Gathering of Shadows (A Darker Shade of Magic) (62 page)

And then, mercifully, the tension in the royal booth began to ease. The mood lightened, like the air after a storm, and Kell felt dizzy with relief. Attendants brought tea. Prince Col made a joke, and Maxim laughed. The queen complimented Lord Sol-in-Ar’s magician.

By the end of the hour, Rul was out of plates, sitting on the stone floor looking dazed while Alucard and Tos-an-Mir danced around each other, crashing together like swords before breaking apart. And then, slowly but surely, Alucard Emery began to lose. Kell felt his spirits lift, though Rhy knocked his shoulder when he went so far as to cheer for one of Tos-an-Mir’s hits. He rallied, closing the gap, and they fell into a stalemate.

At last, she got behind Alucard and under his guard. She moved to shatter the last of the his plates with a knifelike gust, but at the last instant, he twisted out of its path and a lash of water split her final piece of armor.

And just like that, it was over.

Alucard Emery had officially won.

Kell let out a groan as the stadium erupted into noise, raining down cheers and roses and silver pennants, and filling the air with a name.

“Alucard! Alucard! Alucard!”

And even though Rhy had the good taste not to whoop and shout like the rest of the crowd, Kell could see him beaming proudly as he stepped forward to formally announce the victor of the
Essen Tasch.

Sanct
, thought Kell. Emery was about to become even more insufferable.

Lord Sol-in-Ar addressed Tos-an-Mir and the crowd in Faroan, Princess Cora praised Rul and the gathered Veskans, and at last Prince Rhy dismissed the stands with promise of parties and closing ceremonies, the rest of the day a cause for celebration.

The king smiled and even clapped Kell on the back as the Maresh family made their way back to the palace, a train of cheerful subjects in their wake.

And as they climbed the palace stairs, and stepped inside the flower-strewn hall, it seemed as if everything would be all right.

And then Kell saw the queen hold Rhy back on the landing with a word, a question, and by the time he turned back to see why they’d stopped, the doors were swinging shut, blocking out the morning light and the sounds of the city. In the dim foyer, Kell caught the glint of metal as the king shed the illusion of kindness and said only two words, not even directed at Kell, but at the six guards that were circling loosely.

Two words that made Kell wish he’d never come back.

“Arrest him.”

VII

Lila lifted her glass with the rest of the
Night Spire
as they toasted their captain.

The crew was gathered around on table and chair in the Wandering Road, and it was like they were back on the ship after a good night’s take, laughing and drinking and telling stories before she and the captain retreated below.

Alucard Emery was bruised, bloody, and undoubtedly exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from celebrating. He was standing atop a table in the center of the room, buying drinks and giving speeches about birds and dragons, Lila didn’t really know, she’d stopped listening. Her head was still pounding and her bones ached with every motion. Tieren had given her something to soothe the pain and restore her strength, insisting as well on a diet of solid food and real sleep. Both of which seemed about as likely as getting out of London without a price on her head. She’d taken the tonic, made vague promises about the rest.

“Balance,” he’d instructed, pressing the vial into her hand, “is not solely about magic. Some of it is simply common sense. The body is a vessel. If it’s not handled carefully, it will crack. Everyone has limits. Even you, Miss Bard.”

He’d turned to go, but she’d called him back.

“Tieren.” She had to know, before she gave up another life. “You told me once that you saw something in me. Power.”

“I did.”

“What is it?” she’d asked. “What am I?”

Tieren had given her one of his long, level looks. “You are asking whether or not I believe you to be an
Antari
.”

Lila had nodded.

“That I cannot answer,” said Tieren simply. “I do not know.”

“I thought you were supposed to be wise,” she’d grumbled.

“Whoever told you that?” But then his face turned sober. “You are
something
, Delilah Bard. As to what, I cannot say. But one way or another, I imagine we’ll find out.”

Somewhere a glass shattered, and Lila’s attention snapped back to the tavern, and Alucard up on the table.

“Hey, Captain,” called out Vasry. “I have a question! What are you planning to do with all those winnings?”

“Buy a better crew,” said Alucard, the sapphire winking again at his brow.

Tav swung an arm around Lila’s shoulders. “Where you been, Bard? Hardly seen you!”

“I get enough of you all aboard the
Spire
,” she grumbled.

“You talk tough,” said Vasry, eyes glassy from drink, “but you’re soft at heart.”

“Soft as a knife.”

“You know, a knife’s only a bad thing if you’re on the wrong side.”

“Good thing you’re one of us.”

Her chest tightened. They didn’t know—about her ruse, about the real Stasion Elsor somewhere on the sea, about the fact that Alucard had cut her from the crew.

Her eyes found Lenos across the table, and there was something in that look of his that made her think
he
knew. Knew she was leaving, at least, even if he didn’t know the why of it.

Lila got to her feet. “I need some air,” she muttered, but when she made it out the door, she didn’t stop.

She was halfway to the palace before she realized it, and then she kept going until she climbed the steps and found Master Tieren on the landing and saw in his eyes that something was wrong.

“What is it?” she asked.

The
Aven Essen
swallowed. “It’s Kell.”

* * *

The royal prison was reserved for special cases.

At the moment, Kell appeared to be the only one. His cell was bare except for a cot and a pair of iron rings set into the wall. The rings were clearly meant to hold chains, but at present there were none, only the cuffs clamped around his wrists, the bindings cold and cut with magic. Every piece of metal in the cell was incised with marks, enchanted to dull and dampen power. He should know. He’d helped to spell them.

Kell sat on the cot, ankles crossed, his head tipped back against the cold stone wall. The prison was housed in the base of the palace, one pillar over from the Basin where he trained, but unlike the Basin the walls were reinforced, and none of the river’s red light seeped through. Only the winter chill.

Kell shivered slightly; they’d taken his coat, along with the traveling tokens around his neck, hung them on the wall beyond the cell. He hadn’t fought the men off. He’d been too stunned to move as the guards closed in, slamming the iron cuffs around his wrists. By the time he believed what was happening, it was too late.

In the hours since, Kell’s anger had cooled and hardened.

Two guards stood outside the cell, watching him with a mixture of fear and wonder, as if he might perform a trick. He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Who would it be?

Tieren had already come. Kell had only one question for the old man.

“Did you know about Lila?”

The look in Tieren’s eyes told him all he needed to know.

The footsteps drew closer, and Kell looked up, expecting the king, or Rhy. But instead Kell beheld the queen.

Emira stood on the opposite side of the bars, resplendent in her royal red and gold, her face a careful mask. If she was glad to see him caged—or saddened at all by the sight—it didn’t show. He tried to meet her eyes, but they escaped to the wall behind his head.

“Do you have everything you need?” she asked, as if he were a guest in a plush palace wing, and not a cell. A laugh tried to claw its way up Kell’s throat. He swallowed it and said nothing.

Emira brought a hand to the bars, as if testing their strength. “It shouldn’t have come to this.”

She turned to go, but Kell sat forward. “Do you hate me, my queen?”

“Kell,” she said softly, “how could I?” Something in him softened. Her dark eyes finally found his. And then she said, “You gave me back my son.”

The words cut. There had been a time when she insisted that she had two sons, not one. If he had not lost all her love, he had lost that.

“Did you ever know her?” asked Kell.

“Who?” asked the queen.

“My real mother.”

Emira’s features tightened. Her lips pursed.

A door crashed open overhead.

“Where is he?” Rhy came storming down the stairs.

Kell could hear him coming a mile away, could feel the prince’s anger twining through his own, molten hot where Kell’s ran cold. Rhy reached the prison, took one look at Kell behind the cell bars, and blanched.

“Let him out
now
,” demanded the prince.

The guards bowed their heads, but held their places, gauntleted hands at their sides.

“Rhy,” started Emira, reaching for her son’s arm.

“Get off me, Mother,” he snapped, turning his back on her. “If you won’t let him out,” he told the guards, “then I order you to let me in.”

Still they did not move.

“What are the charges?” he snarled.

“Treason,” said Emira, at the same time the guard answered, “Disobeying the king.”

“I disobey the king all the time,” said Rhy. “You haven’t arrested
me
.” He offered up his hands. Kell watched them bicker, focusing on the cold, letting it spread like frost, overtaking everything. He was so tired of caring.

“This will not stand.” Rhy gripped the bar, exposing his gold sleeve. Blood had soaked through, dotting the fabric where he’d carved the word.

Emira paled. “Rhy, you’re hurt!” Her eyes immediately went to Kell, so full of accusation. “What—”

More boots sounded on the stairs and a moment later the king was there, his frame filling the doorway. Maxim took one look at his wife and son, and said, “Get out.”

“How could you do this?” demanded Rhy.

“He broke the law,” said the queen.

“He is my brother.”

“He is not—”

“Go,” bellowed the king. The queen fell silent, and Rhy’s hands slumped back to his side as he looked to Kell, who nodded grimly. “Go.”

Rhy shook his head and went, Emira a silent specter in his wake, and Kell was left to face the king alone.

* * *

The prince stormed past Lila in a blur.

A few seconds later she heard a crash, and she turned to see Rhy gripping the nearest sideboard, a shattered vase at his feet. Water wicked into the rug and spread across the stone floor, flowers strewn amid the broken glass. Rhy’s crown was gone, his curls wild. His shoulders were shaking with anger, and his knuckles were white on the shelf.

Lila knew she should probably go, slip away before Rhy noticed her, but her feet were already carrying her toward the prince. She stepped over the mess of petals, the shards of glass.

“What did that vase ever do to you?” she asked, tipping her shoulder against the wall.

Rhy looked up, his amber eyes rimmed with red.

“An innocent bystander, I’m afraid,” he said. The words came out hollow, humorless.

He ducked his head and let out a shuddering sigh. Lila hesitated. She knew she should probably bow, kiss his hand, or swoon—at the very least explain what she was doing there, in the private palace halls, as close to the prison as anyone would let her—but instead she flicked her fingers, producing a small blade. “Who do I need to kill?”

Rhy let out a stifled sound, half sob, half laugh, and sank onto his haunches, still gripping the wooden edge of the table. Lila crouched beside him, then shifted gingerly and put her back to the sideboard. She stretched out her legs, scuffed black boots sinking into the plush carpet.

A moment later, Rhy slumped onto the carpet beside her. Dried blood stained his sleeve, but he folded his forearm against his stomach. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it, so she didn’t ask. There were more pressing questions.

“Did your father really arrest Kell?”

Rhy swallowed. Nodded.