful?”
“Not entirely. He’s understating the severity of the rebellion. I don’t know why, and I don’t know by how much.”
“He lied.”
“Yes,” Damen confirmed, and Jennica cringed. Noble’s predictable reaction would be to punish Quintus, make an example out of him. But what hurt the most was watching Damen be the one to condemn him.
“Are Quintus and Marcis setting me up, or protecting me? What do you think, Damen?”
“I don’t know, sir. Neither has confided in me.”
“I’ll ask them myself, then, with you by my side, Damen. We’ll get to the truth. We always do, don’t we?” He gave Damen a conspiratorial smile. “Well, on to better news. I have decided to go to Earth.”
“What?”
Jennica’s word just came out. Noble had just said he was going to Earth, as calmly as if he’d said he was heading to the grocery store. Other words followed, loud and frantic: “Why? How?”
“Sir,” said Damen, “if Argathe has promised you full body transport from our world to Jennica’s, I can assure you she’s lying.”
“Damen the dimwit.” Argathe sneered. “I’ve made no such promises. What my Noble asks of me, I’ve done before. It will be nothing to do it again.”
“His soul, then,” Damen said.
“Enough of your family squabble. My wife has questions.” Noble strolled to where Jennica stood, picked her up, sat down on the couch, and then set her on his knee like a perverse Santa with a toddler. “What I’m doing is sending my soul to Earth, to take possession of an Earth body. Why I’m leaving is because of you, my lovely. You have given me a taste of your world—and I want more. My desires have outgrown Astrune. I’ve brought order, allegiance, and prosperity to the chaos of this planet, but now, I’m bored with it. Time to move on. And how? With your help, of course. Argathe will handle the transfer, but you will prepare me beforehand. Starting now.”
“Is he serious?” Jennica asked Damen. “Did you know about this?”
“Yes, he is serious, and no—I didn’t know.”
“What if I refuse?” She glared at each of them in turn.
Noble pulled her close—close enough for her to see the flecks of silver in his muddy brown irises. His breath felt icy on her face, his voice intimate like a lover. “I’m taking your soul with me, Jennica. Either by consuming it right here and right now, or by taking you with me when I transfer to Earth. You decide.”
Jennica could see one of her eyes reflected in his teeth. A wild eye. “The inhibitor.” Her heart pounded like soldiers marching on her ribs.
“Do you think a silly potion can stop me from taking what is rightfully mine?” He pushed his nose against the tender spot between her cheek and her ear and inhaled. “Do you realize how many souls I’ve consumed today? How strong I am right now? Completely healed. Invincible.” He pressed his knuckle against her temple. He could drill a hole into her skull with a twist of his joint. “So, my dear, what have you decided? End it all now—my new harem of one? Or go back to Earth with me? We’ll each possess new bodies. Think of it, Jennica: no more metal feet. We’ll find Nyima. You can introduce me to Grandma Lorinne.”
A whimper escaped her lips as he slid his mouth to hers and pried her teeth open with his tongue. His claw slit an opening in her robe above her heart and he thrust his hand inside, groping at her breasts. His hand was ice. His lips steel.
“Stop it!” Damen shouted, but his voice trailed off. “Please.” He nearly cried.
Noble pushed Jennica to the floor and stretched to his full height. His tail uncurled, knocking a chair over. The scales covering his chest pulsed. “You,” he hissed, “better have a good reason—”
“For interrupting. I do, sir. It’s just . . .” Dread filled Jennica as Damen—improvised. “Nobless . . . she . . .”
“For Aprica’s sake, boy, spit it out.” Argathe moved between Noble and Damen.
Waves of relief washed over Jennica. His mother would protect him. She was running interference with her body. She could shoot blue fire from her fingertips.
Damen tried to continue. “Jennica can’t answer your question when you . . . when you . . .”
“Scare her,” Argathe finished. “Look at her, Noble. Your waif of a wife shakes in her metal shoes. How can you expect her to consider your proposal? Come, girl. Stand up. Face your husband like a brave soul.” She pulled Jennica off the floor with a combination of her good hand and surprising strength. The blackened hand hung curled and limp at her side. “Answer him.”
“I’ll wait,” Jennica told Noble coldly, the foul, metallic taste of his tongue clinging to the inside of her mouth. She felt raw, like a scab that had been scratched open.
“Good. Start with the ruler of your planet—tell me everything there is to know about him.”
She sat on a bench under one of the round windows and reached inside a pocket for the book she’d brought, careful not to tear open the gap in the front of her robe any further. The book had a sprig of tiny yellow flowers embedded in the cover; they reminded her of buttercups. When she was little, maybe six or seven, Grandma Lorinne had rubbed buttercup blossoms under her chin, and when the pollen left a yellow mark, she declared little Jennica a lover of butter. They made bracelets by braiding the stems, and Jennica proudly wore her yellow chin all day.
Her fingers now ran along the edges of the handmade paper, rough and smooth at the same time. Had the archivist who made the books rubbed buttercups under his daughters’ chins? Is that why he chose this sprig to decorate the cover? A remembrance of better days? Days before Noble ordered his shop burned to the ground with his family inside.
“We have many rulers on Earth,” she said, “and I’ll tell you about as many as I can remember. I’ll write about them in this book so you have a record.” She paused. “But I want something in exchange. Someone.”
“A bargain. How delightful.” Noble lay back on the couch. “Go on.”
“In exchange for the information I give tonight, I want you to release a prisoner. His name is Fausto. He’s the archivist who made these books, these bindings.” She used the Astrune word.
“I won’t,” Noble said. “He’s a traitor.”
“He’s a broken man. He’s not a threat to you. Besides, you’re leaving—what does he matter to you anymore?”
“Why him? Why not Nyima’s father—or her cousins?” Argathe asked.
“The guilt,” Noble answered for her. “The paper man is in my dungeon because of my wife. See for yourself. Damen, pull that cloth off the top shelf.” He gestured behind him.
Damen retrieved the blue cloth, then stood there, holding the rolled fabric like a bolt from a sewing store.
“Open it,” Noble commanded.
Jennica knew what it was even before the word NO unfurled: her message to the people of Durand on a bedsheet, torn from the window by a hawk and delivered directly to Noble.
“I was trying to tell them not to rebel. The NO was meant to stop a revolt.”
“‘No’ can mean so many things. No, don’t obey. No more Noble Tortare, No to Noble, rise up and follow me instead. How do I know this message wasn’t your war cry?”
“Because I’m telling the truth. All you had to do was ask me, in front of Damen, before you started capturing prisoners. He would’ve vouched for me.”
“She does speak the truth, sir,” Damen assured like he was trying to end the discussion.
Jennica wasn’t giving up, not yet. “I don’t understand. When you knew the message was from me, why take your revenge on all those people? If you wanted to punis
h someone, why not just punish me?”
“But I did punish you. I know you much better now than I did when we first met. Back when I replaced your feet, I assumed you were like all the rest—and pain and humiliation would break you down. But it didn’t break you. No, the ordeal made you stronger, even more resolved to survive.” He tapped the talon of his index finger against his forehead. “But now—now I know. The best way to control you is to make others suffer because of you.
“I will not release the archivist. No, for you, I’ll cut his hands off so he can never make paper again.”
“No—please!” She should’ve known Noble would never allow her to negotiate. In a single breath, he’d turned everything upside down.
“Tell me what I want to know. I will spare his hands.”
So she told him—about elections, congress, the president, focusing on what was best about the government where she was born. What she didn’t tell him were the stories about the terrorists, dictators, and genocide in other parts of her world. And since he didn’t know to ask, she didn’t have to lie, and Damen didn’t have to call her on it.
They spent hours discussing what she knew, the passage of time tracked by the two moons inching across a starry sky. At one point, servants brought food, went away, and then, as if receiving some silent signal, came again to clear the table a short time later.
When Jennica started explaining the judicial branch, Noble interrupted her to order Damen from the room. “Argathe and I will take care of Jennica. You will arrive back here tomorrow at dusk. And don’t be late, Damen.”
“I won’t, sir.” It took Damen a long time to leave, because it seemed his feet had decided to walk half steps instead of whole. But he did leave her—and then she was alone with her two least favorite people.
Argathe whispered to Noble, at a volume well below a normal human’s hearing. Noble nodded.
“I’ll make the announcement now.” He spread his arms wide, and Jennica held her breath, sure he was going to grab her again, or send his soul-sucking shock wave across the room. “I have decided to enhance you, my lovely wife,” he proclaimed to the room, as if it were filled with a crowd enthusiastic for his every word.
“Enhance me?” Whatever he meant by that, the leer on his face made the goose bumps on her arms stand and take notice.
He drew his words out, because he knew she was listening. “You are much too fragile. Argathe has an innovative technique to combine metal and flesh. You’ll be almost indestructible. A true partner for me. She’ll start immediately. I’ll leave it to her to give you all the details.”
“But—you’re leaving. Why should it matter if I’m indestructible?”
“My lovely, I fully expect to consummate our marriage before we leave. And since your soul will accompany me to your world as my guide, I’d rather not kill you by accident.”
“And if I say—”
“Say no? But you won’t say no.” He lifted her hands and cradled them to his chest. “Every person in my dungeon is counting on you to say yes. Why, once our souls are transferred, my soldiers have orders to release them all.” He dropped her hands. “Go on. Get some rest. Argathe will meet with you in the morning, but tomorrow night, you’re mine. And you’ll tell me all about Earth’s armies.”
He turned his back on her to close off any discussion.
◊ ◊ ◊
“I don’t trust him,” Jennica told Argathe as the old woman escorted her back through the inky black halls, led by two soldiers she’d never seen before. “Or you. I don’t trust you either.”
“You shouldn’t,” Argathe agreed. “Why do you think he sent Damen out?”
“So he could lie to me. So you could lie to me.”
“Correct, my Nobless. Completely correct.”
“He doesn’t intend to free the prisoners.”
Argathe held the lantern up to her face. “Accurate again, smart girl. I expect they’ve already been slaughtered.”
Jennica steadied herself against the stone wall. If only she could tear this place apart with her bare hands. “Do you know for sure?”
“No,” she said.
“Can you find out?”
“I can do that for you. If you do something for me.”
Damen had been right about his mother—she looked out for herself. “What do you want this time, Argathe?”
“Nothing as serious as the proposal we’ve already discussed. A little thing, really. I want you to ask Damen what he did with vial six. It’s a potion of mine, been missing a couple of days. Be a good girl and ask him about it, won’t you?” In the flickering lantern light, the twinkle in her eye went from mischievous to malevolent and back again.
“Now. Here are your chambers, dear.” She didn’t ask the soldiers to open the door; she pulled it open herself with ease, leading Jennica inside her room. “I’ll keep the lantern this time. The passageways are so dark without the Cidrans.” She slid back out into the hallway like an eel, tossing slippery words over her shoulder. “Hard to trust anyone, isn’t it?”
The soldiers settled against the wall across from her room, and Jennica listened to Argathe shuffle down the hall until the door swung shut, blocking the sound. When Jennica’s eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she let Furti out of his cage and rested her chin on his soft head. His purr rumbled against her skin, but her mind continued to rage. She let him down to squirm into the pillows.
Noble had scrapped his flying ambitions. Now he was fixated on sending his soul to Earth, and taking her with him. His decision encircled her heart, gradually tightening until she clutched her chest.
She didn’t want to go back to Earth. She didn’t want to yank some other poor soul from its body and send it here, and she didn’t want to start over in someone else’s skin, even if it was nonpurple Earth skin. And . . . she didn’t want to leave Damen.
They could have a real chance together, once Noble’s soul was on another planet. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The other planet was Earth. Her Earth.
No matter how much she’d like to see him go, to see him out of her life for good, she couldn’t just stand by and watch Noble unleash his soul on Earth. How many souls could Noble eat in a day? Whole armies? Entire cities? Even without metal scales, he’d be strong. Sucking souls was what made him strong in the first place—they gave him the power to heal himself. She wasn’t positive his magic would work on Earth. But if it did . . . She’d seen firsthand how he could send a shock wave that tore the souls from hundreds of people. She’d heard Damen mention the protective shield Noble could place around an entire army. And she’d seen him fall from the sky and walk away without a scratch when every bone in his body should’ve broken. Imagine his soul migrating to those parts of Earth most ripe for his leadership. Imagine Noble with access to nuclear weapons.
Even if his powers didn’t come along with him, Noble could land right in her hometown. The conduit Argathe had created for soul exchanges had an exit in her school’s gymnasium. She’d told him plenty about her family. Enough for him to find them first, especially Nyima, just for the fun of it. He could easily terrorize Grandma Lorinne and Grandpa Paul the old-fashioned way. Her great-uncle might’ve been able to take Noble down fifty years ago, but he was in a wheelchair now.
The only reason that her family, and maybe the whole planet Earth, was in danger was because of her—because of her stories, the ones she’d told Noble to stay alive. Argathe had provided the means, but it was she who’d given him the motivation. If Noble did manage to get to her loved ones, there was one place to lay the blame.
At her own silver feet.
PART 3
Aprica, guiding light of the world,
your love leads, protects, and nourishes.
Keep me safe from all evil, and forgive me
for straying from the path you have shown.
May your light fill me unto death,
and with my last breath,
claim me as your own.
– Aprica�
��s Prayer
DAMEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
UNREST
Each time Noble kissed Jennica, a dagger nicked Damen’s heart. Last night, the dagger had gone straight through his ribs.
He tried to focus on his own kiss with Jennica: the urgency of her lips pressed against his, the rush of rapid descent, the sensation of something yanking him back right before he plummetted to the ground. His pulse quickened, remembering. But last night’s memory would always be tarnished by Noble and Argathe.
They were up to something. The only reason Noble would make him leave the room was so that he could lie to Jennica. Noble took such pleasure in manipulating her, forcing her to go back to Earth. Extracting information by threatening the people she wanted to protect.
At least Noble didn’t know how Jennica felt about him and Marcis. Otherwise they’d be in the dungeons too. Although Marcis seemed on the verge of becoming a prisoner all on his own. What was he up to?
Damen needed information. Then he could put together a plan. He’d need to be careful; the plan, infallible. A way to keep Jennica’s soul on Astrune, and catapult Noble’s as far away as possible. Let him go to Earth, but without Jennica. Damen had already lost Nyima—he wasn’t about to lose Jennica too.
◊ ◊ ◊
Marcis had made himself hard to find, purposefully staying out from under Noble’s eye, and Damen’s by default. Even though Damen could tell when someone was lying, without Noble or a soldier by his side, he didn’t have the physicality to force anyone to tell the truth. But even those paid to conceal Marcis’s whereabouts spilled his location after a drop of Argathe’s truth potion in their drink.
When Marcis saw Damen enter the Grauger Pub, he waved him over.
“You don’t seem surprised I found you.” Damen pulled up a chair. His sandals stuck to the tacky floor and made a thwack when he lifted them. The whole place smelled like a relentless belch fogged the air.