Heirs of Chrior: The Empty Throne Part 11

Without hesitation, the Constable put a hand on the ornate wooden door and pushed it open, interrupting the argument before tempers could flare. With a deep breath, I stepped across the threshold into a quaint breakfast room decorated in pleasant shades of coral and blue. Sunshine sprawled through the windows, dancing over the papered walls and lace-covered dining table, setting the china, crystal, and silverware a-sparkle. The Governor and Lieutenant Governor immediately came to their feet. While I didn't know much more about the Ivanova family than Zabriel did, I wasn't surprised to see that there were no women at the table. Fi had once told me Luka was a bachelor, and the Governor had long been a widower.

"Your guest," Farrier announced; then he gave the men a nod and took his leave.

Luka was taller than his father, and I had always thought him imposing, but the bearing of Wolfram Ivanova set a new standard. The older man was barrel-chested with heavy black eyebrows and a stern expression that seemed to cast a pall across the floor. He was regaled in a dark blue double-breasted coat with gold chains linking each pair of b.u.t.tons, the silver in his otherwise dark hair adding an aura of wisdom and distinction. Nimble despite his age, he strode to me while Luka withdrew toward the wall to make room for our meeting. With a bend at the waist, he took and kissed the back of my uninjured hand, his salt-and-pepper beard p.r.i.c.kling my skin. I had never before been this close to the Governor-never before been this close to the man who had given the order to execute my cousin-and my light-headedness returned. How had I ended up here? And why had this meeting come too late?

The Governor gazed directly at me with a grandfatherly smile and brown eyes the very shape and shade of Zabriel's. My knees buckled, and I groped in the air for support. I would likely have swooned if Luka hadn't appeared at my side to put an arm around my waist to sh.o.r.e me up. He deposited me safely in a chair to the left of his father's position at the head of the table.

"Are you unwell, Princess Anya?" he asked. "Would you like to return to your quarters?"

It was clear Luka thought the ordeal of the night before might yet be having an effect on me. While that provided a reasonable cover for my behavior, images of my cousin's execution were rising in my mind-Zabriel bound and hooded awaiting his fate, Constable Farrier stopping me in my tracks with the b.u.t.t of his gun, the Governor's hand slicing the air to signal the release of the plank. I swallowed hard, wondering how I was going to get through the next minute, the next half hour. But now that I'd made it this far, I had no intention of leaving.

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy. Nothing some good food won't fix." I offered what I hoped was a rea.s.suring smile.

Luka nodded and walked to the other side of the table as his father reclaimed his seat.

"It is an honor to welcome you to our home, Princess," the Governor intoned, his mien formal but sincere.

For the first time, I noticed the dog perched near his right elbow on a chair of its own, and my jaw almost dropped. The pup was gray and white, plush of coat and stocky in build, with a tail that curled high over its back. It wore a haughty expression and a deep blue collar that matched the Governor's attire, aspects I was sure did little to dispel Luka's annoyance at being relegated one chair farther down. This was the same dog I'd seen in the viewing box at the executions.

"Thank you, Governor," I managed, happy for the distraction the animal provided.

"And how would you prefer to be addressed?"

"Anya will do, please."

It was the way of my people to address only our ruler and his or her immediate family by formal t.i.tle. Though I was Queen Ubiqua's niece, I'd gone by my name and nothing more my entire life, and frankly I was growing weary of the t.i.tle of "Princess."

"Then to you I am simply Wolfram, while my son, whom you have previously met, may be addressed as Luka. And if you'll indulge the whims of an old man, this handsome fellow is my dog, Konstantin."

"Of course, Governor-I mean, Wolfram." My throat was tightening and I was beginning to feel fevered, as though being in close proximity to the territory's leaders was draining my life force. I reached for my water gla.s.s, wondering if my hosts could sense the stress building in my veins, wondering if my tissues might not visibly swell and expand from the pressure. I took a drink, aware that the Governor was perusing me, and managed a few additional words. "I appreciate your kindness."

"Did you sleep well?" Luka inquired, redirecting the conversation. The question felt strangely superficial and genteel considering the history of the exchanges between us, but I had the impression the Governor considered mealtime a refined affair.

"I closed my eyes and don't remember much more," I evaded, but the rise in Luka's eyebrows told me he had discerned the truth. Perhaps he had also tossed and turned, though he would not have resorted to the measures I had to gain a modic.u.m of rest. My face flushed at that thought, and I fiddled with the napkin beside my plate, unable to hold his gaze.

Governor Ivanova rang the bell that rested on the table near his goblet, and servants bearing platters laden with food entered through a pa.s.sage from the kitchen. Intermingled aromas of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and gravy rolled over me, though they proved insufficient to stimulate my hunger. The aftereffects of the Green were potent, and I wondered if my face was turning the color of my vice.

"And how is your wrist?" Luka continued. "Would you like our family physician to examine it? He could provide some pain medication."

"No, thank you. It hurts, but not unbearably so. I've had worse injuries."

Though the words came from my mouth without much thought, their impact was immense. The room stilled, the air seemed to thicken, and Luka and his father locked eyes. Aware of my mistake, I was scrambling for a way to break the tension when a servant entered to set a bowl of food in front of the dog. In my peripheral vision, I caught the roll of Luka's eyes, and I smiled.

"Your pup has excellent manners," I murmured to the Governor, for the animal was taking robust yet careful bites, not a crumb falling on the tablecloth. "Better than a fair amount of people I've met."

The Governor chuckled-a low rumbling sound-and began to fill his plate, holding the platters out to me. I politely took a small serving of everything, wishing I were seated more advantageously to slip some to Konstantin.

There were so many questions I wanted to pose-not least of all about the dog-but I didn't want to volunteer information about myself, especially when I wasn't sure what I was really doing here. I took a couple of bites of the delicious fare and felt some of my strength return, then decided it couldn't hurt to test the balance of power between the Governor and his son.

"Excuse me, Luka, but do you have any news yet about the boy who followed me last night?"

Luka shot me a warning look, and I realized his father might not know everything about the events that had transpired.

"What boy, Luka?" Wolfram demanded.

"There was a nine-year-old involved in the incident in which Anya broke her wrist."

"And what became of him?"

"He's in our custody."

Stunned by this news, I blurted, "You arrested a child?"

Luka frowned. "We do not arrest children. He was injured and in need of medical care. And I would prefer not to put him back on the street."

"May I see him?"

Before Luka could answer, his father spoke up. "That seems a reasonable request. Surely you could arrange a meeting?"

"We have more pressing matters before us right now."

The Governor gave Luka a piercing stare. It was clear he did not like to be challenged. "As soon as possible, then."

"Thank you, Wolfram," I interceded, unable to conceal a smug smile, for I had removed Frat from the bargaining table. "And you, too, Luka."

The Lieutenant Governor tipped his head, his eyebrows slightly raised, whether in amus.e.m.e.nt or approbation, I wasn't sure. Either way, he was being a good sport about it. And he had probably learned as much about me as I had learned about his father and him.

Even though breakfast appeared to be the antidote I needed, my stomach felt so shriveled that every forkful was a challenge. I pushed the food around on my plate, trying to make it look like I'd eaten more, not wanting to appear ungrateful for the hospitality extended to me. Luka, whose own plate was still half-full, caught my eye. Before a blush could even bloom in my cheeks, he winked and deliberately laid down his silverware, giving me permission to do the same. I flashed him a genuine smile, grateful for his sensitivity and, for once, his astuteness. I was starting to understand the reason Fi not only placed her faith in him but seemed enamored of him.

Servants removed our plates, and the Governor dabbed at his mouth before neatly folding his napkin. Then he turned to me.

"There's much for us to discuss. I believe Luka has told you that your family, including Queen Ubiqua, is en route to the capital. The most recent word we've received is that they will arrive the day after tomorrow. I thought you would benefit from a night of relaxation and recuperation before learning the reason."

My meal roiled in my gut, and I concentrated on the pattern of the lace tablecloth to block out emotion and sensation. I knew all too well why the Queen was coming to Tairmor, and what she would learn upon her arrival. Was I going to have to deliver the news to the Governor that he had executed his own grandson? I twined my hands together beneath the table, trying to come up with a reason to excuse myself, desperate to escape the room before anything more could be said.

"Anya." It was Luka who had spoken, his voice soft and coaxing, and I inexplicably fought back tears. "We've been looking for you for a long time, but not to arrest you. We wanted to ensure your safety, and we needed to tell you something important, something that will doubtlessly shock you."

I glanced between the two men in bewilderment. Fi had said the Constabularies were looking for me to keep me safe, but from what danger? And what could be more shocking than Zabriel's execution?

Luka stood and walked around the table to sit next to me, and my apprehension grew. Something was wrong, and I steeled myself against it. How much more bad news could I handle?

With a hint of a smile, he picked up my uninjured left hand, holding it between both of his. "Anya, your cousin is alive. We've been looking for you to tell you he's alive, trying to spare you the grief you've been going through."

My breathing picked up, and my eyes went to Luka's. They were dark blue but clear, honest. I saw no deception within them.

"We know who he is, that he's the Prince, and we didn't execute him. Queen Ubiqua and her Court are coming here to see him."

"B-but I saw him..." I stammered.

"A convict, disguised," Governor Ivanova supplied. "We turned the condemned criminal into William Wolfram Pyrite to prevent speculation and bring that chapter of Zabriel's life to a close. The pirate is dead. The Prince is alive."

My pulse raced, and the blood pumped so hard in my temples that I wanted to cry out. Their words should have elated me, but I couldn't wrap my mind around them. What sort of trick were they playing? Or was I hallucinating again?

"His w-wings," I tried again. "And the b-bullet hole."

"We hired an artisan to replicate them." Luka was again speaking, though his voice seemed to come across a long distance. "We have access to the originals, after all. We connected them to the condemned criminal's back with a harness and covered the apparatus with a cloak."

I searched his face, desperately wanting to believe him but afraid of opening my heart to the possibility. And all I had were words, nothing more than words. Words could be false. Humans weren't like the Fae; humans could lie.

"Let me see him."

My demand startled even me. My tone was steady, forceful, and uncompromising.

Luka glanced at his father, who gave a curt nod, and the three of us stood, chairs sc.r.a.ping against the hardwood floor. I numbly followed the Lieutenant Governor through the labyrinthine mansion and up a flight of stairs, the Governor behind me with Konstantin padding silently alongside him. Had I spent the night on the same floor as Zabriel and not known? And how could such a volatile secret be kept with so many servants roaming the halls? Then it became clear. The mansion was designed with two turrets, and Luka led us to the door of the westernmost one, unlocking it with a key he took from one of the pockets of his gold brocade dress coat. We entered, and he secured the door behind us.

We continued to climb, the stairs spiraling in a manner similar to the ridge that ran along the inner walls of the Great Redwood the royal Fae called home, though more tightly wound. Windows let in the sun at intervals, and birdsong echoed, reminding me of the Queen's loft, with its vine-laden floor and dizzying downward view. Eventually, the steps leveled out and we entered a parlor-like seating area. Across from us, double doors beckoned, and I stared at them, watching them grow and shrink, taunting me with what lay beyond.

Once more Luka took the lead, pushing the doors open and waiting for me to enter. Trembling, I stepped across the threshold into a luxurious suite that was clearly reserved for important guests. Half expecting a trap or a trick, my eyes snapped to a magnificent four-poster bed. I cautiously approached, every inch of my body on alert. Underneath a deep red comforter, his silver-blond hair in disarray across downy pillows, lay a familiar young man.

I gasped, then burst past Luka. With no thought to propriety, I launched myself onto the mattress, landing on my knees beside the still form.

"Zabriel," I whispered, touching his cheek, his forehead, his shoulder, afraid to believe what my senses told me. The Governor claimed to have fooled everyone at the execution, but what if that had been real and this was the sham? I slid my hand partway down my cousin's back, feeling along the base of his left wing where he had tried to hack it off, searching out the slight but highly distinct scars. The raw, empty feeling inside me abated-impossibly, unbelievably, Zabriel was alive.

Alive but not well. His dark eyes were closed, and his arms lay limply at his sides; his cheeks were flushed against skin that was otherwise as gray as the rugged stone outcroppings of the Fere.

I cupped my cousin's face with my good hand and turned it toward me, finding some relief in the furrowing of his brow.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked Luka, who had materialized next to me at the side of the bed.

"He's sick. He was shot through the shoulder when he was arrested, and he hasn't been able to overcome the injury, despite the efforts of our private physician."

The Governor made a slow walk to stand opposite us, eyes on his ailing grandson. At a snap of his fingers, Konstantin hopped onto the bed to curl up next to Zabriel's feet.

"The bullet was made of sky iron," I choked, not about to lose my cousin all over again. Sky iron was the one substance in Nature that was harmful to Fae, robbing us of our strength and our elemental magic. "Have you given him Sale?"

"Our doctors don't keep it." The Governor watched Zabriel pensively, hands clasped so tightly behind his back they turned white. "We have, however, employed all medical treatments available to us."

"He's part human," Luka murmured, giving the whole truth. "Whether Sale is at our disposal or not, we've been afraid it would worsen his condition."

We've been afraid it would kill him. The sentiment rang unspoken in the air. My cousin was half human, and Sale, the drink that ran from the trees in the Faerie Realm to nourish and strengthen my people, was deadly to humans.

"Sale won't hurt him. I've seen him drink it." I glanced between father and son, trying to gauge who was truly in charge, finally directing my plea to Luka. "You have to give him some-it's the only thing that might help him."

"Sale is illegal in the Warck.u.m Territory," Governor Ivanova declared, his words laced with regret and uncertainty at his own principles. "Its possession is banned, and those who break the law are severely punished."

I clutched a handful of Zabriel's bedding, my mind churning. I'd always carried a flask of the substance hidden inside my pack when traveling in human lands. But after I'd lost my wings and magic, becoming less Fae and more human, I'd been afraid to consume it, only to have it stolen by a Sepulchre.

Then another possibility came to me. Hastings had planted a small phial of Sale in my pack after Shea and I had sought forged travel papers in Oaray, enabling the Sepulchres he controlled and abused to track us, though we had not come to the grisly end he intended. Since the brutish man had been the one to shoot my cousin, it seemed oddly fitting that his earlier action might lead to Zabriel's recovery.

I scrambled off the bed to land beside Luka, and the dog emitted a low, warning growl. Though I wondered if the Governor's reaction to my upcoming confession might be similarly hostile, I was sure his son would take a more practical view.

"I might have some in my pack."

Luka was headed for the double doors before I could process his reaction, and before the Governor could object. Admiration for him filled me, followed immediately by panic. I couldn't let him rifle through my things-Sale wasn't the only illegal substance he'd find.

"Wait," I called, rushing after him. "I'll go with you. I know exactly where to find it."

He didn't slow, forcing me to jog to keep pace, and I trailed him down the winding staircase and through the second-floor corridors until we stood outside my bed chamber.

"I'll be but a moment," I told him, not wanting him to accompany me inside.

He nodded and started to pace the hallway. I slipped through the door, closed it firmly behind me, and took a step toward the bathroom. But I moved no farther, my feet sticking to the floor as though it were coated with glue, the blood draining from my face. Galina stood in the center of the room in disobedience of my wishes. Worse, Tom Matlock was with her. Worst of all, he held my syringe and vial of Cysur Naravni in his hands. My secret vice was secret no more.

Chapter Thirteen.

THE MAGIC OF SALE.

"Anya," Officer Matlock greeted me, raising one eyebrow. He stepped toward me to display the items he held in his hands. "Care to explain?"

My face grew hot, then the warmth spread throughout my body like a creeping rash, and I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. Instead, I glared at Galina, furious with her for entering my room after I'd forbidden her to do so-if I'd been a Fire Fae, she'd likely have burst into flames. I gritted my teeth, trying to control my reactions, for none of these things mattered at the moment. At the moment, I needed to find the Sale, and I needed to return to Zabriel.

"Not now," I barked, striding forward to pick up my pack. "And keep your voice down. Luka's outside."

He frowned. "Perhaps this is something he should be told."

"I think you've already carried more than enough information about me to Luka."

My tone was sharp, and I thought Tom winced. But I didn't apologize, even though I was being unfair. I needed to keep him at arm's length; I'd fall apart if I had to deal with his concern and criticism in addition to everything else.

Pushing past him, I shook out the contents of my pack on the bed. I rifled through the sprawl, then angrily swept the comforter clear with my arm, sending my possessions clattering to the floor. Where was the Sale? I took a deep breath, forcing myself to think, and the answer became plain. I wouldn't find the phial Hastings had planted in my satchel because this wasn't my satchel; it was Illumina's. Why couldn't I keep that straight in my head? Still, I should have found a flask of some sort. I had told my cousin to carry an emergency supply with her into the Territory. Had she used it? Neglected to bring it?

"What are you looking for?" Tom asked, coming to stand at my elbow.

"Sale." My voice was soft, and I cast a guarded glance at Galina, who had moved to the armoire, unnecessarily straightening the tidy clothing stored inside it.

"Is it for-"

"Yes." I knit my brows, perplexed. "How do you know about...?"

"I work alongside the Lieutenant Governor, remember?" He placed a hand on my arm, drawing me closer, his touch like a jolt to my heart. "But I didn't know about your cousin until very recently. At the time I let you... I mean, I didn't know then, or I wouldn't have let you..." He trailed off, plainly haunted by regret for not delivering me to Luka the day before Zabriel's execution-or rather, the surrogate convict's execution.

"It's all right. You made the best decision you could at the time-that's all any of us can do. And I didn't exactly volunteer to go with you."