Fearless (13 page)

He has made his point. I don't need time to think. ‘
My lo
rd, I will do whatever is n
ecessary. And I
will
be devastating.'

He falls silent. And then he nods. ‘There is a way a gate can regenerate itself.'

What?
My heart wants to burst out of my chest at this news, but until I know more I contain this compulsion to soar to the ceiling.

‘Nathaneal, I am willing to give you the
hanival
if, after you have fulfilled your promise, you agree to provide the gate with what it requires to regenerate itself.'

Shae grips my forearm, ‘Yes! Yes, my lord, we promise to provide whatever it requires.'

He glances at Shae with a compassionate look. ‘I must have confirmation from Nathaneal.'

She nods, swinging her gaze to me, and waits.

‘Sire,' I ask, ‘how does a gate regenerate itself?'

‘I'm afraid a human is required, and not just any human, but one whose heart flows with love.'

Silence descends in the room as if we are in the presence of death. Michael's gaze joins Shae's, burning into each s
ide of
my face as they both reach for my mind. But I block them. I can't look at either of them in case I see what they might be thinking –
who
they might be thinking of. I can't let my thoughts move in that direction.

The High King explains, ‘Find a human whose heart flows with love and who is willing to sacrifice his or her life for this cause, and the instrument is yours.' His eyes shift to a low table that appears at his side, where an instrument with a crystalline metal barrel lies in an open titanium case.

‘How does the act of regeneration occur?' Michael asks, dragging his eyes from my face.

‘The gates are an infinitesimal assembly of microscopic
singular cells that radiate to each other, forming strings of living organisms. The strings are able to regenerate themselves from a particularly rich source of human blood and tissue. The beating of a human heart will create the unique environment required for the regeneration process to occur. Human tissue and blood are reorganised into the impenetrable solid mass that forms the gates.'

‘How long would the process take?' he asks.

‘A few minutes, but that would depend on the heart – how full of love it is, how strongly it beats, and how willing the human is to give to this cause.'

‘Must the human be sacrificed?'

‘Blood is required, the heart must be beating to pump it or the gate's fabric will not knit together. The gate will rebuild itself around the human, consuming all flesh, bones, organs, teeth, hair. Even clothes.'

I try not to show my repulsion, but shock is something I can't disguise. There's a roaring in my ears, the thunder of a waterfall, drowning my ability to make sense of this.

I hear Shae's voice, gentle as a meek lamb's. ‘Will it hurt the human?'

How can she think so clinically? How can either of them contemplate such disturbing details?

The High King pauses so long it forces me from the temporary refuge of my dazed disbelief back into reality. There's a burning sensation in my throat now, along with the sound of rushing waters between my ears.

Will it hurt the human? Will it hurt the human?

I don't want to hear the answer.

Michael looks worried and gazes at me with concern.
He wants me to connect with him, let him know I'm OK. I can't yet because I'm far from OK. This is
not
what I came here to do.

Will it hurt the human? Will it hurt the human?

I came for a tool to help me open a gate of Skade, not to take the life of a human, and not just
any
human, but one whose heart flows with love, a heart that is beating while the body is being consumed!

But now even the High King is waiting for me to open my eyes. I have to get this over with so I can leave. Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and wait.

Will it hurt the human?

Mercifully he doesn't make me wait long.

‘Yes,' he says. ‘The pain will be excruciating. The gate will not only consume everything, it will take the human's soul.'

15

Ebony

I can't go back to sleep. The dream was so vivid it felt r
eal. I
pull myself into a sitting position, swinging my feet to the floor. I'm afraid that if I slip back into the dream Luca will pick up where he left off. I can still feel the heat from his lips on mine, the flames that erupted as if my mouth were on fire. I wipe it with the back of my hand, but it doesn't help.

I turn my bedside lamp on and walk into my wardrobe, scratching my head at the sight of so many outfits. Wow, it's like a department store. I pick out a pair of blue skinny jeans with a label I've heard celebrities wear. They fit like a second skin. I pull on a white top and turn round in front of the mirror, peering at my shoulders. Angels make clothing from a special fibre. When wings push on it, cells inside the fibre reorganise, separating and returning to form naturally when wings retract. I assume it's the same here.

I brush my hair into a high ponytail and head down the small hallway to the living room, grateful Mela keeps the fires lit well into the night. The remaining embers are still keeping the room nice and toasty. I check the curtains are
closed, go to the middle of the room and practise pulling up my power.

Nothing happens at first, but I keep trying, working simultaneously on slowing my breathing. I know my power comes from the centre of my core, that part of my mind that no one can reach. Nathaneal told me once to imagine a small room with a door only I can open. I do it now a
nd a
glimmering golden bud sprouts and draws me inside.

Containing my excitement at seeing my essence in its purest form, I focus on nurturing the tiny shoot, feeding it with love from my heart, coaxing it to open like a flower in bloom. Surprising me, it bursts into a bright flame and a rush of heat spreads throughout my body.

I smile as it sinks in:
this
is my power. It's thrumming through my veins, in every cell of my body. It's strong too, though just how strong, or how it compares to others', I can't say. Is it too strong? I don't know. But it's invigorating, as if it wants to burst through my skin.

From what I've learned so far, my power has the potential to be highly destructive. I've smashed vases, shifted furniture and thrown angels twice my size away from me.

Could I destroy this palace and still have enough strength left to walk out of the rubble? It's a heady thought.

I will practise every night, every day, every chance I get.

About an hour into the session a noise from Mela's room catches me off guard. I listen and hear her footsteps approaching. I'm starting to make progress and don't want to stop yet, but, while my instinct says I can trust Mela, I don't know how much Luca forces her to report, or simply reads through her mind.

She walks in and stops when she sees me standing in the middle of the living room with a weird expression on my face.

‘What are you doing up so early?' she asks.

I sit down on the sofa. ‘Do you always sneak around in the early hours checking up on me?'

‘That's not what I was doing, Ebony. Couldn't you sleep?'

‘Since Luca abducted me I don't sleep like I used to, so I have to do something to stop from lying in bed thinking too much.' I try to make this sound light because I like Mela and have a really good feeling when I'm near her, but my heart is too broken and I can't raise a smile to soften the hard edge to my voice.

‘I'm sorry, Ebony. I didn't mean to startle you.'

‘I'm sorry too, Mela. I shouldn't have had a go at you just for getting up.'

She sits beside me. ‘I heard a noise and thought I'd check it out.'

‘Ah, looking out for me. Now I should really be mad at you.'

She smiles. ‘I have sleeping tablets, remember? Anytime, just ask.'

‘Thanks, but it was just a bad dream so I thought I'd get up and exercise. Who knows when Luca will let me go outside?' I drop the hint.

She sighs. ‘You're right. It could be a while.'

Not what I was hoping to hear. ‘Do you know how long he plans to keep me locked up in this apartment?'

‘Until he can trust you won't try to run, or …' She
presses her lips together as if she were thinking about something.

‘What is it, Mela?'

She gets up and heads to the front doors, calling out in a weird loud voice, ‘Would you like a cup of hot chocolate, my lady, to help you sleep?'

Not exactly what I was thinking, but I can't help a grin at her subtle-as-cement clue that the guards could be listening, so I continue the charade. ‘There's hot chocolate in the palace?'

‘He brought it over for you himself.'

‘He? You don't mean … ?'

‘The king? Yes, on one of his trips before he sealed the gates.'

Mela opens the front doors. Over her head I see two Throne soldiers I haven't seen before soundlessly turn on their heels. She asks them if they would like a hot chocolate drink and they politely decline.

Closing the doors, she turns to face me and runs a finger across her throat with a negative shake of her head. I get that she means the talk she wants to have with me will have to wait for a change of guards.

While Mela is in the kitchen, I open the drapes on all the windows. Streaks of crimson, blue and purple light hint of dawn over the distant snow-covered mountains, while nearer the city there's a thick overcast sky. There's mist in the air, dew on the ground. No doubt it's going to be another cold day in Odisha.

Down in the streets, blinking lights draw my eye to a team of souls collecting garbage from in front of houses,
dumping it into a truck with an open tray. Two female angels, both in fur-lined black cloaks, supervise with whips they crack across the legs of any worker they deem to be slow – as if whipping someone's legs will make them move faster. Someone should whip
their
legs, see how much faster
they
move with whip-burned calves.

Mela returns with mugs of steaming hot chocolate that makes my nose twitch and fills my head with memories of Mum bringing me a mug during a stormy night. ‘You weren't kidding about the chocolate.'

‘I wouldn't dream of it.'

‘How did he even know I liked the stuff?' I whisper, quickly adding, ‘Forget it. I know he has spies.'

‘You've met his Aracals,' she says softly.

‘Those birds told him I like hot chocolate?' Her nod gets me wondering what else the shape-shifting creatures have told him.

After a while of standing at the window together, sipping hot chocolate and watching the sanitation teams at work, I realise Mela is not looking at the garbage collectors any more, but at me. ‘What is it, Mela?'

‘Ebony, if you're contemplating running, then I need to warn you: there are far more dangerous places outside this palace than in.'

Escape is my hope. I can't have that taken away, no matter how good her intentions. So I clear my throat and change the subject. ‘Is Luca coming to see me today?'

‘Sorry, Ebony, he hasn't told me what he plans for you today.'

‘I thought he told you everything.'

She laughs and takes my empty mug. ‘I'd better fix you some breakfast.'

As she turns to leave, I grab her arm. ‘Do
you
tell him everything?'

‘I'm not sure I follow.'

‘Mela, you know I can tell when someone is lying, right?'

‘So I've been informed.'

‘OK, so can you answer me this?' She waits and I ask, ‘Do you report to Prince Luca?'

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes.

I make myself clearer, ‘Do you tell him everything I do, every move I make, every word I say?'

Her eyes flick away, but I need to know whether my gut instinct is right or not. ‘Look at me, Mela. Do you tell Luca everything?'

She exhales a long breath. ‘Yes. And no.'

Could she be more ambiguous?
‘Tell me the “Yes” part.'

‘I can't risk the king suspecting me of keeping secrets from him,' she whispers, flicking a glance at the doors. Lifting a finger to her lips, she motions for me to follow her into her bedroom. Closing the door behind us, she turns to face me. ‘This room is safe to talk in, but we still need to keep our voices low. It's swept for listening devices several times a day.'

‘Really? By whom?'

‘Certain trustworthy guards when they're on duty.'

‘Oh.'

‘Ebony, remember down in the foyer when I told you the province of Zurat has a rebel problem?'

‘Uh-huh.'

‘There are rebels in Odisha too.'

‘Here in the city?'

‘In almost every province and major city in Skade.'

‘Wow! How many? How strong are they? What are their plans? Can you put me in touch with them?'

She holds her hands up between us, and smiles. ‘You're talking to their general.'

I swallow down a gasp as my mind buzzes with possibilities. Mela begins explaining and I try to contain my thoughts of runaway schemes in order to listen. ‘The rebel army is growing in numbers every day,' she says. ‘Except for me, they are all angels. I'm grooming my highest-ran
kin
g lieutenants to take over when, well, my mortality expires. Those who live and work in this palace are most vulnerable. They depend on me to be strong and not make mistakes, so I must be very careful, especially in the king's presence. And now that I've told you –'

‘Of course I'll be careful too, Mela. But how do you keep Luca out of your head?'