The Burning Sky (9 page)

Perhaps he needed to use her guardian as a bargaining chip: she could not infiltrate the Inquisitory on her own. Neither could he, but she did not know that.

He, however, did know. He was a liar by necessity, but could he lie to her, knowing that he was very possibly asking for her life in return?

That he did not answer immediately discomfited her. She ran her hand through her hair, only to pull her fingers back in surprise, as if she had forgotten that most of her hair had been shorn and destroyed.

She shook her head slightly, her eyes wistful. He stared at her, this girl who would never again be safe anywhere.

No, he would not lie, not to her. Going forward, it would be the two of them against the world, an alliance that would define what remained of his days on this earth.

And be his only chance for something true and meaningful.

 

For a minute Iolanthe thought the prince would not tell her anything at all. Then he made a double impassable circle around them.

One did not make a double impassable circle unless one absolutely did not want to be overheard. The breeze coming off the river suddenly felt raw.

The prince gazed across the water at a narrow strip of an island. His profile was familiar—it graced every coin of the realm—yet she couldn't look away. Handsome boys she'd met before. He was more than handsome; he was striking. And there was a nobility to his bearing that had little to do with his bloodline and everything to do with the sense of purpose he radiated.

“I am going to bring down the Bane.”

His quiet words brushed over her and departed on a cold gust. She shivered and waited for him to tell her that it was a joke—since he did have a sense of humor. 

He met her eyes squarely, his gaze unwavering.

This was mad. He might as well bring down the Labyrinthine Mountains—it would be easier. The Bane was invincible. Untouchable.

“Why?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Because that is what I am meant to do.”

Despite her incredulity—or perhaps because of it—she found his conviction awe-inspiring.

“How—how do you know that is what you are meant to do?”

“My mother told me so.”

When people talked about Princess Ariadne, it was usually to speculate on the mysterious liaison that had produced the prince. No one could recall another instance in the whole history of the House of Elberon when a ruling prince's paternity remained unknown.
¹²

“Was your mother a seer?”

“She was.” What was the emotion underlying his reply? Anger, resignation, sadness—or a mix of all three? “At her wish, it was never revealed to the public.”

True seers were few and far between. “What did she prophesy that has come true?”

Without bending down he had a pebble in hand. He weighed it. “Twenty-five years ago, she and my grandfather received a delegation of Atlantean youth. There was a girl of seventeen who was not a delegate, but a mere assistant. My mother pointed out the girl to my grandfather and said that one day the girl would be the most powerful person in the Domain.”

“The Inquisitor?”

He tossed the pebble. It skipped far. “The Inquisitor.”

That was scarily impressive. “What else?”

“She knew the exact date of Baroness Sorren's funeral, years before the baroness even took up the charge against Atlantis.”

This unnerved Iolanthe. No wonder Princess Ariadne hadn't wanted it known that she was a seer, if funeral dates were the sort of things she foresaw.

The prince skipped another pebble. “She also said that it was on my balcony that I would first learn of your existence. And so it was.”

A flicker of hope ignited in Iolanthe's heart. “And she said that you would bring down the Bane?”

He did not answer immediately. 

“Did she or did she not?”

“She said that I must be the one to try, to set things into motion.”

“That's not a guarantee of success, is it?”

“No. But we will never accomplish anything worthwhile in life if we require the guarantee of success at the onset.”

His audacity took her breath away. Compared to him, she had lived on the smallest scale, concerned only with the well-being of herself and Master Haywood. While he, who could have led a life of unimaginable luxury and privilege, was willing to give it all up for the sake of the greater good.

“What is my part in your plan?”

“I need you,” he said simply. “Only with a great elemental mage by my side will I have a prayer of a chance.”

When she'd been a child, enthralled by her reading of
The Lives and Deeds of Great Elemental Mages
, she'd wondered what it would be like for her own powers to grow to such fearsome immensity, to hold the fate of entire realms in the palm of her hand. Listening to him, she felt a stirring of that old excitement, that electric charge of limitless possibilities.

“Are you really sure I am that great elemental mage?”

The certainty in his eyes was absolute. “Yes.”

If he was convinced, and Atlantis too, and Master Haywood so much so as to give up his memories—she supposed they could not all be wrong. “So . . . how will we bring down the Bane?”

“We will have to pit ourselves against him someday.”

She felt dizzy. Surely they could find some clever way of defeating the Bane from a distance.

“Face-to-face?” Her voice quavered.

“Yes.”

The froth of imagined valor in her heart dissipated, leaving behind only dregs of stark fear.

But the prince thought so highly of her. And risked so much. She'd hate for him be disappointed in her. She'd hate for
her
to be disappointed in her. In the four
Great Adventures
and all seven
Grand Epics
,
books she'd cherished as a child, this was the moment the protagonist rose to the occasion and embarked on the legendary journey. No one in the stories ever said,
Thank you, but no thank you, this really isn't for me
.

Yet this really wasn't for her. Thoughts of heroics might stir her soul for a minute, but no more than that. She didn't want to go anywhere near the Bane, let alone take part in some sort of match to the death.

If she were dead, she'd never become a professor at the Conservatory and live on that beautiful campus again.

Besides, the Domain had long been under the shadow of Atlantis. She was inured to the reality of it. She had no burning desire to topple the Bane and no wish—unless it was to free Master Haywood—to ever cross paths with the Inquisitor.

“I thought—I thought I was here to hide,” she said, hating how feeble she sounded.

“You cannot hide forever from Atlantis.”

She would be found one day, he meant, and must fight or die.

She wanted to muster her courage, but she might as well pluck diamonds out of thin air. Her feet felt as if they were dissolving; her lungs, as if they'd been filled with mercury.

“How exactly am I supposed to—defeat the Bane?”

“I am not sure. I have been reading about elemental magic for years, but I have yet to discover how to harness the power of a great elemental mage—and only by harnessing the power of a great elemental mage can one defeat the Bane, according to my mother.”

“Harnessing the power of a great elemental mage . . .” she echoed slowly. “You mean, as the Bane does.”

“No, not the way he does.”

“Then how?”

“I do not know yet.”

She was confused. “So you are going to experiment on me?”

“No, I am going to experiment
with
you, not on you. We are in this together.”

She wanted desperately to trust this boy who looked as if he'd been born under the wings of the Angels, beautifully unafraid. But they were
not
in this together. To help him achieve his goal of altering the course of history, she would have to give up her entire purpose of survival.

And great elemental mage or not, she was no great heroine, just an ordinary girl trembling in a pair of nonmage shoes that pinched slightly at the toes.

Her desire to impress him, however, still warred with her need to save herself. “Perhaps—I'm only supposed to help you in an advisory capacity.”

She was a coward, but better cowardly than dead.

He shook his head. “No, you are the most essential part.”

Each word fell on her like a knife. “But if I don't know what to do and you don't know what to do—”

“I will find out, eventually. In the meantime I will train you to better channel your powers. Potential is not enough; you must achieve mastery. Only then can you face the Bane.”

Her lips quivered. She could no longer deny the truth. “I don't want to face the Bane.”

“No one does, but you cannot escape your destiny.”

Did she believe in destiny, she who shamelessly curried favor with a lowly village official, just so she could stay in one place until her qualifying exams? “I don't have a destiny,” she said weakly.

“Maybe you did not learn about it until today, but you do and you always did.”

His voice was urgent, his gaze intense. Were she any kind of a dreamer, the force of his conviction would have carried her away. “I'm not this brave soul you think I am. I came with you because you offered sanctuary. I don't have what it takes to shoulder what you ask.”

He was silent for a moment; something flickered in his eyes. “What of your guardian? You can rescue him on your own?”

His questions agonized her for nearly a full minute before she recognized them for what they were: manipulation. He was not above using her anxiety for Master Haywood to get his way.

Every last mage in pursuit of you seeks to abuse and exploit your powers.

Trust no one. 

Why hadn't she understood it sooner? For all the prince's seeming majesty, he was monumentally ambitious and wanted her only as a means to his own ends.

Dismay spread unchecked in her heart. “This is beneath you, Your Highness. My guardian did not make his sacrifices so that I could throw away my life on a wild quest doomed to fail. He would be apoplectic if I allowed myself to be exploited this way.”

The prince's jaw tightened. “I am not exploiting you. I have saved you two times, offered you as much security as you will find anywhere on this earth, and put myself at abysmal risk. It is a fair enough exchange to ask for some help from you for a good cause—for as worthy a cause as there ever was.”

Unlike her, he had not raised his voice. But he sounded defensive. 

“So a steer should head willingly to slaughter because the farmer has fed and housed it? How many would make this bargain if they only knew what would happen to them in the end? You are asking me to give up everything for a cause that isn't mine. I don't want to be part of any revolution. I just want to live.”

“To live like this, never knowing what it is like to be free?” His voice was tight.

“I will know nothing when I'm dead!”

Her anger was all the more bitter because she had stood ready to place her faith and hope in him. To rely on him as her anchor in this new, turbulent life. And to repay his kindness to the utmost of her ability.

Only to be told that he wanted her to die for him.

 

Back in Archer Fairfax's room, Iolanthe lifted the dull-red valise the prince had given her to carry as her own and placed it on the desk. Inside were boy's clothes, unfamiliar-looking coins, a map of London, a map of the Eton-Windsor area, and a book called 
Bradshaw's Monthly Railway Guide
. 

“Please reconsider,” said the prince.

She spun around sharply. She had no idea when he'd vaulted into the room.

He stood with his back against the wall, his expression blank. “You do not even know where to go.”

But she did. The prince had said that his school was not far from London. She needed to be back in London. Master Haywood had advised her to wait near the end portal for as long as possible, for the arrival of the memory keeper. The move had its risks. But she did not plan to go back inside the madwoman's house. She could monitor the house from outside, a nearby rooftop, perhaps—

“I would not even think about it.”

Her heart missed a beat, but she turned back to the valise, pocketed the coins, and pretended to check what else it contained.

“That woman in the attic knows who you are—or what you are, at least. She will have consulted other Exiles. There are informants among the Exiles. Atlantis will have the entire neighborhood under surveillance by now. The agents will strip the house of its protections for you to vault in, if you are desperate enough to try. Do it, and it will be the last anyone sees of you.”

She felt nauseous. “Britain is a large realm. My options are nearly endless. As you yourself said earlier, Atlantis, great as it is, cannot hope to locate me so easily in a land of millions.”

“You are not as anonymous as you think. Your jacket is part of the Eton uniform. It will mark you anywhere as an Eton boy. The natives will wonder why you roam about when you should be at school instead—and they will remember you.”

She broke into a sweat. She could reveal herself so easily, without even being aware of it. “All I have to do is to change.”

She exchanged the jacket for a brown one from the valise.

“If only it were so easy. In the countryside, where everyone knows one another, you will be too conspicuous. So you must go into cities, where anonymity is possible. But you do not know which parts of a city are safe for a well-dressed young man, and which will get you robbed and possibly beaten. And before you reassure me again how handy you are with your fists, how many grown men can you take on at once, without resorting to elemental powers?”

“If you aim to convince me that every place out there is dangerous for me,” she retorted, “you have not succeeded.”