Page 20

Chapter Twenty

SYLVIE

T anyl planned our outing well. When we returned to Storm’s Hollow, no one seemed to have noticed we were gone. Not even my ladies, who were in and out of my bedchamber dozens of times a day, appeared suspicious.

“What did you tell them?” I asked Tanyl the evening we slipped back into the castle.

He tugged me into him and then nipped my jaw. “Nothing. I simply gave them an incentive to focus their attention elsewhere. People will forget a lot of things when they’re busy counting money.”

“You shouldn’t bribe the servants,” I said. “It sets a bad precedent.”

His lips curved against my cheek. “It wasn’t a bribe, my lady. It was an investment in our privacy.”

We slipped back into our routines as though we never left.

The first night, Briar dined with us. And when it was time for bed, Tanyl circled the table and helped me to my feet. Then he led me to Briar and held out his hand. Briar hesitated only for a moment. Then he took it, and the three of us fell into bed together, hands and mouths meeting. Tanyl’s lips brushed the hollow of my throat as Briar eased my thighs apart.

That night, I didn’t have any bad dreams.

One night turned into two and then three. The days were busy with Council meetings and planning sessions for the next Scarrok attack. Briar worked with the healers, sharing knowledge from Vetra. Tanyl led scouting parties to the riverbank, where they searched for signs of the Scarrok. He and Briar trained with the knights in the courtyard, male aggression and the sound of steel filling the air.

But at night, they found their way back to me. We didn’t discuss Briar binding himself to Tanyl. It was as if the three of us were reluctant to disturb the fragile balance we’d discovered. In bed, we weren’t royals or a servant of the gods.

But nothing lasted forever, and even the most careful balance could end in a fall.

On the morning of the fourth day after our trip to Siltmark, I knelt in the temple as Father Aegor droned the last few verses of Veluna. It was the castle’s wash day, and the temple was otherwise empty as servants undertook the tedious chore of changing bed linens in every chamber. Even Father Aegor seemed eager to put the mid-morning prayer behind him. He’d given me a curt nod when I entered and then quickly launched into the devotion.

Guilt tugged at me as I mouthed the responses. I’d skipped Eura—and Perun the previous night. Every time I shifted on my knees, a sweet ache between my legs reminded me why I’d failed to keep the Hours.

“Yea, Perun,” Father Aegor said. He slapped his devotional shut, scooped the book from the altar, and descended the steps.

“Father?” I stood, worry pulling at me as he swept toward the temple’s side entrance. “Is something wrong?”

He swung toward me. “No!” he said when I started forward, and I froze, my heart rate picking up. He cleared his throat. “Um, no. All is well, child.”

“Are you certain?” Maybe he was sick. “I could call a healer?—”

“No. Thank you, Your Grace.” His eyes darted to a spot over my shoulder.

I started to turn when a hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my scream. Panic flared as an arm circled my waist and I was jerked off my feet.

Scarrok , I thought, my heart racing. But that was wrong. The monsters didn’t sneak up on their victims. They merely devoured.

The hand tightened, mashing my lips against my teeth. The scent of leather and male sweat hit my nostrils. Chain mail covered the forearm of the man who held me.

Father Aegor watched with the devotional tight under his arm. Why wasn’t he helping? Why didn’t he yell for the guards?

I kicked, my skirts whipping around my legs. My heel smashed against an armor-clad shin, and pain streaked up my leg. My slipper fell to the temple floor.

More footsteps, and then Crispin stepped around me, a pair of knights on his heels. Both were household knights from my family’s estate on the Silver Sea.

I stilled, my chest heaving. Confusion, anger, and fear swirled through me as my brother retrieved my slipper from the ground.

“Did anyone else come in?” he asked.

Father Aegor shook his head. “No, my lord. The nobles feasted well into the night, and the servants are occupied with laundry.” He didn’t look at me. “You should hurry.”

Fury joined my emotions as I looked between Crispin and the priest. Aegor, a man who had counseled me since I wed Tanyl, had betrayed me.

But how? And what did Crispin have to do with it?

I glared at him. Whatever he played at, Tanyl would make him regret it.

Crispin slapped my slipper against his palm. “You’ve done well, Father. I won’t forget your assistance.” He faced me, and I thrashed harder, trying to bite at the hand over my mouth.

My brother’s expression was cold, his voice edged with anger as he stepped toward me. “Save your strength, Sister. You and I are going on a little journey.” His smile chilled my blood, and I stilled, my heart racing. “But not too far,” he added. “Just someplace we can discuss family matters in private.”

My stomach clenched, old worries rising like bile.

One of the knights stepped forward. Sunlight glinted off his steel gauntlets.

Crispin motioned to him. “Be quick about it. Try not to leave a bruise.” His eyes were as icy as his voice. “My brother-in-law reserves that pleasure for himself.”

The knight lifted his fist. The hand fell away from my mouth.

I sucked in a breath.

The fist clipped my jaw, and everything went black.

* * *

Consciousness returned in a rush of pain and nausea. I blinked my eyes open, and bile burned my throat as familiar gray, sparkling stone greeted me.

The Silver Tower. My family’s estate an hour’s ride from Storm’s Hollow. The Lords of the Silver Sea used it as a headquarters when they visited court. But Crispin lived at court. He never stayed at the tower.

He still got plenty of use out of it.

My jaw throbbed as I took in my surroundings. I was propped in the corner of a wooden settle, my shoulder pressed against the embroidered cushion. My wrists and ankles were unbound. Aside from my jaw, nothing else hurt. Anger rose as I noticed someone—Crispin, probably—had replaced my slipper.

I pushed upright and prodded my jaw with cautious fingers. It wasn’t broken. Already, the swelling receded.

The chamber’s walls sparkled in the sunlight that slanted through the large windows. The stone was cut from a quarry my ancestors had owned since the time of the Covenant. Sediment in the rock made it glitter like gems. The stone was rare, and my forebears had constructed the tower to display their wealth and power—and to remind the crown not to cross them.

The tower served a different purpose now. No longer a reminder, it was a place that swallowed memories. At least, it was supposed to.

My throat burned, the past rushing me. I had to leave. If I could just get to Tanyl, I could ask him for help. I’d tell him everything.

He’ll never forgive you, a voice warned in my head. I stood, my heart racing and my throat gone dry.

The door opened, and Crispin entered, Skycleaver on his hip. He wore no cloak, and the sword’s hilt glinted as brightly as the chamber’s circular walls.

“Sister,” he said, stopping just inside the door and offering me a mocking bow. The knights who accompanied him in the temple hovered on the threshold, their long braids spilling over their shoulders.

I lifted my chin. “I’m not your sister. I’m your queen, and you committed treason when you ordered your man to strike me. If you’re fortunate, Tanyl will allow you to keep your head.”

Contempt flashed across Crispin’s features. “Oh, I don’t know, Tanyl seems rather occupied lately. He’s too busy panting after his priest to worry about treason.” Crispin’s mouth tightened, and anger vibrated his voice. “Your king has forgotten what’s at stake. It seems you have, too, Sister. So allow me to remind you.” He turned and motioned to the knights.

“Don’t!” I cried, but they descended too quickly for me to even think of escape. Rough hands gripped me and hurried me from the chamber. My stomach dropped, and cold sweat formed on my skin as Crispin led us down the tower’s spiral steps. I didn’t have to ask where we were going.

I knew.

I knew.

“Please,” I gasped, hating the tremor in my voice. “Crispin, you don’t have to do this.”

He didn’t look back, his shoulders rigid beneath his jacket. “You’ve forced my hand, Sylvie.”

The stairs twisted deeper, plunging us into shadow as the sparkling walls gave way to rough granite. The air grew damp and chilled, and the scent of mold and magic thickened the air.

When we reached the bottom, the sound of dripping water made my heart lodge in my throat. The knights gripped my arms as Crispin unlocked a heavy iron door.

The hinges protested, their groan echoing off the walls. Beyond the door, darkness waited. Magic lurked, and it wasn’t the wild, beautiful lightning of the tempest or the thunder of a storm. No, this was dark and hungry. Warped and ancient. It crawled across my skin, trailing fear and revulsion.

“No,” I rasped, digging my heels into the floor. Fingers tight on my arms, the knights propelled me forward.

“Come, Sylvie,” Crispin said, stepping through the door. He turned at last, the contempt reappearing in his eyes. “Let me remind you why I allowed Tanyl to put that crown on your head.”

The chamber beyond the door was small and carved from obsidian. An eerie green light splashed the black walls. A perfect circle of water filled its center, the glowing green surface still as glass. No fountain fed it. No stream flowed in or out. Nothing lived in its depths. Only death.

“Crispin,” I said, struggling as the knights shuffled me forward. “You’ve made your point. Release me.”

The knights forced me to my knees at the pool’s edge. Crispin circled to the other side. He drew Skycleaver. Then he knelt and pressed the sword’s point to the center of his palm.

“Don’t,” I whispered, fear and anguish churning in my gut.

Crispin studied the blood welling in his palm, his face splashed with green light. “I knew what Tanyl was when you wed him. Everyone in Spring knew the prince indulged unnatural desires. More than one lord hoped he’d die in Saltvale.”

My heart pounded. I kept my gaze off the water, but it tugged at me. At the lower edge of my vision, a current appeared to ripple across the surface.

“But you…” Crispin continued. “I thought you were a woman of faith. Or, at the very least, a woman of decency.” He looked up. “But you’re nothing but a whore.”

Outrage seared my chest. “I’m no whore.”

His laugh echoed around the chamber. “I have eyes in every corner of Storm’s Hollow. Servants gossip. You know that. Before long, everyone in the Spring Court will know you’re fucking the priest under your husband’s nose. And with his hearty participation.” Crispin tilted his head. “Tell me, does the Rivven bless the sheets afterward?”

“You’re disgusting,” I spat.

“And you’re a disappointment.” He set Skycleaver on the ground, and lightning flickered in his eyes as he glared at me across the water. “You’ve had decades to convince Tanyl to let you fight.”

“I have convinced him,” I said. “He’s allowed me to participate in Council meetings?—”

“I don’t need you on the Council. I need you to use the weapons the gods gave you.” He sneered. “Unfortunately, the only weapon you seem inclined to use is the one between your legs.” He held his hand over the water. Blood dripped from his palm and splashed into the pool.

The water rippled, circles spreading over the surface. Blood spread through the water like ink. The green light pulsed. A cold wind rushed through the chamber, ruffling my skirts and whipping my hair across my lips.

No. Fear beat at me, and I struggled against the knights’ grip. But they held me fast, my knees hugging the edge of the pool.

Crispin’s blood sank deep.

And then she came.

She burst from the surface, her jaws stretched wide and her red eyes piercing the gloom. Water sprayed over my gown. A scream tore from me as she lunged, snapping at my face. Hot, rancid breath seared my face. Her fangs loomed, and then she jerked abruptly backward.

Her shriek boomed off the walls, the sound like knives stabbing my eardrums. Chains around her waist, arms, and ankles prevented her from leaving the pool, but she didn’t stop trying. Again and again, she lunged at my face and throat, trying to reach me.

Moss spread over her shoulders, where the straps of a tattered gown clung to her emaciated form. Her teeth were broken and jagged except for her fangs. Blood seeped around the restraints on her forearms. Her hands were missing. She’d snapped them off years ago when the pool’s binding magic weakened.

The tendons in her neck strained as she hissed and snapped her jaws.

Tears burned my eyes, and more nausea churned in my gut.

Crispin rose and stalked around the pool. He gestured to the knights, who released me and quickly moved away. As the Scarrok thrashed and screeched, Crispin grabbed my arm and wrenched me to my feet.

“Look at her,” he said coldly in my ear. “Look at our mother.”

The tears overflowed. I shuddered as I obeyed, my gaze fixed on what my mother had become.

Because I couldn’t save her. I’d tried, and I’d failed her twice—once when the Scarrok attacked and again when I prevented her from rising. Crispin got to our father in time, but our mother’s body was swept downriver. Crispin and his knights searched for days. By the time they found her, she’d already turned.

No one can ever know , Crispin had told me. This is our family’s secret…and its shame.

“She’s cursed to stay like this,” he said now, his fingers biting into my shoulder. “And every time I speak the Old Language to hold her, I invite ruin. We invite ruin, Sister. Because you’ve seen the end of this plague, and yet you refuse to finish it.”

My mother strained against her bonds, her rotted flesh shredding under the manacles. Chunks of skin splashed into the pool. She bit at the air, a clicking sound emerging from her throat.

The green light wavered. Crispin cursed under his breath. Then he yanked me backward.

“Na-preski!” he cried, flinging a hand toward the pool. I bind you. Magic crackled in the air, and the green light surged.

My mother screeched and plunged back into the pool, her body convulsing as the magic took hold. The chains tightened, binding her to the bottom once more. Her screams gargled beneath the surface until only bubbles remained.

I wrapped my arms around my waist, my heart thumping wildly. Water lapped at the edge of the pool. Magic swelled, long fingers of it licking at my skin.

Between one breath and the next, the pool was the godswell. Blood rushed over the water, and faces flashed among the waves.

Knights.

Lords.

Crispin.

Tanyl.

My brother stood on the riverbank with Slycleaver in his hand. Tanyl knelt before him. Bloodied and breathing hard, he frowned up at Crispin.

What is the meaning of this?

Crispin lifted his sword. Ask the gods, he said, and then he swung hard. Tanyl brought his own sword up swiftly, blocking the blow. But Skycleaver sliced through Tanyl’s blade. It snapped in half, and Skycleaver bit into Tanyl’s hand. He stumbled back, blood spraying. Droplets hit the river.

Words formed in the current, each letter glowing with power.

The king must bleed to put the rivers to rest.

Fingers gripped my arm, and the vision fled, replaced with Crispin’s pale, angry face. He searched my gaze, and grim satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.

“You saw it again.” He swung me toward the water, and I swallowed a cry as he forced me to the edge. The pool was still, our mother nowhere to be seen.

But she was never really gone. And she never would be. For as long as the curse endured, she was doomed to live as a walking corpse. Maintaining her prison was both dangerous and criminal. Every time Crispin spoke the Old Language, he risked warping the curse of the Scarrok. Perhaps he already had.

Crispin spoke next to my ear. “The gods have shown you what to do. And now you’re going to do it, aren’t you, Sister?”

I let my eyes drift shut, blocking out the pool. But I could never block out the vision. Always, it found me.

“Yes,” I whispered.