Siren's Song (16 page)

I follow suit and decide not to mention that his powers already are.

“And what of my cousin, Lord Myles? What—?”

A loud pounding on the door erupts, and he's barely uttered, “Of all the— Come in,” before the thing's burst wide open and a guard rushes in.

“The Dark Army, Your Majesty. Everywhere. They're crawling off the ships!”

CHAPTER 16

T
HE KING'S EYES NARROW AT ME.

“That's not possible,” I say, and before he has a chance to move, I'm striding for the door.
Is it the airship from the
channel?
I've just reached it when Sedric steps in front of me.

He flaps the letter, his expression as dark as his tone. “Tell me this wasn't a setup.”

“I swear to you.”

His nostrils twitch as he stares at me, then flips around and barks through the doorway at his men, “Rolf and you three, come with Nym and me. The others stay with King Eogan.” He glances at him. “I'm certain you understand.” And storms past.

Eogan nods as I go to follow Sedric, but his mouth is tight. Confused in the same way I am. How could they have followed so quickly without us seeing them? Unless Draewulf had already sent them from Tulla . . .

Oh hulls.

We're running down the hall, the soldiers' feet flagging behind us, turning corner after corner as I feel our dread rising.

Please don't let Draewulf be here yet.

We're not ready.

At the Eastern Courtyard's corridor a group of soldiers, swords drawn, are holding the door shut.

“Let us through.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Now.”

I recognize the guard, Tannin, as he opens the door. We're immediately bathed in the sounds of yelling and Faelen swords clanging against the courtyard flagstones beside a ship floating two feet from the ground.
What in—?
It's swarming with wraiths. Gray torn cloaks cover their emaciated half-dead human bodies, except for their feet and hands, which are mostly made from bolcrane claws, and their hollow faces that look like half-eaten skulls.

“Mother of—” Rolf utters. “What in curses are those?”

“Wraiths,” I whisper. “Lady Isobel's Dark Army made from dead bodies and beasts.”

They're crawling along the deck and railings and then dropping to the ground. Attacking the air like a chaotic cete of badgers.

The king steps forward as Tannin tries to stall me. “Miss, it's dangerous.”

“Thank you, but let me through.” I push past him and to the right of Sedric, who's got his blade lifted.

“Our weapons appear to have no effect on them, sire,” Tannin says.

I raise my fist and the sky shudders and crackles a warning for the Faelen soldiers to move back, just like the air is sparking along my fingers as I feel the ice picks form midair.

I unleash the icy knives to puncture through the wraiths' skulls.

They plow through the clothing and faces—and the metal of the ship even—as if it's all corporeal. The images waver like vapor, then turn solid again. I raise a brow and narrow my focus, and one by one the wraiths dissipate in front of me at the same moment the awareness dawns that there's no smell. No scent of death or decay or plague.

I look harder at the ship and it disappears too.

“Are you bleeding fooling with me?”
I yell.

I flip around to Rolf. “We told you not to bring him here. Where is he?” I swerve around in search of Myles but can't find him. The next moment I'm grabbing King Sedric's arm as he moves to rush forward into the frenzy. “Your Highness, they're not real. It's a mirage.”

“What?”
The king slows and looks down at my hand on his arm.

I remove it, and he levels his gaze to mine.

“Lord Myles is creating a mirage. Watch.” Before he can stop me, I stride to the closest apparition as it lunges. A few of the guards scramble to follow, but the wraith's claws have already swiped right through me without touching.

The men gasp. They pause their remounting attack as Rolf strides over and, sword in hand, holds it out against the wraith who, while fighting aggressively, is having no effect. Rolf stabs the thing but it just keeps attacking the empty space beside me.

“What in blazes?” The captain jumps forward to slice through another—only to find his blade jutting through the vaporous ship as well. He flips around, his eyes widening, and hisses to me, “What kind of magic is this?”

I peer up into the sky for the other ship.

There. In the distance. Hovering exactly where we left it, lights glowing in the night air, just beyond the High Court. I squint to assure myself it's real and that there are no others. “Is Myles still on the ship?”

“He is.”

Impossible.
He's using his abilities from that distance and for this long a period?

“It's coming from there.” I point after a second. “I'm afraid Lord Myles has ingested a poison that is enhancing his ability—and this is a result of it.”

“He's doing this intentionally?” King Sedric asks.

“That I don't know.”

“From that far?” Rolf turns his disbelief toward the king.

“His ability is strong.” Sedric's tone isn't as surprised as I'd expect. Neither is his gaze, which is watching the wraiths as they appear to be jumping from the airship. “They certainly look real.”

“And from what I understand, his ability will become even stronger over the next few days.”

He drops his gaze to me. “How do we stop it?”

“If I'm right about Eogan's ability, he should be able to slow Myles's. Although, in truth, my method would simply be to slap him.”

Despite the chaos swirling around us, Sedric grins, then tips his head toward the airship in the distant sky. “That is the ship you came in on and that he is still being held hostage in, I presume.”

“I told them to hold outside the High Court, Your Highness,” Rolf says. “The second ship is by the large lake valley with another unit of men.”

Sedric purses his lips and looks around at the Faelen soldiers still pouring into the courtyard—half of whom now look confused while the recent additions are attacking the visions with more fervor. “Captain, I don't envy you having to convince them their eyes are deceiving them, but have them stop before they accidentally kill each other. Do you know if we've lost any men in this?”

Without waiting I ignite the sky directly above us with three lightning flares set off in succession. Powerful enough to illuminate the courtyard and mirage in a wall of bright light for a moment and hopefully to override what the men think they're seeing.

The mirage in front of us flickers twice, then disappears.

When the thunder from the flares has died down, the space falls silent and empty except for confused tones and hushed questions. Rolf and Sedric turn their eyes on me.

I shrug. “Almost as good as slapping him.”

Rolf tips his head and says, “Thank you,” before calling to his men. “It was an illusion brought on by magic, nothing more! The beings you saw weren't real. You are hereby ordered to sheath your swords and stand guard, but do not engage anything further that appears unless my command is given.”

The men obey as Rolf puts away his own blade. “Your Highness, what would you have me do with that airship and the Lord Protectorate?”

King Sedric frowns. “I assume you've searched it?”

“We have.”

Sedric runs a hand along his youthful chin. “In that case, bring the ship in, lock Lady Isobel in the dungeon, and bring my cousin to me. And, Rolf, double your guard around the High Court.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. But in regard to Lady Isobel—”

“According to the Cashlin queen, Lady Isobel's powers are gone for the time being.” Sedric looks at me for confirmation and, when I give it, adds, “I'll be in the War Room. We'll convene in three hours.” He nods to me. “My apologies for the shortness of time, especially as it appears you've had very little sleep. But still . . . I'll ask you to be there.”

Tannin has hardly shut the door to my room before I drop onto the bed, fully clothed and wholly uncaring. Two seconds later I've drifted into a black sleep.

CHAPTER 17

THE FORESTED SWAMP AIR ATTACKS MY THROAT, FOLLOWED BY THE smell of something frightening. I gag and cough and suddenly my tiny body is shaking. I don't like this place. I want to go back to the woman who held me. The woman I came from.

But the animal galloping and jostling beneath us doesn't stop. He continues carrying us farther as the voice of the man holding me whispers, “Shh. They'll come for us if you cry.” His tone prickles my skin, telling me he no longer means the bad men from the camp he took me from.

There is a new danger here.

I blink as the shadows descend too deep for me to see farther than my tiny hands that are reaching up to grab at his face just as a roar sounds in the distance.

“Litch,” he mutters, and his rough arms squeeze me too close, too tight, until I cry.

“Almost there, child.”

The animal carrying us jerks and swerves when the roar comes again.
What is the noise coming from? Make it stop.
But the roaring grows louder as my cries fill my ears until suddenly there's a break in the air, and the humidity and shadows fade to be replaced by cold.

We're going up.

A whinny, and then the jostling animal beneath us slows, then
comes to a stop in front of another man. A large man. With a pockmarked face and a mess of curled hair and a kind smile.

He begins speaking, but I can't understand what's said.

There's a flash of silver, and suddenly the kind man turns dangerous as he raises a sword and launches it toward us.

Not toward us, past us. The one holding me turns around just as a roar emerges and then is cut short by the sword.

A giant black, greasy beast with a sharp-toothed mouth falls to the ground with a
whump
.

“We'll take care of her, Nathan.” The kind man strides forward to take me. He unfolds the swath of blankets and holds me lightly against his chest. Then grunts. “She's Elemental,” he murmurs after a pause.

“Aye. Shouldn't even exist, let alone survive,” the other man says. “But I figured that wouldn't matter much to your wife.”

I squirm and whimper. My skin's getting cold and I'm hungry for my mum's milk.

“You thought right. And thank you.”

There's an exchange of more words and then the man remounts his animal and rides away.

“Not supposed to exist, eh?” The big man pats my head. “Well, you do. So now we'll see if we can help you survive.”

I blink and feel my chest settle as his rich, soothing voice coos a bit longer, then transitions to ripple forth in a lullaby song.

“Miss, they're ready for you.”

I moan and roll over and refuse to release my dream. My
memory
.

My other father.

Whatever the Inters jogged open in me, it's a space I didn't even know existed. And now it's like an aching, leaking place that's terrifying and I want to curse them for it.

“We'll see if we can help you survive.”

“Miss.” Tannin's voice enters my head again as his hand on my shoulder shakes me.

I bat it away.

“Miss, please.”

“Quit playing with your life, Tannin.”

“Something I'm loath to do, I assure you—except the Council is assembled in the War Chamber. The king is waiting.”

I peer out between protesting eyelids to find his brown hair is, as usual, sticking up like a thatched roof. “He said three hours.”

“And that it's been, miss.” His idolizing expression eases to pity. “I'd be happy to have them bring you a cup of tea to the Chamber if that would help.”

I pull my sore body up and shift my scowl to the lush blankets. “Stop making me like you, Tannin. But yes, it would, thank you.” After dragging my legs off the bed, I lean over the water bowl and splash my face. Then dab my skin dry before I attempt to pat my hair into some measure of decency until the kind guard reenters.

“I've summoned the maid to send tea.”

I flick a hand at the door. “Then I'm yours to lead.”

We reach the first bend in the hall. “How's your daughter, by the way?”

“Excellent. And it's kind of you to remember.” He grins. “Although she keeps begging her mum to stain her hair white.”

“I seem to recall wanting mine stained brown.” I give him a rueful smile.

“She's also been attempting to re-create your battle at the Keep with her dolls. It's resulted in half the yard being drenched in water from the pump and her mum's stove having a permanent case of wet wood.”

I snort.

He chuckles and opens a door to another passageway. “It's good for her to have a heroine. And I think it's mostly harmless.” He shakes his head. “Although I may have told her that she's not getting any more dolls if she keeps ruining the garden.”

I grin and look away as the memories brought back by the Inters of my own father surface—of his teasing smile and handmade swords and voice that used to sing full and throaty with mine. It's a moment of reprieve I'm grateful to Tannin for.

When we reach the chamber door, Tannin reaches down and, quick as lightning, squeezes my hand. “We're behind you, m'lady.” Then he leads us both into the cherrywood-paneled room lined with bookshelves and two maps—no curtains or windows.

It's crowded with puffy-eyed counts and lords whose rumpled hair and clothing suggest no one dressed the old geezers upon bustling them from their beds. Most are wearing half-tucked tunics and wrinkled pants, and one appears to have simply pulled a cloak on over his nightshirt.

I bite back a grin. He and the others are familiar faces from Adora's parties—the men I spied on and sidled up to with Colin when gathering information on how he and I could best serve in the war. And now Adora is imprisoned somewhere beneath us for her traitorous acts, and they're eyeing me with a foreign look of reverence—the same that's been etched on everyone's face since the Keep—as I stride past.