Noire wanted three things: a hearty meal, to sleep for at least a week, and then to spend a much longer period of time in bed with Gael—with the rest of the world firmly shut out.
What he absolutely did not want was to cross the moat without a bridge. He was a cat, not a bird or a fish. "You're jesting, right?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.
"I wish," Ivan said with a long sigh. "I'm too old for such nonsense. I'm also Duke, by the ashes." He scowled at the moat, looking much like Noire felt. "But I see no other way."
"I don't see this way working," Noire said.
Ivan shot him a look. "You do know how to swim, right?"
"Don't you think it's a little late to ask that now?"
"Well?"
"Yes, I can swim," Noire said. "I just prefer that the body of water in which I'm swimming be closer the ground on which I'm standing."
Ivan snorted in amusement. "Do you know how to dive?"
"Dive? I'm having a hard enough time thinking about jumping. Why in the name of the Gods would I jump head first?" He made a face when Ivan burst out laughing. "Be quiet, meat-eater, or I'll give you a good shove."
"I'll take you with me," Ivan said with a grin. "Enough stalling, black cat. Unless you have a better idea, the only way into the palace is that door right there."
Noire heaved a sigh and glanced at the barely visible set of doors near the base of the castle foundation. All his years in the city and palace and he'd never noticed it. Granted, the drawbridge hid it and likely only those who knew to look for it would ever see it ... but it seemed the sort of thing about which he should have been aware.
A set of steps led from the door all the way to the water and then to a post where it looked like a boat could be tied. He did not envy the servants stuck with whatever chores necessitated such an uncertain boat ride. But he would have much rather tried the boat than jump in and swim. The current wasn't terrible, but it would be difficult enough. And it really was a long way down, first.
"The ceremony is close now," Ivan said quietly. "Not more than an hour, to judge by the sun. You said noon, right?"
Noire nodded and sucked in a deep breath. Gael. He would do anything, whatever it took, to get to Gael in time. The sound of howling made him jump, then freeze, and he tried to make a fist with a hand that was no longer whole. Noire shuddered and ignored the distant, but growing closer, sounds of still more attackers.
Since they'd been stranded in the city days ago and barricaded themselves in the pawn shop, they'd barely slept in their attempts to stay alive. Attack after attack, and it had taken more effort than he liked to get through the mess all the way to the palace.
He should have known they hadn't earned themselves much of a reprieve. "Let's go," he said. "Even jumping has to better than losing the rest of my hand—or worse."
Drawing another deep breath, Noire braced himself. On Ivan's mark, he jumped off the remains of the drawbridge.
They only fell for a second, a couple of seconds at most, but it felt like forever. He hit the water, barely remembering not to cry out at the jarring sensation, then sank into dark, cold rushing water. He couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't get control of his movements. Panic drove him frantically about until at last he spied light and headed for the surface, fighting the pull of the water the entire time.
Breaking the surface with a gasp, he looked around anxiously—there. Ivan. The palace.
"Come on!" Ivan said, already at the steps, the meat-eater. Noire swam toward him, every stroke laborious.
By the time he finally reached the bottom of the staircase, he barely had enough strength to help as Ivan seized him and dragged him out of the water. "Never. Again," Noire gasped out, panting heavily, too tired to get further than his hands and knees.
Ivan hauled him to his feet and clapped him on his back. "Come now, you're half my age. You'll be fine. There's a pretty prince to be saved, so look sharp."
Noire rolled his eyes, but followed Ivan up the stairs to the water-worn double doors at the top. As they reached the doors, though, he saw they were sturdier than they first appeared—and there was also magic on them. He reached for the handle just to try it and cried out in pain and surprise as something jolted through him. "What was that!"
"An old spell, and one that looks familiar," Ivan said, sounding amused.
Noire scowled at him. "What's so funny?"
Ivan chuckled. "I was once kept in a prison cell for a few hours because of such a spell. That one was cast by a man who is now the Tsar. Who cast this one, I do not know, but I think ..." Approaching the door and stripping off his gloves, Ivan splayed his fingers and then pressed his open hand the door.
Light flashed, and then Noire watched as the door seemed to ... shudder, as though struck hard by something. Ivan let out a breath. "I'm glad that worked."
Noire eyed him askance. "You didn't know if it would?"
Shrugging, pulling out his lock picks, Ivan replied, "I don't really have magic, not the way the Tsar and the Priest of Ashes do. But I've picked up a couple of tricks because you can't really spend a lot of time with sorcerers without accidentally learning something." He fell silent as he worked the lock, but only a couple of minutes later, crowed softly in triumph. "There. Let's go."
"This all strikes me as entirely too easy," Noire said. "Don't you think that if she wanted me dead she'd be trying harder than this?"
Ivan's brows shot up. "You're missing two fingers. How much harder do you want her to try?"
Noire grimaced. "Not what I mean. I just—I feel like we're walking into a trap."
"I doubt it," Ivan said. "This has gone her way—well, sort of—for nine hundred years. I'm sure at this point her only real interest is the ceremony and manipulating that. She'll handle clean up later. Standard practice in this sort of job."
"It's not a job, it's a country!" Noire said.
He just saw Ivan's shrug before he shut the door, leaving them in near-absolute darkness. Ivan moved past him, and Noire followed him, guided by the wet sounds of his footsteps and the water dripping from his clothes. Noire grimaced at his own sopping clothes, the way his feet squelched in his boots. A couple of minutes later his foot struck something, and he nearly tripped on the bottom step of a staircase he couldn't see. He swore softly. "Oh, stop laughing," he groused as Ivan chuckled.
Ivan ignored the order. "Careful, little cat. As to it not being a job … it is, at least to her. It's her self-appointed task, a very personal vendetta. She's as ruthless, remorseless, and cold as any mermaid, but works for high reward. Sounds close enough to a merc to me, in the end. What she's doing … I wish I had realized it sooner, scorch her … Anyway, in merc parlance, what she's doing is something we call a 'friendly face'."
"That sounds entirely too apt already," Noire said with a sigh.
"Yes," Ivan said grimly, then lifted a hand to indicate silence. Noire shifted to hug the wall, giving himself a clear view of anything that might come around the corner—as clear a view as he could expect in the dark, anyway. He wished he could shift, but did not dare expend the energy until necessary. There was no telling what was going to happen when they reached the Sanctuary.
After several tense minutes, Ivan relaxed and with another gesture of his hand, motioned them forward again. "Just how long are these stairs, anyway?" he groused.
"I'm sure we have a ways to go yet," Noire replied. “The cellars extend three stories below the palace proper, I think, though I don't remember well." Ivan sighed. "So what was that about friendly faces?" Noire asked, though he was not really certain he wanted to know.
"Friendly face is the merc name for a very particular kind of job," Ivan said grimly. "It pays very, very well, but no reputable merc group will take such a job because it involves a lot of underhanded methods and serious bloodwork."
Noire wasn't entirely certain what 'bloodwork' meant, but he had a pretty good idea. "What's the job?"
"Infiltration and assassination," Ivan replied. "It involves getting inside a tight-knit group to get to the hard-to-reach heads of the group and murder them. You make friends, make better friends, reach the inner circle, and then start killing from the highest ranking down to the lowest. It's expected that a few of the minor members will get away—you pick them off later, easy as dousing a cook fire."
"That's horrible," Noire said.
Ivan grunted in agreement. "My team never did them. We didn't do kidnappings either. We were mostly thieving, threatening, finding, that kind of thing."
Noire started to comment, but was stopped short by a sudden flood of light. They'd finally reached the main level of the palace. Well, nearly. They were on the servant level, but that was better than dark, winding stairs. He tensed as they left behind the dark, damp stone walls of the palace depths, leaving a trail of water on the faded and worn tile floor. It was so quiet that the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He just could not get used to such stark silence in a place that was normally bursting with noise.
"So where do we go to get out of here?" Ivan asked in an undertone.
"This way," Noire said and turned down a narrow hallway. The servant level was even more of a maze than the main palace, a tangled web of halls and staircases that made it easier to get around the palace and come and go discreetly.
Halfway down the hall, he turned down another one, then led Ivan up a very narrow set of stairs that spilled into a small sitting area where those waiting for their time in court could admire the royal gardens down below. It was also closest to the Sanctuary without coming out right in front of it where someone might see them. Noire drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore the way he could feel his hands trembling. The ceremony was only minutes away.
Were they too late? What was going to happen when they broke into the Sanctuary?
"Stop standing around looking like a spooked cat and let's go," Ivan said.
Noire made a face at him and crept from the sitting nook, fighting an urge to shift. He always felt safer, stronger, as a panther, but it was wiser to stay in a shape that could speak.
Gael. He'd tried his hardest not to think too long about Gael, knowing his fear would get the better of him. But only steps away from the Sanctuary, Gael was suddenly all he could think about it. Was he okay? Did he think Noire was dead? Did he know about Etain yet?
What of Ailill? The other Beasts?
As they reached the door to the Sanctuary, Noire could hear voices—shouting, crying. He heard Gael, and fear and relief rushed through him. Noire reached for the door, surprised when the handle gave easily beneath his hand.
He gingerly pushed the door open about a finger's width, and Freddie's strident voice poured out, filled with anger. "Our children don't deserve to suffer because of the problems between the three of us."
"Enough!" Etain said. "You belong with me, and I will make you see that once and for all."
Gael's voice replied, "No, Etain, you won't. I loved you once, first as a lover and then as a sister. But I won't—can't—forgive your betrayals. I do not love you, and I do not think I ever will again. This ends now, once and for all. You won't stop us this time. It's clear you desperately need power and there is no way for you to get it."
Noire shuddered at the coldness to Etain's voice when she replied, "I have all the power I need." What did she mean?
But it was clear that no one had noticed the door, and so he dared to open it a bit further. Ivan was so close Noire could feel his breaths on the back of his neck. He stuck his head through the door and stared in horror at the scene: Gael and Freddie were facing off with Etain, who stood beneath the Sacred Oak. She wore the crown jewels, but something about them, about her wearing them, made Noire uneasy. He could feel the power on her, dreaded what she intended.
She shifted, suddenly seeming to turn more threatening, to loom where before she had merely stood. "You will be mine, or you will die," Etain said, voice thrumming with power. "Choose."
Noire decided he'd had enough. The time for hiding, for stealth, was past. She wasn't going to hurt or kill anyone else. One ravaged country was more than enough. Stepping into the room, he countered her pronouncement with, "I think that it is time for you to die, Majesty."
Gael whipped around, fair skin draining of color. "N-Noire? Noire!" He bolted across the Sanctuary and threw himself at Noire.
There was so much momentum behind it that Noire barely kept them upright, taken aback as he held his trembling lover. "Gael?"
"I thought you were dead," Gael said, the words barely audible with his head buried into the hollow of Noire' shoulder. "Etain said—and it didn't occur to me she would lie—" He looked up, cheeks wet with tears, and kissed Noire hard. "I can't believe you're alive."
Noire started to speak, but the sound of Etain's chilling laughter stopped him. At the base of the Sacred Oak, the jewels she wore had begun to faintly glow. "Of course he's still alive. He always dies at the end."
"That isn't true," Gael said. "My nightmares—"
"Are just that—nightmares. They hold no truths, save to remind you that it is your fault he always dies. That if you just left him, abandoned him, all would be well. But you never listen!"
Power poured off of her, radiating out, and Noire braced for the blow—and it never came, because he felt Gael take it, cancel it. "Enough, Etain! It does not have to be this way! You are the reason everyone dies, you and you alone. Have all these centuries of failure taught you nothing?"
"I will succeed," Etain snarled, throwing out more power when Freddie and Ivan both tried to move in. "Stay where you are!"
Freddie swore. "Just stop, Etain. It's over. Already this ceremony is different from all the rest. Those jewels will not help you, no matter what power they contain."
"They contain enough," Etain said coldly. "If nothing else, I can still set the tragedy to begin again. Can't I, kitten?"
"What are you talking about?" Gael demanded, moving to stand protectively in front of Noire. "Leave him alone."
Etain laughed, the sound slicing through Noire like broken glass slicing through his skin. "Leave him alone? I think not. Why do you think I always leave him alive though I long to wipe his soul from existence forever? It is he who always starts the Tragedy anew. He who controls it."
Noire froze, fingers digging in where he'd been holding on to Gael. He swallowed. "What do you mean?"
"Yes," Gael said slowly, pulling Noire into his arms. Noire trembled and held fast, but even Gael's touch did not soothe him. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, I see the kitten has not quite remembered that yet," Etain said, smirking as sunlight began to pour down on them in earnest and the Sacred Oak began to bloom into life. The light caught her wings, made them shine and cast iridescent rainbow light across the lush grass of the Sanctuary. She held her arms out, and the door closed, sealed, trapping them all inside.
"Enough with your games!" Freddie snarled. "Kill us if you must, but stop playing games! You've played with people enough, Etain. Stop it!"
Etain gestured, and Freddie jerked as though struck, falling to her knees with a soft, pained cry and clapping her hands to her face as his nose began to drip blood. "I will do what I want. The power of nine is mine and the ceremony is upon us. Chaos may have entered this room on the wings of Zhar Ptitsa, but the jewels ensure it will go in my favor. You will return to me, brother, sister, lovers. I am tired of your defiance, your selfishness. We are the Triad, and ever shall we be. Defy me again and the Tragedy will only continue—unless you have the strength to destroy the soul that keeps the Tragedy replaying. Destroy him and chaos enters the game."
Noire shivered at her the look she cast him, swirling eyes glowing first green, then violet, then back to green. "Me?" he asked, voice shaking. "I'm—" Her eyes flashed violet again, and Noire screamed and pressed hands to his head as images suddenly flooded his mind.
Dead. They were all dead. Tears fell down Noire's cheeks as the realization sank in. There was so much blood. He bit back a sob, a need to scream, when he found Gael tangled together with the Faerie Queen and Pegasus.
How had it happened? Gods were gods; they couldn't die—not like this. He held Gael tightly and sobbed against his chest, desperate to feel a heartbeat that was no longer there.
A soft noise, someone struggling to say his name, brought Noire's head. He stared in surprise at the Faerie Queen—then realized she was alive. Thank the gods, she was alive! Everything would be all right! Reluctantly setting Gael down, Noire went to the Faerie Queen and helped her to sit up. "My Goddess, it will be all right. Let me help you, tell me what I must do."
She lightly touched his cheek, then slid her hand away to grip his shoulder. "Have you … ever heard … of a Curse of Fate?"
Noire frowned, wondering what curses had to do with anything. Was she delirious? He looked her over, but it did not seem like it, and so he only shook his head. It was not his place to question his Goddess, no matter the circumstances. "No, Goddess."
"It's the darkest of curses because it causes a fate loop, and such a thing affects not just those on whom it was cast, but everyone. It … ripples … you see."
"Goddess … "
"The people touched by the curse are forced to live the same life over and over. Same names. Same faces. Same choices. They must repeat their lives until a certain condition is met."
"That sounds horrible," Noire said. "I don't understand, Goddess. Is that what happened here? Did someone try to curse you and the others?"
She laughed, and it was the coldest sound Noire had ever heard. "That is what is about to happen here. Because of you—who stole my Unicorn and caused all this tragedy. It's your fault they're dead. You seduced away my Unicorn, who in turn convinced my Pegasus to fly away."
Noire tried to speak, tried to break free, but her nails were suddenly claws that sunk deep into his shoulder, and the glistening light in her eyes froze him in place. Her breath was sickly-sweet when she spoke, her lips so close to his he could taste the blood on them. "Curse of Fate I cast, Curse of Fate I bind to you. This day, this life, to live over and over again until the Unicorn and the Pegasus once more are mine. With your birth, the tragedy begins. With your death, it ends until it begins again. In threads of fate I bind you, bind all, and—"
She stopped, the last of the curse still on her lips as the last of her life finally slipped away. But she died too late to prevent the curse taking hold of him. Noire could feel it twining, binding. What was he supposed to do?
With your death, it ends …
Noire began to cry and abandoned the body of the Faerie Queen to crawl back to Gael. "What do I do?" he asked, wishing Gael were alive, wishing he'd been able to say goodbye—wishing none of it had happened, wondering how it had all gone so wrong when that morning it had all seemed so right.
"She didn't finish the curse."
Noire jerked his head up at the sound of another voice—an unfamiliar voice that went with the specter of an unfamiliar man. He was beautiful, with gold hair and eyes and skin warmed by the sun, dressed in simple breeches and shirt. Unfamiliar, but Noire realized who it must be by the way he glowed. "Lord Licht?"
"Only what remains of me," Licht said. "A fading light, as it were, Lost alongside my brothers and sisters. The casting of the Curse of Fate called me. She did not finish it, however. The fate loop has been put in place, but there is a chance."
"A chance?" Noire asked softly.
"She did not cast the most crucial part," Licht said. "She did not cast chaos out. If you dare to try, throw yourself into the loop, live your tragedy, time and time again—and try, each time, to break it. If my brothers are so convinced that chaos should dominate, let them prove it. Let them break the loop. End the tragedy, little panther. Let the whole mess begin again. Let us see what chaos can do."
He laughed: derisive, bitter, sad. A moment later, he faded away entirely in a shimmer of golden light.
With your death, it ends until it begins again.
Noire's gaze landed on a black-bladed knife, still caked with blood, lying near the Faerie Queen's body. He picked it up with one trembling hand. Bending over Gael, he gave the stiff, cold lips a last kiss. Drawing back, he lifted the knife and ended the tragedy to start it again.
Gael's scream of rage tore Noire from his memories. "You betrayer! You vile piece of bloody evil!" He pulled away from Noire and stormed toward Etain.
Sickly yellow light filled the room: bright, blinding, and painful. "You will cease to defy me!" Etain commanded.
"You will cease to poison us!" Gael bellowed, and though it clearly hurt him to defy her and blood poured from his nose, he pushed on. "I am the Unicorn, the purity of the land and life! Against all ills I protect it, and I've had enough!"
At his words, new light flared—silvery and shimmering, drowning out the sickly light of the Faerie Queen.
"No!" Etain snarled, throwing out more power, her jewels burning with violet light. "I am the Queen, the Goddess, you cannot—"
"Stand down," Freddie said, her voice resonating, adding her own gold shimmer and making it impossible to see. "I am the Pegasus, the strength of the land and life. Against all abuses I protect it, and I've had enough!"
Etain screamed in rage and threw out still more power, brilliant violet battling against silver and gold. For a moment, she seemed to be winning, as Freddie and Gael were driven to their knees gasping in pain.
But then the Great Oak seemed to shake, and brilliant sunlight poured down in radiant, shining light, and the violet power of the Queen was drowned out, the entire Sanctuary overtaken by burning, blinding light.
Noire hid his eyes turned away, feeling the power on his skin. But then, slowly it began to fade. When he could no longer feel the searing heat of the light, Noire lowered his hand and cautiously opened his eyes.
When the last of the light finally faded back to normal, the Sacred Oak was lush with emerald leaves and the midday sunlight slipping through the branches fell across the three figures at its base: the Pegasus and Unicorn, and the Faerie Queen at their feet with the sharp point of the Unicorn's silvery horn at her throat.
He could feel the power emanating from them, and he forgot to breathe when, for a moment, Gael's silver eyes fell upon him. Gael's voice resonated through his mind. "It's over, Etain."
"I hate you," she said, staring straight at Noire when she said it. "Everything was fine until he saw you."
Noire said nothing, just looked away, unable to bear the loathing in her eyes.
"Nothing was fine," Freddie said, her wings moving restlessly. "We argued constantly. We avoided each other. I would not admit that I was in love with someone else and no longer in love with my siblings. I wish that events had not played out as they did, that our children were not the victims of our falling apart, but it was always going to end, Etain."
"No!" Etain snarled. "I hate you all! You're mine!"
"We were always yours, sister," Gael said. "You just would not see it because it was not what you wanted."
Etain said nothing, but on her back her butterfly wings, larger and more beautiful with her ascension to goddess, slowly turned dark violet. "Licht was right. Choice is a mistake. Everyone would have been happy if they had just accepted fate."
"No, Etain," Freddie said quietly.
"Enough of this. We're going in circles and I've had all I can take of that." Gael pulled away from Etain and lowered his horn all the way to the ground. It began to glow like moonlight, threads of silvery light pouring out to weave and wind through the grass and wrap around the White Beasts.
For a moment, everything was silent. Then all around them came soft groans, the rustle of fabric and grass, as one by one the White Beasts of Verde woke from their poisoned slumber.