by Kat Ross
Silence greeted this statement. When Malach didn’t laugh, Tashtemir raised a thick eyebrow. “Oh, that’s all? Yes, I can see why she might be interested. This is Lezarius we’re talking about?”
“The Lion. The architect of the Void. The only man with power over the ley itself. That one.”
Tash whistled through his teeth. “It’s been awfully boring here since you left, but I imagine things will pick up now.”
“The woman I came with,” Malach said casually. “Have you seen her?”
Tashtemir cast him a wary look. He knew Malach’s temper. “I’ve seen her.”
“Where, Tashtemir?”
The doctor sighed. “At the stela in the park. She refuses to budge.”
Malach’s expression clouded. “How long has she been there?”
“Three days, I think.” His voice lowered. “I brought her some water, but she threatened to cut my balls off if I came too close.”
That sounded like Nikola Thorn. “What happened?”
“I’m not entirely sure. There was an altercation with Sydonie and Tristhus.”
Malach scowled. Syd was behind it, then. She was the queen and Trist the loyal pawn. “Where are they?”
“Your aunt’s gathering everyone in the Great Hall. I imagine they’re there.”
“Perfect.” He opened a wardrobe and threw a crimson cloak around his shoulders.
Tashtemir looked alarmed. “Oh no, Malach. You mustn’t leave this chamber. Not for a few more days at least. We need to take a conservative approach—”
“I won’t have those little monsters running amok. No one ever disciplines them, that’s the problem. When I was a child, Beleth regularly had my hide, but she’s gotten soft in her old age.”
Tashtemir glanced at the door. “Soft is a relative term. And she does discipline them. It has very little effect that I can discern.”
Malach braced a hand against the wardrobe. “Do you have any painkillers?” he asked hopefully. “Somnium, maybe?”
“You’re already on the highest dose I’ll allow.”
“Shit.”
“Yes, shit. The pain is talking to you, Malach. It’s telling you to stay in bed so you don’t tear yourself open again.”
“This is important. Please, Tash. I need your help.”
The doctor shook his head. “I’d go fetch Domina Thorn for you myself, but I doubt she’ll listen to me.”
“She won’t,” Malach agreed. “She might not even listen to me. But I won’t let her starve to death at the stela, do you understand?”
“No, I wasn’t suggesting that. Don’t be too angry at the children. They’ve taken turns guarding the Wardstone. Twice, Perditae came. They were hungry enough that they tried to break through. Syd and Trist held them off.”
Malach gave a mirthless laugh. “I can promise you, they aren’t doing it out of the goodness of their murderous little hearts. More like cats toying with a mouse before they bite its head off.”
Tash eyed him skeptically. “Why did you bring her here? You know what it’s like.”
“She brought me here, if you’ll recall. We had no choice.” His pulse spiked from a toxic alchemy of anger, frustration and fear. Perditae? He knew how they fed. To think they’d come so close to her. “I didn’t intend to pass out for four days!”
“Well, you still can’t expect—”
“Enough,” Malach growled. “It’s time they realize I’m not dead.”
He allowed Tashtemir to help him down the two flights of marble stairs since he would have fallen on his face otherwise. He couldn’t let the others know how bad off he was, that would be like tossing a chunk of raw meat into a leech pit, so once they reached the Great Hall he straightened his back and walked unaided through the doors.
Most of the nihilim hated him. He was Beleth’s favorite and they were endlessly maneuvering for power, as if there was anything to fight over. They might be his elders, but Malach had no respect for any of them. Ever since he negotiated the Cold Truce with Falke, they’d been sitting on their bony arses in Bal Kirith, pretending nothing had changed. They played dress-up like the old days, eating and drinking too much, staging sad little orgies and lording it over a handful of Nightmarked servants who surely regretted their bargains but saw no way out of them and were just waiting for their bewigged masters to die of old age.
The younger ones shared his goal of destroying their enemies, but like him they spent most of their time away from Bal Kirith, ranging through the Morho.
Murmurs erupted at Malach’s appearance in the Great Hall, cold eyes tracking him as he walked to his usual place at Beleth’s right hand. She watched silently, waiting to see what he would do.
Malach’s slow gaze took in the assembled nihilim, then settled on Tristhus and Sydonie. Trist looked away—not guilty, Malach was certain neither of them even had the emotional capacity for guilt, but wary at the wrath on Malach’s face. His sister stared back, sullen and unafraid.
“I understand you interfered with my Marked,” he said.
“She’s not Marked yet,” Sydonie muttered.
“She will be. Do you know what I’ll do to you if you lay a hand on her again?”
Sydonie tucked chin-length black hair behind her ears and smiled. “What will you do, Malach?”
He’d thought about it on the way downstairs. Tash was right. Simple beatings, and even more elaborate punishments, were shrugged off. “I’ll Invert your Marks. All of them. How would you like that?”
The smile slipped.
“Let me be perfectly clear. The Thorn woman belongs to me. If you trifle with her, you trifle with me. And I don’t like being trifled with. In fact, it’s a capital fucking offense.” His gaze swept the table. “That goes for all of you.”
The hall was quiet. Then a chair scraped back. It was Dantarion.
“She’s hiding something. They had every right—”
“Sit down,” Beleth said.
She didn’t raise her voice, but Dantarion subsided, a flush rising in her cheeks. Malach stared at the siblings. “I’m not done with you yet,” he said.
They looked at him, guileless. “We’re ever so sorry, Your Eminence,” Sydonie said. She twisted in her seat, masterfully feigning remorse. “It was just a game.”
Her answer to everything. “If you behave yourselves,” he said, “I’ll give you each another Mark. A very powerful one.”
“Yes, Your Eminence!” This was said with far greater enthusiasm. Malach understood the children better than they knew. Punishment failed to deter, but the prospect of a reward set off little chimes in their reptile brains.
“I’m relieved that’s settled,” he said. “Bishop Dantarion, may we speak privately?”
Dantarion waited a heartbeat, then stood. “Of course, Cardinal Malach.”
“Don’t be long, Dante,” Beleth said. “I need your counsel.”
She bowed her head. “Of course, Reverend Mother.”
They left the Great Hall and walked to the end of the corridor, where a loggia with open archways looked west over the Morho. The sun sat low in the sky, turning the clouds a blazing orange. Malach loved this time of the evening. The intense heat of the day was fading. A flock of white birds with long serpentine necks winged past on their way to the river. Soon, the night creatures would emerge. Owls and frogs, foxes and tawny cats. Crocodilians, too. He meant to have Nikola Thorn safely in his rooms before dark fell, but Dantarion had to be dealt with first.
“Do you truly believe Lezarius is out there somewhere?” Dantarion asked, studying the forest. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the balustrade. He wished there was somewhere to sit. Or better yet, to lie down and pass out cold.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then I’ll find him.” Her voice was calm and sure.
Malach frowned. “You’re still going on this hunt?”
“Did you imagine I’d sit idly by?” She glanced back at the Great Hall. “I don’t trust them to manage it. If you’re
right, Lezarius cannot slip away from us. He’s the only one who can unmake the grid.”
“It might die with him.”
“I don’t believe that and neither do you. No, we need him alive. Some of our cousins are rash. Vengeful. I intend to handle him gently until he’s given to Beleth.”
“She told me about the child.”
Dantarion reached out and touched his hair, then curled her fingers in it, painfully. “Don’t think you’ll claim it, Malach.”
“I have no designs on your offspring.” His lips twitched. “Fucking you generally ends in contusions, not babies. I prefer the former to the latter.”
“Good.” She released him. “Because he will be Pontifex someday. After Lezarius breaks the Void and we finish the conquest begun by our parents.”
“He?”
“Or she. I don’t care which. What else can you tell me? We leave tonight.”
Malach just wanted to get away from her. “Very little. He’s Invertido so it may affect how he handles the ley, but I know he still has some of his powers because I felt the surge myself. He’s dangerous, Dante. Be careful.”
“Nikola Thorn didn’t tell us any of this.” She didn’t look happy. “I’d be long gone if she had. We’ve already wasted four days.”
“Nikola Thorn didn’t know. I was gut-stabbed, Dante. We didn’t have a long conversation in the car. I told her to drive me here and she did.”
To her everlasting regret, no doubt.
“There’s something strange about her.” Dantarion gave him a searching look. “Syd tried to use compulsion. She said it didn’t work. When she touched the Thorn woman, the ley seeped away like water in sand.”
Compulsion? “Those little brats—”
“She was hiding something, Malach. Something she took from the car. They saw her do it.” Dantarion fiddled with her ponytail, pulling off the band and twining her auburn hair into a bun. “I’ll drown her in the river if you want. I don’t like her creeping around while I’m gone.”
Dante, Malach knew, was not so easily threatened. It was a test to see how he reacted. If he showed undue concern, she might dispose of Nikola just to spite him. “I’ll get to the bottom of it,” he said. “But she’s just a char. She’s not even Marked. Are we afraid of the Curia’s castoffs now?”
“Not Marked?” Dantarion laughed. “Well, I like her better then.” She grabbed Malach by the hair again and kissed him. “Let’s stay friends, shall we? You’re the only one around here I can talk to. Maybe I’ll even let you name the baby.”
The odd thing was, they were friends. He’d always felt the same way about her. She was whip smart and nothing frightened her. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he also wouldn’t let her hurt Nikola.
“Bring me the Lion,” he said.
His cousin’s eyes held an almost mystical fervor. “The end of our exile nears, Malach,” she said, her breath whispering against his cheek. “A new age is dawning.”
Dantarion kissed him once more, hard enough to bruise. Then she strode away, red cloak sweeping the stone floor.
* * *
He found Nikola sitting against the stela from the sweven he’d given her. She jumped to her feet when she saw him. “You’re here,” she said. “I was afraid . . . .”
Even from a distance, he could see how thin she looked. Her almond eyes locked on him, but she didn’t come closer. He could hardly blame her for not rushing into his arms. She’d been alone out here for days. Maybe she thought he’d abandoned her.
Malach held out a hand, pitching his voice low even though there was no one around. “Come to me. I’ll get us out of here tonight. We’ll take horses and ride for the coast.”
“And have you die on me after I went to all this trouble?” she called back. “I doubt you could sit on a privy unaided, let alone a saddle.”
She was right, but it still infuriated him. “I know I failed you, but I swear—”
“It’s not your fault.” She grinned suddenly, silver pirate tooth gleaming. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
Malach desperately wanted to hold her tight, to kiss her hair and hear her laugh. His chest felt tight. “There’s another way. I can still feel some ley.” He hesitated. “If you’d just let me Mark you, you’d be mine, they wouldn’t dare—”
“No.” Her voice hardened. “I already told you no.”
“At least come back to my room. I promise to keep you safe.”
Nikola stared at him, arms folded. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’ll keep this one.”
“No offense, but you look terrible. I think I could kick your ass and I’ve barely eaten or slept in days.”
He leaned against a young kapok tree, taking care to avoid the thumb-sized thorns along the trunk. “You’re right,” he sighed. “I can’t get back to my room alone. If you don’t help me, we’ll both starve.”
“Why,” Nikola asked, “do you think I’d ever fall for your horseshit again?”
“Because I’m your type of metal.”
“Bugger off, Malach.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll come to you.” He started walking towards the stela. Cold sweat erupted on his brow. He took another step. And another. Malach pressed a hand to his side. It came away bloody. He was leaking straight through the cassock. Another step and the retching began, hot needles stabbing his guts—
“Stop, damn you!” Nikola strode from the Wardstone. She looked as angry as she had when she slapped him across the face in her flat. “You’re a bloody psychopath, do you know that?”
He smiled with red teeth. “Thanks for coming out.”
“Oh, you’re welcome,” she said crossly. Nikola slung an arm around his waist, careful of the bandage. Together they walked slowly back to the Pontifex’s Palace. His knees gave out in the antechamber. Nikola shouted for the servants and followed as Malach was spirited up to his bedchamber.
“Fetch that animal doctor,” she snapped. “And do it quick.”
“Food for her, too,” Malach rasped. “No wine. Just water.”
Nikola drank cold broth while Tashtemir examined him, muttering oaths under his breath. He replaced the bandage and smeared Malach’s abdomen with a foul-smelling unguent.
“Don’t let him leave this bed,” he told Nikola. “Shoot him if you have to. I’ll bring up a crossbow.”
She nodded seriously. “I’ll aim for a bit that isn’t already mangled, assuming I can find one.”
“Excellent.” They exchanged a look of mutual appraisal.
“I’m sorry I threatened you,” Nikola said. “It was kind of you to throw me that waterskin.”
“Think nothing of it.” Tash stroked his mustache, keen black eyes scanning her quickly from head to toe. She wore a cheap flower print dress, the kind they sold for six fides at the central flea market in Novostopol. It was streaked with dirt and her collarbones poked from her thin chest, but she was still the most beautiful thing Malach had ever seen. “Do you have any injuries I should treat? I’m quite professional, I can assure you.”
Nikola smiled, though Malach sensed her unease at being examined. “I’m well, thank you.”
“Then I’ve leave you two to rest. If I can’t find a spare crossbow, just bludgeon him with something.”
Tashtemir left. Malach ordered hot water for the claw-footed bath in the corner. Nikola perched on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around herself. “I like him. What’s he doing in this pisshole?”
“That’s a long story.” He studied her face. “Are you truly well, Nikola? I mean, as well as can be expected?”
“I haven’t lost the child, if that’s what you mean.”
She didn’t sound exactly happy about that.
“I’m glad, but I was asking about you.”
“It’s weird, but I stopped feeling hungry on the second day. I had this big boost of energy, like I could run all the way to the coast without stopping.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Nikola ignored the question, covering a yawn. “This is a monstrous bed.”
Malach looked at the elaborate finial posts that mimicked the sharp spires of the basilica, the sea monsters frolicking across the carved triple-panels of the footboard. He barely noticed it anymore, especially since all the furniture at Bal Kirith was of similar style and proportions.
“You could fit six people in there,” Nikola said.
“Plenty of room for you, then,” he said with a wan smile.
“Bath first.” She turned her back and undressed, then slipped into the steaming water. There was a curve to her belly, so slight he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t know her body so well. Back in Novostopol, he’d wondered how he would feel when she started to show. Now he knew the answer. Malach was seized by an intense, consuming possessiveness. He didn’t only want the child. He wanted her. And he could never let her know it or she’d fight him tooth and nail.
“I can’t stay here, Malach,” she said, soaping a lean brown arm.
He scowled. “Why not?”
Nikola gave him a level look. “Besides the two demon spawn? Because I’m knocked up, obviously.”
“Beleth doesn’t know it’s mine.”
“And she won’t guess when the fetus grows four times as fast as a human?” There was a tremor in her voice and Malach realized she wasn’t only afraid of Beleth. She was afraid of what was happening to her.
Their eyes locked. “I’ll deal with it.”
“You’re the one who warned me about her. In fact, I seem to recall you saying she might kill me. Please, Malach. Be reasonable. We both know I can’t stay. So you can help me or not, but I’m leaving tomorrow.”
He stared at the frescoed ceiling, where storm clouds surrounded a lone patch of blue sky. “You still owe me the child.”
“And you’re welcome to it! But I’m not giving birth in this place. Can’t you see it’s madness to think otherwise?” Her voice rose and Malach raised a placating hand.
“Fine. Do you know how to ride?”
“No.”
“Well, I won’t let you go on foot. That would be suicide.”