Page 47 of Deadly Maiden (Dragons and Darkthings #1)

Wyntre

“Well. I remade him. I hope.” I bend my knees to examine him more closely. “He’s breathing. That’s a plus. Do we have time for me to explain?”

The sister folds her hood back off her head and nods, perches her spectacles on top of her head. She clasps her hands before her purple gown. “No one outside will interrupt us. The tomb is soundproof, but we have a dead queen in a few hundred pieces, a dead advisor, a king who seems mindless, a long-dead daughter who has walked from her crypt, and a huge mess to explain.”

“Mmm.” I frown at her, cluck my tongue. “That is a lot.”

“Indeed, and I may be an advisor to the king, but I need something to tell those who are outside waiting for the king to emerge. Unless you wish to have to fight your way through them.”

“Okay.” I’m shivering. The nervous energy I’ve been running on has dropped off a cliff.

Rorsyd squeezes my hand in assurance, as he does. It’s good to have him with me.

I glance at where Asher lies, but he is truly gone from that body. And Madlin-Asher has not screamed and died. This is nice.

I blink a few times. I inhale. Where to begin? “Right. Explaining…” Again, I shiver.

“Wait, please.” Rorsyd looks to the sister. “You said we have time? Yes?”

“Yes.” She shrugs, and her perfect eyebrows rise in perfect arcs.

“Then I would like a few moments with Wyntre.”

“Of course.” She melts backward, seeming to glide across the floor, then seats herself near the king.

“Come here.” Rorsyd picks me up and carries me to the other side of the room. My feet are off the ground, and all the while he is hugging me so close I can hardly breathe. “Wyntre, Wyntre, Wyntre. Gods, you feel good. I need to just hug you. You’re safe now.” He leans his back against the wall.

“And you.” Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and I do not bother to wipe them away. I bury myself in his impossibly wonderful arms, wrapped up, and definitely safe.

“If I have to, I will fight us out of here, but right now, I just need this. You.” He rocks me and keeps holding me, and his heart is thumping steadily under my ear.

“You are half-naked, you know?”

“ Pfft. She doesn’t care. Neither do I.”

And so we remain like this until everything seems to soften into a semblance of peace. Tranquility cloaks the dangers that may await us, and this perilous day is not over yet, but if I can face it with Rorsyd, I will survive.

I wriggle until he places me on my feet then I turn in place to observe Madlin. “He’s standing. Has it worked?” I cannot conceal the excitement in my voice.

“You really don’t know. It’s that novel to you?”

I slowly shake my head and back myself into his arms, wrap them across me. “No necromancer has ever tried this before.” I doubt any of them ever thought about trying or that this was possible. “Come.”

Together we approach Sister Paloma and the king.

“Has he said anything?” Rorsyd asks.

“Yes.”

He turns and faces us, and I’m struck by the greenness of his eyes. Is that new?

“How do you feel?” It’s a frivolous question, but can he really speak in a sane fashion?

“This sister of Artreos tells me I am King Madlin? Yet, I am not he. And that you have done something to me. You are Wyntre? This is you? I remember you from somewhere…”

He does? Wow. But not Rorsyd?

“I did do something. I put the mind of Asher Stryke into the body of Madlin Darsh.”

On saying that, I elicit a gasp from the sister.

“You what? How? Explain this. My head feels as if it might burst.” He looks about and scowls as he catalogues the destruction. “Perhaps that is to be expected? Who killed these people?”

I’m sure my eyes widen.

“You did this?” He’s wearing King Madlin’s body, and so answering with a yes feels dangerous. “Killed the queen and whoever this man is? And is that the daughter?”

“I did all of this, yes.” Minus Kroll but I’d be nitpicking to say that. “I must ask you this. Are you Asher Stryke, brother of Jannik Stryke, once the king of Orencia?”

“Am I?” He lurches backward then goes to the sarcophagus where he perches his royal rear on it, having merely steered a path around Jennae’s remains. He rubs his face vigorously with both hands. “Who am I? I need to see myself in a mirror. You say I am in King Madlin’s body. Our enemy? And if so, am I him? If that is true, then you have killed my own people? No. No. That’s stupid. I am not that pig of a fae!”

“No. You are not.” Rorsyd goes to him and explains in an almost angry tone, “I met your brother at the Battle of Orish, a battle where he was captured and your kingdom ceased to exist. The man whose skin you wear has been torturing your brother outside the palace walls.” He jabs his arm sideways. “Out there next to the harbor, for twenty fucking years!”

Now he’s shouting. I stay with the sister and watch. Is this how to convince Madlin-Asher this is all true?

“He what? Twenty years have passed since then? Where have I been? What battle is this!”

“Your mind was preserved in a special way, by my parents, on the day you died.” I bite my lip. “You died. I brought you back and put you in that body and that mind.” Now I’m jabbing my finger at him. He needs to understand.

That I’m even able to talk to him is amazing.

“My brother?” he says softly.

I stop dead, my mouth open, thinking. He notices and stands up, brushes past Rorsyd, who follows Madlin-Asher until he halts before me.

“What is it you wish to say? More insane facts?”

“No necromancer ever achieved this before today, and I have to say, I am tired of being interrogated as if I did something wrong!”

Though depending on your point of view, I have done many wrongs or everything right.

The sister sighs. “Please. We need to be at peace to find a solution.”

“Ah. Peace.” He stares past me then takes in the carnage again and says quietly, “I’m awake after twenty years dead. I need time to process this.” He turns and goes partway up the stairs. “Out there. Where I can see more of the world.”

“Stop.” Sister Paloma holds up her hand. “If you want to leave, you can, but if we do this the wrong way, these two will be killed by your , King Madlin’s, guards and soldiers. There is a rebellion happening, and everyone is on edge. When they see this…” She gestures at the bodies. “They may simply attack Wyntre and Rorsyd. I was one of the king’s advisors, and I can help you navigate this unusual situation.”

“Very well. I see.” He stays where he is. Strangely, in that dark coat of Madlin’s he already looks more regal than the real Madlin ever did. “Tell me your advice.”

“Let’s let her do this?” I murmur.

Rorsyd nods. “Sure. Come and sit with me over there.”

And so we listen to her talk to him, explaining first of all that he must never reveal he was once Asher Stryke. Meaning, she has already decided that what I said is true. Then she lays out how difficult it will be to end the rebellion and meet with Andacc without a bad end to the war. How difficult it will be to explain that the queen and Kroll betrayed him and tried to kill him but that we saved him. He listens intently, shows no sign of dying abruptly, and nods a lot.

At last, she comes to us and says, “This is how we will do this. Mostly, because few will swallow a story about you rescuing the king from his queen, unless we prepare the ground first.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“So you will first go to prison, overnight. In that time, the king will spread the version of this tomb event that we need known. A falsehood, of course.” She shrugs and offers a weak smile—the first I’ve seen.

“Prison.” Rorsyd sounds dubious.

“Yes. By tomorrow, we will have had time to see the next steps to take. I would prefer that you are whisked away from the city, removed from sight. I do not see room for you as celebrated heroes. Not here.”

“We don’t need to be seen as heroes of Zardrake do we, Wyntre?”

“No. I only want—” I have to pause and consider this. I take Rorsyd’s forearm and wrap my arm about his elbow. “Rorsyd, mostly, but also just a better kingdom and no need for a rebellion and pardons and an agreement with the C of U and…” I’m stumped as to how to express my wish for less persecution of those seen as outsiders or lower class, less violence, a better ruler, and so much more. I flutter my hands and end with, “Stuff mostly.”

“And this will be done, I assure you. Which is why I first contacted you at Slaedorth. Trust me. I, too, want so much more, and peace, a good, lasting peace that will be blessed by Artreos.”

This is why when we open the door to the tomb, the king goes out first with Sister Paloma, and then he directs his guards to remove us, without injuring us, and take us to the prison of Tensorga.

It’s for the best, according to Paloma, but even so, I worry. Something could go wrong.

The soldiers march to us and do their duty, a little roughly, but without excessive fuss.

Having manacles, steel ones, locked onto my wrists and watching Rorsyd be treated similarly, I do wonder if we have delivered ourselves to the wrong person.

Can we trust Paloma, let alone Madlin-Asher?

The prison is further south, a building high above the harbor, and it’s dark and filthy, as one would expect of King Madlin’s prison.

We are led inside the foreboding walls and down three flights of stairs to a corridor.

Men and women are yelling somewhere further along this corridor lined on both sides with cells. After the door to our cell is slammed and locked, our manacles are removed when we put our hands to the bars.

“Are we going to be okay, do you think? Do you trust her? Or him.” Rorsyd draws me to the bunk bed and dusts off some grit before seating me next to him. The bunk groans in protest at his weight.

“I think so?” But I am not certain.

“There’s no iron. Our magik is fine.” He shrugs. “I feel stronger than ever. You have healed me properly, and so…”

“What?”

“If they don’t let us go, I will shift down here. I don’t think they’ll like what happens when a dragon appears in the middle of this place. Boom .” With his hands, he mimes an explosion. I imagine that and am unconvinced he would prevail against a few tons of prison wall. “But right now, I’m going to sleep. And so are you.”

He tosses the two thin mattresses on the floor and lies down with me tucked into the curve of his body.

“Huh.” I nuzzle him, yawning as he pats my hair. “I doubt I will be able to.”

My doubts fade, and drowsiness soon wanders in. I realize I am going to find sleep, and I guess maybe it’s because I think we have done what we needed to.

Or we almost have. Tomorrow will tell.

My eyelids feather down and close.

Tomorrow comes and goes.

Three days later, they let us out and lead us up the same stairs, but unrestrained. I cannot tell our fate from the stares of the prison guards.

We arrive before the prison’s tall black gates and are left there. The gates start to swing open.

“Be ready for anything,” Rorsyd says out the side of his mouth.

I smile and say nothing, for I’ve already glimpsed what is outside the gates.

A squad of soldiers is waiting, fully dressed in fancy palace uniform, with silver bits where Madlin wore gold.

The azure sea and the masts of many tall ships, the tower where Rorsyd was held—the cage is gone—these form a beautifully pristine backdrop. Seagulls circle on the winds, calling mournfully.

The captain salutes us.

“We are your guard and will be escorting you to where King Madlin will be delivering a speech. I was told to apologize for your incarceration.” He grimaces. “So I did that, just then. Put these on. Pull up the hoods.” He hands over two dark blue cloaks with hoods and waits for us to dress. “Now, follow me.” He makes a precise, parade-ground turn.

“I sense some disturbance in his commitment,” I whisper to Rorsyd as we head down the sloping road with guards both ahead and behind us.

“Yes.” He studies the sky. “We could be across the Fathomless Sea and in Wenway in a few hours. You know what to do if I shift?”

“I do.” Climb him like a spider being chased by a houseowner with a flaming torch. Though I’d love to be able to climb him for sexier reasons.

That I’m even thinking about sex is a good sign when we’ve been in a cell for three days…

Three days. I guess rearranging the story of events in the tomb has taken longer than Paloma thought it would. I hope that is the reason. The scent of smoke and a distant line of burned buildings tells me the rebellion reached Tensorga.

Nevertheless, the nice uniforms and the apology the captain was told to deliver, these offer me hope.

I feel the promise of a peaceful future in the air, in the freedom of the gulls and the wide sea, in the distant laughter coming from a crowd, and the trumpets playing down the street on the left, while flutes and lyres play from the right. Though the combination does hurt my ears.

We achieved something good.

I take Rorsyd’s hand, give him a reassuring squeeze, then smile up at him. “We’re going to be okay.” I know I am right.

They escort us to a characterless coach, with no identifying crests, which trundles along winding, back streets before slowing before a pair of golden gates. As the silver-and-black uniformed guards swing open those gates, I sneak a look. The palace lies beyond.

Somewhere at the rear of the structure, guards usher us from the coach, and we are sent up the steps and inside the palace, then up winding narrow servants’ stairs. We emerge into a narrow hallway, are directed along a hallway and through a side door, then into a small room. The space is crowded with a wheeled cart bearing various shelves of cleaning gear, and another cart with half-eaten food.

Our guards leave us there, after saying we are to wait.

A plain door is situated in the opposite wall. Somewhere outside, a crowd is cheering and chanting for the king to appear.

A curtain is slid open with a hiss on the other side of the door, then the door opens, and Sister Paloma enters. Quietly, she shuts the door behind her, removes her purple spectacles, and holds them in one hand.

Her robe is identical to what she wore in the tomb. Her smile, though, is wide and new.

She approaches us and presses her palms together before her. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. Between her eyes creases. “I did not mean to leave you there for so long, but the king…and all the other matters, they were complex. His brother has gone missing.” She glances aside as if to check for anyone hearing. “Jannik. Perhaps he has gone into the sea. Again, I am sorry.”

I do wonder if a palace might have secret listeners.

“Our trust was not betrayed. That is all we needed.” I look to Rorsyd, and he whispers agreement.

“Of course it was not.” The sister seems quite perturbed by what I’ve said and shakes her head. “In a moment, you may come with me. You may stand where I put you and listen. Afterward, he wishes to speak to you and then you may go wherever you wish to, as long as it’s not here. Tensorga is still uneasy.”

“I think he’s already speaking?” Rorsyd says.

The crowd has fallen silent, and Madlin-Asher’s voice carries through the walls.

“Yes. Is there anything you want to say before we go out there?”

“I think…” Rorsyd looks to me, his hand is on my back. “We would like to know if Andacc and his fae are being dealt with…”

“Peacefully?” she suggests.

“Yes.”

“Yes, is my answer also. He has met with the king, and there has been an end to hostilities. A document is being drawn up, though as yet it is a secret from most. Deciding how to arrange Zardrake and Orencia, whether to keep the countries as one, or not, is not a simple matter.” She straightens, dons her spectacles, and proffers her hand. “Now. Let us go listen. Such matters are for the king and his kingdom to mediate.”

A brush-off? Perhaps. She is correct though. Neither Rorsyd nor I wish to mess with the intricacies of the kingdom’s policies. I blink and follow where she leads us, out the door.

No, what I needed to hear has been said. My amazement at what I succeeded in doing can take over now. I made a dead man into a king, by switching the minds.

We stand in the shadows to the side of the balcony where Madlin-Asher gives a speech to his subjects, and those below are completely unaware their king is not the Aos Sin fae they believe him to be. Instead, he is a moral, righteous man. I hope. My parents wrote that he was this, and having seen what he has done in three days, after being dropped into a wholly new body, I am inclined to believe.

After twenty years of almost-death.

After losing his brother to torture, an act that happened not far from this balcony, and yet he is willing to be the king of Zardrake.

He’s made a truce already, met with Andacc.

There is no reign of terror, such that I am sure Madlin would have instigated if he were in the same situation.

And of course, he has freed us and put us here to listen.

Maybe Kyvin is in there, too, somewhere, helping things go smoothly?

“He sounds great!” Rorsyd whispers. “What a speechmaker.”

Though I nod, I remain silent, not wanting to miss what he is saying.

“ And so we will stand together and negotiate these rock-strewn waters like the great nation of good people that we are. I know that some of you have suffered in the rebellion, but the issues that began it need to be corrected. And I, your king, vow to do this.

“I have been wrong in the past, but it is the future that should concern us.

“No longer will the Aos Sin turn a blind eye to injustice!

“Be the best you can be, my people, and I will be there alongside you.

“Be strong, help those who need someone to lean on. Be charitable to your neighbors!

“Be a hero…”

My breath catches as I wait for his next words that seem to take forever to arrive.

“And not a zero!”

“Whoaaa,” I whisper. “Kyvin is in there.” I’m shedding tears and wipe them away.

“I hear that too. My, my.” Rorsyd looks stunned.

And there is my guarantee that Asher-Madlin will be a good king.

“That calls for a celebration.” He picks me up around the waist and kisses me, before placing me back on my feet.

The glow from that kiss is worth the sister’s raised eyebrows, though I am surprised by the tiny upward curve of her lips. She’s smiling. That’s twice now, after her mimicking an undead in the tomb. A shroud has been lifted from Tensorga.

From the sounds of that crowd, many more people will be smiling in coming days.

“We did good?” I ask her, leaning in.

“Yes. You did very well, and I thank you from the depths of Artreos.”