The Dark Throne (2 page)

After a while, I became aware of another presence in the soft warm darkness. I wove my fingers through the wolf’s silky pelt, and it gazed at me with emerald fire in its intelligent eyes. Somehow it was a part of me; I felt the tread of its paws in the recesses of my mind. But it was also separate than me, a different consciousness melded in strange symbiosis with my own. For a while it merely walked with me, my companion as I wandered hidden paths, silently watching scenes of blood and fire. I became accustomed to the feel of its fur beneath my hands, and so when the wolf led me back toward the voices, I followed, one hand resting lightly upon the thick ruff at its neck.

As we neared the voices at the edge of the darkness, the pain swirled into my awareness, lapping at my body like ocean waves. I hesitated, gripping the wolf’s fur as the tide of pain rose. The wolf looked at me with its emerald-fire gaze and said to me,
It is time to return, my Bearer.

I awoke with a shudder, awareness rushing back in disjointed snatches, curdled by the rolling waves of pain crashing through my body. A small ragged sound escaped me between my gasping struggles for breath. The voices came into focus as words, pulsing in and out of clarity.

“She’s awakening…”

“Fetch the Queen, quickly— ”

“—Something for the pain….”

I couldn’t catch my breath. Where was I? What had happened? I reached for memory but found a terrifying blank space. Tears of pain and confusion smeared the flickering light. I realized someone was speaking to me, words firm and soothing.

“Tess, listen to me. Slow your breathing. You are safe and among friends. Calm, now.”

With the recognition of my name, a few other shattered memories glinted in my head, but I blinked and focused on following the voice’s directions. The voice was male. I knew I should know who it was, but I didn’t. The voice plucked a chord of memory that remained beyond my reach. I concentrated on slowing my panicked breaths, riding each wave of pain with measured inhales and slow exhales.

“That’s it,” the voice said encouragingly, still low and soothing. “I’ll have something here for the pain shortly. Can you open your eyes, Lady Bearer?”

The title brought another fragmented rush of recognition. I gritted my teeth against a swell of agony and opened my eyes, blinking as my eyes rebelled against the light. The person by the side of my bed—I realized I was laying in a soft, cool bed—quickly shielded the candle-flame with one hand, moving the light farther away from me. I swallowed. “Thanks.” The word came out a gravelly croak.

“Don’t try to speak just yet,” said my caretaker. I squinted and tried to recognize him. Even with my blurred vision, I made out the gleam of golden hair and the glint of bright green eyes. I set that against the sound of his voice and searched through the tatters of my mind.

After riding another swell of pain, I had it. A slight smile curved my cracked lips. “Sage.”

Sage paused in his industrious mixing of powdered herbs into a small bowl. He smiled brilliantly. “Indeed, my lady. But I am not the only one waiting for you to awaken, I am merely the healer on duty.” He motioned with his chin to the other side of my bed. With an effort, I turned my head slightly, enough to see the figure asleep with the upper half of his body lay on my bed, by my feet. Beyond the figure at the foot of the bed I glimpsed the gleam of a golden pelt. Luca had fallen asleep with his head resting on his forearms, his shoulder leaning against the foot of the bed. I moved to run my fingers through his tousled golden hair to awaken him, but a sharp flare of pain made me hiss.

My hands. I looked in confusion and then dawning horror at my bandaged hands. I remembered suddenly the blazing hot power of the Crown of Bones in my hands, searing my flesh, the great ruby crumbling to ash after delivering its benediction. Sage returned to my side as he heard my sound of dismay.

“Here,” he said, lifting a small bowl to my lips. “This will help. Drink slowly.”

The cool liquid tasted like mint. It felt so heavenly on my lips and throat that a few tears rolled down my cheeks. My gratitude deepened as coolness rolled through my body, quieting the hot agony that I now realized radiated from my ruined hands. With an effort, I raised one hand again, trying to stem the panic that welled up at the sight of my hand swathed in layers of bandages. I couldn’t see my fingers, nor could I really feel them beyond the pain that now dulled to a distant ache. With a sudden flare of memory—
Lady Bearer
—I reached for the Sword, searching for its power even as I tilted my head to find it.

“The Sword is by the head of your bed on the left side,” Sage said quietly.

I saw the well-worn scabbard exactly where he said, leaning against the bed frame; the emerald in the pommel stirred sleepily to blink at me, as though the Sword was awakening as well. I couldn’t focus well enough to call up my own
taebramh
, but I could sense its power curled behind my breastbone, a dormant silver presence. I swallowed hard against the fear that rose up in me as I let my awareness slide back to the physical world. My inability to draw on my own power compounded my pain and confusion. I felt weak. I
was
weak. I had to draw a deep breath and concentrate on quelling my panic.

I shifted my eyes back to Luca, tracing the sight of him, broad shoulders rising and falling slowly with measured breaths.

“He’s fine, if a bit grumpy at your condition,” the Seelie healer told me.

A rising swell of sleepiness overtook the dull pain still lingering in my limbs. I blinked and looked at Sage accusingly, too tired even to form words.

“I apologize, my Bearer, but I am only doing my duty,” he said softly, straightening the sheets where I’d rumpled them with my brief journey into the waking world. I frowned at him, but then felt the lines on my face relax as I slid again into a softer rest.

I woke again with less confusion. I remembered after a scant moment where I was, and that I’d awoken before, and that I was the Bearer of the Iron Sword. I kept my eyes closed for a moment, listening to the sounds of the fire crackling and hissing in the grate. No conversation met my ears, but I could hear the healer on duty moving jars with bright little sounds of glass-on-wood over at the large table. A quick mental scan of my own body revealed that my entire body hurt less, the pain focused now on my hands and up my arms. That was good, I supposed. After another moment, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. The world came into focus a bit quicker this time, resolving into an almost identical scene. Luca still slept at the edge of the bed, looking as though he hadn’t moved at all. I turned my head slightly and glimpsed Sage at the table.

“Looks like you always pick my watch to make a guest appearance to the land of the living,” he commented wryly without looking up from the parchment pinned to the table beneath one graceful long-fingered hand.

“You’re just lucky, I guess,” I croaked with an attempt at a smile.

Something stirred in Luca’s hair. I frowned in confusion, but then smiled as I saw Farin’s small head emerge from her nest. She stretched and unfurled her wings, clambering over Luca’s arm as she fluttered first one incandescent wing and then the other. War paint, now smeared, still decorated her tiny torso.

“Farin,” I whispered, not trusting my voice.

The Glasidhe’s aura spiked immediately with excitement. She leapt into the air. “Tess-mortal, you are awake!” she trilled.

I must have winced at her exuberant proclamation, because Sage raised his eyebrows at Farin and she clasped her hands in apology, dimming her glow. “Tess-mortal, you are awake!” she repeated in an exultant whisper. “Again,” she added with a tip of her head.

I smiled a little. “Yes.”

“Oh, but
he
is not,” said Farin, whirling on Luca. She dove down and disappeared behind Luca’s arm.

“I don’t think that’s going to end well,” commented Sage, watching with crossed arms. “Last one that tried to wake him up got a hand around his throat. And I think he was
growling
.”

I shrugged a little, not bothering to hide the half-smile that played on my lips. Beneath the lingering exhaustion and the dulled ache of pain, a warm glow suffused me at the thought of Luca faithfully guarding my bedside. Then I frowned and looked at Sage, who was busy preparing another kind of ointment, probably for my hands. “How long have I been….asleep?”

He paused, pestle in one hand and a bunch of herbs in the other. “I think the best thing, Tess, would be for you to concentrate on regaining your strength.”

Irritation pulled my mouth into a frown. “Why don’t you let
me
decide what’s best for me?” My voice came out as a croak that was entirely less intimidating than I’d intended, but I raised my chin and gave Sage what I hoped was something close to a glare. He concentrated on grinding the herbs, and I suspected he was trying to hide a grin. But before he answered my question, someone else did.

“Seven days.”

Luca’s voice drew my attention to the foot of the bed. I had to tilt my head back: Luca had stood, Farin hovering over his shoulder. He wore his sword—or rather, the plain blade that I’d given him what seemed like centuries ago.

“Seven days?” I repeated dumbly, my voice just barely louder than a whisper.

“Yes.” Luca pulled over a stool to the side of the bed. He sat and ran one of his hands through his unkempt hair, rubbing his fingers over the wheat-colored stubble glinting on his chin.

I swallowed, trying to work past the dryness in my throat. “What happened?”

I expected Luca to shift and avoid the question, but Kianryk padded over to his side and he put a hand on the massive wolf’s neck. Kianryk gazed up at me with solemn ice-blue eyes. “Brightvale is gone,” Luca said.

“Gone?” It was one of those times that I was doomed to repeat last words of others’ sentences questioningly, and I drew in a deep breath of frustration, willing my mind to piece together my shattered memories into some sort of recognizable mosaic. I closed my eyes for a moment, frowning, sifting through brief glimpses of dust-covered tapestries and soaring marble columns carved into the likenesses of nymphs and satyrs; I remembered whirling through the ether with Murtagh, and then the bone-searing pain of freeing Titania from her iron shackles. Goosebumps raced over my skin as the howling creature of darkness surfaced suddenly in my mind’s eye, flaming eyes staring at me hungrily as it bellowed in rage. Then the raging maelstrom of power whipping around us, the Crown of Bones hot and bright as the heart of a star in my hands, Titania’s blood deep blue as it splashed upon the ruby; and then Vell, golden eyes transfixed, the canopy of night sky and bright dawn spinning overhead as the achingly infinite power funneled down into her. Then the flash-memory of cracked stones, shaking ground, the metallic taste of blood and fear in the back of my throat…strong arms lifting me as we ran….and my awareness fading as I surrendered to darkness with the benediction of the Sword lingering in my mind.

I blinked and drew a shuddering breath. “After you carried me…
as
you carried me...Brightvale collapsed.”

Luca nodded. “Yes.”

“Did we lose anyone?” Weariness settled over me. I fought it, gazing up at Luca, not even daring to breathe. I remembered Murtagh on the floor of the throne-room, convulsing, foam lacing his lips. Sudden fear lanced through me. I moved to grip Luca’s sleeve but a dull stab of pain arrested my movement.

“We did not leave anyone behind,” Luca said. He rested one hand gently on my arm, which only heightened my fear. “The creature’s touch was poison, and so Calliea nearly died before the new Queen was able to burn it out of her.”

“Blood and fire,” agreed Farin grimly from her new perch on Luca’s shoulder.

“Murtagh?” I asked through numb lips. Luca shook his head slightly and Farin’s aura dimmed. A wrenching wave of sorrow overtook me. I was too tired to fight the tears that flooded my eyes. “Tell me.”

Kianryk whined softly and laid his massive head on the bed, close to where Luca’s hand touched my arm. “He was already in bad shape when you came back through with the Seelie Queen.”

I cleared my throat. Sage offered a drink and I grimaced when I realized I wouldn’t be able to hold the cup myself, but he held the cup to my lips with practiced ease and the water soothed my parched throat. When I regained what little voice I had, I said, “There were iron manacles on Titania. It took most of my
taebramh
to break them. I took some from him, too.” I swallowed against the sudden guilt choking me. “I took his hands, put them on my shoulders…and then I commanded him to bring us back, no matter the cost…”

“You did what had to be done,” said Sage quietly. I blinked back more tears at the unexpected tenderness in his voice.

Luca nodded in grim agreement. “After you crowned the Queen, we ran.” He raked his fingers through his hair again. Kianryk leaned against him. “The citadel was coming down around us. Sometime during the escape…Murtagh stopped breathing. Finnead breathed for him, as best he could, until we were outside the gate and could stop for a few moments to tend to everyone. Tristan…we thought he might die, he lost so much blood. And Calliea collapsed from the poison. And….you.” Luca looked down at his hands, flexing his scarred palm. Then he continued. “Titania herself worked on Murtagh. She brought him back enough that he opened his eyes. He saw her and then you, and nodded a little…and then he let go.”

Farin touched the curve of Luca’s ear with her tiny hand. “He was a true warrior,” she said fiercely. “He gave himself selflessly to give us hope against the darkness.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Farin,” I agreed, adding Murtagh’s name to the list along with Kavoryk.

“There is no battle without loss,” said Luca in a low voice. “Though it does not make it any easier.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sorrow wash over me. My hands pulsed dully with faraway pain. “Where are we?” I whispered.

“The Hall of the Outer Guard,” answered Luca.

Another piece of my memory slid into place as I recognized the bed as the one in which I’d slept the night before we traveled to the Seelie citadel. “It seems like so long since we were here last.” I stared at the runes moving liquidly beneath the gleaming surface of the headboard.