Page 32 of The Arrow and the Alder

S eph followed Alder through the labyrinthine halls, where they passed portraits and tapestries depicting the world before, where color reigned and light burned the shadows away.

“Was your kingdom truly like this?” Seph asked, slowing before one such tapestry. A brilliant sun hovered over a terrestrial paradise, its wide golden rays like ribbons, touching every mountain peak, spanning every plane, and reaching into the dark depths. It was a wonder, where all manner of creatures lived in harmony—many Seph had never seen before. Bears swam with the fish; a lion curled beside a doe. Tiny winged people slumbered within a rainbow of open blooms and gauzy greens, and waterfalls frothed over mountaintops.

Alder stopped beside her. She’d expected him to say something smart, but when she stole a glance at him, his expression was somber as he studied the tapestry. “Not in my lifetime,” he said after a moment. “I have heard of such an age of peace, but it was a distant memory by the time I entered this world.”

Seph remembered the story of how the curse had come to be. “They had everything in the world, but it wasn’t enough,” she said quietly.

“No, it wasn’t,” Alder agreed. “I suppose that’s the true curse of our kind. This insatiable craving for more. We keep trying to fill it with things , but things will never satisfy a soul, and when they fade, they leave the hole a little larger than before.” His gaze flickered over the tapestry before he turned and walked on.

His words haunted her. Even in Harran, she’d seen how want and desire drove a person to do any host of things. Like breaking the law to hunt in the woods because Seph had wanted more for her family. Seph too had thought that if she’d just had a little more, if the war had not taken everything and left them so destitute, perhaps that would have been enough. Perhaps they could’ve been happy. But then there was the baron, who’d possessed more than any of them, and as much as he’d acquired, it was never enough for him either. Want was like an illness, some rabid beast that was always hungry and never satisfied, no matter how one fed it.

And that was precisely why that tapestry had rattled her so. In the beginning, when the kith had had everything in the world to sustain them, still they had wanted more. They had taken, and they had killed, and they had brought the curse upon them all. What was it within man and kith alike that drove him constantly to discontentment?

What was the curse but a reflection of what was already inside them all?

Alder eventually led her up a tight and winding stair that ended at a round platform totally exposed to the air. A massive golden dome capped the open room, supported by pillars that lined the perimeter. The pillars were made of cerulean marble, overlaid by an intricate golden metalwork, as if the golden dome were the sun and the metalwork its rays as they laced the sky.

And through those pillars, she could see the entire kingdom of Weald, every peak and every valley, and the thin blanket of mist that stretched over it all. She could see where Weald touched Light, where the gauzy veil became a wall of dark and impenetrable cloud—a cloud that was seeping farther and farther into Alder’s kingdom.

The mist was so much more expansive than Seph realized. It churned and frothed like a sleeping giant, as if hibernating to gather its strength to rise and devour them all.

The apex of the golden dome was left open to sky, permitting what remained of the dim daylight to filter through the gray clouds above and dust the round table situated at the center, where Abecka, Basrain, and Tyrin spoke quietly over the outstretched coat.

It lay across the table, shimmering faintly, and seeing it now made Rys’s ring tingle anew.

Abecka glanced over at them and stood tall. “Oh, good. Thank you, Prince Alder.” Then to Basrain, she said, “This is my great-granddaughter, Princess Josephine Alistair.”

Seph would never get used to that title.

Basrain approached with a smile and took Seph’s hand. His fingers were cold, but his grip was strong. “Ah. I suspected your relation the moment I saw her. She is your very likeness, though…” He tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. “She has Jakobián’s face.”

Abecka’s answering smile was wistful. “Josephine, this is Basrain, a very old friend of mine.”

“Let us hope she is referring to the friendship and not the man.” Basrain winked at Abecka.

Seph gave him a small smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Basrain replied and released Seph’s hand—or started to. He noticed her burn with a gasp. “Kithflame? How did this happen?”

“She was caught in an enchantment meant for a depraved,” Alder answered before she could. “We did not have access to a proper healer at the time, so I did what I could.”

Basrain’s gaze flickered to the Weald Prince. “Nasty business, that. You’re very fortunate that’s the worst of it.”

Seph caught Alder’s gaze before Basrain patted her hand and let it go.

“We were just informing Basrain as to how you both ended up here with this coat,” Abecka said with a quick glance to Tyrin and then gestured over the powerful artifact spread before them. The glittering enchantments slid over the surface like water, and just like in the hall of Velentis, they threw prisms of color all over everything. The diamond at Tyrin’s ear positively sparkled in its light.

“Miraculous, truly miraculous!” Basrain commented, shaking his head as he ambled toward the table. The coat reflected all its colors in his eager eyes. “I say. I have never seen its like, nor have I encountered so much power contained within one object. Honestly, I’m surprised this coat can withstand the strain, which is a testament to your unparalleled gifting, of course.” He glanced at Abecka.

Alder frowned.

“But is it truly light given back to us?” Basrain said, more to himself. He lifted the oculus that was hanging from a chain about his neck and held it over one eye as he appraised the coat.

“You think it is something else?” Tyrin asked.

“I don’t know, but one must wonder why the Fates would give it back only to trap it in a device of the enchantress’s making. ‘ Through blood, by blood, may your sins be paid, ’” he said with a narrator’s air of recitation as his gaze slid over the coat’s glittering fibers, “‘ spent from a mortal heart, the heir must claim. A babe wrought by harvest’s light, and virgin be, by immortal’s sight, holds the only path to your salvation. ’” His brow furrowed, and he let the oculus fall. “Is this coat our salvation? Or is it simply one more stop along the winding path? One can never know with the Fates.”

Without meaning to, Seph glanced at Alder, who met her gaze and raised a dubious brow, as if to say, See what I mean?

Seph glanced away and bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning.

“You say your great-granddaughter can touch the coat?” Basrain asked, drawing both Seph’s and Alder’s attention.

“I can,” Seph replied.

“And it doesn’t burn you?”

“No. At least, it hasn’t yet.”

Basrain observed her down the length of his nose. “Curious.”

“What do you suspect is in this coat, then, Basrain?” Alder asked sharply. “For you clearly have…thoughts.”

Basrain blinked. His gaze flitted to Alder before he cleared his throat and looked at the coat, rounding the table as he did. “I have suspicions, yes, but I am reluctant to give them voice. I am wary of planting the wrong seeds, and I would be loath to help you cultivate the wrong fruits. It takes time for those seeds to sprout, you know, to bloom and reveal our error, and time is something we do not have.”

Alder looked about two seconds away from strangling the old collector.

“You say you have tried unraveling the enchantments?” Basrain asked Abecka.

“With every possible counter enchantment that I can think of,” she answered.

“Is there some pattern to them? Some riddle born out of a specific order or sequence?”

“None that I can find.”

“Hmm.” Basrain clucked his tongue. “What about something so simple as destruction?”

“We’ve tried that too,” Tyrin said. “Every possible method, just short of tearing it in half with our bare hands.”

Basrain tapped at his chin. “I wonder…” He looked to Seph. “Have you worn the coat?”

Seph thought back, surprised when she realized that she hadn’t. “I…no. I haven’t.”

“Perhaps you might put it on.”

“Why would she do that?” Alder asked sharply. He did not look pleased.

“Abecka made this coat as a glamour,” Basrain continued, appearing more confident in his suspicions with every word he spoke. “It was designed so that anyone gazing upon its bearer would see whatever the enchantress wanted them to see—in Jakobián’s case, they saw his brother, Edom. Is that right, Abecka?”

Abecka tipped her head in confirmation. “It only worked for Jakobián.”

“And it will only permit your great-granddaughter to touch it,” Basrain said. “I’m curious if it still possesses the properties you initially designed it to contain.”

There was a moment of quiet as everyone appraised Seph.

“No,” Alder said, surprising them all. There was no levity in his expression. Actually, Seph had never seen him so serious. “You just admitted that you’ve never seen its like, in appearance or in power. Josephine may be able to touch it, yes, but you can’t possibly predict what this power could do to her if she puts it on .”

Seph was stunned by his conviction on this point.

Abecka appeared stunned too. “Alder, the coat is clearly not a danger to Josephine?—”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I do know we are swiftly running out of time?—”

“That doesn’t mean we should risk her safety on one of his whims?—”

“Prince Alder!” Abecka said. “Josephine is my great-granddaughter. Do you not think I am considering the risk to her person? Do you think for a moment that you could possibly care for her welfare more than I do?”

Alder clamped his mouth shut. His lips thinned, and his gaze burned with a rare display of passion.

Seph was startled speechless. She couldn’t understand why he felt so strongly about this—about her —but he was a barely contained fire.

Meanwhile, Basrain gazed curiously between the three of them.

“I’ll do it,” Seph said suddenly, and they all looked at her.

“Josephine, no—” Alder started.

But Seph cut him off. “Abecka is right. We don’t have time to deliberate, and it’s worth a shot at the very least.”

“You don’t understand,” he said lowly, as if she were the only person in that room. “You have not grown up in our world, and you have no idea how dangerous enchantments can be.”

“Alder, this is quite—” Abecka started.

But Alder was undeterred. “You might be able to touch that coat, Josephine, but some enchantments are woven to deceive. They could be permitting you to touch the coat only so that this power can claim you. Possess you. Don’t do it—at least not until we know more.”

“You have grossly overstepped your bounds, young prince,” Abecka snapped. “She is my heir, and if there were any signs of the forbidden arts in that coat, I would feel it.”

“Really?” Alder’s tone was acid. “Then it’s unfortunate you were not there to clear the accusations against my family.”

The silence that followed was so complete that one could have heard a pin drop.

But while they’d argued, Seph had made up her mind, and she grabbed the coat before anyone could stop her.

“ Josephine —” Alder started.

But Seph was walking away from him, from them all. They didn’t have time to sit here and deliberate, and yes , Seph didn’t understand all the ways enchantments worked, but what she did understand was that they had just two months now before this curse destroyed them. For that—for her family—she could try wearing the damned coat.

Seph slid her arms into the sleeves. Rys’s ring tingled against her chest as she pulled the coat over her shoulders, but then it wasn’t Rys’s ring giving her the sensation. It was the coat. Its… power . As if Seph had wrapped herself in a blanket of warm water. It seeped into her pores, where it coalesced behind her breast, though it wasn’t unpleasant. Just…different.

She looked at the four, who all stared at her with varying expressions. Basrain, with studious examination; Abecka, a mixture of relief and curiosity. Tyrin bore no emotion, he merely waited.

Alder, however, looked furious.

“It’s fine,” she said to him. “ I’m fine .” She gazed down at the coat, at all those glittering enchantments that moved like rivers of gold over the fabric. “I can feel the power within it, but…” Seph blinked, and her body went rigid. “Oh!”

It was as though a miniature sun had erupted behind her breastbone. Liquid fire burned through her veins, her mouth tasted like ash, and blinding white light filled her vision so completely that she could see nothing else. It was everywhere—heat and white—as if she were the sun. As if she were light, and it was burning right through the impurity that was her curse-touched body.

Oh, sacred saints in heaven…

This was the power that the others had not been able to touch—the one that had seared Abecka’s flesh and left it angry red and bubbling—and it was going to burn right through Seph’s body if she didn’t take this coat off immediately.

But Seph didn’t know how. She no longer had any control over her body, nor any awareness of it, except for the pain, and it was excruciating . Flame ate through muscle and sinew, melting her bones, and Seph’s consciousness slowly faded, retreating into the recesses of her mind.

Fading, and fading.

And fading…

Seph sensed movement outside of herself. Ice brushed her skin, and then every other sensation halted, holding her in a terrible limbo of fire and confusion. She felt momentarily airborne, insubstantial yet suspended in a sea of white, and then it was as though gravity clenched firm fingers around her body and yanked her right out of the heavens, pulling her down at a dizzying speed, back to the surface. The light vanished, the fire quenched. Seph wheezed as her lungs filled with air, and her vision returned to normal.

She was crouched on the floor, heaving and sweating. Her head spun violently right before she was sick all over the floor.

Someone pulled back her hair as she emptied her stomach, and once she had finished, she realized Alder was kneeling beside her. One of his hands held back her hair while the other rested upon her back, and the coat lay in a heap just a few paces away.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

He sounded upset.

“I think so,” she managed. Memory of that searing pain left a hollow in her chest.

Still, Alder didn’t move, and his hand remained resolutely upon her back like an anchor holding her to the present. Abecka stood stone-still before them, her face blanched.

“What did you see, daughter of Light?” Basrain asked quietly.

Alder’s hand curled into a fist upon her back. “Can’t it wait?” he snapped.

Seph breathed, distractedly aware of the silent standoff happening between the prince of Weald and the collector.

“I saw light,” Seph whispered, swallowing hard. “It was…as if I was light, and then there was fire.” Seph swallowed. “I tried to take off the coat, but…” Her voice trailed off as the Weald Prince tucked his other hand behind his back.

Or tried to.

Seph grabbed his hand and turned it over. His palm bubbled with angry red blisters, and she gazed up at him, bewildered.

Why? she silently asked.

His eyes held hers then hardened on Basrain. “I believe that’s enough for today. Josephine should get some fresh air, and I need to speak with Evora,” he said. No one argued.