Not that this would keep Rennyn from trying. Lacking magic, she simply curled one of her hands into a fist and hit him in the stomach. It was hard enough to hurt him, and she managed to wrench herself away, leaving a long hank of her hair tangled in his fingers. Blood streamed from her throat, from the ragged tear his teeth had left, but she didn’t have a chance to do more than take a step back before the demon said: "Hold her," and Captain Illuma obediently got in the way.
"Did that make you feel better?" the demon asked, only a little out of breath. He was all excited and pleased, eyes shining and mouth bloody, though beneath it there was a hint of puzzled surprise.
"Not much," Rennyn said shortly.
The demon chuckled and looked around, then went and fetched a silky scarf from one of the conscious captives, laughing again when she flinched away from him. Rennyn only stood, stiffly upright with her arms held behind her, as the demon wiped his face, then tied the scarf around her neck. Her shirt was slick and wet, and Kendall felt the twitch of magic as the demon cast something to stop her from bleeding so much.
Then he balled up one fist and slammed it into Rennyn’s stomach just as she had hit him, except with a monster’s strength, so that she was smashed back against Captain Illuma and then crumpled and hung, gagging, in the Kellian woman’s hold.
Her hair fell across her face, but Kendall didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked at the nearest door. She was waiting for someone, just as the demon had said. Sebastian? Or could there be more Montjuste-Surcleres, and the story about them being the last just a lie?
And it was too late. A snatched breath and a stirring among the captives told Kendall she wasn’t the only one in the room who felt it. She realised it had been growing for a while, swelling, and now was made obvious by the way the Black Queen’s focus swung on its chain, pointing toward the middle of the room like it thought that way was down. The demon glanced at his wrist, irritated, interrupted in his play. But then he smiled, and shrugged, and said:
"Time to meet your Queen."
Chapter Twenty-Five
It happened far too quickly. The demon walked around the edge of the room’s big central square so that he was opposite Rennyn, putting the Black Queen’s focus well out of her reach. Kendall made one last attempt to wriggle free of Sukata’s grasp and the other captives exchanged urgent, impotent glances as the heaviness turned suffocating, and all the mage glows dimmed.
The whole room shuddered, and she heard panes of glass crack. All the edges went off the sounds, drowned out by a thrumming which filled the air, crushing Kendall’s ears, her chest, her bones. The whole of the heaviness over Falk was squashing down into this one space.
The black square became a pool, a pit and all the room was tipping into it. Kendall found herself tilting forward, but was held upright by Sukata. She could hear more glass breaking, but it was far away, outside this heavy, dark world–
Light. Bright, painful, stabbing into the eyes. Kendall flinched from it, and found that she was sweating, shaking, but no longer crushed. She took an overwhelmed breath and stared at the crystal sun which had taken over the room.
For some reason she’d thought that Queen Solace’s new focus would be black like Rennyn’s, but this was clear and bright like those that ordinary mages wore. It was just – big. Twice the height of a man, floating in the centre of the room, shining brighter than any of the mage glows. The air still throbbed with power, but it was more contained and less painful.
The huge focus rose slowly toward the big vaulted ceiling of the room, and there on the floor was the White Lady again, just as Kendall had seen her in Falk. Feet neatly together, hair spread out in a great fan to the tips of her fingers, beautiful dress shimmering. But this one’s eyes were open.
The woman sat up, moving very slowly. She wasn’t more than average height, but it felt like the floor quaked from her weight, leaving Kendall dizzy, small and scared spitless. Lieutenant Danress had been right about the pointlessness of attacking the Black Queen direct. There was so much power in the room, swirling around and through everyone like a live thing, as obedient to the Black Queen’s will as the Kellian. Casting a spell, drawing a weapon, making any kind of attack would be suicide. Only the Kellian might have the speed to succeed, and they were on the wrong side.
"Your Majesty," said the demon prince, and bowed extra-deep, before offering her his hand.
The Black Queen stood up, her long fall of waving white hair swinging to her knees. She didn’t seem awkward getting up off the floor, wasn’t in a hurry, acted totally in control as she gazed round at them all. The smaller focus detached itself from the demon’s wrist and moved to hover at her shoulder like a glass courtier. Tyrland’s new Queen.
Kendall became a little tangled over whether it was right to call her the new queen or the old queen. Either way, the haughty, disgusted look she suddenly fixed on Queen Astranelle, like she was some bug crawled from under a rock, left no doubt over how she felt about anyone else holding the title.
"You descend from the Pretender?" Her voice was strong and commanding, and colder than the Hells.
"I am a successor of King Eliathas, yes." Queen Astranelle stood steady, not moving even when Princess Sera was unable to hold back a hiccupping sob, burrowing her face into Prince Justin’s side.
The Black Queen’s lip curled, surveying the small royal family. "You claim a right to this land?"
The menace in her words hung in the air, a sword ready to fall at the wrong answer. Tyrland could not have two queens. But Queen Astranelle wasn’t about to swear fealty to the Black Queen, no matter the consequences.
"I have accepted a duty to this kingdom," she said, with quiet pride. "I will not turn my back on it."
Other than that she wasn’t a friend of the Kellian, Kendall didn’t know much about Queen Astranelle, but she had to like her for standing there so calm. Chin up in the face of death. She liked Lady Weston even more for stepping to the Queen’s side, a show of support from a mage who couldn’t even cast.
The Black Queen’s eyes narrowed, but then she glanced away, and Captain Faille moved, faster than fast. In a breath he was standing before Rennyn and one of his hands rose and fell, and left a line across her shirt. A choked gasp broke from Rennyn’s lips, and she moved like she wanted to clutch her side, but couldn’t because Captain Illuma still held her arms. He’d cut her open. Those nails were every bit as much a weapon as a sword.
As everyone stared in confusion, Captain Faille reached out his long, pointed fingers and actually stuck them into Rennyn’s side, which made her turn very pale and writhe rather. Blood was streaming down from the cut, a bit below her ribs on her left side, but it didn’t look like the wound was too deep. When he drew back his hand he was holding a familiar black sphere. Rennyn’s focus.
"Did you imagine such a simple ruse would overcome me?" the Queen asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Rennyn didn’t answer immediately, watching Captain Faille hand the blood-slick focus to the demon prince. The demon held up the necklace with its identical black stone, then dropped the necklace on the floor and pocketed the real focus. Only then did Rennyn turned her attention back to the Black Queen to say, "May I ask you a question?"
"Traitor’s child, do you hope to postpone your death or hasten it?" But behind the Black Queen’s dry words Kendall glimpsed suddenly sharpened attention. Captured and bleeding, her focus taken from her and facing a mage as powerful as the gods, Rennyn Claire still managed to act like she was the one in charge. Did she have a plan, or was this just Surclere arrogance?