“A clever queen has power in her own right.”
Windscoure was up to something. He was testing the waters with her, too, but she had no idea what he was trawling for. Politics was a dangerous dance, each partner twirling around the truth, brushing as close as they dared without ever touching it, and Seba had never learned this waltz.
“Sire, you must send your own soldiers after Keriya and Max if you wish to bring your son back safely.”
Windscoure raised an eyebrow. “Why should I want to bring them back? They’re no good to me locked in the palace.”
Seba opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. She opened it again to speak and closed it once more.
Stop acting like a fish, she told herself angrily.
“I appreciate your concern for Maxton,” Windscoure was saying, “but he’ll be quite safe. That’s why I let things play out as they did.”
“I—but . . .” Seba swallowed the lump of disbelief that had lodged in her throat. “Why?”
“How else will they lead me to the dragon?” he asked. “I heard what the rheenar did in King Wavewalker’s custody. She sent the beast away and fled your palace because she didn’t want to serve your father. That is the mark of a rebel and a traitor, and I have little reason to believe she’ll summon her pet simply because I command it of her.”
It was as though the marble flagstones had crumbled beneath Seba and she was hurtling toward Vendale. Windscoure wanted to capture Thorion. Either he was supremely greedy, or incredibly stupid, or both.
“I don’t know what your intentions are for Thorion,” she began, “but what Keriya told you is true. He’s infected with darksalm and we’ve been searching for a cure—”
“There is no cure for darksalm, Sebaris,” Windscoure interrupted. Seba bristled; how could he have such a carefree attitude? Didn’t he understand that no matter what happened to Keriya, the world was doomed if anything happened to her dragon? Didn’t he want to ensure Thorion’s safety?
Maybe not, she realized. He’d admitted he wanted to use Thorion as an instrument of war, and there was a distinct possibility that he was in cahoots with Tanthflame . . . which would mean he was also in cahoots with Necrovar. What if he wanted to get his hands on Thorion not to start a war, but to end one? To destroy Allentria’s only hope of defeating the Shadow?
“Princess, are you well?” said Windscoure.
“I’m still recovering from my travels,” she lied shakily. “I think I will retire to my chambers to rest.”
Windscoure nodded. “If you have any further concerns, don’t hesitate to arrange an audience with me.”
The king dropped his silencing spell, and Seba’s ears popped as the commotion of the palace flooded over her. She curtsied to her superior, and he nodded back. With a swirl of his white cloak, he turned and strode toward his throne room, gathering his guards in the process.
She returned to her chambers, but she had no plans to rest. She, Sebaris Wavewould, Eldest of House Ishira, would go forth on her own. She would save Allentria, save Thorion, and save Max from the clutches of that awful little witch.
Now, she thought, her stomach sinking, if only I knew how to do any of that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Being too cautious never killed anyone, but that might be because they failed to live.”
~ Rikela Sansmar, Seventh Age
Cezon Skyriver had been locked up a fair few times in his life. As a person with an experienced eye, he had to say that this dungeon was the nicest one he’d been in. It wasn’t a dungeon at all, because he was imprisoned in a tower in the southernmost wing of the Erastatian palace.
Stone steps spiraled through the tower’s core, leveling off onto landings that led to individual cells. Though Cezon’s cell was narrow, it had a mattress, and light streamed through a window crisscrossed with iron bars. On top of that, he had been fed reasonably well, though his meals had been laced with evasdrin.
That didn’t change the fact that he was still locked up.
“This is all your fault, Iako,” he growled through the food slot in his cell door.
“My fault?” Iako’s whine floated from the landing below. “What’d I do?”
“You . . . you—!” Cezon’s mind was fuzzy from the evasdrin, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out a way to blame this on the Galantrian. “I know you did something to land us here, and when I find out what, you’ll be sorry!”
“Give it a rest, Cezon,” came Endred’s slow voice from one landing up.
With an indignant humph, Cezon flounced to his mattress and flung himself down. He took this particular imprisonment as something of a personal insult. He’d been sure he would be showered with gold upon presenting the royal brats to Windscoure, not to mention the Dragon Speaker.
The poison made him sluggish and drowsy, and Cezon dozed off. He awoke to the light of the Bloodmoon flowing through his window in rivers of scarlet, and an insistent tapping at his door.
“Whassat?” he grumbled. “Who’s there?” It couldn’t be a guard—they wouldn’t bother to knock. They’d barge in and rouse him with a solid kick in the ribs.
“Cezon Skyriver? Is that you?” It was a girl’s voice. Nonplused, Cezon got to his feet and approached the door. A pair of narrow blue eyes peered at him through the slot, glinting like dewdrops in the sparse torchlight of the stairwell. “It’s Princess Sebaris.”
“Your Grace,” he said in his best simper. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I need you to help me escape the palace.”
He barked a rough laugh. “Dunno if you noticed, but I’m a bit tied up at present. Serving a prison sentence, you see. Thanks largely to you,” he couldn’t help adding.
“You committed numerous felonies bringing us here,” she retorted. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself.”
Cezon was impressed with the amount of snap and condescension she packed into her words. It had taken him decades to learn to condescend like that.
“Be that as it may, I ain’t really in a position to help you.”
“You are if I free you.”
Cezon perked up. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll get you out of here, then you escort me to the Ascension Tower. Tell the guards you’re taking me to Vendale to send a letter at the Galantrian Embassy. Since they know you as members of the Border Patrol, you shouldn’t be questioned.”
“What a clever plan,” Cezon growled. “Except the guards’ll know us as members of the Border Patrol who got locked up for kidnapping you!”
“I asked around and hardly anyone had heard of you. There was only one guard who knew you’d been put in here.”
This plan sounded weak, and as a person who was experienced in making weak plans, Cezon knew how quickly they could fall apart. But if he didn’t agree, he’d be stuck rotting in this non-dungeon for Naero-knows-how-long.
“Assuming you can get us out, princess,” he began in a delicate tone, “I’d love to help you. But what do I get out of the deal?”
“Your own freedom, obviously.”
“An escape for an escape.” He waved a hand. “It just seems you’re more valuable than three poor, common patrolmen who accidentally ran afoul of the law. Seems also,” he added, fixing her with a shrewd glare, “like you’ve got a lot more to lose if you don’t escape, and like we’ve got more to lose if we’re caught helpin’ you. Don’t seem fair to me.”
“Are you trying to extort me?” she demanded. “How dare you! Do you have any idea how important it is that I leave the palace?”
He grinned. “I’ve a better idea now.”
“I must find Prince Maxton and the Dragon Speaker. The fate of our empire depends on it!”
“As if I care,” Cezon scoffed, but that was a lie. In truth, he was very interested—interested in
where Keriya Soulstar had run off to, and interested in why the princess had taken it upon herself to track the girl.
“I can pay you a hundred-thousand derlei.”
Cezon was glad his cell was so dark; his eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. A pair of gasps told him that Endred and Iako were listening. He cleared his throat and said, “A generous offer, Your Grace, but how do I know you’re tellin’ the truth? How do I know you’re good for it?”
“I am Princess Sebaris Wavewould, Heir to the Coral Throne, Eldest of House Ishira,” she said frostily. “My word is binding.”
“In that case, you got yourself a deal,” said Cezon. “Shake on it.” He couldn’t fit his hand through the food slot, but he managed two grubby fingers. Sebaris looked scornfully on the proffered digits before she deigned to shake them with her pinky.
“That’s settled.” She straightened and shouted, “Guards!”
“What the blood are you doin’?” he hissed. He was no stranger to being betrayed, but this was the fastest anyone had ever turned on him.
“Be quiet,” she hissed back, as footsteps sounded from the base of the tower. Two Erastatian soldiers clattered into view.
“Your Grace,” they murmured.
“I have identified these men as the members of my entourage who were wrongfully imprisoned,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height. “You’re to release them at once, by order of King Windscoure.”
She was a fantastic liar. She sounded so sure of herself that Cezon almost believed what she was saying. The guards looked less certain.
“Princess,” said the older man on the left. He looked like a mindless soldier, the kind of fool who needed orders to tie his own boot laces. “we’ve received no such directive.”
“Of course you haven’t,” she spat. “I’ve only just now come to look. If these hadn’t been my men, I wouldn’t have bothered calling you to free them. I have a signed and sealed letter from King Windscoure, allowing my servants to be released into my custody.”
She withdrew a letter from within the heavy traveling cloak draped around her shoulders. Cezon nodded to himself—she’d come prepared.
“Seeing as I’ll be quartered in the palace for the foreseeable future,” she said, “the king has graciously granted me access to my attendants.”
The old soldier took the letter and inspected the seal, holding it up to the nearest flickering torch.
“Wasn’t they arrested for kidnapping you?” said his partner, a younger man with an unintelligent expression sprawled across his face.
“Do you think I’d be here if that were true? The reports of my kidnap were falsified,” Sebaris said in a frosty voice, “which led to the wrongful imprisonment of my servants. Although you are clearly not the sharpest sword in the armory, I’m sure you could have figured that out on your own. Unlock my men, and pray I’m in a better mood when I deliver a full report of my experience to your commanding officer.”
That got them moving. The younger one went to open Iako’s cell, and the old soldier unlocked Cezon’s door. It swung inward on creaky hinges and Cezon slipped out.
“My liege,” he said, bending to one knee before Sebaris.
The old soldier went to free Endred next, and Iako darted from his cell to join them. Cezon shot him a look that told him to keep his stupid mouth shut.
“Thank you,” Seba said to the Erastatians. “You two may escort me to my chambers in the east wing.”
“Apologies, Your Grace,” said the old one, “but we’re not to leave our posts until we’re relieved of duty. Our shift ends at dawn.”
Sebaris gave him a disdainful sniff before she swept down the steps. “Come, servants.”
Cezon ducked his head and hid a smile as he passed the soldiers. She was a professional.
No one intercepted them as they made for the central hub of the palace. They reached another wide staircase with gilded balustrades marching along its sides, and descended to the pavilion. They emptied onto the ground floor to see five soldiers standing at attention around the skyscraper chute.
“Don’t ruin this,” Sebaris warned in the faintest of whispers. Cezon rolled his eyes as he stepped forward.
“Greetings, brethren,” he said. “We’re here to escort Princess Sebaris Wavewould to the Galantrian Embassy in Vendale.”
“We heard nothing about such a visit,” one man told Cezon. “King Windscoure and Commander-General Tanthflame ordered the palace to be kept on lockdown.”
“Tanthflame?” Iako squealed.
“I appreciate the need to follow orders.” Cezon kept his voice light and airy, but inside his organs were tying themselves into anxious knots. If Tanthflame was here, it was all the more important for him to escape. “But the princess needs to send this letter tonight. It is imperative.” He gave himself a mental pat-on-the-back for his use of a big, fancy word. He kept a few of those in his vocabulary specifically for times like these.
“We were also told that the princess was not to leave the palace,” said the same man, who had to be a captain of some sort. He had that self-important air about him.
“The letter is for my father,” Sebaris added, producing another envelope. “It’s to let him know I’m safe. I was promised I could send it.”
“You’d be welcome to accompany us if you’re concerned for the princess’s safe return,” Endred added in his reassuring rumble. Cezon nodded. Even if a few of these dolts insisted on coming along, it would be easy enough to dispatch them in a dark alley.
“None of you are leaving.”
The Erastatian soldiers snapped to attention as a voice rang out behind them. Cezon, who now felt like his innards were being encased in ice, turned on the spot to look at the owner of the voice.
“Commander-General,” he murmured.
Tanthflame was striding along the corridor, flanked by a detail of Imperials. The firelamp stands sent shadows skittering across his face, clawing at his puckered scar and distorting his countenance.
“Skyriver,” said Tanthflame, stopping a height away from him.
“Always impressed with your memory, Sir.”
“You killed a number of my men and double-crossed me to keep me from obtaining the dragon.” The Fironian’s red eyes caught the flickering light so each iris became a tiny furnace. “Now we can add to your long list of crimes the attempted kidnap of the Galantrian princess. Come here, Your Grace,” he added, offering a hand to Sebaris. “I will see to it that you are returned to your chambers.”
Sebaris, who was trembling head-to-toe, took a step forward. Cezon couldn’t blame her. The plan had failed, and now they had to do damage control. For her, that meant playing along with Tanthflame’s game, pretending she’d been coerced into leaving. As for Cezon, he suspected he’d end up back in the non-dungeon . . . unless a worse fate befell him.
“That’s it,” said Tanthflame, coaxing her closer. “You’re safe now.”
Somewhere in the back of Cezon’s brain, he appreciated the fact that no matter how experienced he and Sebaris were in the art of condescension, Tanthflame beat them both by leagues.
For a fraction of a heartbeat, the air around Sebaris shimmered with an odd disturbance. Then, with the thunder of a tsunami, a deluge of water burst into existence. It poured out of her body, flooding forth in a violent torrent.
Neither Tanthflame nor his men had time to defend themselves before the water smacked into them. The wave surged down the hall leading to the west wing, knocking over furniture and firelamps, devouring everything in its path.
As quickly as the water had sprung to life, it subsided. The wave crashed against the far wall and leaked sideways into adjoining corridors. The western corridor looked like a black hole, for all its lights had been extinguished. It was impossible to see what had happened to Tanthflame. Apart from the slosh of water draining away, not a sound could
be heard.
Cezon glanced at Endred and Iako. Iako was gaping at the princess. Endred looked shaken, but he met Cezon’s gaze. As if the same thought struck them at the same time, they turned to the Erastatian guards. Cezon had been given a gift and he wasn’t about to waste it. The odds were stacked against him, but that had never stopped him before.
He did the only sensible thing there was to do and rushed the guards.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“If you use your own footsteps to measure, you will know how far you’ve come, but not how much further you need to go.”
~ Yalon Monkier, Second Age
Seba felt drained, like the water that left her had been her essence, her lifeblood, that which made her who she was.
She’d only wielded four other times in her life, but each time she’d done something deliberate. She had reached for her power with a clear intention and had tried to force it to do her bidding. This time, she’d opened the floodgates on instinct and the magic had poured from her. She’d merely been a conduit for a force of nature.
It was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. She had never been allowed to explore the extent of her power. What might she be able to accomplish, if given free rein?
A tongue of fire sparked nearby, shocking her out of her stupor. She stumbled away from Endred, who’d manipulated the flames from a firelamp at one of the guards. The guard extinguished the blaze with a counter-spell, but before he could retaliate, Iako appeared and cracked him over the head with the blunt end of a broken halberd. The man fell to the ground, unconscious. Another Erastatian whirled to face Iako, but he vanished between the pillars of the pavilion.
The pavilion. Seba staggered past Cezon, who had the business end of the broken halberd and was battling a bleeding soldier, and fell to her knees at the side of the pit. She put her hand out, hoping the disc of solidified air would be there. Her fingers touched only non-solid air, the kind that would let her fall to her death. Even if the disc had been ready and waiting, she didn’t know how to operate it. One would probably need airmagic.
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