by Aimee Moore
∞∞∞∞
The cold squeezed the air from my lungs as goosebumps broke through my skin.
“Gods!” I hissed, wrapping my arms around myself and looking at the snow-kissed village.
“Apologies,” Karne said. With a twirl of his wrist, furs wrapped themselves around me with the goosepimple inducing warmth of a hot bath.
I exhaled a shaking breath. “Oh stars above, thank you,” I said.
Karne cut me a smirk, then strode forward through the light drift of snowflakes. He hadn’t changed his attire at all, it was as if the cold didn’t reach him.
I craned my neck up as I examined the village. Most of the buildings were towering rectangular columns, ropes strung between them teasing fish bones into the wind. The doors were iced over, the snow on the rooftops thick. One building leaned into another, the fish lines strung between them tangled together in a mass of bones and rope. The town was as still as a painting, not even smoke issuing from the chimneys.
I glanced behind me as we walked, then looked forward again. “Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Dead.”
“How?”
Karne turned a sardonic grin my way. “Your beloved Kraw.”
My gut clenched. I was too much a coward to ask if he meant Dal specifically. We crunched through the snow for some minutes, climbing stairs and passing empty wagons and store fronts. Between the derelict buildings, the mountains yawned in the distance, the jagged white teeth of them chomping at the clouds.
“This is eerie,” I whispered.
“Nialae will settle here soon, and it will be more glorious than before.”
“Do they care that they’re unwelcome?”
Karne spread his arms. “I see no one to make such a protest.”
“Well I’m m—”
A flapping noise echoed to our left, and Karne turned to it, heaving a mass of shadow out of himself toward the noise. I called my gift, but only hissed in pain as Karne’s shadow hit a flock of birds. Most of them let off pained squawks before dropping to the snow with a final crunch.
I frowned up at him as he gave a shake of his head and continued on. At last, we came across an imposing building set into the side of a towering wall of rock.
I clutched my shell necklace, tilting my head back as I beheld the temple. It reached to the mountain peaks with a roofline like water waves, elaborate spouts dangling into pools of ice. We ascended the stairs and found the double doors smashed, much like the university.
“How do you know the Helegnaur is even here after the Kraw?” I asked.
Karne turned to me. “Was it in your possession, Warlord?”
I glared. “No.”
“Then they don’t have it. After you,” he said, gesturing to the doors.
I tried to step through the frosted wood splintered across the doorway, but my bad foot wouldn’t allow it. Dal could have vaulted over the debris with ease.
“Go without me, I’ll wait here,” I said, crossing my arms.
“You mean sit here and wallow.” Karne leapt over the mess with cat’s grace, reaching a hand to me. “There are a lot of ways to die here, Seraphine.”
“I don’t see why I need to go in there,” I muttered.
“Because of the two of us, you’re the only one who can wield the Helegnaur. Come.”
I placed my hand in his with reluctance, and soon I was hobbling over the uneven chunks of wood. My bad foot lost purchase on an icy board, and I squeaked as I pitched forward.
Karne’s hard chest broke my fall. I pushed myself up to find our faces only inches apart.
“I knew you’d warm up to me,” he murmured.
I glared at him, shoving away. “Next time just let me kiss the floor.”
A low laugh buzzed through Karne’s chest, and he lifted me with surprising ease, setting me down. A thrill trembled in my belly at being handled like so.
We beheld total darkness. I stopped myself before calling my gift to chase away the inky black.
“Are you ever going to return my gift to me?” I asked.
“I already told you I can’t control it.”
“Zraine and K’cine have theirs.”
Karne smiled. “Piecing together all the things that don’t matter?”
I scowled. “Avoiding questions that do?”
Karne laughed again. “Zraine and K’cine are valuable to me because their minds are unaffected by Nialae influence.”
“Your allure, too?”
Karne turned a predatory gaze on me. “Do you miss my allure?” He gestured, and the room filled with balls of light, floating as if on a current. “I know it’s been long for you; I can satisfy with a crook of my finger.”
“No thank you,” I said in a flat tone, letting my gaze poke into all of the strange pieces of the large room.
Karne laughed, turning to the space before us, honey-yellow eyes flicking back and forth as he assessed.
It was jarring in here. Square pools were built haphazardly throughout. If not for the ice floes pouring into them, I would wonder why they were stacked in such an odd arrangement. Statues of serene men rose up from the pools now and again, their faces hidden under bushy beards and brows, their funny hats reaching to the darkness above.
Beyond the frozen pools, adding to the geometric chaos, were five square doorways presenting blackness to us.
“Pick one,” I said.
Karne frowned. “Should have brought Growl.”
I cast my gaze to the path before us, flat stone that wove through the pools and branched off to each doorway. It was a sheet of ice.
“There’s no way I’m walking on that with my bad foot.”
He glanced at the path. “I’ll steady you.”
“I don’t want you touching me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m helping you over the ice, not taking your furs off.”
I pulled the furs tighter around me. “Keep it that way.”
Karne smiled down at me. I waited for some snide remark, but he didn’t say anything.
“What?” I asked.
“You are becoming yourself again.”
Something in me sank.
“This way,” Karne said.
“How can you know which way?” I followed, stopping before the ice, wondering if I could just hobble carefully.
“Trust me.” He reached a hand to me.
I let my gaze travel past him as I remembered times before when Dal’s response to my inquiries had been, simply, “Trust.” And I did without question.
“Seraphine,” Karne murmured.
I scowled at him, then put my hand in his. He pulled me to his side, wrapping an arm around my waist. The closeness was unwelcome.
“Can’t you just wiggle your fingers and make the ice melt?”
“Why would I do that? This is far more pleasurable.”
“I meant it when I called you a snake.”
Karne’s laugh echoed in the space.
When we reached the middle door, anticipation greeted me. It was a surprise to feel anticipation for anything at all.
Karne’s lights bobbed closer, ducking into the room beyond. We followed and came upon a chamber of sorts with more square pools inside. These ones were small, the size of my hand perhaps, and there were dozens of them crowded around a chest-high platform.
“There’s nothing here,” I said, glancing around. “Wrong room, maybe.”
Karne approached the platform, frowning. “Come here.”
I picked my way through shorter pools, tripping on one in my effort to avoid being close to Karne. I pitched forward again, catching myself on the platform.
“The floor awaits your kiss,” Karne said with a grin.
“What’s over here?” I asked with a scowl, righting myself.
“Can you read this?”
I followed his fingers to etchings in the stone. They weren’t in my language. “No,” I frowned.
“I thought not.”
I traced the sym
bols. “Why can’t I read them?”
Karne gave me a measuring look. “You didn’t think everyone on your continent spoke the same language, did you?”
I frowned at the etchings. “Lambston was small, and no one who happened upon us ever spoke anything other than common tongue.”
“Yes, charming, but useless here.”
“Then figure it out yourself,” I said, turning to pick my way through the room.
“I did.”
I stopped, turning to Karne.
“I’ll show you,” he murmured. Taking my hand again, he guided me back to the platform. Curiosity won out as Karne placed my Kraw-marked fingers on the symbols, then pulled my fingertips across the etchings as he spoke.
“Wary is he, the water can see, wary must be, to wield the core key. Ice and fire, be they desire, chaos transpire, power alight—"
“That doesn’t rhyme,” I said.
Karne stilled his hands on my own. “It does in their language.” His breath fanned my face.
I pulled my hand away as Karne returned to the etchings, reading them off to me. Time and again he made mention of a “core key,” but the rest was nonsense about power and ice and fire.
“So it’s definitely here,” I said.
“Inside this stone,” Karne said with a scowl.
“Well, wave your arms and make it appear.”
Karne turned to me with a mocking smirk. “Perhaps after that I’ll unmake the moon.”
I cut him an exasperated look. “Fine. It appears we’re going to be searching for one of these core keys next.”
“It would seem so.”
“Good luck with that,” I said, turning away.
Karne’s laugh followed me. “That’s it?”
“I don’t even know if I want to get my hands on this thing. I can’t trust any of you, and I don’t know what it does.”
“More visits from your little friend?”
My steps halted. “No…” I turned to face Karne. “I haven’t seen her the entire time I’ve been in your mansion.”
Karne strode toward me. “Then two things are for certain, Seraphine. Your friend is Nialae; and she’s no friend of mine.”
Chapter 20
Frigid
Love should make us stronger.
Another month passed, marking six total since I was taken from Dal, and he was still all that was in my heart. It was as if I loved him from afar, knowing one day I would return from a tiresome journey to be in his arms once more.
There were times in the library, hunting for clues to the core keys, that I could put Dal out of my mind for a short time. Breathe the relief of having my sadness ebb for just a while. I would never move on, but I would separate the grief from the memories so joy could light my life once more.
Dal had given me many gifts. Courage, intuition, power, and love, to name a few. These gifts would always be a part of me, like the symbols adorning my right arm. Now, it was time for me to put these gifts to use.
I would take from the Nialae as they have taken from me. The rules of their game were clear to me now, and that meant I was no longer a pawn. Letting them think me a malleable fool was my first advantage. The second was that Karne wanted me.
The third, and most important, was two different Nialae thought me docile enough to place the Helegnaur in their hands without question. They were mistaken.
And this mistake would cost them everything. The Helegnaur would be mine, and I would use it to avenge Dal. Strike terror into the depths of these cold Nialae hearts.
I was summoned to the room of two Nialae women. Their pale gazes locked on me as I entered, bearing a tray of sugared fruits, warm oil, and blue wine.
“Delicious,” said the yellow-eyed woman.
“The human or the food, Myrin?” Asked the woman with lavender eyes.
The yellow-eyed woman, Myrin, laughed. “Both, of course.”
I smiled at them. “Enjoy,” I said before moving to straighten the room.
Their gazes tingled into me as I limped away.
“Khaeda. You were saying?”
A pause. A clink of the tray on their table. “These are interesting times,” the woman named Khaeda said in her husky voice.
“Indeed. The history of our people is being made before our eyes.”
“Yes.” The word sounded sour. “The realms are rising, setting the wheels of Tanebrael’s court in motion.”
I stole glances at them as I set the warmed oil by the bed and refreshed the flowers.
“Has she been seen at last?” Myrin paused to sip her wine. “I should very much like to set eyes upon her once more.”
“Some say she intends to stay in shadows, for treachery often transpires there first.”
“Hm,” it was half a laugh. “Always clever, isn’t she. I do think this will play out well.”
Khaeda smiled. “The divide between loyalists and opportunists is a razor’s edge, Myrin. Those who think Tanebrael has abandoned us seek to claim this world for their own, while the loyalists plot to sell them to our queen when she surfaces at last. Even our dear prince is treading a dangerous line.”
“Surely she’d have mercy for her own son,” the one named Myrin said in slow surprise.
Khaeda leaned forward, placing her drink on the table. “His betrayal is the worst of all, is it not? The eclipse prince, gathering his mother’s court as his own.”
“Eclipse prince,” Myrin said with a huff of derision, “To think he’d be pompous enough name himself for the queen’s day.”
Khaeda sat back with a grin. “And what would you call the crossing of the sun and the moon?”
“Darkness,” Myrin purred.
The other woman laughed, trailing a finger up Myrin’s hand. “You never did like him.”
I picked up discarded garments, mind reeling at the fact that Tanebrael’s son, a prince, was somewhere in these realms, vying for her throne despite the rumors of her presence.
Khaeda’s laugh tinkled through the space. “I have little tolerance for egotistical bores. Tell me, Myrin, how many realms have risen since our arrival?”
A long pause. “Eight.”
“Does Rhyseth count, I wonder?”
“He held court on Niall, I see no reason why he shouldn’t hold a realm now.”
“He has no realm to speak of.”
“Have you not seen the mines in the north, in Stonemouth? Rhyseth has claimed them for himself.”
“Mines. Dirty work.”
“But necessary.”
I let the names of the aristocrats roll past my senses, focusing on the core of the conversation. Eight courts have risen since the Nialae settled here. Eight realms to vie for the throne or support Tanebrael. This was the game. Now I needed to make it serve me.
“Human?” One of the women called.
I looked up from making the bed to meet Khaeda’s gaze. “Yes?” I limped over to her.
Lavender eyes assessed me, then rested on my Kraw-marked arm. “Unfasten my hair, I wish it loose.”
“Of course,” I said, moving to pull the pins from her corn-silk colored hair. I kept my gaze focused on my task so they would continue.
“Speaking of necessary, Myrin, do you know what Fenror and Shiera are doing in the southern realms near Elanthia?” She sighed as she spoke.
My fingers stilled for a moment. The names of the fools mattered little to me, I only cared for what they were doing near Elanthia.
Myrin laughed. “You mean aside from painting Nialae splendor over this drab world?”
“Hmm. Their realms are sizeable, with both Nialae and human loyalty.”
“I suppose you’re going to get to the point sometime today,” Myrin said with a smirk. I wanted the same.
Khaeda’s hand met mine as I finished finger-combing her long hair. She ran her hand up my arm, pulling me to face her. “Show me satisfaction,” she purred.
Every game is full of choices. I could take the spoils of my service here, knowledge of
a prince and eight contentious realms, and leave. Or I could make a move and discover how Elanthia was to play into Nialae politics.
I brought my other hand to Khaeda’s face. “What sort of satisfaction do you desire?” I whispered.
Myrin said, “Show us what makes you different.” Her fingers brushed down my marked arm.
There was one vital thing my past had taught me: besting my enemy meant being them. Deep in the frigid recesses of my broken heart, vengeance pulsed where loyalty once dwelled. My body was nothing more than a tool for my goals.
I understood the Nialae at last. And all I had to do was die inside.
“As you wish,” I whispered. I pulled Khaeda’s lips to mine. She kissed me back, languid at first, and I was bored with it. I clawed my fingers in her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. She trembled under my lips as I trailed soft bites across her neck.
Myrin’s touch was traveling down my back as I did this, and I straddled Khaeda’s lap as she pulled me close with a groan. Clothes were shed quickly, and soon the bed was messed again as the three of us tangled in a slithering of skin and sheets.
This was different from what I knew of pleasure. Dal had always been careful with me, tracing the fine line between giving and taking. There was no selfishness between our skin, only trust and love. Giving, body and soul; taking, with heart-pounding abandon.
Now, pressed between two slender bodies that sought only to claim, I found a new balance. Seizing as much as I could, giving only enough to continue taking pleasure for my own. Their only carefulness was in disturbing the shard in my left shoulder, which needed no such care any longer, as it hardly pained me. Our exchange was as cold as their hands.
Sated at last, we lay on the rumpled bed. Guilt tried to wash into my tingling core, and I cast it into the icy pit that held Seraphine of six months ago.
Khaeda gave a sultry laugh, turning toward me, sandwiched as I was between the two of them. “You are a treat, human,” she murmured, tracing a finger down my cheek.
I smiled. “You are not injured?”
Myrin’s laugh hummed behind me. “Never have I bore the marks of passion like this.”
“You have not bedded a Child of War?” I murmured.
Bruising, that was the Kraw way. Nails biting into skin with exquisite lust, teeth pressing moans into flesh, all of it was the experience they sought when they touched my markings.