The Rival (20 page)

The Tabernacle glowed from the south bank.  He didn't know what he would find there, but Leen would probably try to meet him there. 

And Cover, if she could.

He raised his heavy arm in a crawl stroke when hands gripped his feet, pulling him under.

He swallowed water, coughed, and choked.  He flailed his way back to the top, pulling a dead weight with him.  He spat out the water and took a breath of air as the hands worked their way up his legs, yanking him down again.

The man was holding him. 

The man put a hand on Gift's back and shoved, using Gift as leverage to get to the surface.  The man broke through as Gift sank.

Then the water exploded around him, and he saw another pair of legs flailing.  He forced himself up, and breathed.

Leen was in the water, her knife out.  She was slashing at the man with one hand, holding him with the other.  He was trying to protect his head, but the fall seemed to have sapped his energy.  She stabbed him repeatedly, then shoved him under the water.

In the moonlight, the river looked black.

"Come on," she said.

Gift didn't have to be to told twice.  The water was thick and warm around him.  He kicked hard, then swam after her.  When they reached the south bank, she grabbed his arm and dragged him ashore.

She was breathing hard, her hair plastered on the side of her face.  Gift sat, knees against his chest, shivering despite the warmth of the night.

"I thought they were supposed to leave us alone," she said.

Gift shook his head.  The Islanders were supposed to leave the Fey alone.  They were supposed to be co-existing.  But that didn't stop occasional retaliatory attacks for long-dead relatives killed in the war, or for just plain hatred.

It happened on both sides.

But this was a little different, and he wasn't certain he wanted to tell Leen that just yet.  She had just killed the man who had murdered Gift's real mother.

Gift forced himself to his feet.  His clothes were water-logged and heavy. 

"What are you doing?" Leen asked.

"Cover," he said.

"She's dead."

"You can't be sure."

"Yes, I can," Leen said.  She rested her forehead on her arms.  "Trust me.  You don't want to see her."

But he did.  She had died for him.  He had heard her screams as he fell. 

He pulled off his soaking shirt and his pants, keeping only his boots to protect him from the poison.

"Don't touch that stuff," Leen said.  "It'll kill you too."

"I won't," he said.  He didn't even walk to the normal part of the bridge.  Inside he climbed its side, his muscles protesting each movement.  When he reached the top, he walked the wide stone railing, and stopped midway.

A mist rose from the center of the bridge, and obscured the moon.  The smell was overwhelming, rotted decaying flesh.  He put a hand over his mouth and continued forward.

The lump on the side of the bridge wasn't even recognizable as Fey.  It was a round ball with an arm sticking out one side, fingers splayed as if reaching for help.  The bottom of the ball had the hint of legs, but nothing else.

Nothing recognizable as Cover.

He had heard that death by poison was a slow agony.  Often, he'd been told, it was a strangulation death because the Fey no longer had features with which to breathe.  He'd never been able to envision it. 

Now he'd never be able to forget it.

She'd been trying to save his life.

He turned to his left and vomited.  His dinner splatted as it hit the water below.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  No wonder his people had stopped.  No wonder they had given in to the Islanders.  No wonder his mother had married his father, trying to create unity.

No one wanted to die like that.  Not even his courageous, battle-strong people. 

He was dizzy, exhausted, and sick to his stomach.  He crawled along the bridge railing until he reached the Tabernacle side.

Leen put a hand on his back and helped him off.  Then she handed him his wet clothes.  She had wrung them out.  He put them on and shivered.

"We can't stay here," she said.  "We're near the Tabernacle. This is the most dangerous place for Fey."

"I know," he said.  "We'll find somewhere to rest outside of Jahn."

But he doubted that they'd stop.  He had to reach Coulter, now more than ever.  In trying to prevent a death, he had caused one. 

He couldn't bring Cover back.  But he could at least show that her faith in him had been justified.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

And they did.

TWENTY-ONE

Arianna huddled in the listening booth, not daring to breathe.  The booth was carved into the wall, with a thin panel between it and the King's personal audience chamber.  Usually guards hid here, prepared to emerge at the first sign of trouble.

But her father had dismissed the guards. When Arianna had come below to find her father, she found guards near the doors who described the Fey woman within.

Arianna had seen the Shaman a few times.  She knew who the guards were talking about.

They didn't stop her when she went to the booth herself.  They couldn't; no one could discipline her except her father.

And Solanda.

But Solanda's things were missing from her room.  Arianna had discovered that when she had gone in to continue the fight.  The familiar blankets and coverings were missing as well as the faintly furry odor. 

Arianna had knocked over a chair, then stood above it, uncertain why she was so angry.  Solanda had been in her way.  She had always been in Arianna's way.  Right?

Then why had Arianna felt abandoned?

She went to her father to find out, only to discover that her father was talking to the Shaman. 

It had been her father's anger that had driven Solanda away, her father's anger and her own.  Maybe the Shaman had come because of Solanda.  Or maybe she had come because of Arianna's so-called brother, the Fey with the look of Sebastian, and the bright blue eyes.

Sebastian loved that Fey, that Gift, and that terrified her.  Solanda said the Fey could Spell others, Charm them, seduce them into doing what the Fey wanted.  Perhaps Sebastian was Charmed.

Or perhaps he really trusted this Gift.

Sebastian had never hidden anything from her before, and that frightened her too. 

She wanted to talk to her father, but the Shaman was in the way, and the guards wouldn't let Arianna go in.  On that, they could countermand her.  Her father had given orders that no one enter.

So she crawled inside a listening booth, and sat, knees to chest, listening.

And Arianna hadn't liked what she had heard. 

The Shaman was leaving now, admonishing Arianna's father to guard his own children.  Arianna hunkered deeper into the booth. She would have to wait a while now before seeing her father so that he wouldn't know she had listened.  She had listened to his audiences before, but never one filled with so much information.

Information she felt wrong in having.

Her father was as confused as she was about this Gift.  And he was begging the Shaman for help.  The woman wouldn't help.  She couldn't.  And she was worried about things Arianna had never thought of.

Then the door to the listening booth opened.  The Shaman stood there.  Her hair was messed, as usual, but her face lacked its normal calm.  She crooked her finger, indicating that Arianna should come out.

Arianna's throat was dry.  She had never spoken to the Shaman alone before.  Solanda had been with her a few times, and so had her father, once.  The Shaman scared her, with her vague pronouncements, her obvious knowledge, and her air of personal power.

The Shaman waited. 

Arianna slipped out, and the Shaman closed the door.

The hallway was cool.  It was paneled with wood, a design that hid the entrances to the listening booths.  Most hallways in the palace were made of stone.  The hallway felt big after that little booth.   Arianna hadn't realized how stifling the booth had been.

The Shaman stood alone in the hall.  The guards were gone.  Probably to tell Arianna's father where she was.  Arianna was shaking.  This day had been confusing for her as well.

The Shaman put her dry hand on Arianna's cheek.  Arianna resisted the urge to pull away.

"You are a passionate girl," the Shaman said, "but you do not know where the passions come from.  Solanda has taught you, but not well enough.  She kept too much from you."

Arianna swallowed.  "She should have told me about Gift."

"She should have told you about the responsibilities of Black Blood," the Shaman said.  "You have a true brother, whom you attacked today.  You have a great-grandfather, whom you must not touch.  You have three uncles, and a dozen cousins, whom you may never meet.  If you attack any of them, if you harm any of them, you will cause a madness the likes of which the world has never seen."

Arianna's cheeks were hot.  "How do you know, if the world has never seen it?"

"It happened once," The Shaman said.  "A Black family turned on itself.  Three thousand people died after the Black Queen and her family slaughtered each other.  Three thousand.  Fathers turned upon sons, sons upon mothers, mothers upon daughters."

"Three thousand people is not the entire world," Arianna said, with more bravado than she felt.  She didn't like being told about rules after she had broken them.

"It was then."  The Shaman removed her hand from Arianna's cheek.  "The madness spread throughout the entire Fey empire.  The Fey hadn't really begun their conquests.  One in ten survived.  That's all.  The Fey Empire now covers half the world.  Do you want to risk half the world for a fit of temper, Arianna?"

She wanted to argue.  She wanted to say she didn't have that kind of power.  But the Shaman was right.  Arianna didn't know enough about herself or her Fey heritage to make that argument.  And logic didn't work.  Magic often defied logic.

"No," Arianna whispered.  "I don't want to risk half the world."

Then she squared her shoulders.  "But I didn't know I had a brother until this afternoon.  Or a Fey family.  I could not be blamed if something happened."

"The Powers don't care about fault," the Shaman said.  "They give us our magicks and we learn how to use them.  Or misuse them."

Arianna said nothing.  She had no defense.  She had attacked that boy.  Her brother.  That Fey.  He had been hurting Sebastian, whom she loved.

Even if he wasn't her brother.

"What did my real brother want with Sebastian?" she asked.

"It is not my place to explain the Visions of others."

"My father might fall for that, but I don't.  What did he want?"

"Gift wanted to protect your brother-stone.  I did not understand why until today.  But he was right in doing so.  He failed because of you."

"Stop blaming me for doing what I thought was right!" Arianna's voice rose. "I thought he was going to hurt my brother  —  Sebastian.  I thought he was going to hurt Sebastian."

"Things are not always as they appear, are they, young Arianna?  You of all beings should know that.  You are not a common Shape-Shifter.  And Shape-Shifters are not common in the first place."

"What do you want from me?" Arianna asked.

The Shaman peered at her.  "The future rests not on your brother, but on you.  Choose wisely."

Arianna clenched her fists.  "Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

The Shaman smiled.  "If it were that easy, I would do so.  But the Powers only let me see your importance, not your future actions."

"But I don't want to be important," Arianna said.

The Shaman tucked a strand of Arianna's hair behind her ear.  "You have been important, child, from the moment you were born.  You cannot walk away from it, even if you try."

She nodded once to Arianna, then headed down the hall.  Arianna let her go, then she pulled the strand of hair from behind her ear. 

She didn't want to be important.  She didn't want all that responsibility.  But no one cared.  And she could do nothing about it.  She sighed, and slipped into the door beside the listening booth.  Her father was sitting on one of the straight-backed chairs, his legs extended and crossed at the ankles.  He didn't seem to hear her come in.

"Daddy?" she said.

Her father looked up.  His face was wan, his eyes pale against his even paler skin.  "You listened," he said without accusation.

"Only part of it."

He nodded.  "I'm not strong enough for this, Ari.  I lost everything the first time.  My home, my father.  My wife.  They stole my son from me."

"But you got Sebastian."

"I did.  And now that I've accepted him, they steal my son again by telling me he's not mine.  He's not even human."

Arianna took a step closer to her father. She had never seen him like this.  He looked defeated.  She stopped on the small embroidered rug.  "But you still love him, don't you?" Her heart was pounding.  Somehow, that question was very important to her.

"I still love him," Nicholas said, "but I can't make him King.  There are dozens of nobles waiting in the Great Hall for a ceremony that won't happen."

Arianna took his arm.  "What about me?" she said, not certain what she was asking.

He closed his eyes, and shook his head slowly from side to side.  "You can't rule, honey.  Even if you wanted to.  You're not only secondborn, you're female.  My people won't accept that."

"You won't let that Fey boy rule."  She tightened her grip on her father's arm.  "You can't."

"I don't know what else to do," he said.

"Change it," she said.  "You've changed everything else.  You married a Fey.  You kicked the Rocaanists out of the palace.  You can make Sebastian King."

"No," her father said.  "He was never right for it.  You would have had to have helped him."

Arianna stared at him.  There were deep shadows under his eyes, and hollows in his cheeks.  Lines had formed near his mouth.  He looked older than she had ever seen him.

"You want me to say I'll take his place," Arianna said.  "I'll take Sebastian's birthright."