Chapter Twenty-Five WITCHING MOON

Chapter Twenty-Five

WITCHING MOON

Week Two, Day Ten

Year 3000

Zanya was still staring out the windows of Sachi's old chambers when the fifth bell rang.

There wasn't much to do to prepare for dinner. Nothing could entice her to remove one scrap of her armor until she was quit of this place. She needed it to help insulate her against the memories of being small and vulnerable and hurt by the people who called this beautiful palace home.

She was as prepared for dining with the queen as she could possibly be. She simply didn't want to.

No one had touched Sachi's quarters since they'd left a few moons ago. It was jarring to stand here, where nothing had changed, as if she hadn't been remade into an entirely new person over those scant weeks.

The view out the window held no answers. Siren's Bay churned uneasily, as if it had caught the mood from the capital. Whitecaps broke against each other as waves swelled to the height of a grown man before crashing against the shore. In the distance, Zanya could barely make out the island where the Siren's keep perched high on a cliff.

Seahold. Where she'd fought Ash, and almost killed him. Where Sachi had plunged a dagger into her own heart to save them both.

Where Zanya had manifested, tearing open the power of godhood.

"Are you not coming to dinner?"

The low, rumbling voice behind her was familiar, but unexpected. Zanya glanced back, surprised to see Ulric crossing the room toward her. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No, quite the opposite. It seems like you've done a wonderful job turning the court against itself." He huffed his amusement. "They're like little sheep running in all directions. It's tempting to bite a few."

Something about the words wasn't quite right. Neither was the bright golden glow in Ulric's eyes as he came closer, stopping well within her personal space. His chest brushed against her back. His breath smelled of whisky, and something sharper. Raw liquor? "Have you been drinking?"

"Only a bit." He nuzzled her temple. "I missed you."

Zanya froze, her instincts screaming. Power prickled over her, but this wasn't the seductive darkness she associated with Ulric. This challenge roared up from someplace endlessly cruel, where playing wasn't a game, but something you did with your prey before you slaughtered them. The fingertips suddenly sliding up her arm weren't the soothing touch of family, but someone testing her boundaries. Seeing how far he could go.

She snatched at the shadows and vanished into them, appearing on the other side of the room with her hand gripping the hilt of her knife. "Who are you?"

Ulric's perfect eyebrows swept up above Ulric's golden eyes. "It's me, pretty shadow girl. Your Wolf." He prowled toward her, but there was nothing of Ulric's predatory glide in his movements. Too much arrogance. Too much swagger. And his smile was all teeth. "Don't tell me you haven't felt our connection. I knew the moment I laid eyes on you that you like a little monster in your man."

Zanya tightened her grip on her knife. "You're nothing like him. You might as well give up now."

"Ahh, well. A pity. In my defense, I only had descriptions to go on, and my source does have his prejudices." The man's face rippled , a confusing play of shadows and light that spilled down to swirl around his body. His hunting leathers vanished, replaced by familiar court finery. The face settled into the haughty smile she'd stared up at in the audience chamber.

"Better?" Prince-Regent Doven asked, smoothing one hand over his embroidered tunic. "Though it's a bit boring, if you ask me. These Roquebarres are so washed out. Pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes. Their features are as generic as dirt. Between you and me, I suspect their bloodlines haven't branched sufficiently in recent years."

"You're—" No, whatever this was, he clearly wasn't a member of the royal family. And now that he wasn't trying to hide it, power seethed from him the same way it seethed from the High Court.

The same way it had seethed from High Priest Nikkon.

"Of course, I mean that as no reflection on your beloved Princess Sachielle," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "Now, I've heard she's quite an eyeful. Even better than the portraits they have hanging around here. Lush and sweet, ripe for the plucking. I'm supposed to be meeting her tonight, you know. Before your theatrics, I had arranged to absent myself to one of my estates. No one at court knows where I really go, of course."

Ice flooded her veins, but she refused to react. Every word he uttered was that of a child with a stick poking at an animal, seeking a vulnerable spot. "You're from the Empire. Part of the Betrayer's ... court."

"See? You're not nearly as stupid as Nikkon made you sound. I was worried I'd have to spell it out." His face rippled again, revealing a handsome man with a strong jaw, reddish-brown hair, and green eyes that might have been beautiful if they hadn't been so chillingly hard . "You have the honor of addressing Grand Duke Hinrick, Guardian of the Kingdom of Inavihs. And occasional spy."

An invaluable spy, with a power like that. Though his faulty impression of Ulric would not have held up to the close scrutiny of anyone who knew him, Prince Doven was a much wiser target. Aside from his well-known reputation for hunting and horses, who at court truly knew the absent prince? "Did you kill Doven?"

"Mmm. He went on a final hunt, where he found prey intent on hunting him ." Hinrick smiled and edged closer, his gaze flicking to her hand wrapped around the hilt of the Void-blade. "Between us, it wasn't much of a challenge. He was a lackluster hunter, at best. Far more accomplished at hunting pleasure in bed, and even that he usually paid for in lieu of earning."

He edged another step closer, testing her response, and it felt the same as when he'd stroked her arms. Pushing her boundaries again, creeping over them to see how far was too far. He liked the idea of playing with her. Scaring her.

He also enjoyed the sound of his own voice. Zanya gave him what he wanted to see—a nervous woman taking a step back—and kept asking questions. "How long ago did you replace him?"

"Oh, not long. After you killed Nikkon." He bared his teeth in a sudden smile. "That was you, wasn't it? They said a mistress saw you slaughter the king. But I figured Nikkon would have groveled once he got a proper look at you. You shine with the power of the Void."

"He groveled," Zanya agreed. "It wasn't enough."

"Brutal girl." He sounded delighted. "Poor old Nikkon. You probably gave him mercy, you know. The Emperor was very upset with him for not realizing he'd found the future Empress. Though I suppose he might be in a forgiving mood, now that he has her. Tell me, was the Dragon very angry? Did he moan and brood and break things?"

Ice would be warmer than what flooded her now. The frozen midnight nothingness of the Void wrapped around her as she studied her prey. The foolish inconsequential verbal sticks could only shatter on her armor. It wasn't worth getting upset over the words of a dead man. The only question was how she would reveal his nature to the Mortal Court before she did away with him.

So she smiled at him.

In the space between heartbeats, Hinrick crossed the remaining space between them and slammed her back against the wall. Only that protective layer of black ice kept Zanya from stabbing him in the gut when he reached out to touch her face. "Look at you, so freshly made you still shine. Like a wobbly baby colt who doesn't know her own strength."

"Is that what you like?" Zanya asked conversationally. "Easy prey?"

Her words seemed to sting. Rage tightened his eyes, and he bashed a hand against the wall next to her head. "No, I like them with some fight. That's what's going to make you so much fun. You'll be the best hunt of my life, little deer."

The menacing threat rolled off his tongue, and it took everything in Zanya not to laugh. How could they all be like this? The guards who'd tried to put her in her place out of fear, the nobles who'd thought their power over a mere maid made them strong, even a god—all of them so pathetic, so worthless . Give them a scrap of power, and all they wanted to do was use it against someone else to make themselves feel bigger.

How small they must be inside. How ruined. And then she did laugh, letting the pity show on her face. "Is that it? Your best material? We can keep going if you have more. I can help. Are you going to teach me my place?"

"Someone should," he snarled.

"I can guess where you think it is," Zanya taunted him. "Go on. Put me there."

His hand flew back too fast for a mortal to see, but Zanya had to wait forever for his knuckles to crack across her face. The backhand would have shattered the cheekbone of a human, sent them flying. Zanya absorbed it by turning her head, then looked back at him, implacable and unimpressed, as she lifted a finger to her split lip. It had already begun to heal, but she wiped away the blood and smiled. "Feel better?"

Hinrick recoiled in surprise, but Zanya caught him by the throat before he could retreat, gripping hard enough to choke him. She forced him to his knees and bent over him, lowering her voice to an intimate whisper. "This is the part where I fight back," she murmured. "I hope it's everything you dreamed."

Then she kicked him through the wall.

Stone that had stood for thousands of years shattered at the force of his body smashing through it. Outside, someone screamed. Zanya ignored the clatter of silver—probably a servant abandoning a tray to flee—and lunged after Hinrick.

He was already shaking off the blow, climbing to his feet with blood dripping down the side of his face. "Beginner's luck," he snarled, then lunged for her. Zanya let the shadows take her just long enough to let him hit the wall face-first, then reappeared behind him. Fisting her hand in his hair, she crashed his face into stone again. She heard the crunch of bone this time, and he howled in pain.

"Enjoying the hunt?" she demanded.

"You're an abomination."

"So I've heard." She ground his shattered cheek into the stone. "Do you want to make this easy on both of us and come to dinner with me? You can explain who you really are to the court and queen, and perhaps I'll let you live."

" Let me live?" he scoffed. "I have chess games older than you, brat. I will go to dinner, just for the pleasure of spitting that child queen on my knife, and then—"

Zanya hauled him back and knocked his face into the wall again—only to watch in horror as the hair wrapped around her fist turned to waves of shimmering gold. Sachi's cute, upturned nose bled, and her full, perfect lower lip split as her face crashed into stone.

"Please," Sachi's voice begged, blood and tears running down her face. "Please stop hurting me—"

Zanya's brain screeched a warning, but she was already recoiling, horror flooding her in a wave so vast it shattered her protective shell. For a shuddering moment, all she could do was stare at Sachi's bloody face twisted into an expression of shocked betrayal. The tangy metallic scent of blood mixed with the salt of tears, and she choked on it as she stumbled back.

Not real! It's not real!

It took a heartbeat too long for Zanya's body to catch up, and a heartbeat was all he needed. In a clatter of footsteps he was gone, his form melting back into that of Prince Doven as he raced toward the grand dining room.

Cursing under her breath, Zanya sped after him. Shadows tickled her fingertips, offering her the promise of a shortcut. She could step through them and be at Anikke's side in the blink of an eye—but bursting from the Endless Void in a swirl of shadows in front of the entire court seemed unlikely to de-escalate tensions.

So she ran.

The palace was a maze of hallways that haunted her nightmares. She flew past doors leading to rooms full of terrible memories, each one fueling her rage as she sprinted after her prey. But as fast as she was, he was faster. She skidded around the final turn to see him disappearing into the grand dining room past two guards.

"Move!" she screamed, barreling toward them. Both unsheathed their swords, steel flashing in the torchlight as they attempted to block her. They'd be easy to kill, but they'd steal precious moments she didn't have.

Fuck de-escalation.

Reaching for the shadows, Zanya stepped .

She exploded from the Void in the middle of the room, near where performers played to entertain the court. Long tables flanked her on either side, and ahead of her, raised on a slight dais, the high table stretched the length of the room with Anikke at its center. Tislaina had claimed the seat to her left, but sliding into the empty chair on her right—

"Anikke!" she screamed as Doven lunged, the flash of silver damning Zanya for her caution. She should have traveled sooner, she should have—

The knife arced toward Anikke, then froze, mere inches from her heart.

Anikke stumbled back, pale with shock, knocking over her chair as screams filled the hall. Guards rushed toward the dais, only to stop short when they realized that Doven still wasn't moving. He stood, dagger in mid-swing, his face fixed in the rictus of a war cry.

Zanya started forward, only for Aleksi's voice to stop her. "I would appreciate it if you left him for me, love."

Zanya started as Aleksi strolled into the hall. He was the picture of relaxed ease, but she felt a strange sort of vibration when he passed her, almost like the tension that rolled through a room when Sachi was furious over some wrong or injustice. A protective rage, born not of darkness but of light.

Aleksi approached the dais, then stopped and studied Doven's immobile features. "Who are you? You are not Prince Doven, though you wear his face."

The disguised Hinrick just managed to mutter something.

"No, thank you. I'm not in the mood." Aleksi's brow furrowed. "Zanya?"

"Grand Duke Hinrick," she told him. "From the Empire."

"I should have guessed." Aleksi shook his head. "Such violence in your heart. Magenta streaked with rust red. But no matter. You will answer for your crimes."

He grabbed Hinrick by the shoulders and threw him over the high table. Still held immobile by Aleksi's magic, he was not able to break his fall, and the man hit the floor at the musicians' feet with a thud and a muffled, pained moan.

Aleksi rounded the table and addressed the lute player. He touched the musician's cheek gently, then smiled. "You know how much I adore and support your work, but I need the space to deal with a matter of some importance. If you would?"

The other musicians scattered immediately, though the lute player lingered a little longer, his eyes shining. "As my lord commands."

"Many thanks, love." Aleksi turned to the nearest guard. "I require two swords."

The guard paused, confused. "Two, my lord?"

"Two." Aleksi addressed the crowd. "Grand Duke Hinrick has made an attempt on Queen Anikke's life. In doing so, he has violated my blessing of safety. This offends me. Still, you all know me to be a fair man. I will not strike him down where he lies, but seek redress in combat."

Zanya barely managed to keep the grimace from her face as the guards fetched the weapons. Hinrick had proven himself to be a brutal fighter, and Aleksi was ...

Aleksi.

He caught her gaze—and winked. "Don't worry about me, sweet Zanya." He hefted his sword as the magic prison melted away from Hinrick's growling form behind him. "Love is stronger than you think."

Hinrick rushed Aleksi's unguarded back, his blade raised. Aleksi spun, blocking the blow with a languor that belied his speed. Then he struck in return, delivering a quick slice to Hinrick's sword arm.

She saw the moment Hinrick decided to flee. He dropped his sword and turned, his form already melting into that of a servant in nondescript clothing. If he managed to evade their sight for even a moment, he could turn into anyone. Be anyone. He would escape.

The cry of warning caught in her throat as Hinrick rebounded off an invisible barrier. By the time he hit the floor, he wore the visage he had presented to Zanya as his own. Gasps filled the hall as he turned and tried again in a different direction, but with the same results.

Aleksi had retrieved Hinrick's discarded sword. He held it out to him now. "You will need this."

"I won't fight you," Hinrick spat.

Aleksi simply waited.

Hinrick shook his head. By the time he stilled, he looked like Zanya, and her gut roiled to see such a cruel beast wearing her face.

"I won't fight you," he said again, Zanya's shaking voice pouring from his lips in a desperate rasp. "Please."

It made for a pitiful sight, a terrified woman begging for her life. But seeing herself brought so low, made so pathetic—her grip on her knife tightened, the temptation to end this farce nearly overwhelming her.

But Aleksi only sighed. "I will not be moved by your games, and I don't care what face you wear. I see your heart, remember? Magenta streaked with rust red."

"Fine." Zanya's features melted away, and Hinrick glared at Aleksi with fury twisting his lips into a snarl. "Suit yourself."

Zanya's breath rushed out as he snatched the sword from Aleksi's hand and immediately attacked. He didn't hesitate as he rained Aleksi with a flurry of slices and stabs.

But Aleksi countered or parried every one, and with a grace that stunned not only the crowd, but Zanya, as well. He flowed across the floor like he was dancing instead of fighting. Every line of his body was beauty and pure elegance.

"People make assumptions, you see," Aleksi said conversationally as Hinrick charged him. He stepped aside, and Hinrick skidded to a stop just before hitting the unseen boundary of their dueling ground. "Love is soft, a tender emotion meant for moonlight and babies' blankets and a mother's kiss. They forget."

Hinrick had already fought Zanya, and his desperation grew as he began to tire. He started to make mistakes, allowing Aleksi to get past his guard.

And Aleksi struck.

"Love can be a blade." A slice across Hinrick's cheek. "A cudgel or a shield, harder than tempered steel."

Hinrick feinted and lunged. Aleksi bashed him in the head with the pommel of his sword, driving him back.

"Love can heal," he murmured. "But it can also wound. And it can be a fury that no one who has not yet loved another to the very depths of their soul could ever hope to comprehend."

Hinrick rushed Aleksi with a scream—and met the end of a blade. He and Aleksi both stared down at it, Hinrick in dumbfounded horror, and Aleksi with something almost like resignation.

"Love protects," he whispered gently, then dragged Hinrick closer, running the blade through his body. "It can even avenge."

After a gurgling moment, Hinrick slipped off the blade and fell to his knees. His face bubbled , shifting through features so fast he barely looked solid as Aleksi stepped back, raised his sword, and cleanly struck the fallen god's head from his body.

Chaos.

The room erupted, people scattering and guards rushing around. Aleksi handed his bloodied blade to one, as if depositing an empty wine goblet on a server's tray, and approached Zanya.

He pitched his voice low, so no one else would hear. "I don't like it. There was something odd about him."

"Odd how?"

"I don't know. Something almost ... familiar."

A sudden wind whipped through the hall, blasting open windows. Thunder rattled the castle. A few new cries rose over the crowd as panic mounted, but a haunting hum vibrated through the room, growing louder as the notes twined with the rumble of thunder.

The ghostly song vibrated in Zanya's bones, scraping her nerves raw. But it swiftly became clear it was having the opposite effect on the crowd. Their shoving subsided. Shouts faded. A path opened up down the center of the room as if a gentle hand had decided to part them.

Framed by torchlight, Dianthe stood in the center of the double doorway. Her gown flowed around her, midnight blue at the base brightening up through the colors of the ocean until a high collar the white of cresting waves framed the dark skin of her face. Her black curls flowed unbound down her back. Behind her, two of the most beautiful men Zanya had ever seen proved to be the source of that unearthly hum.

The Siren stepped through the door, and people scrambled from their chairs and sank into deep bows as she passed.

At the high table, Tislaina's heavy makeup stood out garishly on her deathly pale face. Prince Bodin actually trembled. Aleksi, with his easygoing reputation as a devotee of love and peace, might have been popular, but for those who had lived their entire lives on Siren's Bay, always at the mercy of the sea, the Siren was not simply joy and blessings and crops and babies.

She was also the wrath of storms and the cold judgment of the unfathomable deep. After years of Nikkon urging disrespect, the regents had grown complacent. The High Court rarely left their keeps, after all. Many in the capital could go their whole lives without encountering one of them. How easy it must have seemed to wage war against the gods when you sent orphan girls and disposable soldiers in your stead.

It was different when the gods came to you .

Dianthe stopped next to the body of the Shapechanger and raised one eyebrow at Aleksi. "He must have angered you greatly. I haven't seen you so much as draw a blade in a hundred years."

"I take my blessings of safety seriously, sister."

Queen Anikke stepped forward and inclined her head. "My lady Siren. You are welcome in my home."

"Thank you, child." Dianthe's gaze swept across the table, lingering briefly on the two regents. "The last time I visited was at your birth. I see much has changed ... and much has not."

Anikke swallowed, but lifted her chin. "Much will change in the days ahead. I have given my vow to the Lover that my kingdom will honor the High Court and protect all of your people."

"Then perhaps you will allow me to serve as your advisor at this transitional time in your reign. The rest of the High Court will be busy addressing other matters, but I suspect in the days ahead we will wish to strike a new accord with the Mortal Lords."

The young queen's eyes widened. "I would be honored, my lady."

Whatever spell had been cast over the crowd seemed to shatter. Murmurs immediately erupted, and Zanya hurried to Dianthe's side. "This wasn't part of the plan, was it? Did I do something wrong?"

"Plans change, little sister." Dianthe beckoned to Aleksi as she turned to fully face Zanya. "Word has just reached me that the Phoenix rides the waves with the Kraken. They sail for Dragon's Keep, where you and Aleksi must go. The time has come to bring Ash's consort home. I will hold the Sheltered Lands safe until you return."

Finally. She touched Dianthe's hand in thanks. As she turned to Aleksi, Anikke's voice rose behind her. "Is Sachi in danger? Can I help?"

The true concern in the words halted Zanya. She retraced her steps, climbed the dais, and stopped in front of Anikke. The girl had King Dalvish's eyes. His cheekbones, his hair. But the soft worry in her expression looked so much like Sachi. So did the stubborn set of her chin, and her determined posture—too young to carry such burdens, but standing proud in spite of them.

She might not be Sachi's sister by blood, but there was more than one way to be family, so Zanya gripped Anikke's hand. "Your job is to keep the people of the Sheltered Lands safe," she said firmly. "The Siren will help you. I'll bring your sister home."

"And I can see her?"

Such hope in her eyes. She didn't care if Sachi was her older sister by blood. It was clear that the scraps of kindness Sachi had bestowed upon her loomed large in a childhood otherwise barren of affection.

Sachi might never be able to look on the girl without a bittersweet ache, but Zanya knew that wouldn't stop her. "I know she'll want to see you."

"Thank you," Anikke whispered, releasing her hand.

Zanya nodded and reached for Aleksi. "Ready?"

"Never, my love. But let us go."

Zanya seized the shadows, and even the weight of carrying Aleksi didn't bother her. Not when she was traveling toward Sachi.