The Keeper's Flame (A Pandoran Novel, #2) (19 page)

A shadow passed over Tran’s face and fear flickered in his eyes. “Eris is dead.” His voice sounded so old, so apprehensive and haunted, that fear crawled over me.

“Who is he?” I whispered.

“Ouch!” Thad was by the bookcase again, this time in a tug-of-war with Grool and Grool’s battering ram—the bone. Grool had both feet planted firmly on the ground while he tugged and yanked with all of his might, and Thad let go.

Grool flew backwards, grumbling and mumbling as he crashed to the ground.

“Thad!” I exclaimed.

“What?” He looked at me innocently. “You know Ugly deserved it.”

I looked back at Tran, eager for him to answer my question.

“It is time for you to return, I think,” he said. “It would never go over well if your father arrived to see you missing from your room and Stefan there instead.”

“But what about—”

“All in time, my child,” he said with finality.

I sighed, and Tran placed a withered hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m unable to help you with Fleck, but I promise to check on our invalid prince tomorrow before the ceremony to see what I can do.”

The next thing I knew, Thad and I were standing in my bedroom.

Rhea glanced up, surprised, and Stefan was still lying on the floor. “Did you get what you wanted?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Did anyone come?”

“No,” she said, walking back to the door. “You know where to find me.” She left.

As soon as the door closed, I slumped in a chair and dropped my head in my hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Well, sounds like you’re going to wait for Tran to check on Goldilocks tomorrow.”

I shook my head in my hands. “I don’t care about Stefan’s drunken escapades. I promised to keep Fleck safe, and I’ve failed.”

“Well, wallowing in self-pity isn’t gonna help Half-Pint.”

I groaned in my hands. “I know that.” I glanced up. “But Tran was my only hope.”

“I wouldn’t say he was your
only
hope.”

I narrowed my eyes. “If you know anyone powerful enough to get us out of here who doesn’t want to use Fleck, please, be my guest. I’m all ears.”

“No need to get all snippy, Rook,” Thad replied. “But I do have someone perfect in mind.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

He shoved a piece of grass in his mouth and chewed. “You.”

I snorted. “Maybe you didn’t hear me say powerful—”

“No, hear me out.”

“Thad.” I stared at him, hard. “If
you
can’t sneak us through the portal, there’s no way I can…”

“No one is sneaking anyone through the portal.”

I studied his face. “What do you mean?”

Thad’s eyes filled with mischief, and he reached in his pocket and pulled out a glass vial. It was small and round and fit easily in his palm, and the liquid inside swirled and glowed a blue-white.

“You took that from Grool!” I said, reaching for it.

He hid it behind his back. “Hey, now, Rook, don’t get defensive for Ugly.”

“But you stole it!”

“I stole it for you.”

“Don’t use me as an excuse—”

“This is your key to entering the games.”

I stared at him.

Had he just said…?

“My what?” I gasped.

The grass rolled in his lips. “You are going to take Goldilocks’ place in the games.”

He really was insane. “You’re crazy! That is the dumbest…why in the world would I…” I stood, pacing.

“Because, if you won, you would share in the power—spirits, you might even get your magic back—and you’d have the freedom to protect Fleck yourself.”

I stopped and stared at him, my breathing heavy.

But I couldn’t…that didn’t mean…

The reuniting of the unity stone and shield meant power would be distributed through each territory, to each corresponding lord. If I won and became a lord, I would share in that power.

I might have magic again, magic I could use to protect Fleck.

Assuming I even had a chance at winning. “This is
the
games we’re talking about.”

“Uh, I know what we’re talking about, Rook. Probably better than you do.”

I started pacing again. “I wouldn’t last two seconds!”

“On the contrary, I think you’d do pretty well.”

I stopped to glare at him. “I have no magic, Thad.”

He smiled. “It doesn’t take magic to survive, Rook. You just need loads of obstinacy, determination, and an infinite amount of ignorance—all of which, I’m happy to say, you have in abundance.”

I made a face at him and he chuckled.

“Rook, all the competitions are held inside of the arena with thousands of people watching. You can’t get any safer than that and, chances are, I may even be able to help you without anyone noticing.”

“Okay,” I continued, pacing, “even if I did have a chance—”

“
Do
,” Thad corrected.

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “There’s no way the king would let me enter.”

“He wouldn’t know.”

I grunted. “And how’s that? It’s a blood ceremony, Thad! It’s not like I can just wrap myself in a cloak and waltz into the room pretending to be Stefan.”

He jingled the potion in his hand. “No cloak required, but I
would
like to see you waltz.”

I stared at the potion, sloshing in its vial. “What is that?”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Swapping serum.”

I waited.

“Listen. You drink some. Sleeping Beauty drinks some, and to everyone else, you’ll look like him and he’ll look like you.”

I snorted. “Okay, next idea.”

Thad jumped to his feet, obviously thrilled with this idea. “Don’t you see…it’s perfect! Everyone will look at you but see him, but it will be
your
blood that’s bound. At that point, your disguise won’t matter, but I’d keep it going as long as possible, for safety’s sake.”

I clenched my jaw. “That’s…that’s…”

“Brilliant?” He beamed.

“That can’t possibly work!”

“Look. I wouldn’t have risked the fingers of my right hand if I weren’t absolutely certain.” He shook his right hand. “Blasted bone,” he mumbled.

I couldn’t believe this. Here I was, contemplating entering the games for Stefan.

“This is insane,” I said.

“No,” Thad said, “this is necessary. Come on, Rook, do you really think I’d make this suggestion if it would put you in any real danger?”

I arched a doubtful brow; he chuckled.

“Seriously, though,” he continued, “it’s the best and only idea we’ve got. And when you win—because you will, I’ll make sure of it—
you
will share in the power of the shield.
You
will have magic.
You
can protect Fleck. You get to be—” he paused, holding my gaze “—free.”

Freedom.

I’d almost forgotten there was such a thing. To be able to take Fleck away from this place, somewhere I could watch over him until he was strong enough to take care of himself, with no one in a position to make me do otherwise.

To get out from my grandfather’s exceedingly large and oppressive thumb.

Thad had said all of the competitions would be held inside of the arena, which meant Dad would be there and Thad and the Del Contes. With all of them near, how dangerous could it be?

“Is it a physical transformation?” I whispered.

Thad grinned.

I can’t believe you’re actually considering this.

“Not at all,” Thad replied. “And that’s the genius of the swapping serum. It’s entirely visual, like a mirage. You’ll still look like you, but everyone else will see Stefan.”

“How long will it last?” I asked.

“Eh, a week, give or take a day. Long enough for you to enter the games and stay disguised as Stefan while you compete, which will help keep you safe.”

I sighed, staring absently at nothing.

Thad set the little vial on my dresser. “Just think about it. I’ll leave this here, and as long as you take it by morning, you’ll be okay. Any later than that, people will start finding out about—” He nodded towards Stefan, who was snoring.

I swallowed.

“Just divide it equally into two glasses, put a drop of your blood in one and a drop of his blood in the other, then you drink the one with his and he’ll drink the one with yours.”

I looked back at Thad. “That’s disgusting.”

Thad shrugged, rolling the piece of grass in his mouth. “Make sure you drink all of it, though. Every last drop or the disguise won’t hold.”

I folded my arms. “Assuming I go through with this.”

“Assuming.” His amusement powered through me. “I’ll let you get your beauty rest. Gaia knows you need it.”

I made a face and he laughed, heading for my door.

“Tomorrow morning.” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Thad,” I said.

He winked and left.

I walked over to the little vial, glowing on my dresser. I picked up the cool glass and the swirling blue-white shone brighter.

This was madness. Me…become Stefan? He’d only been training all year for this event, and I expected to just step in, without magic or any understanding of this world, and actually have a chance at winning.

Right, who are you kidding?

But what else was there?

Stefan choked on a snore and swatted at his face.

If you do this, Stefan will be furious.

Stefan had already made that choice when he had decided to get drunk and shatter his foot.

I stretched into a yawn and set the vial back down. Tomorrow morning. Thad had said I had until tomorrow morning. I grabbed my pajamas and started slipping out of my dress when a small, black box fell to the floor.

The rook.

Curious, I picked it up and fetched my scabbard.

Thad said to press it against the leather and it should stick.

Carefully, I took the piece of obsidian and pressed it against the length of the sheath. With a pulse of energy, the obsidian sank into the leather as though it were a part of it. The little, opalescent stone heart burned white, and then it faded, leaving my sheath with a glossy, obsidian rook along its breadth.

Perfect.

I set the scabbard on my nightstand beside my books, slipped into my pajamas and crawled into bed.

****

“Everything is in place, my lord,” said a deep voice.

Another man stood in the shadows, pensive and quiet, staring out a black window.

“You’re certain, this time?” The voice was like death and horror.

“Yes, my lord.” The first man crouched on the ground in a strip of dim torchlight. It was Lord Tiernan. “Commodus assured me that the Daloren is still alive, and we are in a position to take him once the games are complete.”

“Good.” The man at the window turned and clasped his fingertips. “And what of the dark rider?”

“I last saw him a few days ago, outside of the castle walls in Muirwood.”

The man stepped forward into the candlelight and pure terror coursed through my body. It was the man from the mirror and the painting. The man called Eris. “I can afford no more mishaps, Tiernan.”

Lord Tiernan was quiet. “Of course, my lord.”

Eris vanished into a swirling mist, only to materialize before Lord Tiernan. He placed long, bony fingers beneath Tiernan’s chin, forcing Tiernan to look into his nightmarish face, and even though the demon had black pits for eyes, I could feel his gaze burning. “Do not fail me, Tiernan, or I will hand your pitiful soul to Mortis myself.”

The torch in the room flickered and burnt out, and Lord Tiernan swallowed. “Yes, my lord.”

I awoke with a start.

Lord Tiernan had to be dead; I’d killed him myself. But the dream had felt so real, so vivid. He’d been talking with Eris, too, the man from the mirror. The man I’d heard Lord Commodus mention to the headmaster.

The man Tran said was supposed to be dead.

Was my dream real? Was it happening now?

And if it was real, if it was really happening, they had known about Fleck—his powers—and Fleck was even less safe than I’d thought. He wouldn’t ever be safe with men like Lord Commodus and this Lord Eris knowing who he really was.

My forehead was damp with so much sweat that I pulled up my sheets to wipe it and realized my sheets were damp, too. Sunlight streamed through my tall windows as little dust moats floated like glitter in the air.

Morning.

I looked over at my couch where Stefan lay on the floor beside it, sleeping. His foot was still five times too big and completely the wrong color.

“Stef,” I said loudly.

He didn’t so much as flinch.

The little vial on my dresser was still glowing and swirling like it had the night before. I pushed back my covers, dropped my feet to the cold stone floor and walked toward it.

It was my only option.

It’s an option that might kill you.

But if I didn’t try, Fleck was going to die, and it wasn’t like I had any magic to help protect him. Earning a position of power was my only option, my only hope to gain magic.

I didn’t have another choice.

I searched my bathroom for a couple of glasses and, once I found them, divided the glowing liquid into each. Now, for the blood.

I pulled my dagger from its newly decorated sheath and pressed the tip into my finger. A drop of blood welled in the cut, pearling on my fingertip. I held my finger over one of the glasses and let the drop fall. The blue-white liquid swirled and glowed brighter, absorbing the blood, and I felt the power inside of it pulse. I set the glass down and took the other glass to Stefan. A quick prick—he didn’t even wince—and I let a drop of his blood fall into the other.

I decided to let Stefan go first. After all, he was dead asleep and if anything tasted fowl or went wrong, he’d never remember. With a groan, I rolled him over and propped his head up with a pillow. I grabbed the glass with my blood, pinched his nose, and held the glass to his lips.

His lips finally parted, and I released his nose, carefully tilting the glass. He choked at first, but soon relaxed and swallowed the contents until he’d drunk every last drop.