Chapter 18

A nyka trailed her fingertips through the lake water while Hawke rowed. There was something deeply pleasurable about watching such a man exert himself on her behalf. It served a primal need that stirred things in her. The way the muscles in his forearms rippled with each stroke of the oars, the way his shoulders rounded, and his body moved…he was a joy to behold.

She would take him to her bed. Soon. But not until Nazyr summoned her mother and Anyka found the counsel she so desperately sought.

She sensed her mother, Leda, would tell Anyka what she already knew—Sparrow had to be eliminated. But Anyka wanted her mother's blessing, and her advice on the best way to remove the other queen.

Hawke would jump at the chance, but his way would not be subtle. The arrow he'd shot at Sparrow proved that.

What would be safest was something that appeared accidental or natural. Poison was a possibility, but making poison seem accidental was tricky. Natural might be easier, but that came with limitations. For either one, Anyka definitely needed her mother's advice.

Ideas about how to create something that seemed like a natural death without poison escaped Anyka. Then again, if Anyka was ready to go to war, maybe there was no need for subtlety.

She sighed. There was so much to consider.

"Everything all right, my lady?"

She'd been staring at the center of the boat. She looked up. "I'm fine. Just otherwise occupied." The shimmer of the stars on the lake's surface caught her attention. "Look at that. It's like the stars are all around us. Spectacular, isn't it?"

He smiled and nodded. "It is."

She leaned toward him, pleased that he'd thought to bring her here, and whispered to him, "When I control both kingdoms, this entire place will be mine."

He stopped rowing, letting the boat float in the center of the lake. "You know that whatever you need of me, whatever you ask, I will do it."

She leaned back again, as content as Galwyn after a feast of fish and berries. "I know. And I very well may need you. I will know soon how to proceed."

"After you speak with your mother, my lady?"

She nodded, dipping her fingers into the water again. It was icy cold and very refreshing. "Yes."

"Does it not… scare you, a little, to tear the veil between our realm and the one that lies beyond?"

She slanted her eyes at him. Was this man, this warrior, afraid of the Beyond? "I am not seeking the counsel of some random spirit. I will be calling upon my lady mother, queen before me and a woman of considerable power. Do you really think that is something I need to be worried about? That she might cause me harm?"

"No, of course not." Brows bent, he shook his head like the very idea was ludicrous. "I meant more because opening the veil between realms might…" He shrugged. "What if more than your mother comes through? Is that not possible?"

She really didn't know. She'd never considered doing this before and certainly hadn't studied it. She lifted her chin. "Nazyr is capable. He will handle it. There is nothing to worry about."

But of course, now that Hawke had mentioned it, the seed of doubt was planted. She would speak to Nazyr before anything was done and make certain it was safe, and that he would let only her mother through.

Celestial Lake was beautiful, but Anyka had seen it and was eager to get back and move forward with her plan, provided Nazyr could give her the assurance that all would be well. "I'd like to go in."

"As you wish, my lady." He began to row again, pushing them back toward the palace.

Neither of them said a word until after they'd returned the boat to the docking point on the Malveaux side of Willow Hall, where Trog awaited her. Under his watchful eye, they made their way back to the royal quarters.

There were other people about, both Grym and Radiant, but she made eye contact with no one and ignored anyone who tried to greet her. "I want you with me, Hawke."

"I am here, my lady, at your service."

"I mean tonight. When Nazyr does what I have requested."

Hawke seemed to brace himself. "I will be there."

"Good."

When she walked into the royal apartment, Ishmyel and Nazyr were in the sitting room. Her uncle had a glass of brandy in front of him, Nazyr did not. Galwyn was on his perch. "Beatryce is still out?"

"She is," Ishmyel said. "There's a play this evening in the main hall, followed by a musical performance. I expect her to be out late."

"Good." Anyka gestured at Nazyr. "Are you ready? Is everything in place?"

He shot to his feet. "Yes, my lady. I'm ready when you are."

"Is there anything I need to do to prepare? Anything different I should wear?" She was dressed simply in slim pants, a split-hem tunic, her hair braided back.

"No, but we should be in a quiet place. Alone."

She stared at him, hoping he understood she was in no mood to be challenged. "I've already asked Hawke to stay with me and I see no reason my uncle shouldn't be here as well. It's his sister we're summoning."

After a moment, he nodded, sending quick glances at Ishmyel and Hawke. "If you wish, my lady."

"I do. This is safe, isn't it?"

"It will be as safe as I can make it, my lady."

Before she could question him further, Wyett came through the door carrying a small dish. "My lady, you're back. I was getting berries for Galwyn."

"That was thoughtful of you. Nazyr, Ishmyel, Hawke, let's go to the smaller sitting room." She turned. "Trog, you stay here with Wyett. No one comes into that room, not even Princess Beatryce."

Trog grunted. "No one in."

She went through to the private sitting room and settled into a chair. Her uncle, Nazyr, and Hawke followed. Nazyr turned the other chair to face hers, then sat across from her. Hawke and Ishmyel were forced to share the couch.

Tiny droplets of sweat gleamed on Nazyr's brow. "Lord Ishmyel, would you please close the doors?"

With a nod, Ishmyel did as the wizard asked.

"Do you have reservations about this, Nazyr?"

He shook his head. "This summoning is not easy, my lady. It's dark magic and by its very nature, unpredictable. I will do my best to control it, but you must not let go of my hands once we begin. No matter what happens, no matter what you see. Closing the circle between us is what keeps both of us safe."

"I understand."

He gave Ishmyel and Hawke his attention next. "The same applies to both of you. Do not attempt to break us apart, no matter what happens. I will close the spell. Only then can her highness and I be separated."

Both men looked very solemn. They nodded. Ishmyel took a deep breath. "Anyka, you are sure you want to do this?"

"I am." Speaking to her mother would give her the guidance and reassurance she needed. It was absolutely the right thing to do. She glanced at Hawke. Genuine concern showed in his bent brows and the tight lines around his mouth. She made herself smile. "We're summoning my mother. She will not hurt any of us."

Hawke gave a little nod, but Ishmyel just sat there as though he was bracing for the worst.

Men. Such worriers. She nodded at Nazyr. "I am ready. Start whenever you wish."

He drew his dagger from his belt. "Blood opens the door between the realms. Ashes call to those on the other side. Do you willingly give your blood to beckon your mother?"

"I do," Anyka answered.

"Give me your hand, my lady."

She stretched out her hand, palm up. Nazyr sliced the dagger across it. A line of red oozed up in its wake. Then he set the dagger on the table next to them and ran his fingers over the wound he'd made, collecting her blood. The wound disappeared under his touch as though it had never existed.

He held his fingers up, whispered a few quiet words, and the blood he'd collected turned to flames, ashes drifting up toward the ceiling.

"Now, my lady," he said, taking both her hands in his. "Close your eyes and picture your mother. Call to her, your spirit to hers. Bid her to come to you."

Anyka did as he asked, seeing nothing but the darkness behind her lids, feeling nothing but the warmth of Nazyr's hands. Mother, can you hear me? It's Anyka, your daughter. I need your counsel, please. Come to me.

She waited, but nothing happened. She repeated the words again. And again. She was about to open her eyes when a bright light filled her vision even though her eyes remained closed. She squeezed them shut tighter, but the light remained.

Her mother appeared as though she stood in front of Anyka, gaunt and gray, cheeks hollow, eyes blank. Nothing like the figure Anyka held in her memories. She gasped and jerked back, but Nazyr held onto her. "Mother? Is that you?"

Was this really Leda, her once beautiful mother?

Anyka, my darling girl, my love. Have you come to save me from this place?

What? Anyka shook her head. Where are you? What place? You're…dead.

This place is darkness and pain. I ache from the damp and cold. Save me. Please. You must save me. Give me your life. Change places with me. Skeletal hands reached out to Anyka, her mother's gown tattered and speckled with creeping gray mold. Please, I beg you.

"It's a trick," Nazyr whispered. "Do not give in. Ask your questions, get your answers, then we must close the veil."

No, Anyka , her mother begged. Please don't leave me. Give me your spirit. Help me get free of this place.

Anyka did her best to ignore her mother's pleas and the tears streaming down her own face. A new queen sits on the Summerton throne, Mother. I need to know what to do about her. She has stolen Lady Cynzia's grimoire. Stolen what is rightfully mine.

Leda's blank eyes erupted in flames, and again, Anyka jerked back. If she has what is yours, take it back. Are you a coward?

No. Anyka shook her head.

Get the grimoire and use it to free me from this place. You must.

But how do I deal with her?

Poison her. Pierce her heart. Break her neck. Are you that stupid? I do not care how, just do it.

But if I'm caught, I'll die.

Then don't get caught. Her mother's eyes narrowed, flames leaping behind the slits.

Anyka remembered that look of judgment. Cold seeped into her belly and she somehow knew it was her mother trying to possess her. Anyka wanted no more of this. She tried to pull her hands away from Nazyr.

" No , my queen, you mustn't."

His grip was strong. She dug her nails in. "Let go of me. Hawke, help me." She opened her eyes, but her mother was still there, her image superimposed over Nazyr's. " Hawke ."

Hawke grabbed Anyka and pulled her away, her nails raking Nazyr's skin. Blood welled. Her mother's form turned, laughing. Yes, good, you've done it.

Leda's image wavered, then slipped inside Nazyr through the bloody scratches Anyka had made. Gasping, Nazyr stiffened, his eyes opening. They rolled back in his head, and he collapsed to the floor.