Broken Stone (29 page)

Emariya eyed the bench tucked under the rough-hewn table eagerly and agreed. She took up a seat and began to leaf through the pile of correspondence stacked on the cluttered surface. On top, a list of needed supplies stretched so long she couldn’t help wondering if they’d ever be able to find it all.

Footsteps came from the doorway. “That was fast,” Emariya said.

“Didn’t feel that way to me.”

Her hand froze in midair. In an act of sheer willpower, she managed to keep her eyes down-turned.

She acted as if “
3 sacks linen - for bandages”
was the most interesting thing she’d ever read.

“Don’t be angry,” Garith whispered.

Letting out a deliberate sigh, she lifted her chin and faced him. Anyone else would think his pose was the epitome of relaxation. Someone just stopping by to say hello. At that very moment he reached up and rubbed a hand anxiously over the back of his neck, tilting his head down as he did so. His mop of wheat-colored hair fell over his forehead. Then he lifted his face and his eyes begged for forgiveness as he flashed her a familiar smile.

“Garith!” she cried, darting across the tent.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear as he wrapped strong arms around her, hugging her close.

Emariya pulled away. “Sorry?” she shrieked. She pounded a furious fist against his chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d raged at him, but the last time he hadn’t felt nearly so solid. “You left me!” she accused, not pausing her assault.

He caught her fists in his own. “Let me explain. Please?”

“I don’t want your excuses! You left and I had to face The Three by myself and Torian died and I nearly killed everyone with my magic and my mother pulled me into my head again and—”

“Torian’s dead?” Garith’s skin had become an ashen shade of gray.

“I was alive and well, the last time I checked.” Torian ducked into the tent behind Garith, then paused, eying Emariya’s attempts to free her fists.

Garith dropped her hands and backed up a step, but kept his palms outward. “Riya, stop. It sounds like you’ve been through utter hell, and I
am
sorry.” His voice dropped low. “I felt like I’d failed you, and I needed some time to clear my head. I had an idea and it just seemed like a good time to get away.”

“Welcome back,” Torian said, moving past Emariya into the tent.

“Thank you, Your Highness. Hopefully my trip wasn’t for naught. I visited Roland—the stable master at Calkirk, Rink’s father.” Garith slipped a hand beneath his cloak and when he pulled it out again a pin rested on his open palm. The gold gleamed brightly, but the jagged design of a circle split in two made Emariya shudder. She recoiled backwards as if it might grow teeth, jump up and bite her.

“That’s not a very nice present.” Emariya pouted. She hadn’t wanted to think of the Separatists ever again.

“It’s more than what you think. I got to thinking that the Separatists regularly confronted Cornerstones, some of whom must have been very powerful. If I were regularly attacking opponents who had magic and I didn’t, I’d want some way to protect myself.

“The only person I could think of who would know was Roland. And I was right. The pins they all wear aren’t just to identify them as one of the group. Long ago magic was apparently more common than it is now, and metal items and jewelry were often imbued with magical properties, including the ability to ward against other magics. We thought these pins were gold, but they are actually made of something Roland called ‘barrier iron.’

“Somehow they acquired a supply of it, and the pins were created. Not only do they help veil the wearer against the gifts of sight—such as the abilities of the Roths and the Ahlens—they guard against earthen magic of the Warrens, too. Or at least so Roland says.”

“So he says?” Torian asked.

“Well,” Garith said. “As far as he knows, they’ve never engaged a Warren quite as powerful as Riya or Reeve.”

Emariya took the pin from Garith’s palm, running her fingers over the smooth curve. “So we really don’t know if it works.” For a moment, her hopes had begun to lift, thinking she’d have an advantage her brother couldn’t foresee. She was still contemplating the possibilities when Blaine stepped into the tent.

“Corlin should be here shortly. Oh, Garith. Welcome back.” He lifted a curious brow, but didn’t ask where Garith had been.

“Good,” Torian said. “Jimm was finishing up something, and will be here soon as well. Then we can get started.”

Jessa silently slipped into the tent and greeted Garith with a mixture of relief and reprimand.

Emariya smiled. “Blaine?” Her cousin glanced her direction. “Catch.”

In one smooth motion, Emariya tossed the pin across the tent. Blaine’s eyes widened, but he managed to pluck the gleaming circle expertly from the air. With the flick of her wrist, Emariya sent flame dancing from the candle on the table toward her cousin’s cloak.

He yelped, but while the fabric sizzled, it didn’t catch ablaze. Blaine cocked his head to the side.

“Riya!” Jessa admonished, rushing to Blaine’s side.

Emariya shrugged as Garith and Torian laughed. The prince quickly explained about the properties of the pin.

“I guess we know it works.” Emariya winked at Blaine.

Jessa frowned. “Still, you didn’t have to test it on him! If anyone is going to make him burn, it had better be me.” As soon as the words slipped out, she blushed.

Blaine’s face stilled and the entire tent quieted. When he glanced down at Jessa, his Roth blue eyes had gone softer than Emariya could remember them ever being. “Don’t worry,” Blaine said, deadpan.

“You do.”

Emariya rolled her eyes. “How many pins do we have?”

Garith’s smile faltered. “Just one, unfortunately. Roland got rid of his. This is the one that was in the pocket of the boy who broke into our camp back in Sheas.”

Jessa shuddered and turned a putrid shade of green.

Torian took the pin from Blaine and pressed it into Emariya’s palm. “Emariya will wear it then,”

her prince said. “She’s the one who will have the best chance of defeating Reeve. It will be the rest of our job to keep everyone else away from her.”

Emariya leaned against her husband, burying her hands under his cloak. He gave her a tight smile, then wrapped his arms around her. As much as she wanted to argue with him, she knew he wouldn’t listen. She swallowed and turned her head to face the assembled group.

Corlin and Jimm entered, followed by Alara and Kahl. The small tent suddenly seemed crowded, as her audience pressed around the walls, waiting for further instructions.

Emariya cleared her throat, surveying each person gathered.

Jessa, with her simple optimism and unwavering morality. Would she be able to handle facing the fight that waited inside the estate walls? Could she kill again, if she had to? Her handmaiden smiled encouragingly while she clutched Blaine’s hand.

Blaine, her rival, her cousin, and somehow also now her friend. Emariya didn’t know when it had happened exactly, but she’d come to count on him.

Her grandparents had tears in their eyes. They knew, didn’t they? There was a very good chance that not all of them who entered the fortress would come out.

Garith. Her best friend. Yes, he’d left her but he’d done it for her, and he’d come back. He’d chased her across three kingdoms, even though she’d never asked. Could she now ask him to risk his life one more time? Emariya smiled, realizing she didn’t have to ask. He’d follow, no matter what.

Their stories would be forever intertwined and there would be no keeping him away.

Torian gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“I’m not sure I can ever say thank you for how much each of you have believed in me. I will leave the giving of assignments to our commanders; they are far more knowledgeable about this type of thing than I am. But, just know that I am eternally grateful.” Her voice cracked as the emotion tickled the back of her throat. “I hope that we are able to celebrate a new, brighter future when this day is done.”

She stepped back and only half listened as Torian and Garith worked with Jimm and Corlin to decide who would go where. In mere minutes the partners had been decided and they all exited the tents together. Jimm and Corlin went in opposite directions to begin moving their respective soldiers into position along the gate and at the tunnel.

“Don’t look so worried, Riya. It’s almost over,” Garith said.

Reeve Warren sat alone at the head of the long, formal table. The blood-red cushions that padded the chair couldn’t soften the reality of sitting alone. His eyes wandered to the empty seat at his right hand.

Terin’s seat.

She hadn’t come to their daily meal—the one that at one point she insisted he make time for each day—in several days now. His bed lay unwrinkled and unoccupied. She no longer came to it and, unable to bear her absence, neither did he.

Despite her changed demeanor, she’d kept her promise. From what each of the guards he’d questioned reported, she’d made no move to rise against him nor had she attempted to flee the estate.

But as much as she’d kept her word, she’d also kept her solitude, shutting herself in one of the abandoned wings of the estate.

When at first she hadn’t come down to their routine meal, she’d sent one of her handmaidens to beg her leave, saying she was unwell with feminine woes. At first, he’d believed her. Then, when each day she had a new excuse, he began to feel the difference in himself as well.

The pull between them had vanished, leaving only a well of empty loneliness. He still took his afternoon meal in the formal hall each day. Grand arches rose to the ceiling, boasting of better days and once joyous occasions. He’d thought they might wed in this room, decked in splendid gold and iron trim that hid much of the raw stone. But now the large room was full with the sorrow of her absence. Where before her raven hair offset the ruby-colored drapes and tapestries, they now hung lifeless, as if dipped in the bloody tears of his ailing heart.

So be it.

At one time, he might have lamented her abandonment to his mother. He still might have, except Mother no longer came to his mind when he called. When he tried to project himself into her spirit world, he found only a dark and uninhabited void. She too had left him.

Fickle women. I should have expected this
.

The pounding began on the gate, thrumming through the walls of the old fortress and warning of the impending confrontation. No matter. Let them come. With his love gone, and his mother unreachable once more, he couldn’t find a reason to care.

He’d fight his sister when she came, but not out of a desire to win. No, he’d fight because to do otherwise would be shameful. He’d been akin to a god. He’d wait for her to make her way to him, and then the two of them would go out together, to live on as the legends his mother had borne them to be.

Let whoever survived sort the world out for themselves. They could burn it down and start again, if they liked. It was no longer his concern.

The one thing he knew was the only thing that mattered: without Terin, the sun would never shine for him again.

Dark storm clouds concealed the sun, leaving the early afternoon cloaked in shadows that matched Emariya’s mood. Trepidation blanketed every corner of her consciousness, but rays of hope stubbornly forced their way through. Emariya cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted toward the gate. “This will be your only warning. Open the gates, or we will bring them down.” The wind ripped her words away from her mouth, just as it waved her black and silver gown around her legs. She’d considered wearing a pure, innocent white but decided against it. She didn’t want there to be any misconception that she came in peace.

When no answer came from the gate or anyone manning it, Emariya closed her eyes in resigned surrender.

“You gave them a chance, do what you must.” Torian’s voice came from beside her. They’d lined up as soon as orders had circulated. She and Torian, Jessa, Blaine, Garith, and her grandparents stood at the front, with all the rebels of the Uplands behind them. Several of them had chosen not to rush the estate, but many of them were eager for a chance to bring about the change they so desperately craved.

The Royal Forces of Thalmas would charge in before the citizens, but it would be a joint effort.

The citizens had been assigned the task of subduing the commoners inside the estate walls, while the Royal Forces would concentrate their efforts on fighting back the Damphries soldiers and guards.

Another small group of Royal Forces also still guarded the tunnel exit, guaranteeing that Reeve would not have a chance to flee.

Emariya drew in a deep breath, centered the energy inside herself and then opened her eyes. Once she had the energy in a concentrated ball, able to be molded like a block of clay, she sent it downward and out her feet, traveling through the dirt into the wall before her.

At first it seemed as if nothing was happening, but then the gate began to rattle and dust and dirt began to sweat and shiver away from the quaking wall. The ropes of the gate whined and Torian put a hand on Emariya’s arm. “The gates! They’re opening.”

Emariya jerked her gift back, and the sudden return of the energy to its confines sent tremors ricocheting through her. She took a moment to steady herself, then focused on the gates. Sure enough, they were yawning open like the mouth of an immense dragon saying, ‘come in, don’t mind the fire.’

Terin stole through a side passageway of Damphries. A few hallways over, she could hear the clanking armor of the guards as they moved into position around the fortress. Ahead of her, a little-used door led to a now unoccupied maid’s chamber, which connected to a wash room and so on and so on. By sticking to the underbelly of the estate, the lair of the lowest class of residents, she could move about without ever encountering a guard. Or Reeve.

Councilor Damphries had been the most pretentious man she’d ever met, which had cultivated a chasm of mistrust between the staff and the nobles. Even the citizens who’d taken refuge within the estate walls often treated the staff inside the castle like they were different—and they weren’t. The castle staff mostly consisted of families who’d had to flee their homes. They’d just done it sooner than the citizens who worked the grounds outside the estate.