The Exalted

by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

  Curlin gave a dark chuckle. “Aphra, did you notice how she put profit before safety?”

  “I did. That’s just the sort of thinking we need to change, isn’t it, my dear?”

  “No one is going to rescue you, Ysanne,” Quill said. “The resistance isn’t just in the mountains. They’re everywhere. They’re on your staff. They’re in your shops. They’re walking your streets. And they all report back to us. Don’t think that you can do anything unseen. We are always watching you.”

  Aphra spun slowly around, studying the room. “There seems to be plenty of space here, Ysanne. I think I’ll move in. Better to do the business of governing with you that way. Don’t you think? Your cook, Ezra, already knows me fairly well, and I’m sure the other staff won’t mind adjusting to a few more residents in the governor’s mansion.”

  The blood drained from Ysanne’s tawny face. “Promise me that you won’t hurt my wife or our children. I’ll agree to all of your terms, so long as they stay safe.”

  I laid a hand over Ysanne’s. “You misunderstand us. We don’t want to hurt anyone. We want everyone’s spouses and children to stay safe. That’s the point of this whole endeavor—to stop treating some people like they somehow have more value or worth than others just because of the uncontrollable circumstances of their lives.”

  “Expect to meet the new force of Ilorian peacekeepers this evening,” Curlin said. “Until then, I think Aphra might like to pick out a suite of rooms?”

  Ysanne stood, but before she could speak, Aphra looped an arm through the stout governor’s, grinning.

  “I think we’re going to be able to do a great deal of good together, you and me.” She smiled brightly at the rest of us. “Why don’t you all join us for supper tonight here at the mansion? Perhaps Ysanne’s brother Tandy and his family can come, too? Nothing like breaking bread to celebrate a new beginning, eh?”

  Smirking, Quill rose to his feet and offered me his arm. Before we left the room, I turned back one last time.

  “Governor Ysanne, were things here and at home not so very dire, we wouldn’t have come up from under you like this,” I said apologetically. “Curlin and I’ll explain more thoroughly over supper why we had to do what we did today. I think you’ll find that sharing power with Aphra is not so terrible. She’s wickedly cunning and has a good mind for business. And she, like you, only wants what’s right for the people of Ilor. I’ll thank you ahead of time for agreeing to work with her.”

  Ysanne nodded her head jerkily, and I gave her a sly smile in return. “And just remember, you know how her magic works now. She can’t use it on you again unless you let her.”

  Aphra stuck her tongue out at me, then grinned.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Bo

  “I feel as though I must write of cheerful things. My letters so often bear too much of a burden to place on your shoulders. So I will give you news of Pem and Still, who have been of enormous help to me here in Denor. I truly don’t know if I could manage without them. And to think, when they asked to come, I thought I was the one doing them a favor.”

  —from Bo to Vi

  Small hands jostled me out of my sleep in the gray, predawn stillness several days after Noriava’s party, and it took me a disconcerting few minutes to remember that I was in a borrowed bed in her palace in Denor. Every night since we’d arrived, I’d dreamed of Vi. They were grim, desperate dreams, fogged with oppressive heat and punctuated by the shrill calls of birds. I fumbled in the blankets for Swinton’s warm hand, the pain and fear of my dream still clinging to me, but the mattress beside me was empty.

  Before I’d disentangled myself from the sheets, a lamp flickered on, and I found myself face-to-face with Pem. In the dim light of the single lamp, her sharp cheekbones and wide eyes were so much like Vi’s that I wondered for a moment if I might still be dreaming. But then Pem’s mouth split in a snaggletoothed grin, and she shoved a robe into my lap.

  “Best come with me. There’s a conversation in the works, and me and Still think you’ll not want to miss it.”

  “Pem,” I said wearily, “my head is pounding, and if you’re hauling me out of bed to hear some drunken butler drone on and on about the long-forgotten days when murderous bandits and thieves roamed Denor’s roads and waterways, I will actually throw you off the nearest cliff and into the sea. Do you know where Swinton is?”

  “Ain’t stupid enough to do that twice,” Pem muttered, ignoring my question. “Hurry up. Still’s got a fair good memory, but she was getting sleepy.”

  She took my hands and hauled me, grumbling, to my feet. I slid them into a pair of soft-soled slippers waiting by the side of Swinton’s bed, wrapped the thick woolen robe tight over my pajamas, warding against the bite of the winter air wafting through the palace, and followed Pem into the hall. She slid through the shadows, up narrow flights of stairs and down dark, empty corridors where dust swirled through the air, telling the tale of how seldom these passages saw use.

  “We’ve not been here a full week yet,” I grumbled. “How have you already found your way around the bowels of this castle?”

  Pem stopped and turned to glare at me, a finger to her lips. She hissed, “I ain’t been sitting around feeling sorry for myself. You gave me a job, and I’ve been doing it. Now hush. We’re almost there.”

  We snuck through a small door and Pem tiptoed down a frighteningly steep spiral staircase. An unexpected wave of fear washed through me as I leaned over the railing and peered into the darkness. At the base of the stairs, light slatted through an ornately carved screen, and muffled voices echoed up the stairwell. Pem leaned in close to the screen and gestured furiously for me to follow her. I began to descend, but before I’d even reached the bottom, I recognized the voices and ice filled my veins.

  “He’ll never agree to it.” Swinton’s voice came through the screen as clearly as if he stood next to me. His soft Ilorian accent was strong, the way it got when he was tired, and I edged closer to the screen, trying to see beyond.

  Still and Pem moved out of my way and pressed themselves into a corner of the tiny alcove. Through the holes in the thick wooden screen, I could just make out a sleek, opulent room, all beautifully carved blond wood and elegantly upholstered seating bathed in the glow of dozens of sunlamps. Swinton sat on the edge of a long, low sofa, his head in his hands and his long hair in wild disarray. Noriava lounged on a chaise in a loosely draped robe, lazily plucking berries from a bowl, dipping them into a cloud of whipped cream and devouring them one by one.

  “You keep saying that,” Noriava said, “but I simply don’t agree. He’s a reasonable, albeit misguided, young man, and he’s clearly committed to his people and his throne. He’ll do what’s right for them, and this is right.”

  My mind raced, trying to piece together the possibilities hidden within her words. How had this conversation even come about? I’d hardly seen Noriava in the last few days, much less had time to think through the ideas that Swinton and I had discussed. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I was meant to be the one to convince her. Swinton wasn’t supposed to be involved at all—he was supposed to keep himself safe. So why was he up in the middle of the night, apparently negotiating with Noriava?

  “It’s not right. You’re asking him to do the unthinkable. Marry you, someone he barely knows, and give up the secret to the serum that’s essentially turning his citizens into violent murderers? And it isn’t as though he doesn’t have other options.”

  “We can go round and round about this as long as you like,” Noriava purred, “but we both know he really doesn’t have another choice. You’re only standing in the way because you’re in love with him. But if you really cared, you’d do whatever it took to put him back on the throne. You would make sacrifices for him.”

  I was frozen in place. Horrified, and waiting for what Swinton would say next. I couldn’t let him get caught in
her trap. I looked back at Pem and Still to find them watching me, eyes wide. I pointed at the screen and mouthed, “Can I get in?” Pem shrugged, but Still knelt at my side and began to silently feel the wall, her mouth set in a thin line. I turned back to the heated discussion in the room.

  Swinton looked up, his eyes narrowed at her. “Why do you want the poison? Aren’t Denorians supposed to value human life above everything else?”

  “Human life first, certainly. But profit is a close second. Imagine for a moment that your Ambrose does succeed, and he manages to expose the fact that the temple has been slowly using poison to control the people of Ilor and Alskad. Now, imagine if a small country like Denor held the only cure. Even better, imagine that the queen of Denor was also recently married to the king of Alskad. The rulers who provide the antidote—at a reasonable price, of course—will be seen as the most beatific pair to take the throne in recorded history. You want that for Ambrose, don’t you? Power? Justice? The love of his people?” Noriava’s expression turned sly. “I’ll even allow you to remain in your role as his companion. We’ll grant you land, titles, wealth—anything you desire—as our thanks for your role in negotiating this partnership.”

  “You’re sidestepping the question,” Swinton said accusingly. “You have no reason to reproduce the temple’s poison. No reason to need the formula. You can make the cure without it.”

  “My reasons are my own,” she replied. “You cannot argue that this isn’t the right move for your king. He’d be foolish to try anything else. Even if he decided to go to the Samirians for help, there’s no way they’d be able to produce an antidote. They don’t have the technology or the knowledge required.”

  Noriava stood and walked to a sideboard, where she poured two glasses of a deep red wine. She offered Swinton a glass and perched on the edge of the low table between the two couches. Swinton took a long draft of the wine and set the glass on the table next to Noriava. Her large black cat twined around her ankles.

  “Which matters more to you, the profit or the marriage?” Swinton asked.

  I dug my fingernails into my palms as Noriava regarded him critically. “Neither is more important. They’re both vital.”

  “How good are your scientists?”

  “The best in the world. Why?”

  “Because you’ll have to compromise, as well.” Swinton pulled a glass vial out of his coat pocket. The fluted glass held an emerald liquid, and the top was corked and sealed with wax. “There are fewer than a dozen people in the world who know how this is made. By the time Vi is done in Ilor, that number will be halved.” A calculating expression filled Noriava’s face as she eyed the vial. “I’ll give your scientists this sample with the understanding that they use it only to create a cure. But you must promise me that the knowledge of how this poison is made will die with this generation. In addition, Denor will provide the cure to everyone who wants it in Alskad and Ilor for free for the first three months after it is produced. Do this, and I’ll guarantee you an alliance with Alskad.”

  My mouth hung open. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. This was my country, my throne, my life. I had to be seen making the decision, at the very least.

  Still tugged on my robe. She pointed to the screen and shook her head, then pointed to the stairs and mimed running. I nodded, and she sprang silently to her feet. As I reached the door at the top of the stairs, Noriava’s voice came drifting through the screen.

  “Fair enough. I’ll agree on one condition...”

  Still took off, and I raced after her, letting the heavy door slam behind me.

  * * *

  I slid through the halls and down staircases, chasing Still as quickly as I could in my soft-soled slippers. Pem caught up with us in no time at all. I kept expecting to run into a maid or to be stopped by a guard, but the halls of the Denorian palace were entirely empty. I rounded a corner at top speed and ran headlong into a tall table. I managed to right the table, but as I did, the potted plant atop it wobbled and crashed to the ground, where it shattered into hundreds of pieces.

  “Hamil’s eyes,” I cursed under my breath as I stumbled over the mound of damp earth, broken shards of pottery and fallen leaves.

  The girls skidded to a stop in front of a set of double doors, their faces bearing expressions of wariness that edged on fear. Despite how badly I wanted to comfort them, I strode forward, jaw clenched, and heaved open the heavy doors. A set of four low stairs led down into an antechamber and a darkened hallway. I sped toward the end of the hall, where a doorway was ringed in soft, golden light.

  Noriava glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised, when I stormed into the room. But the moment she recognized me, her eyes widened, then darted back to Swinton. My gaze followed hers, and I gasped at the sight of what she’d done to him in the few minutes it had taken me to race across the palace.

  Every muscle in his body strained against thick leather straps that crossed his body at wrist, ankle, chest and waist, keeping him seated in a sturdy wooden chair. A pair of muscular guards stood on either side of him.

  “What in Gadrian’s name is going on here?” I demanded. I rushed to Swinton’s side and reached for one of the buckles at his wrist, but his head snapped up, startling me.

  He snarled, “Get your spoiled, rutting face away from me.”

  I stumbled back in shock, staring at him. His face was the same. The same thick tawny waves of hair; the same dark stubble along the same square jaw. There were deep, dark smudges under his eyes, but it was the middle of the night, and he’d been up since dawn.

  “Swinton...” I started.

  “I don’t need your godsdamned pity, and I don’t need your godsdamned help. You’re the one who got me into this fucking shit-show of a carnival ride, but I can get my own damned self out of it. I don’t ever want to see your fucking face again.”

  My chest was tight. I couldn’t breathe. I looked up at Noriava, at her placid, curious face, and hate like I’d never felt before in my life coursed through my veins.

  “What did you do to him?” I bit off each word like a chunk of ice.

  “I didn’t do anything at all,” she said. “He merely chose to drink the wine I poured for him.”

  I clenched my fists and straightened my spine. I was taller than Noriava, but only just. She lifted her chin imperiously and stared me down, fire in her dark green eyes. “And what, exactly, was in that wine?” I asked.

  “It seems that the perfume produced by the philomena flowers is somewhat more potent than the serum the Suzerain produce.” She smiled and held a familiar, cut-crystal perfume bottle up to the light—one of the bottles we’d brought with us from Alskad. A finger’s width of the emerald liquid was missing.

  I gaped at her in horror. “Where did you get that?”

  Noriava raised one eyebrow and gave me a pitying smile. “You aren’t the only one who employs spies with sticky fingers, Bo, dear.”

  She set the bottle down on a side table and crossed the room. She reached into Swinton’s breast pocket and plucked out the vial of the temple’s serum he carried there, calmly ignoring his snarls. “My scientists will begin work replicating the serum immediately. In the meantime, I suppose it’s only fair that I send a portion of my army with you to Alskad. You’re more use to me on the throne than off it.”

  Swinton’s muttered curses grew just a hair louder, and I glanced at him. He stared intently at his knees, and his hands were held in a white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair. I’d never seen him this angry, in this much pain. Pem and Still stood frozen in the doorway, staring at him as they clung to each other, both looking terrified.

  Noriava’s words played over and over in my head, and I gritted my teeth as the meaning beneath them became clear. “Replicating it?” I asked.

  “That was my agreement with Swinton. I would be given the drug in exchange for my help with your political si
tuation.”

  I seethed. “Don’t test me. Swinton did not agree to allow you to replicate that poison.”

  Noriava smiled. “Prove it.”

  “I heard you!” I said. “And I have two witnesses who heard you, as well. The moment Swinton recovers, he’ll verify what I heard, as well.”

  “Darling, you are a deposed king. Your so-called witnesses—” she looked over my shoulder, disdain writ large across her pretty face “—are two children, who are also serving as your valets. As for Swinton, I wouldn’t expect a recovery anytime soon. The best thing for him will be to send him off to the countryside, where the good doctors in charge of the homes for drægoners can see that he isn’t allowed to hurt anyone.”

  “You told Swinton that you would find a cure—”

  Swinton’s furious howl cut me off. He struggled at his bonds. His brows knit together, and his glazed eyes fixed on Noriava. Ignoring him, she poured herself another glass of wine and draped herself over one of the couches.

  His voice was raw with a rage I’d never heard from him before, and each word seemed as though it had to claw its way out of his throat. “You. Promised. Me. A. Cure. You. Bitch.”

  Noriava’s eyebrows climbed, and she looked past Swinton—ignoring him as thoroughly as she would have were he nothing but a piece of furniture—to fix her eyes on me. For the first time, I saw that her eyes were two very slightly different shades of green. I swallowed. What if she was an amalgam? What power might she secretly possess?

  “You really don’t see it, do you?” Noriava asked, shaking her head in disgust. “I owe you nothing. You have absolutely no leverage over me, and I already have exactly what I want from you. The only reason for me to do anything more to help you would be if it were to benefit me or Denor. A cure might do the Alskaders and Ilorians some good, but how does it help me? How does it help Denor? Much more profitable would be a poison that could take down any leader, any merchant—ruin lives, and make even the most sterling reputation vulnerable. With this poison in hand, Denor will control not only its own lands.” She smiled coldly. “I will have power over the entirety of the livable world. Samiria will bow to me. Ilor will renounce their loyalty to the Alskad crown. Even you will be forced to listen to me, little king.”