by Trudie Skies
“Definitely. I threatened to have my father withdraw his merchant contracts. If you want answers from a Bosan, threaten his livelihood, not his life.”
“I didn’t realize you were so ruthless, Alistar Myrbond.”
He smirked. “Business is war.”
War. The mere word was enough to ruin his smile.
The boats settled as they neared the boardwalk, and relief swept through her. Alistar made the jump first, landing on shore with practiced finesse. She leaped right after him.
A dark hand shot out of the water and grabbed her ankle.
Black mist swept over her eyes. She gasped and reached out for Alistar, but he was gone; the boats, the docks, everything had disappeared under a veil of black, and the cold grip at her ankle crept up her leg and straight to her heart.
Cold water rushed into my throat and lungs. I thrashed and sank my nails into his wrist, but he wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t breathe, oh Myn and Myr, he was killing me! My lungs burned and I gurgled a scream, but there was no air, no air, oh Myn, there was no air. He said nothing, nothing. The shimmering lights faded to black. Why did he do this to me? I gave them the bottles; I did what they wanted! I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t feel—
Something wrenched Mina out of the darkness. Alistar. He’d pulled her from the Shadow’s grasp. She collapsed against a crate, and the wood burst into flame at her touch.
“Stars above!” Alistar threw a discarded rug over the crate, smothering the flames until only a gasp of smoke remained.
She backed away from the boats and shoved shaking hands into her pockets. A funnel of water spurted between the gap, but no wraith crawled out. The farther from the boats she walked, the calmer the boats settled. “It was an accident; I didn’t mean to—”
“What happened? You just—collapsed.”
How could she explain that a dead spirit had spoken to her? Gods, someone had drowned a girl; drowned her and stolen the bottles. Mina had felt her last gasping breaths. For as long as she lived, she’d never set foot near water again. “I—I think I saw something in the water. A body. A young girl. It could be the Water Bearer.”
“Stars. Should we go back and—”
“No!” She kept walking, not looking him in the eye. “The Temple of Lune. We should go there.”
“I’ll speak with the priestess. See if any of their girls are missing.”
She steadied her breathing. Her blood pumped frantically after her encounter with the Shadow, but there was nothing she could do for the girl. Gods, they were so close to finding the truth.
“Well, what do we have here? A couple of street rats up to no good.”
Garr leaned against a tall crate and tossed a dagger from hand to hand. He’d changed into gray leather pants, shiny black boots, a dark blue Neu Bosan tunic, and a gaudy bright purple cloak slung over his shoulder. He’d even found somewhere to wash his face clean of muck and grime and to comb his hair back. Dressed this way, he looked like any well-off city man, and not a wretched street rat.
She snatched his dagger mid-throw. “You spent my gold on clothes?”
“A better investment than ale, wouldn’t you say, Priestess? It’s easier to hunt information when you’re dressed to play the part and have the coin to flash.”
“And what information have you been hunting with my coin?”
Light danced in his amber eyes. “Valuable information.”
Alistar snorted. “Likely which Bosan boats to plunder.”
She shoved the dagger into her own belt. The thought of letting him wander around with a weapon didn’t comfort her. “Just tell me what you learned.”
Garr inclined his head. “A Hartnord ship sailed into port this morning. Your Housemen are keeping it quiet. Rather odd, considering we’re at war.” He gave Alistar a hard stare. “Why are Hartnords in Myryn?”
35
AN INVITATION
Dusk came by the time Mina returned to the Myrbond mansion. She didn’t have time to buy suitable clothing. Instead, she’d turned to the Temple of Rahn and borrowed a priestess’s robe—too long, of course, but it had to do. Garr pouted at being left behind. She’d dragged his sorry carcass to the temple and dumped him there, though not before buying him a bottle of ale and some smoked kippers to keep him out of trouble.
If what Garr said were true, Hartnords were on Sandarian soil and Alistar’s father knew.
The brisk walk through Myryn helped calm her nerves. They said the Gaisland evening skies were the most beautiful, and as Rahn cast his golden light across the inlet, she had to agree. Myryn was a paradise. She breathed in the scents of spice and life and reached out with her thoughts down the blood bond. It responded with a rush of warmth and Talin’s essence. Even though they were far apart, her father travelled with her, always.
Alistar waited by the mansion gate, dressed in the fine clothing he’d worn for Prince Rais’s helbond ceremony. He’d brushed his hair back, his braid tucked behind his ear, though he must have rushed his bath for a smudge of dirt still smeared his cheek. “Welcome to my humble abode, High Priestess.” He bowed.
She licked her thumb and wiped his cheek. “You’re a scruffy cub.”
“Yes, Ma.” He stifled a giggle. “Do you like fish?”
“I hate fish.”
“Good. That’s what’s for supper.” He offered his arm.
She looped her arm around his and entered his home. The inside of the mansion merged Sandarian styles, with Gaisland rugs and pottery, Solander oak furniture etched with gold, and wooden Dusland windows to keep out pests. But the Neu Bosan influence was obvious, too: the pots held tropical flowers she didn’t recognize and the tapestries were filled with Neu Bosan serpents and silver stars. A marriage of all cultures. Her heart ached at the thought. This would one day be Princess Aniya’s home.
She slid free from Alistar’s arm. He was her sorran and hanging onto him wasn’t proper for the High Priestess, nor for a man betrothed to the Bright Solara.
“I visited the Temple of Lune on my way back,” Alistar said. “They weren’t keen on a man questioning them, but loosened up when they saw my sahn. Their priestess is a family friend.”
“Learn anything about the girl?”
“The apothecary didn’t lie. The Water Bearers said they had a new girl—Jade, she was called—and she went missing some weeks ago. They went to the guards, but nothing came from it. Eyewitnesses saw her speaking to a Duslander man a couple of times before she disappeared. They never found her.”
“He killed her.” And dumped her body in the marina where no one would find it. “The guards didn’t hunt the Duslander responsible?”
“There’s too many Duslanders working as ship hands. Whoever he is, he left no trace.” Alistar’s voice dropped as they approached a man waiting outside a doorway. His father.
The ambassador to Neu Bosa was dressed in a flowing beige robe and the lime green sahn of his House. He bowed with reserved politeness. “Lady Arlbond, welcome. My son speaks favorably of you.”
She returned the bow. “I appreciate the invitation, Lord Myrbond.”
“You may call me by my Sandarian name, Hiram. If you don’t mind, I ask you remove your sword in my home.”
No one ever asked a Sandarian to remove their sword, but perhaps Neu Bosa held different customs. She placed a hand on Hawk’s hilt and paused.
“I assure you, you’re safe here,” Hiram added with his brows raised.
“It’s fine,” Alistar murmured.
She swallowed her unease and unbuckled her belt.
Hiram took the scabbard and placed it carefully on a marble table. “And your knives, if you will.”
She bit back a retort and dug out both her mother’s dagger and the one she’d snatched off Garr. The ambassador had sharp eyes.
“Many thanks. We’re serving tea in the green room whilst we wait for our other guests to finish their evening prayers.”
She exch
anged a glance with Alistar and followed Hiram into a circular room made of glass. Some of the panes were open to allow in the evening breeze. Flowering trellises covered the glass ceiling and broke up the evening Rahnlight. A high dining table took up most of the space, surrounded by raised wooden chairs—not Sandarian cushions. Five white ceramic teacups had already been placed around the table, accompanied by a steaming pot of tea.
Hiram gestured to the table. “Be seated. It has been many years since we last hosted the High Priestess.”
She tucked her robes under her and slid into a chair. “Leila came here?”
“To inspect the temple and ensure her Fire Walkers couldn’t escape. Though my son informs me that you aren’t here for the same purpose. The tea, Ali.”
Without uttering a word, Alistar poured tea for his father and filled her cup.
“Fire Walkers are being poisoned by Rahn’s Breath, Lord Hiram.”
“And you believe these peppers are coming from Myryn? That’s quite an accusation—”
“It’s a fact. Rahn’s Breath is being smuggled under your nose and falling into the wrong hands. Isn’t your House responsible for checking merchant goods?”
Hiram lifted his cup and blew over the rim. “Illegal goods filter through the markets during wartime; we can’t track every shipment when our docks are in chaos. Each day, more of our people leave for the isles. This problem will resolve itself.”
No, the problem would get worse. The Water Bearer’s murderer possessed as many as four more bottles. Perhaps fewer if he were responsible for more of the alleged rogue Fire Walkers’ attacks. Perhaps more if he had other sources of Rahn’s Breath as well.
The door creaked open and two pale-faced men entered.
Mina leaped from her chair, knocking it back with a crash.
Prince Wulfhart stood before her.
“Lady Arlbond. I’d hoped we would cross paths again, though not in such dire circumstances.”
Her hand twitched to her hip. This was why Hiram made her leave her gods-damn sword behind!
“Why are you here?” Of all the people she’d imagined bumping into in Myryn, the prince of Hartnor was not among them.
Prince Wulfhart raised his palms in submission. “To negotiate.”
“What’s there to negotiate? You murdered our queen.”
“You murdered my father, but we had nothing to do with your queen’s death. Would I risk travel to your kingdom if so? I come here unarmed in good faith. Look in my eyes and see I speak true.”
His silver eyes were soft. Not menacing. He wore a simple blue tunic and carried no sword, nor a dagger at his waist or boots as far as she could tell. His companion stood a few inches taller and came unarmed, too, though there was something unnerving about him; his head and face were shaved bare, like a Fire Walker, and his eyes shone a bright sapphire.
Hiram placed his cup down. “Be seated so we may discuss this calmly.”
“Does the Council know of your invited guests, Lord Hiram?”
“The Council is rushing to war without knowing the facts and demanding the Three-Pointed Star act on blind faith. My intention is to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. Something I believe we have in common, High Priestess. Sit, Ali.”
Alistar sank into a chair and looked as bewildered as she felt.
She righted her chair and sat, her gaze pinned on the Prince. “The Council believes you are responsible for Queen Vida’s death.”
Prince Wulfhart and his companion sat across from her. “Whatever you think of me and my people, you cannot believe me cruel enough to murder a female carrying a child. I did not sanction such an order, and I could not believe my ears when I heard of it. I held my own investigation, my lady, in case someone thought to act in my name, but found evidence of no such crime. I prayed to my god, and his insight points south. To Sandair. We did not do this.”
“We also looked into this matter,” Hiram said. “The poison which murdered the Queen is called Lotus Bud.” He slid a cup of tea across the table to her. “It’s a Neu Bosan contraceptive taken by women throughout the isles. In Hartnor, it’s illegal but still available to certain privileged families. Recently, it has become more common in Sandarian markets. They use it in the Temple of Lune, I believe.”
Another nod to the Temple of Lune. She picked up her tea and gave it a quick sniff. Honey. Nothing smoky to suggest they’d brought her here to poison her, at least.
“My lord, I must correct you on one point,” Prince Wulfhart said. “It is true our family used Lotus Bud in the past, but no longer. These days, it is not only against our law, but our faith also forbids its use. I say again: we did not poison your queen.”
Mina leaned back in her chair. “Someone did.”
“Someone who wants to drag our nations into war,” Hiram said. “The Three-Pointed Star believes neither king would allow this war if the truth were known. And so, they do what they can to slow Sandair’s rush to battle. As does House Myrbond.”
“We too are hesitant,” Prince Wulfhart said. “I was but a child seventeen years ago when Sandarian warriors last invaded our lands, but I read the accounts. We were all but defenseless against your fire magic. You could decimate us at any time, and our kingdom continues to exist only at the whim and mercy of whoever sits on the Sandarian throne. I have no desire to see my people burned and my kingdom destroyed.” He studied her from across the table. “When we last spoke, my lady, you were adamant to paint your kin as innocent, yet it was one of your kin who killed my father. And now our host tells me you represent them as their leader. If Sandair invades my home, would you march on our cities and set them alight?”
“The Fire Walkers don’t want to be used as weapons, Prince Wulfhart, I didn’t lie about that. But the Council has given us no choice. I became high priestess to protect them, to prevent bloodshed wherever possible. But you threatened us with war.”
“My father burned in front of my eyes. Can you forgive my clouded judgment? We came to Sandair because we were promised safety. The keepers of my faith warned my father of the dangers, but he did not heed them, nor did I. And when he burned before me…
“I admit I sought revenge, but revenge will only hurt my people. By this winter, I will be crowned the new king of Hartnor, and these decisions—and consequences—rest on my shoulders. I do not wish to begin my reign on a throne of ash, my lady.” He stared Mina in the eye, not with judgment or fear, but with reserved concern. “Now your people won’t listen to reason. They blame me for a sin I did not commit. Will you help me stop this war before it begins?”
Could there be a way to stop war?
No one in this room wanted Fire Walkers thrust into battle. But even if she could convince both kingdoms to back down, Fire Walkers would remain locked away, enslaved, and dragged into Sandair’s next war whenever it may come. They needed more than that. They needed kings who saw them as people.
Perhaps if Prince Rais and Prince Wulfhart worked together, they stood a chance.
She leaned over the table. “Would Hartnor recognize Fire Walkers as free men? I can’t support any king who would see them as less.”
“So long as your kin burn freely, my people will fear them. We cannot abide to live in the shadow of a hostile neighbor who could destroy us at any time. But we may have a solution to that problem, my lady.” He nodded to Hiram.
Hiram rang a tiny bell. A Neu Bosan servant entered, carrying a small wooden box. She placed it on the dining table, then lit glass lanterns around the room to ward off the dark. Tira appeared in a flickering lantern, her face taut with worry.
“If you will, Falkner?” Prince Wulfhart gestured to his companion.
The man with the sapphire eyes—Falkner—pulled a glass jar from the box, placing it on the table for the room to see. Something dark squirmed inside.
Leeches.
“Is this a trick?” Mina moved her stare from Prince Wulfhart to Hiram. “Do you know what these are and wh
at they do?”
“Father?” Alistar pressed.
Hiram raised his hand. “I know what they are—”
“Your great plan is to force leeches on Fire Walkers? Is that it?”
“That would be impractical,” said Hiram. “Leeches are native to our jungles; we understand them and their applications. My people have used them in the past to cure illness, and it is through our medical experimentation that we discovered their ability to suppress a Fire Walker’s magic—”
“It was your people who invented them?”
“Discovered them, yes. And we gave them to the Bright Solara. We use them ourselves, as well. But they are not without limitation. Our greatest minds have studied their effects and narrowed it down to a particular toxin in the leech’s saliva. We believe this toxin can be extracted.”
“Meaning what?”
Prince Wulfhart pulled a tiny silver vial from his pocket. “Meaning, my lady, we can create a potion which blocks your fire magic, in much the same way Lotus Bud can be used to prevent conception. I call it Lune’s Tears.”
Such a potion could render blood fire inert. She sank back into her chair. “What do you plan to do with it?”
“My people want all Sandarians tested and those with fire magic to be locked away forever. There are some on your Council who want the same, do they not? But I believe there can be compromise. You do not wish to see your kin locked away or hurt. Lune’s Tears can offer you freedom. With this, your kin will be prevented from using their magic, and my people will feel safe in that knowledge.”
Fire Walkers wouldn’t need to be locked away in the temple because they would no longer be a threat to themselves or others. Nor would they be forced to serve as slaves in war or peace. They’d be ordinary men. Free.
She glanced to her mother, who stared back, frowning. Using a potion to suppress blood fire didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel… natural. “Is it safe?”
“We’ve tried it on our own people. I can verify it is safe to ingest, but we cannot test its intended properties. We need your help, my lady. We need people with fire magic so we can refine the correct dose and its effectiveness.”