Heirs of Chrior: The Empty Throne Part 3

"You?" he asked, pointing to my back.

"Me? What do you mean?" I twisted, trying to examine my clothing, thinking that something must be stuck to it.

"Your wings. How'd you lose 'em?"

"Why do you think I lost my wings?" I protested, glaring at him. I wasn't about to delve into my past at the whim of this boy. "For that matter, what makes you think I'm Fae?"

"You're Fae, and you lost your wings. Nothin' more to be said 'bout it. Lots of injured Faeries seek out the Black Magic. You're not the first I've found out here-just one of the few still livin'."

The matter-of-fact tone of Frat's statement sent a s.h.i.+ver down my spine. How close had I come to being one of his more typical finds? I needed to get out of here, needed to get my head on straight.

Swallowing down a surge of nausea, I said as calmly as I could, "Well, thanks again. But I've got to be on my way."

He scrambled to his feet and clapped his hat back on his head. "So what are you called?"

Once more, I felt the color rise in my cheeks. Where had I left my manners?

"My name's Anya. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Frat."

I held out my hand, and he gave it an energetic shake. Though this was no time to form a relations.h.i.+p with a young boy-and I wasn't interested in a sidekick in the aftermath of Shea-I nonetheless hesitated. Now that he was standing, he seemed even smaller and somehow more fragile. Guilt about leaving him alone a.s.sailed me, despite his bravado.

"Do you have a place to go?" I asked.

"I know more 'bout these streets than you do. Plenty of places to go."

"All right. I guess I'll see you around."

I picked up my pack and slung it over my shoulder, then headed out of the alley. I didn't glance back, though the sound of scuffling feet told me Frat had departed in the opposite direction.

I quickly put some distance between me and the alley, but thoughts of the Fae boy weren't so easy to leave behind. I couldn't quite figure out why. It was true I felt a connection to him because of our common injury, and I doubted I'd ever rid myself of the image my mind invented of his mother's abhorrent action, no doubt driven by the Fae-hating subculture in Tairmor. But while those things were horribly distressing and terribly wrong, something else was nagging at me. I kicked at some rubbish on the street, and it came to me like a rush of wind-all Frat's suffering might have been prevented had his father not deserted his lover and child. I liked to believe none of my people would be so callous, so puerile. Our closeness to Nature created a bond with all living things, an understanding of our interconnectedness, and a strong sense of responsibility.

But I was obviously fooling myself-there were Fae who were not good fathers, and by extension Fae who would desert their offspring. I knew well enough that my friend Evangeline's parents had been neglectful. And then there was Illumina's father... A faint echo from my dream rang in my head-he is neither a good father nor a good Fae.

My stomach lurched and I halted, putting a hand against the wall of the building closest to me to steady myself. My breathing had picked up, along with my heart rate, and I feared I might faint. I leaned forward to rest my forearms against the stone, head bent down, my thoughts clanging into each other and sending pain through my temples.

Could Enerris have poisoned my mother, his sister? There had always been something unsettling about the man, and my own experiences had taught me he was unkind. And even though he had been the firstborn of his siblings, he had been pa.s.sed over for the throne in favor of Ubiqua. What would have made him unsuitable to rule in the eyes of their parents?

As I struggled for breath, hazy memories from childhood slowly came into sharper focus-bits of conversation I had overheard about the fire that destroyed a section of the Great Redwood, rumors of injured and mistreated animals, vitriolic philosophies and arguments, and the scarifications on Illumina's body.

At the thought of my cousin, molten lead seemed to work its way into the pit of my stomach. In addition to sentiments she had no doubt etched into her skin herself, four words had been carved on her back in a place she could never have reached: belief, strength, power, perseverance.

I clenched my fists, my heart turning cold even while anger burned my skin. I was glad Enerris was dead, glad worms and maggots were eating his flesh in some unmarked grave-it was believed he had taken his own life after Ubiqua had banished him to the human world for goading Zabriel into drinking a mug of Sale. But why hadn't he been dealt with sooner? Why hadn't he been stopped before he'd had the opportunity to hurt my mother? Despite all the actions in which he had engaged, had he really left no evidence behind? Pity welled within me at the thought of Illumina. There was clearly proof of Enerris's demented philosophies on her body. Why had no one intervened on her behalf? And with such a man influencing her, how could she have turned out anything but damaged?

I groaned in misery, the lingering effects of the drug conjuring images I wanted to ignore. Then the distressing conversation I'd overheard between the three men in the alley resurfaced. The men had mentioned the tunnels that ran alongside the river. I knew where to find the secret entrance, having used it once before. I might not be able to change the past, to change things for myself, for Evangeline, or for Illumina, but there was one thing I could still do for Zabriel. When darkness came, I'd use the pa.s.sages to beat the human vultures to my cousin's body. I needed to return him to Chrior, to give our people the comfort that a proper Fae parting ceremony for their Prince would afford. And though that was a rite I'd be unable to attend, maybe accomplis.h.i.+ng this task would grant me the peace of mind I craved.

Chapter Four.

MACABRE QUEST.

Even with the snowmelt, it was freezing at night. I didn't mind the temperature against the broken skin of the welt on my forehead or my swollen right eye, but I wrapped my cloak tightly around the rest of my s.h.i.+vering form.

The enhanced senses and advantages I'd had as a Faerie had steadily diminished in the time since the hunters had hacked off my wings, but my memory remained fully intact. I had little trouble navigating the pitted and muck-s...o...b..red roads to find their more desirable relatives in a business district of the capital, where an out-of-use warehouse building hid an entrance to the caverns beneath the city. Officer Tom Matlock had shown Shea and me the secret exit from Tairmor when she and I had been on the run. We'd found much more than sanctuary on the underside of Tairmor, however. We'd found the body of the executed Fae-hunter Alexander Eskander in the clutches of a riverside eddy, and we'd encountered a colony of dislocated Sepulchres-once beautiful beings separated from the Faerie Realm and the magic they needed to thrive by the curse of the b.l.o.o.d.y Road-who had begged us for help. I trembled, hoping I would not have to go deep enough into the caverns to reach the chambers the Sepulchres occupied-the chambers in which they almost reverently preserved the skeletal remains of the children they kidnapped and devoured for their purity. I didn't know what help I could give them, what help they needed, or even if they deserved help. I shook my head to clear it. I doubted I had the strength to handle more than one problem at a time.

Upon reaching my destination, I put a hand on the warehouse door to discover it yielded easily to pressure; its lock was broken. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of my neck at the notion that someone might be lurking inside, but I swallowed my fear and stepped across the threshold. My gaze swept the darkened interior, landing on the heavy stones that covered the trapdoor. If anyone else was or had been in the building, it appeared the pa.s.sageway had gone undiscovered.

Abandoning caution, I rushed forward and moved the stones aside one by one, gasping with the effort. But my resolve remained undaunted. I would search until I found Zabriel, or what was left of him. What then? I'd hide his body-the cold in the caverns would help to preserve it-until there was word of Ubiqua's arrival in Tairmor. It would be her responsibility as his mother and as Queen to take him to Chrior so that his body and spirit could be imparted unto Nature. But she couldn't do that unless I found him. After all my failures, I owed this to the Faerie people. I owed this to Zabriel.

I lifted the heavy trapdoor to be hit by the roar of the Kappa. Steeling myself, I removed the length of rope stored in my pack and threw it over a ceiling beam. Then I lowered myself into the caverns and headed downstream.

Glutinous darkness fell away when I'd gone a few dozen paces. The cave wall to my right disintegrated into pillars that allowed a view of the river and the moonlight that played upon its surface. Stalagmites, precarious stalact.i.tes, and an occasional column where the two shook hands slowed my progress. Inside my boots, my stockings had long since surrendered to rips and holes, and my feet paid the price, with one less layer between them and the frigid river spray.

For the most part, I scanned the rocks and water from the natural pathway, but where the Kappa fell out of sight behind the stone formations, I clambered around or over them to slosh through pools and eddies. I would not overlook any crevice that could conceal a body, despite how much I dreaded seeing my cousin's remains.

At a clatter of rocks behind me, I spun around, hand falling to the long knife sheathed at my hip. Who else was down here? Sepulchres? Scavengers? I strained my ears to hear, but the sound did not repeat. Rolling my shoulders, I forced the muscles in my neck and arms to relax and hurried onward.

I searched until the cold seeped into my bones and my knees begged to yield. Though I fought against the notion, it was becoming increasingly obvious that I wasn't destined for success-the weights strapped to Zabriel's wrists and ankles had probably taken him to the river bottom. A dozen or more Water Fae would be needed to search for him, and since I had no elemental connection at all, my efforts would remain futile. Enmes.h.i.+ng both hands in my hair, I tugged hard, releasing a howl of despair and frustration. I had failed yet again.

I turned to retreat, only to slip and lose my footing. With nothing to grab on to, I fell into the water...into the river...into the sea near Evernook Island. I coughed and sputtered, looking frantically around, my clothes and pack dragging me down toward a fearful death. In time past, my nature as a Water Fae would have allowed me to calm the torrent with the palm of my hand, or with a pulse of thought ask it to bear me to sh.o.r.e. But time past did me no good. Should I even bother to fight? In light of my failures, maybe this was the ending I deserved. But, no, I couldn't give up, for a flicker of memory told me there was someone with me in the water. I thrashed about, trying to figure out who I had forgotten. Then my thoughts seemed to clear. Where was Illumina? My younger cousin and I had fled the all-consuming fire on Evernook Island together, plunging into the Bay of Arvogale in order to escape.

"Illumina," I called, voice thick and raspy. But there was no answer, just the rush of water in my ears. I held my breath, trying to quiet my own movements. Had she drifted away? Drowned? Had I lost both of my cousins this night?

But that wasn't right. Zabriel hadn't died on the island-he had been executed in Tairmor. And I wasn't in the bay near Sheness; I was near to drowning in the river in Tairmor, hallucinating like a madwoman as the current pushed me farther downriver. What was happening to me? Why was my mind playing tricks?

Despite my escalating terror, I waged a battle against the Kappa's current. With a mighty effort, I propelled myself to its bank and clawed my way onto the rocks. Though I wanted to curl into a ball and rest, I forced myself upright, my muscles quivering and protesting the movement.

Fighting paralyzing cold, I bungled my way along the path in the direction I had come, icicles forming in my wet hair and frost decorating my clothing and pack. At length, I made it back to the original pa.s.sageway, then on to the trapdoor, where I struggled to scale the still-dangling rope to haul myself out of the tunnels. After concealing the entrance once more with rocks and rubble, I reentered the city and rushed toward the poorer section of southern Tairmor, familiarity and the thought of food and warmth providing the impetus I needed to keep moving.

Eventually I became aware of the wide berth I was being given on the street, and I realized I'd been mumbling out loud while I walked along, my head down, watching the road just in front of my feet. Those I pa.s.sed must have thought me insane, but that didn't bother me. In truth, being insane wouldn't have bothered me, either. I was too cold and tired and frightened and heartbroken to care.

Though I tried to fight the urge, what I wanted was the unique brand of comfort to be found at The River's End pub. But could I do that to myself again? I sighed, hating to admit Tom Matlock had been right about Cysur Naravni, called the Green or Black Magic on the streets. He was the one who had originally warned me about it, taking special care to ensure I was aware of its dangers; he'd told me it wasn't worth its price, and I'd scoffed at the idea that I might fall so far.

I rubbed my forehead, unable to shake the image of Tom's brows drawn close in concern over his silver-gray eyes; nor could I s.h.i.+rk off the shame the image inspired. Perhaps what I needed wasn't Cysur, but a good night's sleep, a luxury I'd been denied for some time. Nightmares appeared to be creeping into my waking hours, making me feel out of place and time. Clinging to the hope that sleep might be the cure for all my ailments, I headed toward the place that would give me the best opportunity to claim it.

When the Fae-mily Home came into sight, I stopped and surveyed the area, trying to a.s.sess the danger that a Constabulary might be waiting for me inside. Despite my altered appearance, I didn't want to take any chances. When my hunger and exhaustion turned into physical pain, I hastened across the pitted road and into the shelter, leaving behind the incessant sound of the rus.h.i.+ng waters of the Kappa that permeated the capital city.

I entered to be bathed in warmth from the crackling hearth fire in the corner. There were doors to my left and right that led to storage and laundry rooms, and a podium straight ahead. Through an archway beyond, a dining area stirred with life, and the enticing smell of cooked meat wafted upon the air.

Despite the noise, Fi heard the ringing of the bell above the front door and scuttled into the vestibule, ready to offer a meal and a bed to her newest patron. When she saw me, she halted as though she had encountered a barrier, the momentum of her body pitching her slightly forward. Her lips parted, her short brown hair almost standing on end; then she rushed forward to thrust her arms around me. Her embrace was rea.s.suring, the heat from her body enough to melt the ice that had formed in my gut at the moment of Zabriel's execution.

"Anya, I've been so worried," she exclaimed, holding me at arm's length to examine me. "Are you all right? You dealt me a blow with that blond hair. And that black eye you're sporting. You look..."

"Dreadful?" I supplied with a feeble laugh. "Not exactly what you'd expect from Fae royalty."

"It's not that. Just you've surely been through a lot. But I'll fix you up in no time."

Her wide-set blue-green eyes told me it wasn't just her naturally maternal personality that had set her to fussing.

"What's going on, Fi? Why so worried?"

"Lots of unsettling things these days. For one, there's been another execution, a Faerie no less. That'll stir up the Fae-haters in this city. And Luka and his Constabularies have been asking after you. I told him you wouldn't do anything bad, and he said it was about keeping you safe."

Her mention of the execution hit me harder than I expected, and I stumbled to the fireplace mantel, putting a hand upon it to steady myself.

"It's not my safety that interests Luka," I scoffed.

If possible, Fi's eyes grew larger, and her hands dropped to her skirt to fidget with its folds.

"That pirate they executed. Brought here from Sheness. You didn't have anything to do with him, did you?"

I hesitated, unsure how to answer her question, and my throat tightened. I fought the sensation, afraid that if I let my emotions filter into my voice, it would make her more inquisitive. She didn't know who Pyrite was-who he had been-and I wasn't sure I could make myself say the words.

"You can't tell Luka I'm here," I implored, choosing to address Fi's original a.s.sertion. "It's very important that you don't tell anyone."

She took my hands, her jaw set. "Don't fret, Anya. I won't say a word to Luka. But when he was here, he swore to me he wasn't out to harm you. If things change, you can go to him. I know it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I held back a sigh, s.h.i.+fting my gaze to the window. In the aftermath of the horrific outcome of my relations.h.i.+p with Shea, I would always err on the side of caution when dealing with humans, and Fi would always err on the side of trust. Albeit trust well-placed, as far as I could tell. The temptation to put faith in Luka Ivanova was a pulsing force, a tide reaching ever closer to land. He almost single-handedly funded the Fae-mily Home and had proven himself sympathetic to Fae causes and human faults. He'd begged Shea to hand over her father so that he wouldn't be forced to punish her in Thatcher More's stead. Indeed, he'd shown outright disdain for the law that made Thatcher's wife and three daughters collateral when he'd fled arrest, thus subjecting any of them to serve his sentence. Luka appeared to be a friend, and it would have been easy, a relief even, to give my fate over to him. But still I took care, for my ability to trust had diminished right along with my Fae nature, the actions of the hunters and Shea's betrayal eating away at my core.

Fi's voice pulled me from my deliberations. "You need to eat, and I've got a room where you can stay out of sight. It's not but a closet, but it'll keep you from the cold."

"Sounds wonderful. Thank you."

"One thing more. A message arrived for you like you said it might."

My heart leaped-Gwyneth. Before we'd parted company in Sheness, I'd told her she could contact me at the Fae-mily Home. News from her might lift some of the gloom I was feeling.

"Where is it?"

Fi waved a dismissive hand. "It's not going anywhere. Dinner first. You look starved."

Though I wanted the letter, I hadn't had a full stomach in days, and the promise of food proved irresistible. I followed her to a room at the rear of the shelter, near a door that led into an alley. She lit a lamp on a small table to reveal a s.p.a.ce that met her description with no embellishment-it was cramped, with a cot between the night table and the wall, a washbasin and mirror in the corner, and a narrow window that was set too high to open or offer a view. But it met my most important criterion: it was secluded. I would be comfortable and, in all likelihood, safer here than anywhere else.

"I'll fetch you a plentiful meal," Fi offered, cheeks tinged bright pink as she darted about to wipe away dust from the little-used s.p.a.ce and give the linens a healthy shake.

"No need for that." I laid a hand on her forearm to bring her fussing to an end. "The room is perfect. Thank you so much."

She hustled away, her blush deepening to red, and I deposited my pack on the floor near the bed. By the time I had washed my hands, she had returned with a heavily laden platter-chicken, warm bread with cheese, cooked vegetables, and a mug of spiced cider. The aroma washed over me, and despite the manners that had been drilled into me over the years, I fell upon the food like a starving animal. I sat on the edge of the bed, shoveling forkfuls into my mouth, almost swallowing the first bites whole. Fi left again while I ate, returning with an armful of clothing and a medicinal compress.

"I don't want you cold on the street." Her voice contained a trace of a scold as she set leggings, socks, a tunic, and a sash on the bed next to me. "You've worn through your old ones."

I nodded, unwilling to stop chewing.

"And this," she added, giving the compress a shake before setting it atop the pile, "is for your eye. It'll bring down the swelling."

"Thank you." I spit out a bit of bread along with the words then mumbled an embarra.s.sed "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. But you might want to slow down-there's plenty more where that came from."

When I finally set down my fork, Fi reached into a pocket hidden among the folds of her layered skirt and produced a rolled and wax-sealed letter. Too excited to be polite, I sprang to my feet and s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her hand. Though my brain told me it was crazy, I couldn't quell the wild surge of hope I felt that the paper would reverse the events of the past couple of days. Perhaps, against all odds, Zabriel had survived the fall and made it safely back to Sheness, and this was the letter that would explain everything. Hands shaking, I broke the Dementya family seal, but what I read when I unfurled the note was a simple statement of shared grief.

Anya, I'm so sorry. There was nothing you or I could have done. He was dead the moment he was betrayed, though I still can't grasp what happened. And I still can't believe he's gone.

Write me. Please. Come and stay with me and my father in Sheness if you like. You're always welcome here.

I'm thinking of you.

G.

At the bottom, hastily scrawled as though she had considered not including it, was an added message: If you retain any care for Shea, she's in danger now that he's gone. His friends are unforgiving.

I crumpled the letter in my hand, angry at Gwyneth for even mentioning Shea. Whatever happened to my former friend was out of my hands. More than that, it was of her making.

"Is the news bad?" Fi asked.

"No, just not what I wanted to hear. Tell me-when did this arrive?"

"Only this afternoon. By s...o...b..rd to the Dementya station, then by servant here."

I nodded. Although s...o...b..rds were notoriously difficult to train, they were swift fliers and therefore favored as messengers by the wealthy, a cla.s.s that included the Dementya family. And if the news had been spread this quickly to the coast, it had probably been flown across the sea to all the reaches of the human world, sparking celebrations at many port cities. Gwyneth's father, Leo Dementya, was the owner of a fleet of s.h.i.+ps that had been raided on more than one occasion, placing him among the revelatory group. What would she do if he asked her to join in a toast to the death of such a notorious pirate and criminal? At least I didn't have to pretend happiness. Gagging at that thought, I rushed to the washbasin, struggling to keep my food down.

"Are you sick?" Judging from the concern wrinkling Fi's brow, I looked as pale and clammy as I felt. "Should I send for a doctor?"

"No, no, I'm fine. But I should have listened to you-I think I ate too fast."

She pursed her lips, not quite believing me, and I spoke up, wanting to head off additional questions.

"Listen, Fi, if any more letters come-"

"I'll hold them for you-your eyes only."

I forced a smile and returned to the cot, taking a sip from my mug of cider.

"I'll be going, then," Fi said, removing another item from her hidden pocket. This time when she extended her hand, it held a key. "For the door into the alley. No one ever comes or goes by it. Just use it to please yourself."

"Thank you, again, for all your kindness."

She picked up the food tray. "You deserve better, but it's my best."

Before I could respond, she exited the room, closing the door softly behind her. With a moan, I forced myself to my feet and crossed the short expanse of floor to push the lock into place. Settling down once more on the bed, I squeezed my eyes shut and applied the compress to the right side of my face.

I wanted so badly to exhale the tension from my body. But it was no use, not when guilt and sorrow over Zabriel's death threatened to consume me and ever-present fear clogged my veins, at times almost immobilizing me. Queen Ubiqua-a.s.suming she was still alive-would come to Tairmor with her entourage despite that there was no longer a living Prince to retrieve. Of course, she might not know of Zabriel's execution, but whether or not she did, the political ramifications of a royal Faerie heir dead at the hands of the humans were potentially colossal. Nothing short of parlay between the leaders of our races could suffocate the impending outcry.