Kingdom Above the Cloud

by Maggie Platt

  “I don’t underst—”

  Damien rose from his throne and descended to the girl, grabbing her wrist, and unceremoniously tearing the glove away. When the brown heart in her palm became visible, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Through clenched teeth he said, “She is not fit to be a Master. She is not fit to be the wife of a future king. She is not fit to stay alive. But in my mercy, she may live. Take her to the dungeon.”

  Tovi could not bear to watch as Xanthe struggled against the guards and pleaded with King Damien. She covered her ears and spun around, ready to leave, but her path was blocked. Jairus stood just behind her, his expression pained. How long had he been there?

  “Can’t you do something?” Tovi whispered. Jairus turned his gaze to Tovi, and there was such a pleading fear in his face that for the first time Tovi felt sorry for the young prince.

  “Not while he is this angry. It would do her more harm than good. But I’ll do everything I can once he’s calmed down,” he answered quietly.

  At that moment Prince Ajax entered the throne room from the opposite side. Jairus motioned for Tovi to be quiet, and they both watched intently through the opening.

  Damien paced while Ajax stood still. They were now alone in the throne room. “What is it, Father?”

  “My son, I fear for our future.”

  “What happened?”

  “For all these years, we were under the impression that Jairus was your only surviving child. We did everything in our power to make sure the others were killed. After tonight, I am confident that three of your offspring are alive, and I am more concerned than ever that all four may be out there.”

  “How could this be?”

  “Your daughter was in the palace tonight.”

  “Lena?” Ajax asked, and Tovi was certain there was a hint of hopefulness in his tone.

  “No, the baby girl.”

  “The baby girl? The twin? How can you be certain?”

  “She has taken on the boy’s colors, but it is her. I have no doubt that Tovi is your fourth child.”

  The conversation continued, but Tovi heard nothing of it. She turned to face Jairus, and she could feel the blood rushing out of her head and pooling in her toes. Her brown eyes met his violet, and they stared at one another. Several truths crashed through her mind.

  She was looking at a brother she never knew she had.

  She was a royal descendant of King Damien, a princess of this mountain.

  Her grandfather had wanted her dead. Her father had let him try.

  Both men were standing in the adjacent room.

  Her long-held dream of loving parents shattered. Everything about her identity was thrown off kilter. In all her time of wanting to know who she was, she never dreamed it would be something like this.

  Suddenly and unexpectedly, Silas’ face came to mind. A deep longing to speak to him, to talk things through with him, and to just be with him came over her, but her very next thought reminded her of her rage. He must have known, and he kept it from her. How dare he? And why? The hatred she felt earlier in the evening overwhelmed her once more. He knew she had a family. He had kept her from them. How many times had she told him she wanted to know her parents? All along he had known. He could have told her. And he didn’t. How could he? How evil must he be to do this to her?

  Having nowhere else to go and not knowing what else to do, she ran out of the palace and across the cobblestones, not caring if she was seen. She pushed away the voice in her mind that called to her.

  Next time, don’t do it alone. Next time, run toward me.

  She ran straight inside Calix’s home and up the stairs to her room. She closed herself in the bathroom, surrounded by her unrecognizable reflections, wondering how she had become the woman looking back at her.

  The pain in her back increased, searing the skin along the base of her spine. She began to weep again and desperately tried to imagine that she was at the ridge. She conjured images of the mountains, the sky, the flowers, his face. No! Not his face! Anything but his face!

  Silas. Responsible for taking her from her family. Responsible for stealing her brother. Responsible for keeping unfathomable secrets. Despite all these thoughts, his kind face in her memory held firm. She longed more than anything to talk with him, ask him her questions, and get answers that could soothe her pain. But she hated him! And she missed him . . . She hated him and missed him and hated him. It was all too much.

  She turned her back to one of the mirrors and craned her neck so she could look at the new symbols, and her sobbing grew heavier and louder. Five terrible marks: snake, scales, diamond, flames, rose. Five marks that showed her unworthiness, her dirtiness, and her failure. Silas would never forgive her if he saw them. He would never accept her, now that the truth was out. He would look at her as the despicable, weak offspring of King Damien, someone unworthy of his time and attention.

  As she thought these things, she watched in the mirror as a coil of chains was sliced into her skin. It was her sixth mark. Wisdom. Only one to go. The ring was almost complete, and then she would die at the hands of one of the Masters.

  Her eyes darted from reflection to reflection, her mind absorbed in the darkest of thoughts. She had to find a way—any way!—to get the marks off her skin. She ran to the sink, filling it with hot water and soap. Doing her best to wind her arms around behind her, she frantically scrubbed with a small towel.

  Her skin was red and raw, and the back of her dress was soaked. But the marks were as dark as ever. Wave after wave of grief and pain washed over her, engulfing her in panic. She fumbled around inside a cabinet looking for something that would help her. She found a porous stone that the servants used to grate away dead skin. Grabbing it with shaking hands, she went back to the large walls of mirror and knelt, once again turning her back. She looked over her shoulder as she attempted to scrape away the ugliness. She used every ounce of strength that she could muster, but all she accomplished was making herself bleed.

  She collapsed, lying on the cold floor, her body heaving with hopeless sobs. She reached behind her and dug into her back with her sharp fingernails. She pulled at her flesh, tearing it apart until something thicker than blood oozed out.

  As she teetered between unconsciousness and reality, she heard Silas’ voice.

  I know it hurts. You can’t make it go away on your own. Just remember that I love you. No matter what happens out there, I’m always here for you.

  At first, she thought he was there, calling to her. Then she realized it was only bits of memory, words he had once spoken in a different place and time.

  She cried herself into oblivion.

  CHAPTER 39

  “She needs help. I want you to go to her,” Silas explained for the third time.

  “If she’s in so much trouble, why don’t you just go yourself?” Eryx asked, irritated that this man kept finding a way into his house.

  “I will if you refuse, but it would be better for all involved if it was you.”

  It took all of Eryx’s strength to feign nonchalance and hide his terror and rage. Every instinct was screaming for vengeance, and he wanted nothing more than to find Calix and . . .

  “You are not to lay a finger on him,” Silas said.

  “Then don’t send me into his house.”

  “He is not responsible for her current state.”

  “He’s responsible for bringing her here, and that’s enough for me.”

  “Listen to me, Eryx,” Silas commanded firmly. “One of us needs to go to her, care for her, and give her a reason to hope. As I’ve told you before, it would be better if it was you.”

  “Why?” he yelled, slamming his fist on the table. “You keep going around in circles saying the same things, but you won’t tell me why. Why should it be me?”

  “Because you need this just as much as she does.”

  Eryx hated that answer. He glared at Silas for a few more moments before silently rising from the table and stomping out the
door. As Silas had told him to do, he climbed the balconies of Calix’s home until he came to Tovi’s terrace. He slipped inside her bedroom and made his way to her bathroom.

  What he saw made him stop in his tracks and stare through burning eyes.

  Her fragile body was contorted on the floor, the torn flesh around her marks bleeding red and black. If it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of her breath, he would think she was dead.

  Six. Six of the seven marks. The ring was almost complete. His heart broke at the sight of his own mark staring back at him. When had she earned the twisted flames? Who had marked her? When had she begun to experience the slow decay of true hatred in her heart? It was something he felt every day, and ever since he first saw her, he had hoped it would never touch her.

  And the rose. Not the rose. He rubbed his temples and willed his stomach to stop churning.

  It took him several moments to compose himself, but then he went to work. He found towels that would serve as bandages and did his best to care for her ravaged skin. Tovi stirred. She tried to twist her neck to see her helper, but she cried out in pain instead.

  “Lie still,” he commanded quietly.

  She obeyed. After a few more bandages, he lifted her off the ground and carried her into the adjoining room. He placed her on her bed as gently as he could, but she winced when he slid his arms out from under her.

  Outside, it was still the deepest dark of night. The room was feebly lit by a few candles. In the trembling, flickering glow, she caught her first glimpse of her rescuer.

  “Eryx, what are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

  He stood completely still a few feet away from her, his arms across his chest. He weighed his options. Tell her the truth? Make up a story? After they stared at one another for several seconds, he responded, “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Why did you help me?” she asked, peering into the darkness to better observe his face.

  In a dangerously low and strained voice, he rebutted, “Why did you help me after the fight?”

  She didn’t answer, and the two glared at one another. A dark crimson pool seeped into the pillow behind her, and she lurched forward severely with a groan.

  Eryx moved quickly and methodically, kneeling by the bed and firmly pressing a towel over her deepest wound.

  “Thank you,” she said weakly, suspicion in her voice. “Are you trying to mark me? I know all about it.”

  Instead of responding right away, Eryx finished re-bandaging her torn back and pulled a chair up beside the bed. “No, you already have my mark. But I didn’t give it to you. I don’t know who did.”

  Tovi observed his face. He watched her gaze move sleepily from scar to scar, to his chin, his mouth, his nose. Then she gasped.

  “Eryx,” she whispered. “Your eyes.”

  He looked away, ashamed of his weakness for the girl. He pulled off his gloves and turned his palm for Tovi to see the shape of a heart, identical to her own. Maybe that would distract her from his eyes that matched hers.

  Her mouth dropped open. “Eryx, I never would have thought . . . ” She traced the heart with her finger, and Eryx swallowed hard.

  “Why did you help me?” he asked gruffly. “After that fight. My servants said it was you.”

  “I couldn’t just leave you there. And then . . . ”

  “And then what?”

  “And then, when I came out to the platform, you woke up for a moment. And . . . And you recognized me. You said my name.”

  Eryx stood so quickly that the chair fell backwards behind him. “Did I say anything else?”

  “No, just my name,” she explained. “Had Calix told you about me?”

  “Calix?” he spat. “It’s the other way around. I saw you first. It wasn’t you I was after. It was your brother. I thought for sure I would be able to get him to fight me. I was confident that eventually I could get under his skin. But then things changed.”

  His face contorted with the memories he had conjured. “One day you were with him. I wasn’t close enough to hear you, but I could see you. You were laughing at something he said.” He closed his eyes, feeling the full torture of the last six months.

  Eryx set his chair upright and sat down. Abruptly changing the subject to something safer than his emotions, he asked coarsely, “What made you tear your back to shreds?”

  “I learned some things tonight,” she began, halting over her carefully-chosen words. Eryx could tell she did not fully trust him. “I was overwhelmed, out of my mind. I think I was just desperate to get the marks off me.”

  “That’s not how it works. Those marks are permanent,” he said, not realizing until too late how gruff his words were. Tovi began to cry, and the sight of her tears made him feel clumsy and awkward.

  “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry,” he faltered.

  “It’s all right,” she said and sniffled. “It’s not your fault. It’s just that I found out all in one day that my entire life has been a lie. I didn’t know that all my years of searching for Adwin were completely pointless because it was Silas all along. I don’t know why he never told me. Was it because I would be so angry with him for taking me from my parents? Was it because he knew all along that he would steal my brother? Was he hiding all these things from me? And then, tonight, I eavesdropped on a conversation between King Damien and Prince Ajax, and I learned who I really am.” Her tone escalated throughout the speech, and now she was crying out in desperation. “Prince Ajax is my father. I was the fourth child, and Tali was the third.”

  Eryx stared at the miserable girl, struggling to comprehend all that she was telling him. Could it possibly be true?

  “Earlier tonight, Xanthe was arrested,” Tovi continued through her weeping. “Now she’s in the dungeon because of the heart in her palm. She is the only person on this mountain who cares about me.”

  “No, she’s not,” Eryx blurted without thinking.

  “Eryx, I—” Tovi said, but he shook his head to stop her. He was too afraid of the things she might say.

  “Tovi, you have to listen to me,” he implored. “You need to get out of here. Go back to Silas. He loves you, even if that’s hard for you to believe right now. I’m sure he can explain everything. Go back to Adia. Damien will kill you if you stay. Promise me you’ll think about it. As soon as you feel better, run. Go back to Silas. Got it?”

  “You don’t understand. He won’t take me back the way I am now.”

  “Yes, he will. Just leave here, Tovi. Promise me.”

  She nodded, and that’s all he needed.

  “All right. It will be a few days before you are well enough to travel down the mountain. You won’t be able to use the mines without being seen, so you’ll have to hike down.”

  “But the cloud! Won’t it make things worse?” she protested.

  “Don’t listen to all of that garbage. Blindness, death . . . none of that is true. I’ve been through it before, and nothing happened. I’ll go with you to protect you . . . if you want me to.”

  There was an awkward silence before he continued.

  “You have your lesson about Power in just a few hours. Don’t miss it, or Damien will wonder what’s wrong. Don’t say anything about knowing your identity. Don’t say anything about Xanthe. Don’t say anything about this conversation. Got it?” Tovi nodded once more, and he left without saying goodbye.

  Soon enough he stood on the palace patio, listening to King Damien greet Tovi for her morning lesson.

  “Good morning, dear girl,” Damien said with his usual merry voice and frosty eyes. He didn’t remark on the bandages or Tovi’s brutalized skin, but his eye lingered on them. “Today we are in for a treat as you learn about Power. I see you recently earned the mark, but there is a beautiful art to this discipline that you must refine in order to really taste its benefits. Now I thought we’d do something a little bit different. As we eat, we will have a demonstration of sorts.”

  Eryx and one of his old mentors stepped forward i
nto the sunlight. Tovi kept her eyes averted.

  “This is Orestes, and I believe you are acquainted with Eryx,” Damien said, smiling with malicious anticipation. “Orestes trained Eryx when he was a boy, and now the they are the most powerful men on this mountain, except for me of course. They understand that it is sometimes necessary to use brute strength to accomplish your goals. And when you are up against a foe that is stronger than you, it is important to harness anything that might give you an edge over your opponent.

  “Now, these two are going to begin fighting in a very literal sense, but we are going to use it as a teaching tool. Watch for the metaphors. You are surely bright enough to catch on.”

  Eryx let his instincts take over, just like in every fight. He didn’t let himself think about how he was inflicting pain on his old friend and was being hurt by him in return. He pushed thoughts of Tovi’s watchful eyes out of his mind. Fists pummeled flesh, and blood and sludge seeped through reopened wounds. The two men were well matched, and it lasted much longer than most fights.

  With each hit and kick, King Damien narrated, “Say someone makes you angry. They deserve pain. Or, what if they take something that was yours? They deserve to be punished. Is someone blocking your path to success? You must get them out of the way.”

  With a horrible crunching noise, Eryx’s open palm connected with the underside of Orestes’ chin, throwing him backwards into a stone column. Two servants stepped forward to drag him off the patio. Eryx turned to Damien. “Do you wish me to stay, Your Majesty, or may I go?”

  King Damien observed the fighter for a moment before declaring, “I want you to stay.”

  Eryx gave a curt nod and stood still. King Damien had always suspected his attachment to Tovi. Eryx knew the king was asking him to stay just so he would have to witness her training. He clenched his jaw and willed himself not to care.

  Tovi had barely touched any of her food as the fight had progressed, and now she sat stirring the cold leftovers around her plate.

  King Damien asked, “Didn’t you like your breakfast? Or was it the entertainment you found distasteful?”