Chapter Twenty-Three WITCHING MOON

Chapter Twenty-Three

WITCHING MOON

Week Two, Day Ten

Year 3000

They made an entrance.

As much as she had loathed King Dalvish's court, Zanya knew its rhythms like the beat of her own heart. The court would be well into its weekly afternoon of audiences by now, with every lord and lady who had pretensions of power clustered into the massive hall, awaiting the queen's judgment on their petty disputes.

Zanya wrapped Aleksi in her shadows and carried them both directly to the hallway outside the grand doors.

Curses erupted, along with the clang of metal as the guards drew their swords. The herald at the door nearly choked, his gaze darting wildly between them as if he couldn't decide what was worse—that someone had just appeared by magic, or that he didn't know their proper titles and lineage in order to construct a formal introduction.

"It's her," one of the guards hissed, whipping his sword toward Zanya. "That traitorous handmaid!"

Without looking away from the herald, Zanya held up her arm and braced herself against the force of the blow. The sword blade threw sparks as it slammed into the Void-steel that swirled up her forearm in intricate studs. With a single thought, she sent shadows cascading back down the sword's length and tore it from the guard's hands. The hilt sailed into her grip, and she rammed the blade point down into the pristine marble floor, using her full strength to embed it halfway to the pommel.

Shocked silence filled the hallway.

Still holding the herald's gaze, she said, "You have the rare honor of being in the presence of a member of the High Court of Dreamers. The Lover wishes to address the Mortal Queen. Please announce his arrival."

The herald's desperate dedication to protocol and tradition won out over his shock—or any recent declarations about the High Court's traitorous status. He scrambled through the open doors and shoved an inconvenient chair out of the way. The ceremonial gong sat behind it, dusty with misuse. The last time Zanya had heard it sound had been for a visit from Dianthe on the occasion of Anikke's birth.

His thin face red with embarrassment, the herald wiped away the dust with one sleeve and hurriedly picked up the mallet. A few low-ranking courtiers at the back of the room had started to turn at the commotion, but everyone else remained focused on the dais at the far end of the hall, where a young lord currently held sway.

The loud clang of the gong changed that.

Confusion rippled through the crowd, moving slowly at the back and then racing through the front as the gong sounded again. Then silence fell, and the only sound was the rustling of fabric as hundreds of decadently clad nobles turned as one to face the wide doors.

"Chin up, love," Aleksi whispered. "Remember who you are."

The herald drew in a breath that Zanya feared would pop the buttons on his vest, and his deep voice rolled through the hall. "On this day, as on the first of days, the Mortal Court cries welcome to one of our protectors. The Lover walks among us. Give thanks for his bounty, and pray for his blessings upon your land and your line."

Zanya hid nerves behind a huffing laugh. "Well, that's to the point."

Aleksi laughed. "Yes, but if he tried to elaborate, we might be here all day."

She was suddenly desperately glad of his presence as she took her first step into the hall. Sachi might be used to bearing this many eyes upon her, but Zanya felt each individual gaze like a prick at the base of her spine, warning of an enemy that her instincts screamed for her to confront. The collective weight of it might have sent her screaming into the shadows not so long ago, but with Aleksi walking easily beside her, Zanya managed to block it all out and focus on her target.

The dais.

She'd expected a throne. Instead there were three . Queen Anikke sat in the center, painfully young and fragile in spite of her rigidly perfect posture. Her gaze was the only one that jumped back and forth between Aleksi and Zanya, her brow somewhat furrowed, as if she were trying to remember why Zanya looked familiar. They were only halfway down the endless walk when those blue eyes widened in recognition. Her gaze immediately dropped to her lap, where she'd folded her hands together so tightly her knuckles stood out white against her skin.

The thrones on either side of her held King Dalvish's next youngest siblings. Princess-Regent Tislaina sat on the left, her fancifully curled hair a mixture of gold and silver. She was just over fifty, a famed beauty, and utterly ruthless. She had been a willing accomplice in Dalvish's plan to destroy the Dragon—not to mention personally responsible for some of Sachi's cruelest training.

Tislaina watched Aleksi approach with reluctant reverence, as if struggling to remember that her family had declared war on the High Court. Perhaps she'd thought she could disparage the Dragon and burn the Witch's followers without drawing the ire of the Lover.

A tactical error.

Prince-Regent Doven sat in the throne on the left, his golden hair equally dusted with silver but his pose far more relaxed. Though only a few years younger than Tislaina, Zanya honestly couldn't say if he'd been a part of his elder sibling's schemes. His dedication to hunting and horsemanship had kept him rotating between the royal family's various country estates, and Zanya had seen him no more than a dozen times in her entire life.

His dedication to pleasure should have had him watching Aleksi with the same fervor as his elder sister, but his gaze was fixed on Zanya, his head tilted in curiosity. She did her best to stare past him.

King Dalvish's youngest brother stood on the steps at the base of the dais, dressed in full armor. Prince-Regent Bodin had known the family secret, too. And he had hated it. He'd hated the dishonor of breaking their ancient contract and had loathed the distasteful tasks involved in Sachi's and Zanya's training.

Perhaps that should have made him feel like an ally, but some days, Zanya had hated him most of all. Of all the powerful adults around them, he'd been the only one who seemed to realize that what they were doing was fundamentally wrong. It had haunted him, she thought. Enough to make him avoid Zanya and Sachi as much as he could.

But not enough to help them.

The murmur of the court finally broke through Zanya's silent assessment of the powerful quartet in front of them. A brief glance around her showed the lords and ladies whispering in excitement and jostling for a prime spot and the best chance at a smile of greeting from the Lover.

Under better circumstances, Zanya might have laughed. The current regents, and High Priest Nikkon before them, had done their best to turn the sensibilities of the capital against the High Court, but the Lover remained a favorite. They still sought his blessings for their unions and their babies. They thanked him for the bounty the farmers enjoyed. He'd served as muse for generations of storytellers and poets, who rendered him as charismatic and desirable, benevolent and joyous.

And he was the god of lust as well as love, the winking encouragement to give in to your carnal urges and call it worship, the walking epitome of everything sensual and luxurious.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome enough to weaken anyone's knees, especially when he actually tried to be charming. One or two of those whose eyes he met in the crowd actually swooned, and nervous laughter and excited chatter followed him and Zanya as they approached the throne.

Before they reached the base of the dais, Prince-Regent Bodin stepped into their path. Reluctance stiffened his shoulders and lines of stress aged his face—he looked a decade older than either of his siblings instead of nearly ten years their junior.

"The herald has forgotten that we no longer offer welcome to the traitorous High Court. They violated any pact between us when they allowed this assassin "—he flung out a hand to point directly at Zanya—"to murder our beloved brother and king, Dalvish II. If you have come to submit the so-called handmaid to justice, perhaps the relationship between our courts can be repaired."

"I'm afraid not, my prince," Aleksi said smoothly. "Rather, I'm here to inform you that the ancient contract between the High Court and your Mortal Lords was broken when King Dalvish II sent an impostor as the Dragon's proffered consort instead of his true heir. Therefore, we have come to reclaim the land that was, at that time, given in trust." He paused, then smiled the most dazzling smile Zanya had ever witnessed. "Unless, of course, you wish to negotiate a new contract."

Stunned silence greeted the words.

Anikke's head snapped up, honest confusion in every line of her expression. Something in Zanya relaxed—the girl still didn't know. There was hope for her yet.

The same couldn't be said of the regents. Doven might be lounging in his throne with the air of one watching an engaging sports match, but Bodin's gaze was stunned, as if he'd never considered he might be forced to answer publicly for the family's dirty secret. And Tislaina ...

She was enraged .

The crowd began to murmur, mostly whispers confined to the edges of the room. Those with the most to lose—or gain, if House Roquebarre should fall—crowded near the front, hanging silently on every word.

Finally, Anikke spoke. "What do you mean, an impostor? Do you claim that my sister, the Princess Sachielle, is not truly of noble blood?"

"It's a lie, Your Majesty," Tislaina said swiftly. "They seek to confuse you to cover their own crimes. See how brazenly they bring your father's murderer to face you? They have no decency."

Long-buried anger stirred inside Zanya, and she took a single step forward. Tislaina's bright-blue eyes flitted anxiously toward her, and Zanya captured her gaze, holding it through sheer force of rage. "Decency?" she demanded, finally breaking her silence. "Why don't you tell your niece your definition of decency ? Tell her about the drugs you provided to torture Sachielle. Tell her about the men you brought in to test her."

Tislaina gripped the arms of her throne, her face ghostly pale. "We should have cut out your tongue," she hissed. "A handmaid has no need of one."

"And neither does an assassin," Zanya countered, caressing the hilt of her dagger. The Void-steel sang to her now, an eager hum every time she touched it. It wanted what she wanted—the blood of those who had wounded Sachi's heart and body. Vengeance , righteous and bloody vengeance.

But that wasn't what Sachi desired from this confrontation. She wanted the truth told, the people of the Sheltered Lands protected. So Zanya eased her hand away from the knife and turned her back on the dais. The court faced her, hundreds of pairs of eyes eager for her words. Eager for drama and gossip, for the chance that whatever she revealed today would topple their enemies and allow them to climb.

"The Lover speaks the truth," she announced, raising her voice to carry to the far reaches of the audience hall. "Almost twenty years ago, High Priest Nikkon took Sachielle from the orphanage where she had lived since birth. I know because he took me, as well."

Someone in the crowd gasped. Murmurs started, whispers flying around the edges of the room like a quiet rumble. Zanya only lifted her voice again.

"The queen allowed the deception because she had recently lost a child. She didn't want the next one born of her body to be sacrificed to the Dragon. Sachielle was raised as a princess but trained as an assassin. King Dalvish II intended to break faith with the High Court not just by refusing to send them his blood to bind to the land, but by slaying the Dragon."

She turned back to face Anikke, who stared at her, stricken. Given what Zanya knew of the royal family, it was possible that Sachielle's absent-minded kindness had been the closest thing to affection this girl had truly known. And Zanya was about to rip away the only family member who had ever treated her well.

"I'm sorry, Anikke," she said softly. "Sachielle still thinks fondly of you, blood or no. She was the one who wanted to come here. She was sure you couldn't be responsible for the horrors they've committed in your name."

"Where is she?" Anikke asked just as softly.

"Held captive in the Empire. The Empire your father collaborated with—"

"Outrageous!" Tislaina shrieked, cutting her off. "You expect this court to listen to the ravings of some power-mad maid? Look at her—"

"We are all looking at her, sister," Doven interjected mildly. "Can you not see the way the shadows around her consume the light? Can you not feel what she is in your very bones?"

"Evil!" Tislaina retorted.

"Yes, rather." Doven sounded more curious than outraged, though. "My Lord Lover, might I ask how you find yourself traveling so willingly with a murderer who was clearly born of the Endless Void?"

Aleksi's brilliant smile didn't fade, but it took on an edge sharper than Zanya's Void-steel blade. "Such things you say about my sister. I thought you were smarter than that, Doven."

"Clearly not."

"Very well." Aleksi focused his attention on Queen Anikke as he spoke, his words ringing with truth . "The Void has its place in creation, as do we all. Without it, we could not exist, for there are no beginnings without an end. And evil? Your Majesty must know that evil can easily be the dominion of those who have been touched by the Dream." He looked pointedly at Doven. "Your family proves that."

Tislaina sputtered. "Why are we discussing this at all? Bodin, arrest —"

"No."

The gentle, clear voice cut through the muttering of the court and the bickering of the regents. Queen Anikke rose from her chair, drew herself up to her full height, and stared directly at Aleksi. "My Lord, it appears I am ignorant of some of the choices made by my predecessors. Will you, as a representative of the High Court of Dreamers, grant me leave to seek the truth before you revoke your protection?"

Could Aleksi hear the plea inside those careful words? Could he see the terrified girl beneath the proud young queen? Sachi had been right all along—whatever had happened here, it had not been at Anikke's behest. She was just the latest victim of House Roquebarre, and perhaps its cruelest because she truly shared their blood.

Aleksi stepped forward, heedless of Bodin's threatening posture and Tislaina's protests. He took Anikke's face between his hands and smiled down at her. "I know what your heart wants, my child, just as I know these others'. Yours is a loving soul, and I don't see as many of those as I would like. So yes, I give you leave."

Anikke smiled, and the regents shifted uncomfortably.

"What's more, I offer you my blessing of protection." He touched the young queen's forehead. "For as long as your soul seeks truth and love, no harm will come to you. Upon my word and power as a Dreamer of the High Court."

This was too much for the court. They exploded into shouts of religious fervor and pleas for further blessings. Someone shouted Anikke's name. A particularly overwhelmed noblewoman sank to her knees at the front of the crowd. "Long reign to Anikke the Blessed!"

Another courtier dropped to their knee, and then another, until it was a wave of rustling fabrics behind Zanya, and cry after cry filled the air. "Anikke the Blessed!" and "Our Blessed Queen!"

Emboldened by the cheers of her court and Aleksi's promised protection, a flush-cheeked Anikke turned to Zanya. "I wish to speak to you about Princess Sachielle. Will you dine with me at the high table tonight?"

Tislaina drew in a breath that almost popped her bodice. "Absolutely out of the quest—"

Anikke held up a hand without looking around. Her aunt's gaze flew to Aleksi, who arched one eyebrow. Her teeth snapped together.

The young queen didn't bother to hide her small smile of triumph. "My sister's old rooms are available for your comfort. I trust no one needs show you to them. We still dine after the fifth bell. I look forward to renewing our acquaintance, Zanya."

Because reinforcing her status to the court mattered, Zanya bowed to her. And lied cheerfully. "I look forward to it, Your Majesty."

As Anikke held out a hand and invited Aleksi to adjourn to her private library to begin negotiations, Zanya assessed the three regents.

Prince Bodin seemed at a loss for what to do. Defiance against the High Court had never come naturally to him, and it appeared that direct defiance in the face of a god was simply beyond him. He melted to the side and fell in behind Anikke and Aleksi like a relieved guard dog.

Disappointing, really. Having an excuse to kill him would have been helpful. But it would be best for Anikke if at least one member of her family proved loyal to her in the end.

Princess Tislaina more than made up for it. She remained sitting in her duplicate throne, beringed hands gripping the arms so tightly Zanya was amazed she hadn't left dents in them. Her hate-filled eyes followed the progression out of the room before swinging back to Zanya.

She didn't have to speak the words. Zanya saw her own death in those icy blue eyes, and only prayed the woman was reckless enough to attempt it on her own. Zanya would take true pleasure in ending her life, but it would be easier to explain it away if it was a legitimate case of self-defense.

Not that an inability to explain herself would stop Zanya. Anikke would never sit firmly on that throne while Tislaina lived.

As Zanya turned toward the exit, the final regent caught her eye. Prince Doven had slipped from his throne swiftly enough, but he loitered near the door that held the swiftest path to Sachi's rooms. He assessed her openly as she approached, gaze dragging from her new boots up her body, lingering on her Void-steel studded armor before sweeping over her face.

"It's a pity I didn't visit more," he murmured as Zanya reached the door. "I heard stories about you, of course, but they left out a few things. What fun we could have had."

Zanya flicked her eyes down to the sword belted at his waist. It was pristine, almost untouched, the scabbard encrusted with jewels that dotted the hilt, as well. A rich man's show-toy, not a warrior's weapon. "I don't think you would have enjoyed it any more than the rest of them did," she said, not slowing her step.

She was past him and out the door when his final words drifted back to her, and the eagerness in them prickled warning down her spine. "I suppose we'll find out."

So Zanya would be killing two regents before she left this castle.

Hopefully, Sachi wouldn't be too angry with her.