Gathering of Shadows (A Darker Shade of Magic) (63 page)

“Christ,” she muttered. “What now?”

“The king will let him go, when his temper cools.”

“And then?”

Rhy shook his head. “I honestly don’t know.”

Lila let her head fall back against the sideboard, then winced.

“It’s my fault, you know,” said the prince, rubbing his bloodied arm. “I asked him to come back.”

Lila snorted. “Well, I told him to leave. I guess we’re both at fault.” She took a deep breath and shoved herself up to her feet. “Come on?”

“Where are we going?”

“We got him in there,” she said. “We’re going to get him out.”

* * *

“This isn’t what I wanted,” said the king.

He took up the keys and unlocked Kell’s cell, then stepped inside and unfastened the iron cuffs. Kell rubbed his wrists but made no other move as the king retreated through the open cell door, pulled up a chair, and sat down.

Maxim looked tired. Wisps of silver had appeared at his temples, and they shone in the lantern light. Kell crossed his arms and waited for the monarch to meet his eye.

“Thank you,” said the king.

“For what?”

“For not leaving.”

“I did.”

“I meant here.”

“I’m in a cell,” said Kell drily.

“We both know it wouldn’t stop you.”

Kell closed his eyes, and heard the king slump back in his chair.

“I will admit I lost my temper,” said Maxim.

“You had me
arrested
,” growled Kell, his voice so low the king might have missed it, had there been any other noises in the cell. Instead the words rang out, echoed.

“You disobeyed me.”

“I did.” Kell forced his eyes open. “I have been loyal to this crown, to this family, my entire life. I have given everything I have, everything I am, and you treat me like …” His voice faltered. “I can’t keep doing this. At least when you treated me like a son, I could pretend. But now …” He shook his head. “The queen treats me as a traitor, and you treat me as a prisoner.”

The king’s look darkened. “You made this prison, Kell. When you tied your life to Rhy’s.”

“Would you have had him die?” snapped Kell. “I saved his life. And before you go blaming me for putting it in danger, we both know he managed that much himself. When will you stop punishing me alone for a family’s worth of fault?”

“You both put this
whole kingdom
in danger with your folly. But at least Rhy is trying to atone. To prove that he deserves my trust. All you’ve done—”

“I brought your son back from the dead!”
shouted Kell, lunging to his feet. “I did it knowing it would bind our lives, knowing what it would mean for me, what I would become, knowing that the resurrection of his life would mean the end of mine, and I did it anyway, because he is my brother and your son and the future King of Ames.” Kell gasped for breath, tears streaming down his face. “What more could I possibly do?”

They were both on their feet now. Maxim caught his elbow and forced him close. Kell tried to pull free, but Maxim was built like a tree, and his massive hand gripped the back of Kell’s neck.

“I can’t
keep atoning
,” Kell whispered into the king’s shoulder. “I gave him my life, but you cannot ask me to stop living.”

“Kell,” he said, voice softening. “I am sorry. But I cannot let you go.” The air lodged in Kell’s chest. The king’s grip loosened, and he tore free. “This is bigger than you and Rhy. Faro and Vesk—”

“I do not care about their superstitions!”

“You should. People
act
on them, Kell. Our enemies scour the world for another
Antari.
Our allies would have you for themselves. The Veskans are convinced you are the key to our kingdom’s power. Sol-in-Ar thinks you are a weapon, an edge to be turned against foes.”

“Little do these people know I’m just a
pawn
,” spat Kell, retreating from the king’s grip.

“This is the card you’ve been dealt,” said Maxim. “It is only a matter of time before someone tries to take you for themselves, and if they cannot have your strength, I believe they will try to snuff it out. The Veskans are right, Kell. If you die, so does Ames.”

“I am not the key to this kingdom!”

“But you are the key to my son. My heir.”

Kell felt ill.

“Please,” begged Maxim. “Hear reason.” But Kell was sick of reason, sick of excuses. “We all must sacrifice.”

“No,” snarled Kell. “I am done making sacrifices. When this is over, and the lords and ladies and royals are all gone, I am
leaving
.”

“I cannot let you go.”

“You said it yourself, Your Majesty. You do not have the power to stop me.” And with that, Kell turned his back on the king, took his coat from the wall, and walked out.

* * *

When Kell was a child, he used to stand in the royal courtyard, with its palace orchard, and close his eyes and listen—to the music, to the wind, to the river—and imagine he was somewhere else.

Somewhere without buildings, without palaces, without people.

He stood there now, among the trees—trees caught in the throes not only of winter, but of spring, summer, fall—and squeezed his eyes shut, and listened, waiting for the old sense of calm to find him. He waited. And waited. And—

“Master Kell.”

He turned to see Hastra waiting a few paces back. Something was off, and at first Kell couldn’t place it; then he realized that Hastra wasn’t wearing the uniform of a royal guard. Kell knew it was because of him. One more failure to add to the stack. “I’m sorry, Hastra. I know how much you wanted this.”

“I wanted an adventure, sir. And I’ve had one. It’s not so bad. Rhy spoke to the king, and he’s agreed to let me train with Master Tieren. Better the sanctuary than a cell.” And then his eyes widened. “Oh, sorry.”

Kell only shook his head. “And Staff?”

Hastra grimaced. “Afraid you’re stuck with him. Staff’s the one who fetched the king when you first left.”

“Thank you, Hastra,” he said. “If you’re half as good a priest as you were a royal guard, the
Aven Essen
better watch his job.”

Hastra broke into a grin, and slipped away. Kell listened to the sounds of his steps retreating across the courtyard, the distant sound of the courtyard doors closing, and turned his attention back to the trees. The wind picked up, and the rustling of the leaves was almost loud enough to drown out the sounds of the palace, to help him forget the world that waited back inside the doors.

I am leaving
, he thought.
You do not have the power to stop me.

“Master Kell.”

“What now?” he asked, turning back. His brow furrowed. “Who are you?”

A woman stood there, between two of the trees, hands clasped behind her back and head bowed as if she’d been waiting for some time, though Kell hadn’t even heard her approach. Her red hair floated like a flame above her crisp white cape, and he wondered why she felt so strange and so familiar at the same time. As if they’d already met, though he was sure they hadn’t.

And then the woman straightened and looked up, revealing her face. Fair skin, and red lips, and a scar beneath two different-colored eyes, one yellow and the other impossibly black.

Both eyes narrowed, even as a smile passed her lips.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

VIII

The air caught in Kell’s chest. An
Antari
’s mark was confined to the edges of one’s eye, but the black of the woman’s iris spilled over like tears down her cheek, inky lines running into her red hair. It was unnatural.

“Who are you?”

“My name,” she said, “is Ojka.”

“
What
are you?” he asked.

She cocked her head. “I am a messenger.” She was speaking Royal, but her accent was thick, and he could see the language rune jutting from her cuff. So she was from White London.

“You’re an
Antari
?” But that wasn’t possible. Kell was the last of those. His head spun. “You can’t be.”

“I am only a messenger.”

Kell shook his head. Something was wrong. She didn’t
feel
like an
Antari.
The magic felt stranger, darker. She took a step forward, and he found himself stepping back. The trees thickened overhead, from spring to summer.

“Who sent you?”

“My king.”

So someone had clawed his way to the White London throne. It was only a matter of time.

She stole another slow step forward, and Kell kept his distance, slipping from summer to fall.

“I’m glad I found you,” she said. “I’ve been looking.”

Kell’s gaze flicked past her, to the palace doors. “Why?”

She caught the look, and smiled. “To deliver a message.”

“If you have a message for the crown,” he said, “deliver it yourself.”

“My message is not for the crown,” she pressed. “It is for
you
.”

A shiver went through him. “What could you have to say to me?”

“My king needs your help. My city needs your help.”

“Why me?” he asked.

Her expression shifted, saddened. “Because it’s all your fault.”

Kell pulled back, as if struck. “What?”

She continued toward him, and he continued back, and soon they stood in winter, a nest of bare branches scratching in the wind. “It
is
your fault. You struck down the Danes. You killed our last true
Antari.
But
you
can help us. Our city needs you. Please come. Meet with my king. Help him rebuild.”

“I cannot simply leave,” he said, the words automatic.

“Can’t you?” asked the messenger, as if she’d heard his thoughts.

I am leaving.

The woman—Ojka—gestured to a nearby tree, and Kell noticed the spiral, already drawn in blood. A door.

His eyes went to the palace.

Stay.

You made this prison.

I cannot let you go.

Run.

You are an
Antari.

No one can stop you.

“Well?” asked Ojka, holding out her hand, the veins black against her skin. “Will you come?”

* * *

“What do you mean he’s been released?” snapped Rhy.

He and Lila were standing in the royal prison, staring past a guard at the now empty cell. He’d been ready to storm the men and free Kell with Lila’s help, but there was no Kell to free.
“When?”

“King’s orders,” said the guard. “Not ten minutes ago. Can’t have gotten far.”

Rhy laughed, a sick, hysterical sound clawing up his throat, and then he was gone again, racing back up the stairs to Kell’s rooms with Lila in tow.

He reached Kell’s room and flung open the doors, but the chamber was empty.

He fought to quell the rising panic as he backed out into the hall.

“What are you two doing?” asked Alucard, coming up the stairs.

“What are
you
doing here?” asked Rhy.

“Looking for you,” said Alucard at the same time Lila asked, “Have you seen Kell?”

Alucard raised a brow. “We make a point of avoiding each other.”

Rhy let out an exasperated sound and surged past the captain, only to collide with a young man on the stairs. He almost didn’t recognize the guard without his armor. “Hastra,” he said, breathlessly. “Have
you
seen Kell?”

Hastra nodded. “Yes, sir. I just left him in the courtyard.”

The prince wilted with relief. He was about to start off down the stairs again when Hastra added, “There’s someone with him now. I think. A woman.”

Lila prickled visibly. “What kind of woman?”

“You think?” asked Alucard.

Hastra looked a little dazed. “I … I can’t remember her face.” A crease formed between his brows. “It’s strange, I’ve always been so good with faces…. There was something about her face though … something off …”

“Hastra,” said Alucard, his voice tense. “Open your hands.”

Rhy hadn’t even noticed that the young guard’s hands were clenched at his sides.

Hastra looked down, as if he hadn’t noticed, either, then held them out and uncurled his fingers. One hand was empty. The other clutched a small disk, spellwork scrawled across its surface.

“Huh,” said the guard. “That’s odd.”