Sanct, thought Kell. Emery was about to become even more insufferable.
Lord Sol-in-Ar addressed Tos-an-Mir and the crowd in Faroan, Princess Cora praised Rul and the gathered Veskans, and at last Prince Rhy dismissed the stands with promise of parties and closing ceremonies, the rest of the day a cause for celebration.
The king smiled and even clapped Kell on the back as the Maresh family made their way back to the palace, a train of cheerful subjects in their wake.
And as they climbed the palace stairs, and stepped inside the flower-strewn hall, it seemed as if everything would be all right.
And then Kell saw the queen hold Rhy back on the landing with a word, a question, and by the time he turned back to see why they’d stopped, the doors were swinging shut, blocking out the morning light and the sounds of the city. In the dim foyer, Kell caught the glint of metal as the king shed the illusion of kindness and said only two words, not even directed at Kell, but at the six guards that were circling loosely.
Two words that made Kell wish he’d never come back.
“Arrest him.”
VII
Lila lifted her glass with the rest of the Night Spire as they toasted their captain.
The crew was gathered around on table and chair in the Wandering Road, and it was like they were back on the ship after a good night’s take, laughing and drinking and telling stories before she and the captain retreated below.
Alucard Emery was bruised, bloody, and undoubtedly exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from celebrating. He was standing atop a table in the center of the room, buying drinks and giving speeches about birds and dragons, Lila didn’t really know, she’d stopped listening. Her head was still pounding and her bones ached with every motion. Tieren had given her something to soothe the pain and restore her strength, insisting as well on a diet of solid food and real sleep. Both of which seemed about as likely as getting out of London without a price on her head. She’d taken the tonic, made vague promises about the rest.
“Balance,” he’d instructed, pressing the vial into her hand, “is not solely about magic. Some of it is simply common sense. The body is a vessel. If it’s not handled carefully, it will crack. Everyone has limits. Even you, Miss Bard.”
He’d turned to go, but she’d called him back.
“Tieren.” She had to know, before she gave up another life. “You told me once that you saw something in me. Power.”
“I did.”
“What is it?” she’d asked. “What am I?”
Tieren had given her one of his long, level looks. “You are asking whether or not I believe you to be an Antari.”
Lila had nodded.
“That I cannot answer,” said Tieren simply. “I do not know.”
“I thought you were supposed to be wise,” she’d grumbled.
“Whoever told you that?” But then his face turned sober. “You are something, Delilah Bard. As to what, I cannot say. But one way or another, I imagine we’ll find out.”
Somewhere a glass shattered, and Lila’s attention snapped back to the tavern, and Alucard up on the table.
“Hey, Captain,” called out Vasry. “I have a question! What are you planning to do with all those winnings?”
“Buy a better crew,” said Alucard, the sapphire winking again at his brow.
Tav swung an arm around Lila’s shoulders. “Where you been, Bard? Hardly seen you!”
“I get enough of you all aboard the Spire,” she grumbled.
“You talk tough,” said Vasry, eyes glassy from drink, “but you’re soft at heart.”
“Soft as a knife.”
“You know, a knife’s only a bad thing if you’re on the wrong side.”
“Good thing you’re one of us.”
Her chest tightened. They didn’t know—about her ruse, about the real Stasion Elsor somewhere on the sea, about the fact that Alucard had cut her from the crew.
Her eyes found Lenos across the table, and there was something in that look of his that made her think he knew. Knew she was leaving, at least, even if he didn’t know the why of it.
Lila got to her feet. “I need some air,” she muttered, but when she made it out the door, she didn’t stop.
She was halfway to the palace before she realized it, and then she kept going until she climbed the steps and found Master Tieren on the landing and saw in his eyes that something was wrong.
“What is it?” she asked.
The Aven Essen swallowed. “It’s Kell.”
* * *
The royal prison was reserved for special cases.
At the moment, Kell appeared to be the only one. His cell was bare except for a cot and a pair of iron rings set into the wall. The rings were clearly meant to hold chains, but at present there were none, only the cuffs clamped around his wrists, the bindings cold and cut with magic. Every piece of metal in the cell was incised with marks, enchanted to dull and dampen power. He should know. He’d helped to spell them.
Kell sat on the cot, ankles crossed, his head tipped back against the cold stone wall. The prison was housed in the base of the palace, one pillar over from the Basin where he trained, but unlike the Basin the walls were reinforced, and none of the river’s red light seeped through. Only the winter chill.
Kell shivered slightly; they’d taken his coat, along with the traveling tokens around his neck, hung them on the wall beyond the cell. He hadn’t fought the men off. He’d been too stunned to move as the guards closed in, slamming the iron cuffs around his wrists. By the time he believed what was happening, it was too late.
In the hours since, Kell’s anger had cooled and hardened.
Two guards stood outside the cell, watching him with a mixture of fear and wonder, as if he might perform a trick. He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Who would it be?
Tieren had already come. Kell had only one question for the old man.
“Did you know about Lila?”
The look in Tieren’s eyes told him all he needed to know.
The footsteps drew closer, and Kell looked up, expecting the king, or Rhy. But instead Kell beheld the queen.
Emira stood on the opposite side of the bars, resplendent in her royal red and gold, her face a careful mask. If she was glad to see him caged—or saddened at all by the sight—it didn’t show. He tried to meet her eyes, but they escaped to the wall behind his head.
“Do you have everything you need?” she asked, as if he were a guest in a plush palace wing, and not a cell. A laugh tried to claw its way up Kell’s throat. He swallowed it and said nothing.
Emira brought a hand to the bars, as if testing their strength. “It shouldn’t have come to this.”
She turned to go, but Kell sat forward. “Do you hate me, my queen?”
“Kell,” she said softly, “how could I?” Something in him softened. Her dark eyes finally found his. And then she said, “You gave me back my son.”
The words cut. There had been a time when she insisted that she had two sons, not one. If he had not lost all her love, he had lost that.
“Did you ever know her?” asked Kell.
“Who?” asked the queen.
“My real mother.”
Emira’s features tightened. Her lips pursed.
A door crashed open overhead.
“Where is he?” Rhy came storming down the stairs.
Kell could hear him coming a mile away, could feel the prince’s anger twining through his own, molten hot where Kell’s ran cold. Rhy reached the prison, took one look at Kell behind the cell bars, and blanched.