It has been said that the Lost Lands are a reflection in a broken mirror. Who broke the mirror?
~ From the writings of Lady Rasael l’Samelloch a’Cairnigul
“THEY AREN’T GOING to sunder our auras for consorting with demons?” Zik whispered to me.
“Not yet,” the prince said.
Zik cowered, whether at the menace or just the man, I wasn’t sure.
Lady Dyania set a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The haloria wouldn’t punish you for my crimes. You are innocent.”
I wasn’t so sure about that either, whether she meant Zik’s innocence or the haloria’s mercy. Neither the little herder boy nor the sacred order had survived this long being as trusting as the lady.
And both mercy and innocence would be the first victims of misplaced trust.
But I kept those thoughts to myself.
As the prince guided us through the halls, it took me a few turns to map the main corridors to the servants’ back end, but I realized we were heading to one of the libraries. Since I’d peeked in before, I managed to hold back the eep of alarm, unlike Zik who caught one glimpse of the artwork within and ducked behind Lisel.
If I had to confess in front of the haloria, I would’ve admitted that I made the same noise during my previous night’s exploration.
The demonic paintings and statues were terrifying. How accurate they were, I had no idea, since my only exposure to demons so far—and hopefully ever—had been the nighttime attack, confusing and poorly lit. But the depictions here were…evocative. Sketched and carved into tortured configurations, with limbs spindly or squat, grasping and flailing, every unnerving iteration of insectile, reptilian, or avian metamorphosis mottled with scabrous naked flesh, evoking instinctive horror and disgust, the art—or maybe better to call it nightmare—crowded the room. Large paintings hung between massive shelves of books, and hulking statuary lurked in corners and behind pieces of the heavy furniture.
Almost as unnerving, a portrait of Ormonde was centered between two of the windows. In the painting, he was standing centered between the same windows. His expression was so dire he was probably looking at the same demonic depictions as were before us now.
One of his fancy sleeves hung empty at his side.
“A lovely place for that cup of tea and some whimsical poetry reading,” I said.
Lady Dyania drifted farther in. “These depictions are by King Ormonde himself of the demons he fought.”
In my nighttime roaming, I’d thought the paintings and statuary had been depicted in all shades of black, but some odd bounce of light off the lady’s white silkha gown revealed streaks of the darkest blue, green, and violet—an oil slick of malevolence in the deepest shadows. And when she leaned closer to examine some gory detail, that darkly warped rainbow seemed to bruise the delicate skin under her two-toned eyes.
Lacing my fingers together, I throttled the pointless impulse to grab her away from the evil enshrined. “Maybe if he’d focused on demon slaying rather than his artistic aspirations, we wouldn’t be here.”
She straightened. “It was he who called for the first Devouring.”
Neh, that shut me up.
“These aren’t all the works of Ormonde’s hand,” Prince Aric said from behind us. “Some of it he commissioned from artisans of his time, some done later from his descriptions.”
“After all, he only had one hand,” I muttered, since I couldn’t stay shushed for long, “and there are a lot of demons here.”
“Did he kill them all?” Zik whispered.
“If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have lived to describe them later.” The prince canted his head back, as if taking in the whole dreadful menagerie. “But there are many more, so many.”
I swallowed. “You’ve seen them too.”
He turned to me, his eyes whiter than winter sky. “Not all of them. Not yet.”
A shiver went down my spine at the implication that he would see them all.
Or maybe become one.
For a while, as he’d stood beside us facing the haloria, speaking on our behalf, I’d forgotten what he was. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Immediately challenging that promise to myself, he strode to one wall and slid aside a panel, revealing a cabinet full of bottles. I recognized the distinctive flared glass of Sevaare’s signature speridia liqueur and also the dark, sugar-based spirits marked with Maru Deep’s wave stamp.
I shivered. How many had come from the emptied carriages of past Chosen Ones who no longer needed the distilled courage?
But I took the glass of Sevaaren liqueur he held out to me after serving the lady and the hartier. Though I might be unsettled by the provenance, I wasn’t going to turn down a free drink, not after the morning we’d had.
And the night before. And the night before that…
I gulped down a mouthful for every terrifying encounter since realizing Tivvo was on my heels, and before the prince stepped away, I held out my drained glass in wordless entreaty.
He raised one eyebrow at me, but since he raised the bottle too I didn’t care. Then he glanced at Zik, who flinched under that blank regard. “I have nothing of Osiroon.”
“Mostly we drink yombark tea with yaxen milk.” Zik sidled behind me. Before he disappeared entirely, he added, “But you wouldn’t like it anyways.”
I handed the last sip of my second fill back to him where he pressed against my spine.
The lady cupped her glass, which was still full, in both hands, her head bowed. Saying a blessing, or just exhausted by having to prove herself worthy before she was killed?
But when she raised her head, her eyes blazed, dark and light. “Prince Aric, why did you speak for me?”
His own drink partway to his lips, the prince paused. The corner of his mouth curled in mockery. “Because they might’ve put you to death.”
“And you wanted to reserve that pleasure for yourself?”
I sucked down a harsh breath, the lingering speridia sweetness choking me. Lisel stood frozen while, behind me, Zik coughed long and hard.
At least that sound filled the vicious silence between lady and prince.
He finally took a drink. “Your attendant said you needed my help. Clearly, she was wrong.”
Lady Dyania glanced at me. “Feinan?”
I hunched my shoulders, wishing I’d kept my liquor. “It’s true, my lady. I am often wrong.”
She didn’t laugh. “Why did you seek him out?”
I opened my mouth but… Why did I? Maybe she would’ve preferred to burn at the haloria’s command, her aura still her own whatever they might believe, rather than be sundered in the maw of the demon.
Not that the prince’s hands on me had been rough when he hauled me off his doorstep—unyielding, yes, but not cruel.
“I thought he might save you, my lady,” I confessed. “Since he faced the horde, I figured he’d stand against the haloria.”
The prince’s sardonic laugh was murkier than Ormonde’s paint, though he cut it off with a swallow of some claret-hued draught. “I can’t save anyone,” he rasped. “Not against what’s to come.”
Grabbing a bottle from the cabinet, he swung away from us. “Apologies, my lady, for intruding upon your sacrifice. I shall keep my distance until…” He turned that icy glare on me instead, as if this were my fault. “Don’t come for me again.”
He stalked out of the library.
For a long few heartbeats, we all just stood there. Then Lisel went to the sideboard. “The light remembers,” she muttered as she poured another. “I’d prefer to forget.”
Zik popped out from behind me and went to join her in front of the multihued bottles. “That one, please.”
She handed over the whole thing, much to his wide-eyed astonishment.
Lady Dyania looked down at her drink. “This might’ve come with my sister.”
No emotion colored her voice. Maybe it had been burned out of her even though her skin and aura were intact. For now.
I was frozen in place, but Lisel went to her, reaching out a hand but stopping short when she angled away. “I’m sorry, my lady. This is so hard for you.”
Lady Dyania wrapped both hands around her glass. “How many Chosen have you escorted to their demise?”
We all flinched at that. Because just like the multihued decanters, we might fill ourselves all the way up on numbing ferment, but when the truth broke, it cut just as sharp.
Lisel bowed deep as she backed toward the door. She didn’t take a bottle with her, which seemed unnecessarily honorable to me.
When it was only the three of us left, Zik let out a breath. “Is this when we all run away?”
Lady Dyania gulped at her brandy. “Ask the thief.”
“I haven’t taken anything…lately,” I protested. “But if you want my thoughts—”
“Definitely not.” The lady went to one of the windows. Instead of simple geometric panes, which would’ve been extravagant enough considering the height of the window, the solder was shaped into a mosaic outlining Ormonde and his fingerbone pipes. He was staring up heroically into the sky. But no demonic beast lurked there. He was alone.
Lady Dyania was gazing not at the king but through one of the clear panes to the mountains beyond, all stone and fog and icy peaks. “I can’t,” she murmured. “There’s no way out.”
So despite all her valiant words, she’d been thinking there was still a chance for her? Until now. My throat burned, not from the brandy.
Zik went to stand beside her, not touching.
We might’ve stood there until the Devouring—I certainly wasn’t going to interrupt again, nor was I going to let her chase me away with pointed words—but a tentative throat clearing made us all turn around.
Lor Imbril hovered in the doorway. He’d changed from the white robe into a long tunic and trousers of soft pastels. The fabric was still finest silkha though. He’d also covered his head with a cap of spectrum threads, the rolled brim artfully frayed so the bright colors mixed with the bristling bleached strands of his hair.
He was carrying a breakfast tray arranged almost as artfully. My stomach gurgled and everyone looked at me.
I shrugged.
Lor Imbril bobbed his head, cap fringe wafting. “My lady, may I join you with this repast?”
Lady Dyania shrugged too with a nonchalance that rivaled my best. “Do I need witnesses that I didn’t summon you?”
The lor winced at her acerbity. “If what I fear comes to pass, we may all be offering our auras to the dragon if any hope to live.”
Absolutely not until I’d had breakfast. I took the tray from the lor and headed for a long table ringed with leather chairs. Zik tagged behind me, and we ate while our two betters settled themselves at the other corner.
“Prince Aric spoke true,” Lor Imbril said. “The ruins in Velderrey should not have amassed so many demons.” He frowned down at his hands, fingers laced together on the table in front of him. “And no insult to you, my lady, but just a few drops of even your luminous aura shouldn’t have provoked a swarm, not when there were so many other…sources.”
Other Chosen, he meant, some of whom had been already torn apart.
Brow furrowed, he lifted his worried gaze to her. “We need to know why. I’m hoping you might share what you’ve studied with me until…” He glanced away again.
Until she was sacrificed to the Devouring.
I slouched in my chair, wedging one knee up against the edge of the table. “Have you talked to the prince?” He seemed to have contemplated myriad horrors, from the possible to the inevitable.
I half expected the lor to ignore me, but when Lady Dyania looked at him expectantly, he gave his cap an anxious tug. “You might have noticed Numinlor Kalima and Prince Aric are…ah, not aligned in these matters. I dare not question him myself. But since he attends you, my lady, perhaps you can solicit answers from him on our behalf.” He bit his lip since it was painfully obvious she still hadn’t answered him. “If you are willing, that is.”
Her gaze rested on him. “Did you witness my sister’s death?”
To his credit, he didn’t flinch. “Lady Morowyn, Chosen One of Sevaare nine years ago. No, I’m sorry, I didn’t have the chance to meet her. I was dedicated to the haloria as a child but not consecrated until last year. I read of her, though, in the Feasting chronicles.” He hesitated. “I’m not sure that helps to hear.”
“I don’t know either.” The lady sighed. “And I don’t know that I can answer your questions about the attack in Velderrey. You’ve studied more than I if you were pledged to the haloria.”
“You mentioned Lord Abincor of Sevaare. I’ve never encountered his name, but you said you knew of the candle trick from his writings.”
“Trick?” I let out a snort. “Not a mere trick if it kept us alive.”
The lady slanted a reproving glance my way. “Abincor’s grandfather served King Ormonde. Perhaps they all fought the horde in their own ways, only some of which were recorded by the haloria.”
Imbril nodded. “There are risks in blooding, which is why Numinlor Kalima felt the need for a tribunal. But clearly you are untainted, a testament to your innate nobility as well as the strength of your aura. I’d be honored if you would tell me more about your reading of Lord Abincor.”
She looked away from his admiring gaze. “For the good of the kingdom, of course. But I find myself in need of some reflection after this morning.”
“Oh, yes. I should’ve realized.” He jolted to his feet. “May I escort you back to your rooms?”
He felt less like an escort, more like one of the runted canids the finer folk of Sevaare kept at heel. Inbril tagged along at the lady’s side, nearly tripping over her hem he was so close.
Zik rolled his eyes at me and I rolled mine back from our position behind the two. Of course the young lor was enamored with the beautiful, gracious, and soon to be tragic lady. But maybe he was a safer ally than the Dragon Prince.
No guard waited at our door. Perhaps they’d thought we’d all be executed after the tribunal, or maybe Lisel had called them off. Zik and I followed Lady Dyania, but Imbril paused at the threshold.
“Might I call on you tomorrow morning?” If he’d had a canid’s tail, it would’ve been wagging nervously, half-tucked. If I’d been the lady, I might’ve been tempted to bark just to see him jump.
But she, noble and pure, merely inclined her head. “As you wish.”
He lingered. “I can bring you books or more ambra-wine or—”
I bustled to the door. “The lady wishes to rest now, gentle sir.”
He backed away. “Of course, of course.”
I closed the silverleafed barrier in his face.
Zik snickered. The lady tilted her head a little farther, watching me, but the corner of her mouth curled. “I am tired.”
“Of him,” I shot back. “Pious, ignorant boy with his head buried in ancient writs, sitting above us and judging us when he wasn’t even there.”
She lifted her hand. “The haloria, the king, the High Keep itself might seem isolated from our troubles below, but they are burdened with preserving all the Living Lands.”
How could she be understanding when they would witness her demise? Except…we would all benefit from her death, even me.
While I brooded, Zik followed her into the bedroom and helped unweave the spectrum threads braided over her white gown. When she climbed into bed, he pulled the curtains, closed the panel between the rooms, and returned to watch me tinkering with the door to the hallway.
“What are you doing?”
I set the perpetually dull point of my ancestor’s blade against the latch, then into the resulting gap where the knob fit into the wood, working it with my eyes half closed until I heard the little click. “Making sure they can’t lock us in again.” I tested the knob a few times. It would seem as if the lock had engaged, but a sideways jolt would knock it loose, if necessary. “There.”
“Why won’t she run?”
“Some fool notion of honor and sacrifice.” I jammed the blade back into my boot, wincing when the point, dull as it was, poked my ankle and probably put a new hole in my sock. “Also, because she is a righteous person. Foolish, but righteous.”
“Isn’t there some other way?”
I limped over to the hearth and dropped onto the warm stone with a grunt. “If allegedly wiser ones haven’t found another path, why ask me?”
Zik squatted beside me. “Because you don’t do anything the righteous way.”
Pulled my knees to my chest, I mock-scowled. “Are you flattering me?”
“Since you’ve talked to the prince already, several times, maybe if you asked him respectfully, he won’t eat her.”
“That…seems unlikely.”
His lower lip jutted in disappointment. “You couldn’t be respectful, just for our lady, just for one question?”
“I meant that it seems unlikely a prince would listen to me.”
“But you asked him to come this morning—and he did.”
Neh, true enough. But how much of Prince Aric’s aid had been inspired by a chance to goad the haloria? And what about his need to preserve the pure auras that assuaged the dragon’s hunger lest he lose hold of his own condemned existence?
With a grimace, I pushed to my feet. “You saw how I rigged the lock?”
He watched me stalk to the door. “Where are you going?”
Since I didn’t know, I just shook my head. “I’ll return before sunset.”
Because Zik was right that I might banter with Prince Aric. But come the dark, it was the Dragon Prince who ruled.