69. Opalescence

Opalescence

A s soon as I wasn't actively being paid attention to, I resumed my mental chant at Cass. I wasn't sure if it would work, but I had to do something , and focusing on impressing on him the need to go up to the thrones gave me a task to focus on so that I wouldn't lose it.

The Buzzing Castle was a handsome place, with pale stone walls and warm tile floors with mosaics at every intersection. There weren't nearly as many paintings or wall-hangings as in the Clement Palace, and almost no statuary. Instead, the niches in the walls held various natural objects, ranging from the skulls of strange beasts to twisted pieces of wood and wind-carved stone.

Some of the mosaics on the floor had teeth in them. Some of the teeth looked… human.

Tech brought us to a pleasant-looking sitting room, one with burgundy leather couches and a woven wool rug with intricate geometric designs, done in turquoise, cream, and a pinkish red. He sat Yllana down, none too kindly, and gestured with his knife for me to take a seat next to her.

I did, holding my silence.

He jerked his chin at Ace, who limped over. The pain would have come back the instant that siphon had gone down on the throne. Even though we were on opposite sides – even though he'd been part of all this – I couldn't bring myself to feel any satisfaction in his pain. Ace was caught in the jaws of this trap the same way I was.

"Bare your neck," the Sagebrush Duke said softly.

I obeyed, lifting my long hair. Moving with care, Ace started winding a long strand of small opals around my throat. My connection to Cass cut off again, but I could still feel Mercy beneath my feet with a sense of restlessness, like a pacing lion at the zoo. I couldn't cast, but I'd still at least be able to use my land-sense.

"A precaution," Tech said when I glared at him. "You're a remarkable woman, and I'd rather not get murdered by you."

"Is it really murder when you tried to assassinate my soulmate and currently have me held captive?" I asked, giving him a pretty smile.

"He's not dead and you came willingly," he replied, smiling right back. "Isn't this so friendly?"

Ace didn't clasp the necklace. He tucked the tail end of it around itself in a loose knot, then tugged my hair out of my hand and let it fall over the back of my neck. It was wrapped around my neck and secured, no doubt to satisfy the terms of his promises, but he'd left me able to pull the necklace off without breaking the strands.

I acted like I didn't notice, sneering at him when he walked back over to the door. He gave me a long, unreadable look, then stepped out of the room and closed the door.

Tech's ears tracked Ace's movement, then flicked forward, focusing on me and Yllana again. "He's been quite upset about this all," the Misted Duke said in a conversational tone. "After centuries of seeing Vaylir be an icy cutthroat, it's been quite amusing to see him turn soft for a pretty mortal Queen. I feel certain he'll get over it once the Calanids peak in a few minutes and all our years of scheming finally come to fruition." He wafted his hand through the air like a debutante. "There's something so satisfying about victory. Wouldn't you agree?"

I gave him a tight smile. "Don't count your chickens before they hatch."

Opals around my neck, wound three times but not clasped. I couldn't simply tug them off; they'd get stuck and choke me. I needed to be able to yank on the middle strand, hard enough to whip the rest of the necklace around my throat, friction burns be damned. There wouldn't be time enough to complete the action before getting stabbed by Tech, though, not with him standing at ease no more than four feet away. He'd have that dagger across my throat, and that would be that.

Yllana was a problem, too. She was a seamstress, and in this war of gods and Kings she was out of her depth. I imagined Tech only saw her as a pawn at best. He wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice her.

"I generally assume things will go wrong," Tech assured me with a reckless smile, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Still, though, it's difficult to remain pragmatic when I can practically taste the ecstasy of completion."

My face scrunched up with disgust.

He only laughed, his expression easy. "It will surely all be over soon," he said. "Did you know it took us nearly three hundred years to get enough opals to make the arrays for the borders? We might have spent more time on them to perfect the amplifiers, but your soulmate is rather troublingly land-tied." He sighed, shaking his head. "Despite the rapid timeline, with him neutralized, it ought to work, and I imagine he'll only be too eager to blood-seal treaties with us to get you back."

"He's not the forgiving type," I said, anger simmering in my veins.

The duke laughed. "Of course he isn't. He's fae ." He shook his head as if that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "If you're hoping he'll come rescue you, you might want to change your prayers. Ithronel is eager for a rematch, and she has the measure of your soulmate, now. I doubt you'd like the outcome."

All my skin went cold. If they broke off the duchies – if the Duchy of Flies was the Court of Flies – there was no reason why Ithronel couldn't take the field. Faerqen only had his aegis over Mercy .

High above us, bells started ringing. They sounded like church bells, deep and sonorous, their voices vibrating through the stone and filling the air.

Tech drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword, holding his bloodied dagger in an easy grip, smiling with the satisfaction of a cat. "Ah, there we go," he purred. One hand went up to his throat, and he started undoing the clasp on his opal necklace. "Brace yourself, Merciful Queen. I expect this will be quite unpleasant for you."

He tossed his opals onto the couch. Peeled off his opal-cabochon gloves and tossed them over, too.

The bells fell silent—and agony struck.

I lunged off of the couch from the white pain, flinging myself up and collapsing to the floor. Pain shocked up my forearms and femurs. I choked on my own spit, the pain so incredible that I couldn't breathe , couldn't even think .

Choking, I was choking, collared like a dog—I ripped the opals from my neck, gasping for breath, eyes wide and unseeing.

—Quyen? Quyen! Where are you, love, where are you—?!

Don't come! I sent back, my heart breaking. Don't—

The ground underneath me ripped away.

It was like having the marrow torn from my bones. I had the brief sensation of my wings folding, falling like a shot bird, and then there was nothing , the living earth underneath me turning into a dead thing and taking everything inside of me with it. I dry-heaved, my whole body wrenching with it, fingers spasming uselessly against the ground.

Tear the wings off a dragonfly , I thought with distant horror. Tear the duchies off the Court, give them the chance to be reborn, let their royal lines step back into the light.

It should have killed me. Would have killed me, if I didn't have Cass' blood in my veins. I was as land-tied as he was. There wasn't a world for me without the Court of Mercy beneath my feet.

Tech started laughing, his eyes glowing silver, the goddamn Misted King .

Yllana struck with the vicious speed of a rattlesnake. Her bound hands tore the belt-knife from my hip, and she flung herself bodily at Tech.

I gasped for air, trying to get up, to stop it. I collapsed back down as they struck each other, crashing together in a head-on collision, both moving with vicious speed.

He buried his dagger to the hilt in her side.

She buried her dagger in the meat of his neck.

Blood wet his mouth and spurted from around the blade. He stared at her like he couldn't believe what was happening to him.

She bared her teeth. Pulled out the knife. Sank it back into him.

His knees buckled, that expression of utter shock turning into blankness.

Yllana fell with him, collapsing down with blood pouring out of her side and her hands still wrapped around the hilt of the one buried in his neck.

I crawled over, weeping, my vision tunneled. Some of the horrific pain eased, leaving me so weak I almost collapsed onto Yllana's body. My hand slipped on the blood-wet floor.

The Misted King had fallen, with no close blood relatives and no established heir. The Court of Mists, so young and untested, still remembered being ruled by the Court of Mercy, and it had reverted to that knowledge, and that King. Mists belonged to Cass again.

"Yllana, no," I sobbed out, trying to put pressure on her wound. "No, why would you— It would have been okay, we could have been okay, you didn't have to die—" This couldn't happen, this was all going so wrong—

She wheezed. Blood bubbled from her lips. Her hand wrapped around my wrist like a vise.

"He—loves you. Not me," she forced out, her eyes fixed on my face as blood filled her lungs. "Please—understand. They kill—mages. If they—can't. Control it. He—" Tears slipped out of her eyes, silver tracks that splashed against the red. "Too young," she rasped. "Couldn't—stop—himself. I tried—kept him… alive. Not well. But alive." Yllana coughed, the sound wet. Every breath left more pink foam on her mouth; came harder.

"Don't die," I begged. My own hot tears fell. "You can't die."

Yllana reached up and patted me on the cheek, leaving blood behind. "I love him. Loved them—both," she said, the words barely audible. "Yours now… daughter. Love him… for me."

Her lashes fluttered. The tiniest smile turned up her lips—and then her eyes went unfocused, and her hand fell, and the wet burble of her breath ceased forever.