The Black King (Book 7) (54 page)

“Gift?”

Skya nodded.

“I suppose you hate me for that.”

“No.” Skya’s voice was soft. “I like you more than I want to. And that’s my problem.”

Skya slipped away then, leaving Arianna to stare after her. That was an apology of sorts. One Arianna didn’t exactly understand, but one she was glad she had.

She needed the team to work together, without a lot of debate. She had a hunch these next few days would be the crucial ones.

She wanted to make sure everything went right.

FIFTY-SIX

XIHU SAT ON THE STEPS leading up to the South Tower. Her robe was tangled around her feet, and she was leaning uncomfortably against the stone wall. Her right cheek felt scraped.

She’d had a Vision, the first one since the attack on the palace. It was a single Vision too, and it seemed very quick. She remembered slipping as it started and came to herself as her head smacked against the wall. In the space of an eyeblink, then, her Vision had happened.

She pulled herself up, feeling her muscles complain. Nothing was broken, but she would be bruised. She wanted to go back to her rooms and rest, but she knew that wouldn’t be wise. She had promised Arianna that she would share the Visions. That was the main reason Xihu had agreed to come to the palace. This Vision hadn’t been that different from some of the others, but its timing might be significant.

Xihu smoothed her hair, used her sleeve to wipe the blood off her cheek, and climbed the stairs. Her legs were tired. She had already climbed these stairs twice, mostly to reiterate answers she had already given. Arianna wanted to make certain she understood everything Xihu was telling her, so she asked the same questions in different ways.

By the last dozen steps, Xihu was using the thin wooden railing to pull herself up. When she reached the top, she knocked on the door. A moment later, DiPalmet opened it. He looked surprised and concerned when he saw her face.

“What happened?” he asked. “You just left.”

She ignored him and stepped inside. Arianna was seated at a table, looking over papers that obviously had something to do with the Isle. The Fey rarely committed anything to the page.

Arianna did not raise her head, but continued to scrawl on the paper before her. “What is it now?”

“You had said you wanted to hear Visions.” Xihu sounded as tired as she felt. DiPalmet brought her a chair, but she shook her head. If she sat down, she might have trouble getting up. She didn’t want Arianna to know how sore she was.

“Yes, I did.” Arianna finally set her pen down. When she saw Xihu, her eyes widened ever so slightly. “So, you were treated to one as you left me?”

“One,” Xihu said. “A brief one.”

Arianna shoved the papers aside and folded her hands on the table. “DiPalmet, take these to the tiresome traders who are waiting in the audience chamber.”

“They wanted to get the papers from you,” he said.

“I rule here. They don’t get to order me around.” Her voice was flat, her gaze still on Xihu.

DiPalmet took the papers and hurried away. He gave Xihu a curious glance as he went. Arianna waited until the door clicked shut before she said, “What was this Vision?”

“It was a sudden change in location,” Xihu said. “So quick that I remember losing my balance at the beginning of the Vision and seeing the steps again as I hit my face against the wall.”

Arianna moved her head slightly. They both knew Visions like that were unusual.

“I was looking at the Cardidas,” Xihu said. “Smell was the strongest part of this Vision. It was the smell of dampness like the kind after a sudden rain or of fog. And that was mixed with the faint stench of smoke.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t in the air here?” Arianna asked. “You smelled it and confused it with your Vision?”

Xihu shook her head. “The smells were different. Here the scent is already old and fading. There it was fresh. It smelled like woodsmoke mixed with charred flesh.”

“All right,” Arianna said.

“The Cardidas was flowing in front of me. The top layer of the water was moving slower than the rest of the river. It was blood.”

“You’ve Seen that before.”

“Yes.” Xihu wasn’t sure why she was feeling like she had to defend her Visions. “But timing is often important. I don’t know what you were doing up here, but perhaps—”

“I was signing documents that some traders below needed to open a route to Leut. Apparently the Leutians are even more enamored of documentation than the Islanders or the Nyeians. Such a waste of time.”

“You don’t think that caused it?” Xihu asked.

“We can’t rule it out. But I suspect someone else did something that caused this Vision. Had you thought of that?”

Xihu licked her lower lip. She was getting a headache. “Have you Seen this as well?”

“No.” Arianna’s answer was curt.

“Perhaps it would be best if you told me what you’ve Seen as well. Going on my Vision alone is not going to work—”

“For whom? For you? I have no trouble with this system.”

“Of course.” Xihu smiled slightly.

“Is that all?”

Xihu’s head was pounding. “Are you expecting a battle on the Cardidas?”

“You know the plan. Constant is on the Cardidas. That’s probably what you were seeing. The ships should be arriving shortly. I’m sure they’ll begin my campaign.”

“That doesn’t feel right. It was like a Warning. I wouldn’t get a Warning for that, would I?”

“I would hope not.” Then Arianna sighed. “Where were you in the Vision? Here?”

“I don’t know.” That disturbed Xihu as much as the Vision had.

“Were you on the water or off it?”

“I don’t know,” Xihu said.

“Then we do not deviate from our path.” Arianna stood and walked to the window. Xihu was beginning to see that as a sign of dismissal. “Now, get some rest. You look ill and I’m sure I’ll need your services in the next few days.”

Xihu nodded. The pain and the exhaustion were showing. She was careful not to limp as she walked to the door, because she knew that Arianna could see her reflection in the window.

Xihu closed the door as she started down the stairs. Arianna had a point. Xihu did need her sleep. She would catch a few hours before going back to the Domicile. She was getting so tired that she was beginning to mistrust her own judgement. Yet there was something about the Vision, something that had come in that flash that she couldn’t put her finger on. Something that identified the place and the time.

Maybe when she woke up, she would know. But she wouldn’t count on it. All she could count on was that she had more work than she had ever had in her life. There were still so many injured, and too many had died, more than she wanted to think about. It wasn’t the fault of the Healers. The wounds were just too severe.

All those deaths. Xihu shuddered. She had a feeling there would be more.

FIFTY-SEVEN

LYNDRED LEANED against the door to the cabin the Domestics used as a make-shift hospital. Her father was in the biggest bed, the one they had used for Matt. He had slept through the entire battle, through all the screams, and the stench of burning, and the hissing splashes as large flaming objects fell into the water.

She had never experienced anything like it. She had watched and listened, terrified. She had been terrified since she saw the bloody feathers rising in the air, before the Gull Riders chased after Ace’s body, two days before.

Ace. She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She could still see him, his body beautiful as it flew toward that Assassin. If she closed her eyes, she could see his naked form when he had Shifted in front of her the first time. She could even see the way his hair feathered down his back, the dark smoothness of his skin, the strangeness of his Gull Rider’s hands.

But she couldn’t see his face.

This was the feeling from her Vision. It had been compounded in that moment when her father had fallen off the ship and disappeared beneath the water. All she had done was scream. Gift had dived in after him. Gift had saved him.

She hadn’t done a thing.

She stared at her father. His skin was gray. His face looked older than ever. The Healers said the pain was bad, even though he would recover. The rocking of the ship aggravated the injury. He would be in pain for the entire trip, but he had insisted on coming because he believed that Gift needed him, that Arianna needed him. So far, they hadn’t. But they needed Lyndred even less.

If her father were awake, she would ask him how she could be useful, how she could make decisions because they were right, not just right for her. But to wake him up now to answer her questions was something the old, selfish Lyndred would have done. Now she understood that was wrong. Still, she could have used his strong arm around her, his comforting voice telling her that even though she had cared for Ace, a Gull Rider wasn’t for her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as if she could squeeze out the thought. She and Ace hadn’t really talked since she had come on the ship. She had tried to avoid him, and he had seemed angry at her. Now she’d never talk with him again.

She wiped at her eyes, then opened them. Her father still slept. This wasn’t his problem anyway. It was hers. And no matter what advice he would give her, no matter what comfort he held, he couldn’t change who she was.

She pushed off the wall and walked through the narrow corridor toward her cabin. As she walked, she heard a voice droning in Islander. The words were soft and she couldn’t make them out.

She followed the sound of the voice and saw that the door was partially open. Con was inside, on his knees, holding his filigree necklace in his hands. He was facing the porthole, but his eyes were closed. He seemed to be reciting something. She couldn’t catch all the words. Something about protection and guarding souls and receiving help from the Roca, bringing his words to God’s ear.

Then he bowed his head, touched the sword to his lips, and stood. He saw her and his face softened.

“Lynnie,” he said, using her father’s nickname for her. The gentleness in his voice made her eyes fill with tears.

“I didn’t mean to listen,” she said in Fey. “I was passing and I heard your voice and—”

“It’s all right.” He didn’t move. He knew that she didn’t want to get close to him and was respecting that. “I meant for my words to be overheard.”

“By me?” she asked.

“By God.”

She flushed. She didn’t believe in God. She didn’t believe in anything. “How do you know He’s listening?”

“By faith.” Then he smiled. “But I’m sure you’ve heard that before. It doesn’t really help, does it?”

She never had heard that before, but she didn’t want to break the mood by saying. “What helps then?”

“It’s different for all of us. Your people believe in Powers and Mysteries. Mine believe in the Roca and God.”

“Are they the same?”

“If I knew, I’d be a lot wiser than I am.” He put the necklace on, and then tucked it under his shirt. “Where were you going when you were passing by?”

“I was going to my room. There isn’t much for me to do.”

His eyes were a deeper blue than Gift’s, and his skin was rosier. He was thinner than he had been when she first saw him, and that had only been a few days ago. The stress showed on him, too, just in different ways.

“How are you doing with the loss of Ace?” Con asked the question so quiet she barely heard him. If he knew about Ace, did everyone else? Probably. It had been impossible to hide when she had gotten the news.

“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice shook. “I’ve been through death before. My mother’s dead.”

But it wasn’t the same. She had been a little girl when her mother died, and it had been a long time before she understood that her mother wasn’t coming back. By then, she had gotten used to being without her mother. Her father had done his best to shield her, and life went on.

Now her father was injured and she wasn’t sure how she had felt about Ace—she was afraid that she had loved him and not really acknowledged it—and suddenly he was dead.

“Ace was a good man,” Con said.

She nodded. There was a lump in her throat.

“He died defending us.”

“I know.”

“He said he was initially on your ship,” Con said. “He said your father sent him away.”

“He volunteered to find Gift.”

“Because he knew better than to get too close to a member of the Black Family. He said he wasn’t worthy of you.”

“That’s a lie!” She put a hand over her mouth, then made herself lower it. “I didn’t mean you lied.”

“I know.”

“When did you talk to Ace?”

Con shrugged. “A few times here and there. He kept an eye on you.”

And she had watched him, although whenever he looked, she had made sure she looked away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “that I was so mean to you.”

For the first time, a bit of color touched his cheeks. “That’s all right. You’re worried about the Vision.”

“Not any more.” She came inside the room. The distance between them wasn’t great at all. “I think you’re a nice man.”

He put up his hands as if to hold her away from him. “Don’t, Lyndred.”

“Don’t what?”

His cheeks were flaming red now. “Don’t flirt with me.”

“If it’s because of the Vision, I’ve decided that I can’t let my feelings go,” she said. “I did that with Ace and he’s dead. But I can tell you I find you attractive.”

Con nodded, but backed away. “I know. But I also know that you use sex to keep people from getting close to you.”

She froze. She felt a hollow anger, more of a pain, as if he had slapped her and she had deserved it. “How do you know that?”

The flush had traveled from his cheeks to his neck and into his shirt. “I watch too. I don’t want to be another man in your life, Lynnie. I—” his voice broke. “I was supposed to be an Aud.”