Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4) (15 page)

She woke that morning and went through her usual routine of the mansion: checking on the servants, making sure the wards stood untouched, and searching through each of her beads to see where her consorts were. It had brought her great surprise to find Gabriel still in Tintagaelsing. In fact, he had not moved from his single spot. It grieved her all the more, for she realized he was in Anarma Palace.

She kept the information to herself. It was not yet time to ruin all he built, especially when the best was yet to come. With the right amount of time and pressure, even coal turned to diamond, or perhaps it would shatter into dust. Either way, she could play him to her advantage.

She had walked Anarma’s grounds searching for a way in, but every way was barred with incanted stones, and she dared not step on them. If Gabriel had gotten himself captured within, anyone could. Instead, she set her sights eastward.

The newest bead on her necklace, one of black and gold swirls, directed her to her latest victim, and she set the shift. The world became bright white as she slipped under the Dahrry Sea, changing to grays, and finally displaying towns. Shshonan Palace rushed up suddenly, and in a moment her shift was completed, her quarry located.

She cut the shift and found herself in a warm room decorated in dark browns and crimson. It was undoubtedly a man’s room set with various weapons on the walls and several sets of antlers. The bed was unmade, and there were a few clothes strewn about.

A tall plush-backed chair sat before the blazing hearth, and from it she heard the sound of metal on a whetstone take a few strokes. Prince Virgil suddenly jumped from the chair and barred the knife in his hand at her. He was a handsome, tawny-haired man built like a rock. His shirt pulled in the joints as he flexed into a defensive stance.

“
You
,” he hissed, his angry face contorting to wrath. “You stay back.”

She smiled and angled her face in her most alluring manner. The shawl slipped from her shoulders. “I am not here to harm you.”

“I think that very unlikely.”

She tittered and perched on the arm of his chair, making sure the slit in the dress did its job. He paid no mind, taking a step back and leveling his knife at her, scanning the room for easily attainable weapons. “Queen Robyn is in danger,” she said.

The armed hand fell to his side. “What?” he straightened.

“There is an old enemy in her palace that is attacking her. I am prepared to put an end to it if I can get something from you in return.” He flexed his jaw giving a single nod. “During your interrogation with Ryker, you confessed your love for Queen Robyn, but we know she loves another and would not have you. I can make her love you.”

He gave her a skeptical skew of his face.

“In return, I want you to remove her betrothed as a threat.”

“Head Mage Gabriel?” Virgil barked. “You are mad.”

“See, I came across a bit of interesting information during my readings, and I discovered Arconia is in possession of a Castrofax.”

He straightened even further. “You
cannot
suggest what I think you mean.”

She gave him a simpering smile. “I do. See, the Head Mage has got himself in a bit of a tight spot he might not get out of, but if he does, I want him put down.”

“And what do I get in return but the wrath of a woman I love?”

She slipped two fingers into her bosom and slowly pulled forth two rings on a delicate chain, one of black, the other silver. “The will is very hard to manipulate, but it can be suppressed.” She spun the chain around her fingers. “These are the Decadence Rings. You wear the silver one, she wears the black, and any command you give she has no choice but to obey.”

He frowned. “That is…morbid.”

“You want her to love you? You want to take her to your bed? You want her to marry you and make you King? That’s a title you cannot achieve here. All you need do is slip this on her finger.”

“What of her attacker?”

“I will see it put on hold in good faith. I will give you a day to consider my gracious gift.” She stood and turned to go.

“Wait, you put me in a precarious position. You leave me no choice but to agree.”

She turned and smiled, slowly closing the distance between them. “What is there to be upset about? You would have the love of a good woman and a kingdom to rule, all for the sake of a few pieces of metal. You would have to make sure Gabriel does not know it is you who claps him in captivity, of course.”

“I…we have the Glittering Castrofax,” he said quietly.

“The paralyzer,” Maxine whispered. “It is perfect. He would be as good as dead.”
‘Well, almost.’

“And if I am caught while attempting? What do I say?”

“Oh, nothing. He will kill you.”

He looked down for a while before finally extending a hand. “Give them to me.”

“I seal all my deals with a kiss.”

“I do not,” he said levelly, his hand still extended.

“My dear Prince. Do I not entice you?” she whispered, leaning in.

“Arch Mage, you frighten more than entice.”

She tittered in amusement. “Just as good.” She dropped the rings into his palm. “Your soon-to-be bride is saved. Shall I shift you to her?”

He shook his head, his tawny hair flipping over his forehead. “No, she will be here for our Eventide celebration. I will need time to plan. Perhaps I can win her without these.”

“Perhaps, if her lover is paralyzed. Enjoy your planning.” She winked and seized Void, returning to the main land and putting herself in Nolen’s room. She had to wait for him to return from his duties, so she toyed with his blankets, straightening the stitches. Nolen gave a start when he stepped in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Stop poisoning Robyn.”

He put his back to the door and pulled the gauze off his eyes. “Quietly!” he whispered. “What do you mean?”

“Poison Balien instead. We need Robyn a little bit longer.”

“This was
my
deal. I have not worked here a month to give up now.” He grew angry, bunching the gauze in his hand as he pointed. “She is ill, and I only need a few more weeks.”

“You stop tonight, or I will shift you into her room without your disguise.”

The tone she used made him straighten and relax his grip. “You better have good reason.”

“You don’t need to worry about my reasons.”
‘They all are good—for me.’

Chapter 17

Shaun spent twenty-three years with his sight unblemished and could still remember the color of the ocean during a storm, or the fields of yellow blossoms in his home, or the pale delicate tone of skin. Now, he saw things a different way. Air lingered everywhere, and with the ability to feel it brush against objects, it seemed like he had been blind for twenty-three years. He saw so much more with his Air Element, and a bit more than he would like. Air sat between clothes and skin. More than one occasion he had peaked at a naked body, but time had honed his ability and restraint.

However, today was different. Incanted stones chilled him. The idea that someone thought it lawful to cut a Mage off from their Elements was the blackest kind of barbaric he imagined. Elements were everything to a Mage, and being encaged within the Anarma Palace was incredibly inhumane. He spent four days in the palace when they took his sight, and even though he was blind when he emerged, he had his Elements again. He would rather have his Elements than his eyes.

He walked with a long stick pressed against his shoulder, dragging the ground before him. It was difficult to maneuver over the cobblestones, but once inside the palace, the tiles made it easier. He brushed one hand against the wall as he walked, counting doorways and hallways. It had been so long since he set foot in the palace, but he remembered a bit.

Shaun had been forced to put aside the handsome coat Gabriel made for him and donned his old clothes of loose fit. Mikelle had seen him to a clothier, and both were currently stocking his wardrobe. He had to admit he did not miss his old clothes.

He wound his way down a staircase and felt the air grow cold. The vibrations of voices diminished. Posing as a horse groom, he had made it through the livery and stopped several friendly ladies asking for Afton. They directed him downwards. One even walked him halfway with her arm through his.

“Know where you’re goin’, mate?” a man asked at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m lookin’ for Afton.”

“I just saw her pass by, but you can wait down t’ hall.” He paused and quietly counted. “Sevent’ door on t’ right.”

“Cheers,” Shaun nodded and pressed on, feeling the doors with his hands. It was surprisingly easy to get into Anarma Palace since the King was arrogant and did not fear attack. Even after the Jaden Mages broke through, he made no changes to his security.

Shaun stopped outside the seventh door and unhinged the latch. Judging by the lack of echo, the room was small. He brushed his staff across the floor, locating a wooden bed, set of chairs, a table, and a few small stands and chests. He took a seat at the table and waited.

He sat a while, wondering what could be keeping her, and listened to the quiet palace. Servant’s quarters were set beneath ground, so only the hall gave off noise. Other than a few footsteps and closed doors, he heard nothing of interest.

Faint steps finally stopped before his room, and the door opened.

“Afton?” he asked quietly, and the girl at the door gasped.

“Who’s t’ere?”

“Shaun Flintlock.”

She let out a tight breath. “Goodness, Shaun, it’s been so long!” The door closed behind her. “Are you well?”

He held out a hand until she brushed it, and she took it in hers. He embraced her tightly. He and the other four Mages tested were kept in the same cell, and he had grown fond of the girl a few years younger than he. Her head only came to his chest. She had always been slight, but her braided hair was longer.

“I am wondrous well.” He said and heard her lips crack in the corners as she smiled. “And you? What are you doing in t’ palace?”

The other chair scraped as she sat down across from him. “I help people. I’ve been able to use my skills to aid t’ harvested Mages, and sometimes when t’ King’s physicians cannot aid, I am summoned. I’ve been able to do great good here. T’ King even had me educated in t’ ways of pressure and nerves and keeps me up to date wit’ new techniques.”

“Is he good to you, lass?”

She sighed faintly. “He is not terrible. But how do you find yourself here? Funny, someone mentioned your name t’ ot’er day.”

“Not by accident.”

“Go on.”

He took in a deep breath. “King Rayner has taken the leader of my resistance, a man I call mate and leader. I t’ink you know who I’m talkin’ about.”

“Gabriel.”

He brightened. “Aye, t’at’s him. Is he well? Where is he?”

“He’s bein’ harvested.”

“T’en you have met him.”

She scraped at the table with a nail. “Aye.”

“Afton, I need him back. He has brought almost all our people to his castle, a city really, and we need him.”

She was silent for a while. “I’ve heard as much from him.”

“Darlin’, do you remember t’ stories told as a child of Arch Mages and t’ fall of Echoveria or t’ massacre in Luxantine? T’ose Arch Mages are alive, and t’ only one strong enough to stand against t’em is t’at man.” She continued to pick at the wood, so he carried on. “He’s given us rooms, lavish rooms more lovely t’an anyt’in’ you can imagine, and new clothes, and as much food as you can eat, and he’s opened shops for our businesses, and it’s all on t’ other side of t’ mountains in a castle no one can breach.”

“And t’ King has imprisoned him for takin’ t’ Mages wit’out payment or trade.”

“Darlin’, when were we ever a commodity to trade for?”

“Always, Shaun.”

“No, my dear, we let ourselves be. No longer. We are free people over t’ere.”

“I…can’t.”

“You fear t’ King will catch you.”

“Aye.”

“All you need do is unlock t’ Head Mage’s door and tell him where t’ nearest free stone is. He will be gone before you know it.”

“T’is is treason.”

“I’ve done worse for t’ose I believe in.”

“I….”

“His betrothed is sick.”

“Don’t guilt me, Shaun.”

“She needs him freed, so he can fix her ailments. T’at and he needs to step into command before our people resort back to t’eir old docile ways.”

She fell silent again. “I…I t’ink you should go.”

He nodded and stood, scraping the chair. “T’ink about it. You could have your own room, access to t’ Elements, and practice your craft freely.” He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “It’s been good to see you again.”

She put her hand on his arm and squeezed it but said nothing else as he returned to the surface.

Nolen paid no mind to Maxine’s warnings. He waited years to take the Eagle Throne and was not going to be stopped by yet
another
woman.

He had dumped the rest of a vial of bloodroot into the hot water he boiled for Marya, overhearing her speaking of tea for the Queen. She had thanked and praised him loudly for his thoughtfulness before swatting his behind as usual. The poison taster tried the tea before it went up and made no funny faces nor keeled over and perished.

Nolen knew the corridors of Kilkiny Palace well, having spent many a time tucked in the quiet ones with a pretty girl. He slipped through them silently, his Air Element muffling his footsteps and breath. He wound his way up from the kitchens and into the royal’s wing, pausing as often as needed, so passing guards or servants would not see him slip from corridors. He encountered one servant and pretended to be lost, but continued when he was out of earshot.

Balien’s door was not far from a servant corridor, but one guard always stood or paced outside it. Nolen weighed his patterns thoughtfully, then selected a whine-pattern. Twisting a hand over the other, he fueled and shot it down the hall. Rather than an attack pattern, this one made a loud haunting screech, sounding like a person in distress. The guard instantly straightened and turned towards the commotion, stepping away from the door.

Nolen sent another further down the hall as he advanced, muffling his footsteps. He padded the hinges with more muffle-patterns as he slid into the room, sliding the latch closed with both hands.

The Prince was absent, so he removed his gauze and rummaged through the Prince’s things. Finding a shortsword, he slid under the bed and waited. The room smelled of herbs and made his nose wrinkle.

Fatigue and the aroma of lavender sent him into a waking sleep. The door shutting woke him suddenly, rushing adrenaline through his veins. He smiled in anticipation.

Balien’s boots walked across the floor and paused as he set his sword aside. He rummaged through a trunk of clanking jars, put his coat away in a wardrobe, and sat to remove his boots.

Nolen waited anxiously as his cousin went to and from his washroom to the wardrobe and back to the hearth, changing and warming himself as he readied for bed. He took far too long as far as Nolen was concerned, especially when he went back to the chest of clanking jars. It filled the atmosphere with woody smells.

Finally Balien went to the bed and sat down. He pushed back the covers and laid down, settling into the mattress. Nolen could just make out the outline of his body that sagged the bed.

Nolen thrust the shortsword up through the bedding as hard as he could manage, lacing an Air pattern to help. Balien cried out and gasped. Nolen rolled from under the bed and jumped to his feet. His sword had come up through the gut, as he intended.

“Nolen?” Balien gasped. His hands hovered over the wound as he tried to decide if he could push the blade down or apply pressure around it.

Nolen slipped a knife from his boot and drove it into Balien’s gut beneath the sword, once, twice. “You poisoned me,” he said with each stab, three, four. “Did you think I would not find out?”

Balien raised his hands to block the stabbing, cutting himself in the process as he struggled to rise. “Stop,” he gasped. “Stop!”

Five, six. “I have been here for weeks and weeks poisoning your sister. She will be dead by tonight. The Bolts are finally expunged.”

Balien fell back into the bloodied sheets, his gasping waning fainter as red spread from his gut.

“You…” Balien gasped, his pale face contorting in pain. “Deserved it, you bastard.”

Nolen slammed the knife into Balien’s chest and left it there. “Your Mage cannot save you now.”

Balien’s eyes fluttered as he stared at the ceiling, as his breath grew shallow. Nolen smiled in victory, washing his hands and face in a basin. The brown clothes covered the splatter well, and he slipped his gauze on before checking one last time. Balien was silent, the blood still spreading. Grinning as proudly as a cat with a mouse, he left, his duty done.

“Aisling! Oh, stars, AISLING!” someone screamed.

Aisling shot up from her bed and hit the rug half awake as someone pounded on the door and screamed. She could hear commotion in the anteroom. She flung the door open.

A tall man known as Thorne Ravenscroft, a retired Commander turned military advisor, stood at her door. “Her Grace has been poisoned.”

“How?” Aisling asked and grabbed a shawl.

“Tea.”

She broke into the anteroom. “How did
you
know?”

“Time for that later,” he replied with his usual gruff voice and rushed her down the hall.

The Queen’s rooms were ablaze with lantern light and fraught with voices. A Battle Spirit Mage, breathing heavily, bent over the Queen’s bed sinking delve patterns. Robyn laid there, pale and unmoving.

“She’s alive,” he said and pointed to a broken cup of spilled tea on the ground. “Can anyone identify what was used?”

Aisling rushed to Robyn and felt her burning head. She opened the cold teapot to smell what was within. It smelled of apple and cinnamon, with no trace of abnormality.

“Is Mage Cordis in the palace?” the Spirit Mage asked. “I heard water can flush poison out of the pores.”

Aisling was running to the hinge before he could finish. She broke through the Head Mage’s silent quarters and raced down the hall, into the anteroom, and out into the Lodge. Cordis’ room was not far, and she banged on it as soon as she ran into it.

He opened the door and instantly rushed out. She grabbed his arm and raced him back to the hinge announcing, “Robyn’s been poisoned, and they need you to flush the body with water and push it out.”

He gutturally agreed and pounded the halls with her, through the hinge’s wards, and into Kilkiny Palace.

“Oh, Roby,” he breathed as he felt her skin. “She’s fighting it.” Cordis threw back the covers and lifted her from the bed. He marched to the washroom and sat her in the tub, throwing the taps open. Drawing from the energy flowing, he pulled the water, sank it into her skin, and filtered it into her mouth. Her skin slowly plumped as water filled her, and finally he pressed his hands slowly together and pushed the water from her body.

The draining water turned murky red-gray. He drew from the fresh water again and repeated the action twice more, feeling her forehead each time. He finally turned her on her side and forced the contents of her stomach up. Water percolated deep into her stomach and washed everything she had eaten that day back out, circling to the drain.