Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

TRESSYA

He remained as prideful as I remembered, unfortunately he also remained as gorgeous and masterfully adept at infiltrating places he wasn't welcomed. I'd struggled to gather my thoughts, warring with the desire to throw myself into his arms and kiss him like he was my last breath. At the same time, I wanted to punch him in the face. To deepen my confusion, the skin around the bite mark felt as though a thousand butterflies were fluttering across the surface like a caress, reminding me of our special night.

The room had grown crowded since Tamas transformed into a man. The spirits of King Ricaud's army gathered to the left of the throne, while Tamas had likely disappeared back into the shadows at the base of the dais.

"I'm ready to go on," I announced to fill the sudden awkward silence .

Half of me dreaded what this ritual would entail, the other half was curious. The prelate had approached me late yesterday afternoon, informing me we had to return to Emberforge tomorrow. I didn't believe his reason but was eager to return, thinking perhaps I could talk with Plesy again. It had been over a week since we last spoke, and I'd struggled to find time to escape my constant entourage. I wanted to meet more of his friends, those secretly practicing their magic in the shadow of the Salmun. Then there was the Salmun's secret library. I was certain whatever they kept down there was exactly what I needed to read—what Tamas had hoped to find.

Apparently, the Salmun intended to perform a ritual to solidify my position on the Bone Throne, enhancing my connection and ability to wield the Etherweave. The Salmun claimed the ritual was as ancient as the throne itself and asserted that without it, my mastery over the Etherweave was doomed to failure. I was sure most, if not all, of what he said was a lie, but I was powerless to refuse. Besides, my curiosity and desire to know more wouldn't let me.

If only I'd asked Tamas if he knew of any such ritual. He'd likely omit the truth in his reply or weave a tale to his liking that had nothing to do with my question, but for a moment there, before Orphus entered, I'd grown apprehensive about going through with the ritual.

I was already tied to the Mother in ways I couldn't imagine, and believed Gusselan's warning regarding the Levenians. The Salmun had a millennium of time to share their knowledge of the Etherweave with their master, King Bezhani. I doubted such a ruthless king would arrive on Tarragona's shore expecting to bow before a woman, even if she sat on the Bone Throne with the Etherweave in her veins. Like all ruthless men, the king would have a plan enabling him to seize the power for himself, and that plan likely began with this ritual Orphus hoped to perform.

Unless I could come up with my own plan in time, I was stuck. Perhaps I should've insisted the Mother's presence. She was familiar; the Salmun were an unknown. As much as I now loathed her presence, she was better than the Salmun with magic I had yet to understand. At least I felt I had a chance of outmaneuvering her and overcoming whatever she'd done to me to force our link.

However, for the first time since I had assumed the throne, Orphus was adamant; the Mother was explicitly forbidden from attending. While Orphus relented, allowing her to travel with us to Emberforge, a wall of Salmun guard barred her from entering the inner sanctum.

As Orphus lead me toward the back of the Bone Throne, I wondered where Tamas had disappeared to. The shadows cast by the rock and throne were the only decent hiding places, unless he scurried into the dark at the edges of the room, away from the flaming torches, but I couldn't see Tamas as a man willing to bury himself far inside the shadows.

I forgot about Tamas once I realized exactly where Orphus was leading me—the Salmun's library beneath the Bone Throne. How could I be so fortunate to have the prelate lead me to the one place I most wanted to discover? Unfortunately, it would be impossible for me to search the library with Orphus so close beside me, but at least I would get a look inside and perhaps learn something I could share with Plesy and his group of rebel apostles.

In silence, Orphus placed a hand upon the rock underneath the throne, closed his eyes, then mumbled a chant too low for me to discern.

I shielded my eyes when the rock beneath his palm glowed a brilliant white. I tried to peek through my fingers, but the light became so bright it obscured Orphus. The tinge of magic tickled my nose, and an audible vibration rung in my ears.

No wonder Plesy and his friends were having a hard time finding a way in. I had very limited experience with magic, and what Orphus did now seemed to take a lot of skill and power to achieve.

"Your Majesty," Orphus said.

The light was gone. Orphus stood in front of a hole in the rock, disappearing down into the darkness. Coming closer, I saw steep, stone steps leading into a rock carved tunnel heading deep beneath the throne.

A heavy sensation swelled my stomach, spreading tingles to my feet as I stared into the opening. It reminded me of a dungeon.

"Down there?" My voice sounded small.

"There is nothing to fear, Your Majesty. This is a sacred place created by those loyal to the Bone Throne and devoted to the ruler of the Etherweave."

"By those loyal, you mean the Salmun?"

"We have given our lives to serving the Tarragona rulers. The heirs to the Bone Throne."

"Did Andriet and Juel know of this place? "

"Of course, Your Majesty." Orphus inclined his head. His usual way of bowing without bowing.

I knew he was lying. I was sure Andriet would've told me about the secret library had he known.

It was on my insistence Andriet remained at Emberfell, haunting Daelon's every move. I was desperate to protect his presence and feared his constant interruptions and outburst would muddle me so much I would accidentally reveal him to the shrewd Salmun.

The prickling hairs on the back of my neck told me King Ricaud's men were drawing near. They were an unsettling sight. Their hatred and disgust for the Salmun was unmistakable in their expression, impossible to disguise beneath the fatal wounds they bore. If Orphus wasn't present, I would question them about the hidden library, but the extent of my spiritweaving was one secret I would keep from the Salmun.

"You may enter." Orphus moved aside, welcoming me to descend.

Anxiety made my heart beat stronger, sharpening my focus. Think quick. The understanding I was about to get caught in a ritual tempered my desire to know more about their secret library. I was sure this ritual would bind me in ways dangerous to my free will.

I caught movement in the corner of my eyes, but resisted the urge to glance towards it for a better look.

"I would feel more comfortable if you went first. Dark places make me anxious."

"It won't be dark for long." And Orphus turned toward the entrance. A resonant noise echoed deep in his throat and a small glow of light emanated from the center of his palm. He flicked his wrist, tossing the ball of light into the opening, where it hovered just below the first few steps.

This was the second time since the Ashenlands war I'd seen the Salmun's magic. There was already a heaviness in my stomach, but the sight of Orphus's magic dragged that heaviness lower still. I was no match for magic. But if any mention of the Etherweave was to be believed, I would experience the touch of magic firsthand. I felt the welling darkness of dread as much as I felt the blooming lightness of excitement at the thought.

"I'd feel more comfortable if you go first."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

Orphus disappeared through the cavity in the rock under the throne. I stepped closer, watching his descent, then placed my palm flat on the rock. Within a heartbeat, Tamas scurried out from his hiding place and up my arm. I plucked him off my arm, and shoved him inside my pocket bag, hidden under my layers of skirts, then dared to tickle him under the chin. He didn't bite me, which had to mean the gesture wasn't demeaning to him. If I wasn't descending into danger—my instincts told me this was so—I'd smile.

I kept a hand on the tunnel wall for balance as I descended. The rock was cool on my skin. The residue of age and magic tinged the air and tickled the inside of my nose, made my tongue feel furry and spiked the fine hairs across my neck.

There was something else about the tunnel that made me shiver. Instinctively, I reached for my throat as though expecting to feel hands inching their way around my neck .

I slowed and leaned close to the wall, inspecting the cracks and juts of rock, thinking I would find creatures making homes in the wall, like the Ashenlands pit. I got the same nervous feeling.

Our footsteps echoed off the tunnel walls and tumbled into the darkness beneath us. Orphus's light stayed close overhead, guiding us down the treacherous descent.

I stumbled on my next step as a chill creeped along behind me. I jerked, hitting my shoulder on the stone wall to avoid one of King Ricaud's men, who'd glided down to join me. And he was not alone. Taking advantage of Orphus's ignorance, as he continued to descend into the darkness below, I slowed as I glanced over my shoulder to see a group of King Ricaud's men following along behind us.

As one, they stopped and watched me with somber expressions. Devoted to King Ricaud, they endured the existence of their mortal enemy for a thousand years, observing as the Salmun debased their sacred spaces and denounced their faith. Yet, these violations diminished in significance when faced with the possibility of the Salmun seizing command of the Etherweave.

The soldier beside me overtook me to block my way. He was gruesomely attired in his death clothes and missing his right arm. His clothes he would wear with pride for the significance they held, only now they were ruined with slash marks and blood.

"You are not to descend."

I couldn't speak to him with Orphus this close.

"You will not deliver the heir to the Bone Throne into their hands. "

It was a weird way to speak about me in my presence. Unless they meant someone else.

Tamas wriggled in my pocket. Perhaps curious why I'd stopped. I could feel him climbing his way through the pocket fabric, looking for the opening seam. I placed my hand over the pocket, gently pressing it closed.

"Your Majesty?" Orphus's voice carried up the tunnel steps.

"We will not let you pass."

"Give me a moment," I yelled down. To clear my headache brought on by these spirits .

So he wouldn't see me talking, I turned my back on Orphus, facing the way we'd come. The prelate would think I'd lost my brain, or grow suspicious with my bizarre behavior.

The last thing I needed was spirit trouble. Although the Salmun were aware of my talent, their silence since the Ashenlands war led me to believe they underestimated my capabilities, confident in their own supremacy—perhaps rightfully so. This arrogance, I suspected, was why they allowed the Mother into Emberfell. It was likely they knew she was not as she appeared, much like myself, yet they dismissed her as being an insignificant threat, which concerned me more than I wanted to admit; the Salmun were too conceited, or they had a genuine reason to feel superior. And I wasn't ready to find out.

"I'm not what you think," I whispered.

"The man concealed in your clothes?—"

"I have the power to command you." I kept my voice barely above a whisper .

"Do you need help, Your Majesty?"

"No," I yelled, giving way to my frustration.

"We will not let you deliver the heir to our enemy."

This was an awkward moment to ask questions, but I would guess the spirits knew what the Salmun planned.

"Fine. Come with me then."

"We refuse to aid our ene?—"

"I've got little choice but to continue down these stairs. But I may have use for you if you'll come with me."

Hearing Orphus climbing the steps, I spun.

"I'm ready."

My descent was clear. The soldier who'd blocked my path moved to one side, allowing me to pass unmolested by his touch, even if his gaze remained severe. I wasn't sure what help they could be, but the heaviness in my stomach eased, knowing my spirit army followed behind me.

Orphus waited at the bottom of the steps, standing on the stone floor, smoothed with age. Ahead lay a single passage wide enough for two people walking side-by-side. I leaned around Orphus to peer further down the corridor, spotting a faint light emanating from the right.

I counted fifty steps before we reached the end of the passage and turned right into a vast chamber. A breeze touched my face just before I entered, and I licked my lips, tasting a bitter sweetness.

I felt Tamas wriggle in my pocket once more. Afraid he would reveal himself, I placed a hand over my pocket to settle him, but he resisted. Instead, he made his way up to poke his head out of the seam in my dress.

The walls were illuminated by flaming torches, spaced well enough apart to cast a warm glow around all the chamber's edges. In the center of the room stood a raised stone altar, dwarfed by the soaring ceiling that vanished into darkness above. Ten Salmun stood in a circle around the altar, partially blocking my view from a pedestal positioned directly under a bracketed torch at the far edge of the room. A tome sat atop the pedestal, its inlay catching the torchlight in such a way that it seemed to swirl. To be placed in such a significant way, this tome had to be special.

Except for the tome, magnificently presented, there were no other books inside this chamber as far as I could see, which made me wonder if there were other secret passages or rooms the Salmun magically concealed. I focused on the tome sitting atop its pedestal. Could it be this was the book Tamas had been searching for? The book he was still searching for, and likely the reason I found him in the throne room.

"Your Majesty." For the first time, Orphus exaggerated his bow, welcoming me into the chamber with a broad sweep of his arm.

"What is this place?"

"It was carved before the great war."

"It's a place belonging to the old king's?"

"Yes, a place where they worshipped their deities."

"Isn't that what the small temples within the inner sanctuary are for?"

"For the people, yes, but the king chose a private place for his worship."

"I thought you no longer believed in the old religion, nor felt kinship toward any of the bastard kings that ruled before the great war."

"This is the Salmun's sanctuary now. No remnants of the old kings taint these walls."

Only your own foul deeds.

I strode further into the chamber, holding my left arm by my side to hide Tamas from prying eyes. If only he stayed buried in my pocket, but I could understand his desire to see for himself.

Behind me, my army followed through the now closed door and thick stone walls, ignoring the expansive chamber to stare solely at the Salmun. They weren't curious about the room because they'd been here before.

"This is where you practice your craft?"

"Yes."

The Salmun maintained their circle. As their queen, they all should've acknowledged my presence. Instead, they stood like stone statues, their hoods drawn low and their heads bowed. This sanctum was their stronghold, shielding them from the people's scrutiny, where they could act as they pleased. The Salmun weren't loyal to the Tarragonan throne, neither were they loyal to the heir who would one day sit upon the Bone Throne. They gave their allegiance to the Etherweave alone, and King Bezhani—perhaps not even him—a millennium was a long time to stay loyal to a distant king.

I paced around the large chamber, moving in such a way that the shadows cast by my body shielded Tamas, all the while maintaining my distance from the circle of Salmun. I was keen to get as close as I could to the mysterious book .

"What does this ritual entail?"

My hand twitched to push Tamas down into the pocket when I felt him move again.

"Very little from you, my queen. Your presence and a few drops of your blood."

"My blood?" I gasped, stopping in my tracks.

"A prick of your finger is all. You won't even notice it."

"Yet you've barely explained what it all means. If you want my blood, you'll have to give me more than what you have." A tightness welled in my chest, shortening my breath. Tamas had bound me by blood; now the Salmun would do the same. I had to think fast to escape this ritual.

"Of course, it is only fair. Perhaps this will help explain." He motioned for me to follow him as he headed toward the pedestal, and I was keen to follow.

"Before the great war, Tarragona languished under the tyranny of a succession of kings, each as malevolent as their predecessor. It wasn't until Tarragona was purged of its oppressive overlords did the benevolent victors, the Levenians, realize the source of such tyranny stemmed from a single source of power. The Etherweave."

"This is all lies!" shouted one soldier.

Of course, Orphus would give me his version of the tale, but it was handy having confirmation of his lies.

"If the Etherweave is so perverse as to corrupt those who wield it, why are you desperate to have it? Would you not be content to see it remain locked away?"

By now, we stood beside the tome. This close, its age was evident. The swirls of light I'd seen from a distance formed an ancient symbol, its meaning long lost. The book was bigger than any I'd seen before, encased in thick leather and enclosed by iron clasps spiked like the thorns crowning the serpents' heads that adorned the Bone Throne. This was definitely what Tamas had been chasing. It had to be, which meant I needed to steal it. Somehow.

For a moment, I was overcome with nervous excitement, yearning to reach for Tamas and show him exactly what I'd discovered, but what saved from my stupidity by Orphus's reply.

"The Etherweave will free itself from its tomb, whether we like it."

The soldiers who'd followed us across the chamber now circled us.

"Thus, it is our duty to prepare the next heir. For the sake of Tarragona's people and the security of all the realms, we must ensure the heir will not inherit the fates of those who have come before."

"As heir—" I began.

"Heresy," cried a soldier.

"Our king claimed the male was the heir," yelled another.

"He is a descendant of Ammelle," came yet one more cry from the spirits.

I closed my eyes against their voices and spoke. "The Etherweave has yet to rise. How do you know if this ritual will work?"

Tamas's restlessness would betray him soon. We stood under the torch flame, so there were few shadows for him to use as cover. I pressed my hand to my pocket, feeling his whiskers poking out.

"The Salmun have spent a millennium preparing for this moment." He placed his palm on the book. "The essential knowledge is safeguarded within this sanctuary. Our powers will take care of the rest."

"What essential knowledge? You mean to say everything about the Etherweave is contained within this book?" I wasn't even looking at Orphus. The tome consumed all my attention. All my unanswered questioned, all the knowledge I longed to know about my fate, were held within these pages.

"The Senjel Oracles were written before the Great War, the result of an augur's prophecies that foresaw much of what was to come. It tells us that the true heir to the Etherweave lies within the line of the House of Tannard and foretells the rise of the Etherweave, entombed for a millennium."

"He does not speak of Ammelle's descendants," said a spirit who stood beside me. "She was daughter to our great king. The Nazeen, who entombed the Etherweave, bound its power to King Ricaud's lineage to ensure the Levenian could not use it for themselves. But the Salmun conveniently dismiss Ammelle's descendants in favor of the king's sister, who they forced into bondage by marrying her to one of the Levenian invaders once they learned of what the Nazeen had done. If you have ever heard an augur speak, then you would know this book is a maze of ramblings. The Salmun have twisted its translations to suit their own purposes."

The prelate remained silent, his hooded face turned in my direction. I couldn't see his eyes but felt his scrutiny all the same. It was as though he suspected my silent conversation with the spirits. Normally, I would say that was impossible, but with the Salmun, I couldn't be certain. To ease my discomfort, I said. "What will a drop of my blood do?" hoping to draw his attention from the book and the spirits.

"It serves as a symbol, Your Majesty. For sacrifice, unity, and allegiance."

"All that from one drop of blood."

"One must understand that to gain significant power comes at a cost. We need your oath of allegiance, a drop of blood as testament to your loyalty and dedication to Tarragona's people."

"They are nothing but whores to their foreign king," continued the spirits.

I was inclined to believe him. "Oaths are easily spoken, as easily broken… unless they're binding." That was the reason for the blood, but he hoped to bind me to the Salmun, not the Tarragonan people.

"What you say is true," Orphus murmured as he opened the book.

At once I forgot our conversation, peering down into the open pages of the book. The spirits formed a tighter circle, as though equally drawn to the Senjel Oracles, until I felt the chill of their presence creep across my back. However, it was not enough to distract me from what lay inside.

The penmanship was tiny, cramming all the yellowing pages with a small cursive scrawl. Splotches of ink blotted some of the page, and no doubt sunk through to obscure what was written underneath.

I couldn't read any of it.

"You're showing me this because?"

"Its teachings are power."

"But I can't read any of it. "

"We have spent a millennium translating its teachings."

"Are those translations handy?"

"You need not bother yourself with reading them."

"Next you're going to tell me I'm to trust you know best."

"A wise queen is cautious about the nature of all things."

"Yet you expect her to accept what you're saying without question."

Orphus turned more pages with great care. Each page was the same as the last, tiny writing looking like ants running across the page. There were more ink splotches that appeared to move as he flipped gently through each page.

What could Tamas want with the tome? He had the Nazeen to tell him everything he needed to know. I doubted he would understand a word of it, though the Nazeen likely had magical means of translating what they needed.

Orphus stopped flipping on a blank page in the middle of the book, and there he left it, gently smoothing his hand across the yellowed pages.

"While the book holds many secrets. These are the most significant."

I frowned at him, then peered down at the open book, seeing only the flecks of discoloration from fibers and filaments used to make the paper.

"He is not the rightful heir," shouted a spirit.

"The Nazeen witches faithful to our king concealed the truth from their evil eyes to ensure the Salmun never discovered the location of the Etherweave," explained another.

"Because you can't read them?"

"The words rest in slumber, awaiting the heir's touch." Orphus placed his palm in the middle of the page. "The prophecy proclaims the touch of the Bone Throne's heir will bring the words into the light."

"Do you know what they'll say?"

"The Etherweave was lost for a reason," cried one of the soldiers behind me. "The words stay invisible for that same reason."

"No," Orphus admitted.

The Etherweave was lost! So that was the reason Tamas was searching for the book. Not even the Razohan knew its location because the Nazeen witches faithful to King Ricaud lost track of where it ended up. Which would mean it wasn't the Nazeen who concealed the writing from all but the heir, else they would know what was written, they would know the location of the Etherweave. Was it the augur or whoever compiled the augurs ramblings over a millennium ago who concealed the words on these pages?

"Then how do you know these blank pages are the most significant?"

"Because the most important secrets are heavily guarded."

Thank the stars, Tamas had been unusually still. Perhaps preferring to listen. He was smart enough to know it was far too risky for him to stick his little head out now.

"You want me to touch the pages?"

"There is one last essential piece of knowledge for us to glean from the Senjel Oracles. We must learn the resting place of the Etherweave, but we can only do that with your help."

"Then you know what is written?"

"We can only presume. Your Majesty, we have waited a very long time for this moment. The Etherweave is close to being released from its binds. And when it does, it's imperative the true heir is present."

Tamas, as they believed, was the false heir.

It mattered little to the Salmun that northerner blood ran through my veins—which they knew because they were the ones to place the curse on the Tannard line, ensuring no bastards were born—I was the true heir because I was within Emberfell, under the Salmun's guard. And with this ritual, which had nothing to do with sacrifice and unity, was a magical binding.

"All you need do is place your hand on the pages, Your Majesty."

"I…" Dammit .

Tamas wriggled in my pocket, eager to climb out. I pressed him firm to my thigh to hold him still, knowing he was on the verge of doing something idiotic, like exposing his presence to the Salmun because he wanted to be bloody heroic.

My only escape was the spirits. I was loathed to bring them across the veil, as that in itself could cause unforeseen consequences, but it was the only way they could help me.

"I need time to think about this."

Murmurs from the circle of Salmun were like sharp claws grazing along my skin.

"You should've explained it all from the start." I backed away from the book as the murmurs became a discordant melody.

"As queen, your loyalty to Tarragona is unquestioned. And that is why I did not see the need to be explicit. "

An irritating vibration began in my ears. Pressing my palms over my ears only made it worse, because it wasn't outside in the room. It was inside my head.

"Tell them to stop."

"Tell who to stop, Your Majesty?" It was the voice of a snake slithering through my mind. Orphus was standing by the pedestal, but I could've sworn he spoke in my ear, hissing his innocence when all he did was lie.

The circle of the Salmun remained shrouded in the dim torchlight, their hoods drawn low, concealing their faces. These were men who'd once knelt before me in the Ashenlands, pledging their loyalty, but only because they foresaw a time when they could compel me with their magic.

"Stop this!" I shouted, unable to shut the chanting out.

I felt Tamas wriggling in my pocket. They mustn't know he was here, and I didn't trust him to be sensible and stay hidden.

I inhaled, sent the breath deep inside as I funneled my attention even further, right down into the core of my beating heart.

Discipline. In my mind, I floated inward along my calming breath, plunging into the protective darkness of my void, my shield, and there I found my soul word. Waiting. The power of my soul word surged through me, coursing with a potent force I wasn't expecting, nor had felt before. It seared through my chest as if intent on shattering my heart and released with as much ferocity as a raging storm, leaving me feeling cleaved in two.

With the intensity at which I wielded my soul word, I swayed unsteadily on my feet as my soul word's force exploded forth. Within breaths, I realized the irritating vibration in my head caused by the Salmun's chanting had ceased. This was coupled with a noise akin to the sound of the roof caving in, and I opened my eyes to witness the devastation I'd caused. The circle of Salmun lay scattered on the ground like fallen branches from a dead tree. Orphus lay on his back amongst the rubble of the stone pedestal, unmoving. A short distance away, the Senjel Oracles lay open, its spine facing the ceiling.

I rushed over and picked the heavy book up. A quick glance over my shoulder reassured me none of the Salmun was moving. In my haste, I juggled the book, almost dropping it, then tried to balance it on my knee so I could flip through the pages. I stopped when I reached the two blank pages in the middle. Carefully, I ripped them out so as not to tear them.

Once done, I shoved them in my pocket, stuffing them on top of Tamas, then turned and ran for the door. I was almost there when the ground beneath my feet rumbled.