And Zyr. So charming and flirtatious. The High Priestess had a point there. I’d known all along that he must want me for some reason other than what he so glibly professed. To think I’d nearly given him my virginity instead of saving it for Deyrr as I was destined to do.
The High Priestess smiled at me, patting my hand gently. We sat alone at the great table. All the others gone. My plate and goblet stood empty.
I blinked, my eyes bleary, and the silk banners seemed to ripple, their animals prancing to life. “This is the Imperial Palace of n’Andana,” I said, the realization coming to me from nowhere at all.
“More or less,” the High Priestess agreed. She sat sideways in her large chair, bare legs draped over one velvet-padded arm, back against the other as she sipped from her goblet and watched me, a smile playing on her lips as she toyed with the glowing orb of her pendant. “They didn’t call it that, of course. They had odd ideas about councils and consensus.” She tipped her head back, gazing at the banners, her lovely hair falling in a golden sheet behind her. “They had clans, each represented by an animal—those you see here—and they’d meet in this very room to discuss issues and vote on decisions. They’d deliberate forever and it made them weak. They’re still weak—and they’re nearly extinct on top of it. We’ve outlasted them.”
I’d been about to ask a question, but it fled my mind. “Is it time for my first lesson?” I asked. I wanted that. I couldn’t quite remember why, but I’d very much wanted to learn… something.
“You’ve already had it, sweetling.” She smiled in sympathy. “The first lesson isn’t an easy one, so I did what I could to smooth the way for you. Discovering that the people around you have lied to you, then opening your eyes to the truth—that’s one of the most difficult journeys we have to make in our lives. But everyone here understands. We’ve all gone through it, too. Rejecting those who’d control our lives and choosing our own path.”
My eyes filled with tears, my heart feeling like a throbbing, tender thing in my chest, my left arm prickling in tandem, as if the inked-on talons danced their way around my upper arm. “I always followed the rules. I should’ve had a good life. I never disobeyed, not once in all those years. The only time—” I choked a little on it and she shared a sad smile with me, handing me her goblet. I drank the delicious wine my parents had barely let me taste.
“The only time?” she prompted.
“The only time I didn’t follow the rules was when Kral offered the annulment. I should never have requested it. I didn’t even want it.”
“Of course you didn’t. He manipulated you into it. Him and that foreign rekjabrel slut who seduced him to be a traitor to his people.” She was all sympathy. “Kral should’ve controlled her, kept her in her place. Or killed her once he’d had his pleasure. You’re his first wife. He had no business putting his rekjabrel before you—or any woman before you. That is not the way of things.”
“You’re so right.” Understanding seemed to dawn, clearing away the clouds of doubt. “That was never supposed to be how my life went. I was supposed to be empress. That is the way of things.”
“And now you will be. Because we love you. You will always know who your true family is because we have your back. We want you to succeed, to rule as you were born to do.”
I clasped her hand, letting the grateful tears flow. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t rescued me.”
She held on, gaze on our joined hands. “We are stronger together, you and I, along with your brothers and sisters in Deyrr. You never have to be alone again. We all want only the best for you.”
“I know. And I’m so grateful.”
We sat there a moment, reveling in the closeness of our friendship. I’d been searching all my life for a friend like her, and I’d finally found her. I’d found my best friend and my god, both at once. I’d never felt happier or more at peace.
“The consecration ceremony is tonight at midnight,” she told me. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”
“So much,” I gushed. “But will Deyrr accept me—will I be worthy?”
“Deyrr already loves you. He simply waits for you to join him in His bed. Once He makes you His bride, you’ll find perfect happiness. You will never doubt again.”
Something not quite right. I narrowed my eyes, the animals dancing on their banners as I tried to focus on her words. “But I’m married to Kral. You have my wedding contract.”
She jiggled our joined hands, her silver-bell laugh tinkling. “In the spiritual world, silly. Kral is your mortal husband—and only for a little while longer—and Deyrr will be the husband of your immortal soul.”
“Oh,” I breathed. She always explained everything so clearly.
“Now, you should go rest. Have a nice long nap, and your maid will prepare you for the consecration. I’m so very happy for you, my friend.”
“Thank you.” I stood, and found my handmaiden waiting nearby, with her serene smile. She led me back to the beautiful bedroom, now filled with golden sunset light. It gilded the peaks with pinks and violets, the clear sky beyond deepening into a blue that reminded me of … something.
Unable to stay upright a moment longer, I lay down on the bed.
Unable to keep my eyes open, I fell into a blissful sleep.
And I dreamed wonderful dreams.
I was a fish. No—a mermaid, my upper body mine, my hair streaming behind me, but with a strong fish tail propelling through crystal blue waters. Deeper and deeper I swam, certain of my destination, even as I had no idea what it might be.
And I recognized it when I saw it, a sparkling sphere at the bottom of the ocean, like the most beautiful jewel imaginable. I swam closer, drawn to it irresistibly. For a moment I caught a curious vision of blue crabs bright and glittering as sapphires, crawling over the surface, before they drew away like a parted curtain and I popped through the globe into thin air—landing ignominiously on my behind.
Queen Andromeda sat on a throne before me.
This woman was all Sorceress Andromeda, Queen of the Tala—with only hints of the woman who’d walked on a beach with me and asked me to call her Andi. Her hair, shining bloodred over deepest black seemed to float around her as if we were in water instead of air. And her eyes gleamed luminescent silver. She studied me intently, fingers weaving as if to braid strands that drew me to her. Indeed, I found myself standing on human feet and walking toward her.
Those feet dragged, though, as I tried to resist. She frowned, tugging—and I cried out at the sudden pain.
Then I stood before her, and she put a hand on my forehead, another over my heart. Though she didn’t grip me, I couldn’t pull away. Her luminous eyes stared into mine, seeming to fill the entirety of my vision like a full moon’s bright light.
“I’m afraid this will hurt,” she murmured, her voice sonorous as the sea, echoing through me. My left arm began to throb, then burn with agonizing fire.
I threw my head back and screamed, arching in place until it felt my back might break. But I stayed connected to the open palms of her hands as if welded there, she the blacksmith to my melting iron. My heart tore open, bleeding away the peaceful joy the High Priestess had given me. My mind cracked, emptying until only I remained inside, alone. Even more alone than I’d been before.
Forever and heart-breakingly alone.
I came back to myself in a sobbing heap, crumpled at the foot of the throne of the cruel sorceress. “Why?” I whimpered.
“Karyn,” she called, like the sound of distant thunder over the ocean. Like the pounding of the rain and surf outside the cave I’d shared with Zyr.
“Karyn. Hear me.”
Zyr. Where was he?
“Karyn. Listen to me.”
Where was I?
I lifted my face to find Andromeda reaching a hand down to me, tears pouring down from her silver moon eyes. “I’m so sorry I had to hurt you,” she said, “but I had to give you the choice.”
“What choice?” I asked, my voice broken from the screaming. “Where am I?”
“You are in the Heart of Annfwn.” She smiled sadly. “I’ve taken a grave risk in bringing you here.”
“I thought you couldn’t go to the Heart while you’re pregnant.”
She cocked her head. “You pay more attention than it seems you do. Well done. That was true before, but Zynda has returned in Final Form as a dragon. This pregnancy, at least, is one less worry.”
“Oh.” I absorbed that. Zyr would be so upset to hear this news, though I forgot exactly why.
“I’m going to ask you not to tell the High Priestess about Zynda, and not to tell anyone what the Heart looks like or where it is.”
“I don’t know where or even what it is,” I argued, looking around at the crystal globe, the cobalt crabs shining and the sea beyond full of bright fish.
“You know enough, even if this may seem like a dream.”
“I never dream,” I said, remembering Zyr laughing at me for it. Zyr. I needed to remember something about him.
“Call it what you like. Your body is asleep, far away in n’Andana. I reached out to you in dreams and brought your consciousness here.”
I contemplated her. My mind remained curiously empty, wiped clean of recent events, but I remembered enough of myself and my life to know how improbable that claim was. “I find that very difficult to believe.”
She raised a brow, laughing without mirth. “You are so strong-willed and stubborn. I understand now why it’s you at the center of this.”
“You’re wrong. I’ve never had a strong will. Zyr even chided me for apologizing and deferring all the time.”
She was shaking her head. “Those are learned behaviors. That’s why he chided you. Under it all, you have a will of steel. Who else could defy an emperor, an entire society, to request an annulment of her royal marriage?”
“That was a foolish mistake,” I replied automatically, then paused. But had it been a mistake? At the moment of that decision, I’d experienced a kind of clarity of purpose I’d never known before. I’d been utterly certain of my choice, as I’d rarely been about anything in my entire life. For that crystal instant, it seemed as if a fog had lifted and I’d known—with an almost prescient understanding—what I wanted for me. Not for anyone else. For me.
“Regardless of the past,” Queen Andromeda said, “you have a choice to make, and that’s why I took the risk of bringing you here.”
“What choice? I don’t understand.”
“Then listen. Do you remember the tale you told us on the beach in Annfwn, about the three princesses and the witch?”
“Everyone knows that tale.”
She offered a gentle smile, still holding out her hand. I stared at her pale fingers with suspicion, unwilling to have her inflict that agony on me again. “Thanks to you, now we know it, too. Think of me as the princess come to retrieve you from the witch’s castle. The High Priestess, she has put her mark on you—do you remember?”
Oh yes. Yes, I did. And there were other things I should remember to say, but I couldn’t think of them. “She’s my friend.”
“I won’t argue otherwise,” Andromeda said, holding my gaze. “I’ve done all I can to tilt the balance back. I’ve cleared your mind and heart and soul of her taint, but if you welcome her back, if you agree with her, accept her gifts, drink of her wine and eat of her food again, then she’ll have you as tightly as before and I won’t be able to bring you back from it a second time. Do you understand?”
“No.” My empty head pounded and my left arm itched. I looked at it and the inked-on talons flexed, scrabbling for a hold on my skin.
“I can’t erase it completely,” Andromeda said, “because she’d notice. Unfortunately, leaving even this much intact gives her a hold on you. I had to leave just enough for her to believe she has you in her power still, and because you will need it. But she doesn’t own your will anymore. And she can’t again, not if you don’t let her.”
“How do you know all of this?” I demanded, some of my thoughts returning. “You’re far away. How do you even know we found n’Andana, that I’m there sleeping?” I was sleeping. I remembered that part, being so drowsy and the High Priestess suggesting I rest. Perhaps all of this was a dream and I hadn’t known it because I didn’t recognize my dreams—which would make Zyr right about yet another thing.
Queen Andromeda winced, a glint of regret in her luminous eyes. “I… planted a seed in you, when we talked, so I could follow. You know I have visions of the future? Some events are more inevitable than others. You and Zyr in the High Priestess’s hold was an inescapable event. And it’s pivotal. You must understand that. The choice you make will tip how things fall out afterward one direction or another.”
“Zyr is locked in gríobhth form,” I told her, the memory of him in that cage coming back with searing intensity. “He’s in chains.”
“I know.” She sounded infinitely sad.
“You set us up!” The anger burned bright and hot with the realization.
“No,” she replied carefully. “That would imply I created the situation. The inevitability of pivotal events means I can’t alter them, not without worse consequences.”
“Why didn’t you warn us?” I demanded, surging to my feet, fisting my hands, wanting nothing more than to tear into her.
“Because it would’ve changed things for the worse,” she replied evenly. “I can’t prove that to you. I know you have no reason to trust me. But I promise you I saw no way around this eventuality. And I looked, tracing alternate timelines to exhaustion. You and Zyr had to pass through this nexus. What happens to us all after this depends on you.”
“Zyr can’t do anything,” I spat with bitter anger. “He’s trapped in a cell.”
Andromeda’s silvery eyes dimmed as she pressed her lips together. “I know. When I said what happens next depends on you, I meant you alone, Karyn.”
“Me? I’m not even supposed to be here. I’m not on your side of this war—I’m a Dasnarian!”
“To be Dasnarian does not mean Deyrr,” Andromeda said with insistence. “You know this. Aren’t you an honorable woman from an honorable family?”
“Hardie honor has never been questioned,” I asserted with stiff pride.
She smiled. “I don’t question that. But you told me that no honorable family associates with Deyrr, or even acknowledges the existence of the Temple of Deyrr.”
That was true. How could I have forgotten that? “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.
“Deyrr is a poison that threatens Dasnaria, too,” Andromeda said. “We are not enemies. We share an enemy. Fight with us against Deyrr. That’s all I ask of you.”
“I’m only a woman,” I protested.
“So am I,” she retorted.
I snorted, making a derisive comment in Dasnarian, which she apparently understood because she arched her brows at me.
“Calling me a liar? That’s rich after you’ve been lapping up every lie the High Priestess fed you.”
“You understood that?”
“You’re not really here, remember? Only your consciousness is, so though we seem to be talking, we’re more…thinking at each other.”
“And you claim you’re only a woman.”
“I am a woman,” she replied in a tone that allowed for no argument. “I am flesh and blood and female, just like you.”
“And a sorceress with eyes like the full moon.”
Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “I also act as a kind of portal for Moranu, especially when I call on Her for deep magic. The goddess is here, guiding us in this.”
“Moranu was a Dasnarian woman, an acolyte of Deyrr.”
“Are you sure?”
“The High Priestess told me.”
“As I said, the High Priestess spins a web of lies to wrap the path she intends for you in pretty threads of silk.”
“She opened my eyes to the truth. Maybe it’s you who is lying t
o me.”
“Would I have shown you the Heart or told you about Zynda if I could lie to you? I asked you to keep those secrets close because I couldn’t hide them from you. We are in each other’s minds. We cannot lie to each other. If you choose to betray me, I can’t stop you.”
“Then why risk this at all?” Confusion made my head ache. Could one feel pain in dreams? I didn’t know.
“Because the risk is worth the gain,” she replied, very seriously. “And because we’ve called you friend and the Tala don’t abandon their friends. We don’t leave anyone behind.”
Zyr had said the same thing. If I did dream, my mind might be just churning up that memory. “I can’t leave Zyr behind.”
“Then don’t. Look for something like this.” She lifted her other hand, showing me a glowing deep golden jewel cupped in her palm, a perfectly smooth sphere.
“What is that?” I breathed in wonder.
“It’s the Star of Annfwn. The prize the High Priestess has sought, so she can control the barrier.”
“She’s already inside,” I said without thinking, then realized it must be true.
Andromeda nodded seriously. “So she has something like this. Likely a similar jewel but smaller. She might use it in controlling things.”
“Oh.” That tickled a memory that wouldn’t quite connect to my thoughts. “If she has one, why does she want yours?”
“Smaller is less powerful,” Andromeda replied with patience. “If she had one like the Star, she’d have won already. That’s why she wants this—having it would increase her powers exponentially.”
“Like yours.”
She smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, magic requires both the focus jewel and the wielder’s ability. I have the Star and the Heart, but she greatly outmatches my abilities.”
“I don’t know what’s real anymore. My head aches.” I felt like I was splintering into tiny shards of myself.
The Arrows of the Heart Page 25