Of Darkness and Crowns (13 page)

I’m taken aback, feeling like her statement is an accusation. I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.

“The Reckoning,” she says. “We believed that once the ritual was foiled by not obtaining the relic shard that she wouldn’t be able to manifest. But we were wrong.”

I want to tell her that I’d said as much at the first briefing. This isn’t anything new. “She can still become corporeal if she gets to it now, I know.” Isn’t that why we’ve been fighting this war? Hundreds of Perinyians and protectors losing their lives?

“Yes, but it’s not that simple.” She rolls her shoulders. “Look, Protector. What Prince Caben did for you down there was admirable. But he’s also made matters far worse. Had the moon goddess possessed you…well. This would all be behind us.”

“What?” It comes out harsher than I intend, but I’m not concerned with filtering myself any longer.

She ignores my outburst. “You were gifted something special. The divine blood runs in your veins—the goddesses designed you for the sheer purpose of stopping Bale if she were to ever try to rise. It was fated that you’d be the chosen vessel during the Reckoning.”

Dread creeps through me, quick and cold. Not just because they all believe this goddess fate nonsense, but because she knows about my father. “What happened to me was no gift, Councilor.” Images of my father’s crazed eyes as he stuck me with the syringe of mercury flash before my vision. If that is the goddesses’ idea of graciousness, then I fear the day we see their wrath.

“You’ve always been reluctant to accept the goddesses’ gift, Kaliope, and I can appreciate as much,” the empress says, turning her full attention to me. “Only, realize that your father may have had little choice in his role. We don’t always understand the
way
, but we must trust the
will
. I continue to pray for your peace and acceptance, but we no longer have time for you to question your place.”

I don’t like where this is going. At all. And I’m about to say as much when Councilor Herna pulls a parchment from her bag. “We were able to escape with a number of documents during the Cavan invasion. This was found among the ones we kept on Bale.” She hands it to me, and I accept it with hesitance. “Bax was able to translate the old language. Since I know of your fondness for him, I was going to allow Bax to relay this to you…but we don’t have that option now.”

Looking over the weathered parchment, I recognize Bax’s handwriting in the overlaid margins. What I read stills my heart. I can almost hear the clamp in my chest grind to a halt. “This can’t be right,” I say, even though I know the one person who could correctly translate it has done so.

“It is,” Empress Iana says. “But it’s fortunate we discovered it before…”

“Before?” I scan the document, then look up at her and Herna. “Prince Caben is doomed. Bale will succeed regardless of our efforts. We can’t save him and stop Bale in time. Not in the next
three
days.”

Since Bale possessed Caben, I’ve kept a chart marking the lunar cycle. A calendar that I can pull up at any moment via my transmitter. In a way, this makes me feel as if I have some level of control—that I’m able to head off any foreseeable change…but I’m only grasping.

Lowering the document to my lap, I hang my head, my gaze unfocused. A human was never meant to survive as Bale’s vessel for as long as Caben has. It was a temporary arrangement, if you can call it such. But it seems the goddesses always have some terrible loophole. If the vessel proves strong enough, then Bale can manifest through them on a new moon. When stars align, and the moon moves into its new lunar phase. If Caben survives till then, the dark goddess will no longer need the relic.

A thought hits me like a punch to the stomach. “How long have you known Prince Caben’s death was unavoidable?” Anger rips through me. “Were the plans to try to save him ever in effect?”

A shadow passes over Empress Iana’s face. “We had every intention to help Prince Caben, Kaliope. You must understand this.”

One word stands out:
had
.

My hand clenches into a fist around the parchment. “But you no longer have that intention.”

“No,” Councilor Herna says. “We no longer have that
option
. Stopping Bale is our only goal at this point.”

My eyebrows raise. “I don’t see how that’s possible, Councilor. If your plan is to kill Prince Caben and force Bale into another vessel, that only prolongs the inevitable, doesn’t it?”

“Not if that vessel is you.”

This low but direct statement comes from Empress Iana. My head turns her way, my stomach bottoming out.

And then all the pieces fall into place. I see their plan clearly. Lure Caben to us, kill him, and force Bale into
me
. I shake my head, suppressing the desire to laugh, it’s so absurd. I don’t even know how to defeat the moon goddess once all this happens.

But what’s more, I won’t be party to ending Caben’s life.

“I won’t do it. I can’t. Any act taken where Prince Caben dies, I cannot condone.” I shake my head again, hard. “There has to be another way.”

“Unfortunately, there’s not.” Councilor Herna retrieves the document from my hand. “And I’m afraid that you’re not being given a choice.” She beckons Whip with her hand. “We had hoped that, after you knew our dilemma, you’d step up to this challenge. You see, we all have the utmost faith in you, Protector.”

A clatter sounds from behind me, and I turn to see the rest of the Nactue filing into the room. Lilly’s face is pinched, and the rest wear similar, worried expressions. My heart rate quickens. I can almost hear them mentally telling me to
run
.

Councilor Herna stands. “By order of Your Empress, apprehend Kaliope Rainym.”

♦
15
♦

Caben

N
OW THAT THE OTHERWORLDERS
have vacated the den, my blinding headache is less a mallet to the head and more a gentle tack hammer.

Upon reflection, drinking first thing this morning only to have a hangover by evening wasn’t the wisest choice. Along with Bale’s endless chatter, it’s simply too much. I rub my temples, trying to discern the dark goddess’s rambling.

“Have another drink,” Bax says. I can hear the laughter in his voice. I’m tempted to punch the self-satisfied look off his face. That is, if I didn’t think it would cost me in the end.

“Enjoy my misery, mutant. It’s the last time you will.”

Rattling causes my eyes to pinch closed as Bax climbs to his feet, his chains making an ungoddessly ruckus. “Listen to me, Prince.” And now I hear the serious undertone. “
Have
another drink.”

When I peek one eye open, I glimpse his wide eyes, his black pupils dilated, unblinking. For whatever reason, I reach for the bottle on my desk and pour a slosh of amber liquor into my tumbler.

Maybe it will help soothe the aching if I don’t overdrink this time. But when I take a sip, it’s like I never stopped drinking in the first place. I feel the warm buzz shoot through my system.

“Satisfied?” I ask him.

“Yes.” He steps closer, yanked back by his restraints, but close enough to whisper, “Do you hear her?”

I feel my forehead crinkle. I don’t answer right away, because suddenly, I understand. Since my second mug of ale this morning, I haven’t heard Bale. I thought she was disappointed in my display with the Otherworlders, and decided to give me the silent treatment. I remember my mother choosing this tactic when my father infuriated her.

But that’s not at all what’s happening. And Bax knows this.

“Hurry, Prince,” he says, motioning me over. “It’s a fine line between well-oiled and drunk. I need you alert. Just sip to maintain it, and the moon goddess cannot hear us. But”—he shakes his head sternly; his dreads swing—“you cannot think on what we discuss later. It will be difficult, but keep your thoughts on anything else.”

Through the fog of my alcohol-riddled brain, Bax actually makes sense. “Why don’t I just continue to drink?” It seems to be the perfect solution. I take another swallow.

A low rumble sounds from his throat. “This is no game. Keep your wits.” I’m about to tell the annoying mutant just where he can stuff his head, when he stops me cold. “Kaliope is in danger.”

A persistent feeling pushes through the haze, and I want nothing more than to help her. I shake my head. No. She’s the enemy. She will keep me from my power. As the buzz hums in my head, I realize that I at least have to hear Bax out.

“Talk. Quickly,” I order.

“It is by choice that I’m here. I allowed Councilor Teagan to bring me.” He scowls, as if angered that I readily believed he could’ve been abducted so easily.

I shrug.

He rolls his beady eyes. “Bale is keeping you sidetracked with getting the relic and shard. She may not need it if you stay alive till the new moon. She’ll come forth, through you, and you will be no more.”

A loud, clipped laugh escapes me, and I lift my tumbler in a toast. “Well done, Bax. I’m effectively unnerved.” Only what he says about staying alive…it resonates. Can a human contain a deity
forever
?

His growl comes louder. “Listen to me, you bleeding imbecile. The moon goddess only wants Kal
here
so she can distract you. Bale will fear Kal far less once she’s a walking, living deity in this realm. She knows your obsession, and she’s using it to fuel you on, keep your will strong, so that you survive until the new lunar phase.”

“And so…what?” I play along for the sake of the argument. “Say I believe you,” I say, reclining in my chair and nearly losing my balance. I sit forward and stare at him with one eye open, so that there’s only one of his ugly faces. “How does this effect Kal? And really, what other choice do I have?” I shrug again. “I can’t force the goddess out.” Can I?

Bax sighs, clearly annoyed with my drunkenness. “Slack off.” He paces the small area he’s confined to. “I was to impart this very message to Kal, convince her to become Bale’s new vessel. But I had no such intent. Convincing her, that is.” He stops and turns toward me. “The Councils’ plan is to bait you and kill you before the new moon. Forcing Bale into Kal’s being. I don’t know of all the details, but I do know they were counting on her being the only one near you at the time of your death.”

I’m silent while I process this. Then, “So they know of Kal’s
gift
.” He nods. “And they know that she’s the goddesses’ weapon. And they plan to use her.”

“Yes, Prince. Not long ago, I’d have been the first to back this scheme. But I don’t think Kal is ready. Not yet.”

“Well, thank you for caring so much for
my
pathetic life.”

He stares. “No offense, but the only reason I’m telling you any of this is for Kal. I know she’ll punish herself mercilessly if anything should happen to you.”

Understood. I wave a hand. “No offense taken.” The mutant and I have no history—not the way he and the Nactue leader do. And what he says…well. Kal is still in love with me. That strikes a chord deep within, past the barrier of my mind, my soul. Somehow, where the dark goddess can’t reach. It vibrates, hums.

Whatever happens to me, I can’t allow Kal to be used. To be consumed by Bale. If Bax doesn’t have faith in her, who am I to question if she could take on Bale? I mustn’t have had much faith in her either, considering I took her place during the Reckoning.

Swishing the dark liquid around my glass, I stare into the space above Bax’s head. I do nothing, and Bale wins. Now that my brain is lit with alcohol, ironically, I can reason clearly. My power is temporary. I’ll be through, a used up carcass of a once-regarded prince, in less than three days.

I nod. “Game well played, Bax.” Setting my drink on the desk, I rise from my seat, only stumbling slightly. “I’ll do what I can to save her.” I might as well finish what I started in the Cage. All this is worthless otherwise.

“Are you prepared to die?”

I scoff, spittle hitting my chin. Sloppy. “Do I have a choice?” Either way—with Bale restoring the relic, or the new moon bringing her forth—I’m a dead man. I see that now. Without Bale feeding me lies, stroking my fragile ego, I know I won’t survive her transformation. I shake my head. I can’t believe I ever thought I would. “At least this way, Kal has a chance.”

Bax leans against the wall, crosses his shackled arms over his barrel of a chest. “The only choice we have now, Prince, is to try to rectify the wrong that’s been done to her. She’s had no say in any of this. I’ve played a part in it as much as any other.” He lowers his chin.

Despite my derision for the mutant, I can identify with him here. My actions have put Kal in the position she’s in now. Was it really my selflessness that prompted me to take Kal’s place, or did Bale already have her claws in me then? At the time, I believed I was being her hero. Ha. I want to laugh now. If Bale sensed what was inside Kal, then plainly the dark goddess wanted nowhere near the Nactue leader. Maybe I shouldn’t have interfered at all. I don’t know. But I don’t say any of this aloud. The drink isn’t making me
that
brave.

But no. There’s no way to confirm my actions were my own. I stare at the bottle of liquor, my self-loathing coming full circle. Pawns. As Bax said—and as I always assumed—we’re all just pawns.