Chapter 38

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

TRESSYA

It was still dark when I lurched up in bed, then fell backward, groggy, not ready to be awake, feeling sore, confused, and sure something had woken me. There was a reason my heart raced.

Perhaps it was a bad dream, though I remembered nothing. Then a scream ripped through the darkness, followed by furious shouts. I lurched half off the bed and felt for my weapons on the tent's floor, where I always left them; at easy reach. They weren't there. Dammit, why wouldn't I put them there?

Then I remembered. I had no weapons; they remained in the Ashenlands, lodged in the nightmare's eye. The slick feeling between my legs brought the rest of my glorious memories back into my head. I also wasn't in my tent.

"Tamas." I flopped backward onto the bed, reaching across for him. After last night, I should've felt content to roll over and snuggle in close to him, but the cries and shouts from outside wouldn't let me savor anything.

I patted his side of the bed, and felt a subtle warmth where he would've been. A fierce stab went through my heart. He wasn't there. Because he'd heard the first screams and leapt up to see what had happened? Or he… I couldn't stop the panic welling in my chest. I didn't want to think the worst, which was weird because I was never one to think the best. My heart favored denial.

More shouts drove me out of bed and onto the floor, scouring on my knees for my clothes. This wasn't what I thought it was. It wasn't. Tamas wouldn't do that to me. Not after last night.

I stopped to sit back on my knees. You really think that? I knew his people were coming because I'd asked him before he'd dragged me into the Ashenlands and made me forget which side I was on. He told me the truth. No lies, no twisted omissions, just the plain truth. And I accepted it, swallowed it, and kissed him.

My heart kicked into a fast gallop. How could I have been so wretched as to fall for his soothing words and hungry kisses?

"Sweet Mother," I groaned and covered my face. Last night's memory became a palpable agony for everything we'd done to each other when, in his head, he planned this very moment.

"You knew all along," I growled to myself.

I fell to my knees and resumed searching for my clothes. Finding my underthings, I sat on my ass and fumbled with them all the while cursing Tamas, then cursing myself. This was on me. The downfall of the Tannard line was on me. All for what? For a kiss? For a tumble? For a traitor who manipulated me and played me for a fool.

In the dark, I couldn't find the holes in the underthings for my legs. "Dammit," I shouted. "Curses to you, Tamas." I would stake him. That was the first thing I would do once I saw him.

I fell on my back. "Curses to the seven realms!" I yelled to no one.

Had I really thought he would stop because of me? Had I thought he would march up to the king and negotiate favorable terms that left him on the throne? Because he cared for me? I'd allowed him to play me like a fool. Everything that had happened between us from the day I met him meant nothing to him. It was all a cleverly orchestrated sham.

And I'd honestly thought I'd given up on fantasies.

At last, I was able to slip my underthings on.

It had been days since I last ate, and my stomach ached with hunger. As the aches cored out my gut, a slight tremor shuddered through my body from the lack of sustenance. Dismissing my needs so I could tumble into bed with Tamas, that's the pitiable disciple I'd become.

But I wasn't a disciple. I slowed before slipping my chemise over my head. I scrunched my eyes closed. No. Those were his words, the lying ass. He knew exactly what to say. And in keeping everything I knew quiet, I'd committed a worse sin than whoring myself to my enemy.

"You bastard," I growled to the man who'd deserted me.

Once I'd found all my clothes and dressed myself, I rushed from the tent and into a soldier running by. The impact knocked me backward as the soldier kept on his way, hurrying to wherever he was needed. I gathered myself and ran in the opposite direction. I needed weapons first before I confronted this war.

I stomped off toward Radnisa's tent. Why? Why had I not said a word the moment I knew his people were coming? Because you're a desperate, pathetic fool . Because I'd thought he felt the same as me. Why go to all that trouble to rescue me? Many times over. Why? It made no sense when he was simply going to march into this camp with his army and kill us all.

I slowed, balling my fists to my forehead. Sweet Mother, he must have laughed at himself when he told me the truth, and all I did was pant for him. I fell all over him with one kiss.

Two people rushed past me, startling me into motion again.

"You're a weak, bloody fool," I moaned, then wiped the first tear from my eye.

That done, I stomped on. One sign of affection and you think it's genuine. One sign of hope that someone understood me. That someone sees me. He'd said that to me.

"He knew exactly what to say," I snarled.

At the entrance of Radnisa's tent, I steadied myself, pressing my palm to my stomach. Considering Tamas's betrayal, my guilt redoubled at what I'd done, enhanced by the callousness I'd shown my former sister by leaving her body in the tent unattended while I spent hours in… No, dammit. I wasn't going to think of his sublime touch.

I pushed the flap aside and rushed in. The candle flame flickered with the sudden gust of wind rushing in beside me. By now, the candle had burned low in its holder, shadowing Radnisa's turned face. I avoided looking at her body and hurried across to the trunk she'd placed at the bottom of her bed.

Inside, I found the weapons I needed, already sheathed and hitched to her baldric.

"This is all on you."

Hearing her voice didn't slow me as I slipped her baldric over my shoulder.

"It shouldn't matter to you anymore."

"The only thing that matters to me is your death. Which is coming soon. The two of us. Imagine it. Eternity together."

I heaved a breath, then turned to face her. "You won't believe this, but I'm sorry for killing you, even if you brought it on yourself."

She clenched her teeth and fisted her palms. "The Mother will make you suffer. Even beyond death."

Ignoring her fury, I had to ask. "What did the Mother put inside of me?"

"You think I'd tell you?"

"I guess not." I headed for the exit, the erupting chaos outside calling me.

"Wait," she yelled in desperation. "How should I know? Since when did the Mother ever tell any of us more beyond what we needed to know?"

"Whatever it was, it turned me into a spiritweaver."

"So it would seem." She folded her arms.

"You have no idea why?"

She rolled her eyes. "What disciple would not know the reason?"

"She wanted a spiritweaver sitting on the Tannard throne. But she knows how it works. There are no guarantees any children of mine will carry the talent. It's not readily passed down through the generations."

"And you were a handy convenience more than anything."

"One who had no defenses against her soul word."

"You really should've taken the time to learn Tarragona's full history and not relied on the fables that reached our shores. Maybe that would've enlightened you. A thousand years of oral history and the truth grows faint as quickly as its embellished. What's left is a heady tale, even if hard to believe."

"Tell me."

"Now you want to listen to me. It's as you said, none of this matters to me anymore, so why should I say anything?"

I ground my teeth. "Fine." And marched toward the exit.

"If you really want to know."

I stopped but kept my back to her.

"There was some mention of a power beyond measure now lost. It's said the power will one day be inherited through the Tannard line."

I slowly turned, caught up in the tale. "The Mother wants a loyal disciple of the Tannard line because of this power."

As Andriet had told me in the carriage ride. The power of the Bone Throne. And that was why Tamas was in Emberforge. He was searching for something that would help him succeed in taking the power for himself.

I bit my lip to repress my bitter laugh. How could I compete for his attention against the return of a prophesied power? Dammit. Why was that the first thought to come to my mind? I didn't want his attention any longer. Actually, that wasn't true. I would happily have him stare at me while I put my dagger through his eye.

A chorus of shouts erupted, followed by a dazzling light, making the night appear as though it was day.

"I have to go."

"No. Tressya, you can't condemn me to this place."

"There's nothing I can do for you now."

"You vicious liar. You know there is. You're a spiritweaver."

"I'm bound by the laws of life and death."

She rushed forward. "Shut up. Stop lying. You know you're not. Call me forth. Give me some semblance of existence back."

I shook my head. "You know I can't do that." With the power of the spiritweaver, I could—I had once with the girl spirit, but not for long. Disturbing something as fundamental as life and death came with terrible consequences. No one bothered to teach a lot about the death arts anymore because spiritweaving was so rare and growing rarer every decade, but that was one truth all in Merania knew.

"You filthy whore," she growled. "How much do you really know of spiritweaving?"

I didn't have time to listen to her.

"Perhaps you never learned the part about possession."

That stopped me. I spun to face her.

"That's right." She glided toward me. "You're like a baby, so new and vulnerable." She crooned. "The inexperienced are susceptible to possession by the very people they try to tame."

Maybe that was true; maybe she was trying to scare me. But right now I didn't have time to think about it. I turned and fled out of the tent. The sight that met me made me stumble in shock. I stopped, awestruck at the fabric of magic rippling around the encampment.

Someone bumped me on passing, jolting me back to the fight. Worry shot through me again, and I turned and ran toward the king's tent, surrounded by guards and a handful of Salmun. Nobleman milled out the front in close groups talking. Courtiers, servants, musicians, all wandered around in stunned silence, gazing up at the magical curtain overhead while more dashed about in madness, driven by their fear.

I picked up my steps, making straight for the king's tent, until two guards strode forward and barred my way.

"Let me pass."

"On orders of the Salmun, all are to return to their tents."

I glanced around at the chaotic jumble of people far from their tents. "Maybe you should deal with them first."

One guard glanced at my baldric.

"You know who I am. Let me pass."

"Stand aside," barked the order from behind.

Daelon strode alongside me, taking my hand with no care to who watched. "Come with me."

The two guards didn't budge. "We have our orders."

"Your orders were to calm this disorder and send all those unable to fight to their tents. Now do it." He yelled the last with such ferocity and authority, they jerked. After sharing a look, they rushed away.

Daelon pulled me toward the king's tent. "Thank god you're here. I was worried about you."

"Never be worried about me."

"You won't say that once you see this."

Ice rode over my shoulders. "Andriet?"

"Is inside. He'll want to see you."

The coiled tension in my gut eased on hearing he was all right.

Daelon ripped the tent flap aside and ushered me in. I made three steps forward, then shuddered to a stop. Andriet looked up from his crouch beside his father, with an expression so harrowing it speared me like arrows to my chest. His father's blood covered the floor. The tent was full of the iron tang of it. He covered his father's eyes with his hand, and when he took it away, he left blood smeared across his father's forehead. I swallowed, stuffing my sob deep down and crossed to him, stumbling as the spirit of King Henricus rose behind his son.

I averted my gaze from the spirit as Andriet rushed toward me and swept me into his arms. He held me tight for breaths, saying nothing. Neither did he cry. Only his tight embrace gave his emotions away, that and his expression.

"A blade to the throat. The coward," he whispered into my neck, his moist, hot breath on my skin.

"A claw," I mumbled before I could stop myself.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry, Andriet." It was genuine. I knew this would happen, and instead, I slept the enemy.

I unraveled myself from his tight hold. "They're coming for you next." I spun back to Daelon. "Take him to the Salmun. They must protect him."

"No," Andriet spat. "I'll fight these cowards."

"You can't, Andriet."

"You don't think I have the skill?" His grief and fury blinded him.

"You don't know what you face."

He stepped away. "Neither do you."

"You're the last heir to the Tannard line."

"I don't give a damn what I am. I'll not hide like a coward while those murdering bastards scheme to take my father's throne."

I grabbed Andriet by the elbows, paying little attention to the three councilmen inside the tent. "It's your throne now. Think like a king. If you die, who's left?"

He leaned in close and spoke through gritted teeth. "I told you, I don't give?—"

"Andriet," Daelon said, placing a hand on Andriet's arm. "Remember who your friends are. Tressya says these things because she cares a great deal for you. She also speaks sense."

Andriet huffed as he staggered back, but I snagged his hand. "I know this feels unbearable right now. But remember, your enemy wins if you die."

His shoulders slumped as his head sunk sideways and onto Daelon's shoulder, who slipped an arm around his waist. With Cirro and the king dead and war upon us, the time for pretense was long gone. And I was responsible for Andriet's pain twice over, once for Cirro and once for his father. "Take Andriet to his tent. Only the Salmun are to guard him."

I breathed a sigh as Andriet allowed Daelon to guide him away. With them gone, I turned to the king's dead body, avoiding looking the spirit right in the eye, lest he think I could see him. There was little I would learn from questioning him I didn't already know. I spun and marched for the exit, not wanting to think how Tamas had not considered what would happen to me or those I cared for once he unleashed the nightmare. Also not thinking how he'd spared Andriet the same gruesome death, when he could have easily slipped through the campsite and murdered them both.

Outside, I grabbed the first soldier rushing past. "Where's Orphus?"

"The Prelate? I don't know."

I released him and ran on, not knowing where I was heading. That he wasn't at the king's tent drained a horrible feeling through my chest, down into my stomach. I staggered on remembering his ominous words of hours ago. Weak fools breed weak fools. It was the reason Tamas could get so close to the king. The Salmun had already withdrawn their protection? No. It couldn't be true. I glanced up at the magical ripple above our heads. Andriet still had their protection. He was a Tannard. And if what Radnisa said was true, he was the sole survivor under the Salmun's protection capable of inheriting this prophesied power. That was his value to them.

"Keep an eye on the sky," I yelled as I ran, but everyone I passed stared at me as though I'd gone mad. "The worst will come from the sky," I added, but no one believed me. And why should they? Since when was a war fought in the sky?

A thundering shudder echoed around us. A chorus of shouts and screams followed as I instinctually ducked, looking up to see the ripple of energy above bowing and warping before settling back into place.

Magic. The Razohan weren't magic wielders, but they'd arrived with help. I marched on, continuing my hunt for Orphus as I seethed on all the ways I'd surrendered to my enemy. Disemboweling him was the only way to ease my fury.

I sat with him across from the king as he told lies about the king's councilmen, and I let it happen, knowing his intention was to remove all those faithful to the king, preparing for when he took the king's place.

How clever of him to wait for this moment. The king arrived at the Ashenlands with guards and a few soldiers for show, also missing valuable fighters lost in the trials, but minus his army because he believed the Salmun would protect him. And only a handful of those arrived with the king because a thousand years of peace had made even them complacent it would seem.

"You knew everything," I hissed to myself, but no one was bothered by my curses. I needed to get out of my head, or risk losing my concentration.

With the Salmun's attention on maintaining the magic shield, and the king dead, the hierarchy of power was scrambled. No one seemed capable of preparing a coordinated defense.

The king put all his trust in the Salmun. Had I foolishly done the same?

No, you bloody idiot. I had fallen for him. And thought he'd done the same for me. That's the reason I often found myself lost in my own thoughts, crafting imaginative dreams. Radnisa probably should have given me a stab or two just to bring me back to reality.

"You," I bellowed in my rage at a guard still gaping up at the shield. "Gather some of your men, form a defense around the perimeter of the tents, just inside the shield."

Not recognizing my authority, he frowned at me. Dammit. Where was Daelon? I pushed him in the shoulder. "Are you dumb?"

I spied another guard and hailed him over. "Go to each of the tents and gather everyone with a weapon. There still should be some of those. And don't shy from asking the women to join in."

"But the Salmun?—"

"You're going to act as though the shield's not there. I doubt it will last until morning."

To make a prophecy of what I'd said, the thunderous sound raked the shield again, rippling the magic. This time, its color changed from shimmering white to a dirty gray in pockets along its arc.

"See," I bellowed at the men before me.

That seemed to do the trick as they rushed off in different directions, and I could only hope it was to do my bidding and not to go hide somewhere.

"Orphus," I shouted at the top of my lungs, fed up with his absence. Where were the Salmun?

Legends spoke of magic. I'd grown on the stories, but Merania had no magic wielders, so I knew nothing of the craft. I tried to think how it would be used. Perhaps to form a shield, they would need four wizards, each standing at the four quadrants: north, south, east, west. That made sense.

I didn't know which way to head, but the edge of the tent city was the best place to start. I'd made three steps when another attack hit the shield. This time the shield took longer to recover its shimmering brilliance, and I saw glimpses of the stars through the pockets of gray. Staring for longer, I realized the pockets of gray weren't discoloration, but places were the shield thinned.

When dawn broke, I doubted any of us would be alive. I'd faced death numerous times since leaving Merania, but this time, I had enough hatred in my veins to burn any fear away. I headed for the edge of the tents, armed with enough fury to bring down the nightmare if I had to.

When I reached my destination, I froze in horror. Through the milky haze of the Salmun's shield, I spied an approaching army. Dear Mother, none of us were going to see the dawn.

Overhead, another attack released a thunderous clap that crippled the shield. It bowed and warped, shimmering a dullish gray in too many places. It seemed with every relentless attack, our enemies' power grew. How much longer would it hold?

Men now gathered along the perimeter, armed with swords but no shields, because they'd not come here for war. Only the guards and soldiers were suitably attired, but there were not enough of those against the approaching army. I slowed as I neared them, seeing peasant folk amongst them, those who had come to feed and entertain the gathered masses. They brought to the line kitchen knives and hammers and any manner of simple tools they used in their daily lives.

I wanted to stride before them like a good general would, rousing them with encouraging words, but looking at their faces, I didn't have the heart to lie. The pitiable sight they were, I knew for certain we were going to die.

Another raucous noise rose overhead. Everyone gasped and looked to the sky. I counted the pockets of gray where the shield thinned, seeing many more than had arisen the last time I looked. I searched beyond the shield to the stars, and for one horrifying moment, they blinked out. Breaths it took before they reappeared. They didn't disappear, of course. The massive black shape flying above the shield hid them, waiting for its moment to strike.