Time was running out.
“It’s inconvenient that I do not know more about this second trial.” Tejus interrupted my thoughts. “It means I am unsure of how best to prepare—which I do not like.” I watched as he bent down to stroke Lucifer, his sly-looking lynx.
I barely heard a word he was saying. I was dimly aware of him pacing up and down his living quarters, back and forth as he muttered on about the trials.
How the hell will I kill him?
It felt like I was stuck in a horrible nightmare. I was supposed to kill him tonight—I was supposed to be killing him right now, but I had no clue how to even begin.
I looked around at the weapons hanging on the walls—an axe, a spear, a few swords. I almost laughed. I was surrounded by fine weaponry—more than any warrior could hope for—but it all meant nothing. What did I think would happen if I lunged at Tejus with a sword? His idea of a gentle push would probably send me flying across the room.
“I am certain that we have not explored all that we can do in terms of mind-borrowing—just this afternoon we discovered more. I need something that’s going to give me an advantage over the other sentries—particularly now that the use of humans is becoming so popular.”
He spun around to look at me. I nodded earnestly, not having absorbed what he said, but realizing he was waiting for me to give some kind of response.
He seemed satisfied, and continued to pace up and down the room. I continued to feel hopeless.
My eyes lighted on an ornate dagger, held on a display plinth above the bookcase.
Could I stab him in the back?
Just the thought of it repulsed me. Yet I knew, if I was going to do it—and I had to do it—that would probably be the only way.
I looked at Tejus. Really looked at him for the first time—not seeing a sentry, or an enemy, or a captor, but just a man.
I noticed the slight frown lines he wore on his forehead as he deliberated on the trial ahead. I thought about how easily he frowned—no doubt a result of the seemingly complex and political life he led as a royal and the son of the emperor.
In the next moment, his expression changed to one that was more thoughtful and less intense. The frown lines smoothed away and his face relaxed. As he continued his pacing, he bent down and playfully tapped his lynx on the nose. The lynx pawed at him gently in response and then wove between his legs. Watching this behavior between the two of them was unexpected. I hadn’t seen Tejus as playful before, and it made my resolve waver.
“Of course, none of them would have considered the mind meld that we accomplished this afternoon—perhaps that would be our advantage?”
I heard the questioning tone in his voice, and murmured an affirmative in response so he would think I was listening. He walked over to the window, his gaze fixed on the dying light of the sun.
Tejus might have been closer to my enemy than my friend, but he was still a man. One with hopes, thoughts and feelings of his own. He would have dreams for the future—becoming emperor and perhaps, just perhaps, changing Nevertide for the better.
How could I kill a man? Aside from the impossibility of the actual task itself, how would I look my family in the eye again? GASP protected and nurtured and tried to build beneficial alliances between the supernatural and human world. We didn’t kill in cold blood.
I thought about my loving family—and Tejus’s lack of one. The cold castle, the even colder emperor, and the lack of any kind of relationship with his brothers. The fact that he hadn’t mourned his brother’s passing—not that I knew of, anyway, and I’d seen him straight after the hasty morning funeral.
At least whatever happened to me here, I’d always been surrounded by love and friendship. My family members all loved one another unconditionally, and my friends were always there with support, comfort and kind words—no matter how tough it got.
I thought of Benedict. So close to death in Jenus’s clutches. For all of them to have their escape robbed from them so brutally by that monster.
What would happen if I told Tejus? I wanted to – so badly. I wanted him to end all this, but it would mean risking my brother’s life on the assumption that Tejus would choose us over Jenus. I had no doubt that Tejus would want vengeance, but how far would he be willing to go, and would he be able to stop Jenus before he harmed my brother? It was all far too risky.
Trying to blink away the tears I could feel forming in my eyes, I averted my gaze from Tejus. A single solitary tear refused to hold back, and I brushed it away hastily before Tejus saw me.
“I think we should try the mind-meld again—I think that’s the best course of action.” Tejus spun to face me. “Don’t you think?”
“What?” I asked, trying to compose myself.
“The mind-meld—we should try it again. I believe that it will strengthen our energy bond considerably,” he replied pleasantly.
No!
We couldn’t mind-meld. My entire thought capacity was taken up with Jenus’s request—it would take seconds for Tejus to realize I meant to kill him.
“I can’t!” I cried, jumping up from my seat on the sofa. “I’m so tired—if we use more of my brain power I’ll be useless for the trials—it will be a disaster!”
I stumbled over to the tapestry that covered the doorway to my crystal room. Tejus looked taken aback by my sudden flurry of activity, but he didn’t say anything to try to stop me.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe we can try it then?” I suggested, yanking open the door and then slamming it shut behind me as I entered the solitude of its green emerald glow.
I sat on my makeshift bed and sobbed silently.
The feeling of powerlessness and of events spiraling out of my control was all-consuming. I still didn’t know where to begin in my plan to kill Tejus, yet if I didn’t—well, the consequences weren’t worth contemplating.
I waited for the sobs to subside. But every time I felt the tears drying up, another bout would erupt. I verged from fear for my brother and friends, to frustration and rage toward Jenus, Hellswan and Nevertide. And Tejus. My frustration toward him was irrational—I was angry with him for treating me fairly, for on occasion being kind and considerate. For making it so hard for me to even contemplate ending his life.
A short while later, when my body was exhausted, I came to the conclusion that the only chance I would have to accomplish my task would be to wait until Tejus was asleep.
It was the only way.
I shuffled toward the door and pushed it. It creaked open, allowing a small fraction of light into the room. I could hear rather than see Tejus. He was still pacing back and forth across the room, clearly as unable to sleep as I was.
I leaned my head against the wall, knowing that I would just have to wait.
Hours passed. Tejus had lit candles—casting the room in a low, flickering light.
I fought against my exhaustion, my eyelids drooping and my body feeling as if it were half-asleep. Still Tejus didn’t retire to his bedroom.
Every time I heard silence, I would try to rouse myself—peeking around the door to check that the coast was clear. But then I would hear a soft movement of him shifting on the sofa, or bending down to stroke Lucifer.
Why won’t you sleep?
The candles must have burnt down to their wicks, because the light from his room was growing dimmer. I sighed softly, wondering if this would ever be over. I couldn’t even comprehend what it would be like to stand over Tejus’s sleeping body, dagger aloft and poised, ready to kill.
I must have dozed off for a moment, because I woke abruptly, refocusing on the sounds coming from the living room.
Nothing.
I listened again, but was met with only silence. With a heavy heart I rose from my sitting position, trying to shake off the pins and needles that rushed up and down my leg. I pushed the door further ajar and tried to peer out. The living room was empty, with no sign of Lucifer staking out his territory.
Taking a deep breath, I pus
hed the door open and stepped out. My heart plummeted as I saw the early signs of dawn’s light flitting through the windows.
I have to do it now!
I rushed over to the collection of weapons hanging on the wall. I was about to take a heavy broadsword, but my eyes lighted on a new addition to the collection—Tejus’s black and silver sword that he’d won in the Hellswan trial.
I took it from the wall. The blade weighed heavy in my hands, the steel cold to the touch. I stared at it. It symbolized so much, to so many—and particularly to Tejus. Could I really stab him in the back with this? Could I do it at all?
You’re a coward, Hazel, I thought to myself.
I gripped the handle, trying to get a comfortable hold on it, but it was far too big for my palm and fingers—they barely closed over the hilt. The entire sword was too heavy, and I rested the tip down on the stone floor.
I fiddled with the pommel, twisting the smooth head around with my fingers. To my surprise, it started to rotate. I twisted harder and examined it more closely—the pommel had started to unscrew. I removed it completely, revealing a hollow opening in the hilt, and I peered down into it, but could see nothing.
I gave it a small shake, seeing if anything was jammed in there, and a heavy clunk came from the hollow. With difficulty, I tilted the sword upward. A perfectly round stone fell into the palm of my hand.
It weighed heavy in my palm—unnaturally so for its small size. Lifting it to the dawn light, I saw that it was a deep, dark emerald color, not black as I had originally thought. Where it touched my hand, the skin tingled and the stone itself felt like it was humming with a strange, potent energy.
I blinked down at the stone, and the more I looked at it, the more my mind seemed to focus and sharpen—removing the cobwebs of my sleeplessness and anxiety, making me feel as if I’d had a black coffee after a twenty-four-hour sleep. My head felt cold and crisp, and for the first time in days I felt completely and utterly calm.
Clearly, I was going crazy.
Get a grip, Hazel.
I slipped the stone in my pocket, and swiftly reattached the pommel to the hilt.
BANG!
A pounding on the door made me jump and almost drop the sword.
Jenus!
My sense of calm vanished, and I could feel an ice-cold fist of fear clutch at my chest. Was it him already, carrying the head of my brother—because I’d been too cowardly to get the job done sooner?
A small moan escaped my throat.
No, no, no—please no.
Tejus ran out of his bedroom dressed only in a silken robe, and after briefly glancing in my direction, he yanked open the door.
“What is going on?” he bellowed.
“My lord. Sorry to disturb you at this hour.” A servant stood cowering under Tejus’s glare in the doorway. “It is the emperor. He is gravely ill—a sudden affliction that cannot be explained, my lord.”
The servant lowered his voice at the last sentence, and I got the impression he was doing little to hide the fact that whatever the ‘sudden affliction’ was, it wasn’t a natural occurrence.
“Let me dress, I will be there momentarily,” Tejus replied curtly, practically slamming the door in the servant’s face.
He turned toward me, making his way back to the bedroom.
“Good idea”—he glanced at the sword—“but we should leave it here. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe as long as you’re with me.”
I nodded dumbly, and let the sword clatter to the floor.
A few moments later and Tejus was dressed. He entered the living room and stopped mid-stride, looking me up and down, seemingly surprised that I was still wearing my dining gown, but then shrugged.
“Don’t speak a word to anyone when we are in my father’s chambers,” he commanded, “and do not leave my side.”
He motioned for me to follow him, and I did, trying to keep up with his swift pace as we descended the staircase that led to the main chambers of the castle. We strode through opulent rooms and never-ending corridors that stretched for miles in the gloomy light. Eventually we came to a large wooden door, with torches burning at either side.
Tejus pulled on the ornate doorknobs, shaped like vultures’ heads, and heaved the heavy wooden door open. We stepped through, and I realized the opulence that I’d seen in some rooms of the castle had been nothing compared to this.
The room was covered in gold, from the intricate gold weave of the tapestries that covered every wall, to the gold thread carpet at our feet and the huge four-poster bed. The effect was like the inside of a honeycomb—glinting and bright, and almost laughable in its magnificence.
The emperor lay on the bed, looking sunken and pale against the blood-red pillows. On either side of him stood the sons who had survived the first trial—their dark hair and tall frames looming over their father as he gazed at the ceiling.
Jenus. He’ll know I failed.
He had positioned himself closest to his father. He had knelt down on the bed frame, one bony arm reaching out across the bedspread.
I held my breath, waiting for him to notice Tejus and me—waiting for a meaningful look in my direction with those cold black eyes, one that would tell me I had failed, and that the consequences promised would soon be delivered.
I waited, but when he did glance over, it was just that, a glance. He barely registered my presence, his attention wholly focused on his father. And if I wasn’t mistaken, tears were welling in his eyes, as if he was truly moved and distressed at the emperor’s condition.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Jenus crying at his father’s impending death, while Tejus remained completely dry-eyed? I looked over at Tejus. He was talking in low voices with several ministers and doctors who stood in the corner, at a respectful distance from the mourning brothers. While he looked preoccupied, he certainly didn’t seem remotely moved by his father’s condition.
Without wanting to draw attention to myself, I took a few steps toward the group of ministers, wanting to know if they had any theories about the emperor’s condition and what might have caused it.
“… an unhappy time… the trials… we must secure them… we must secure the Nevertide borders… a safety precaution… we can’t be too safe…” The ministers whispered on and on, and I only caught a few words—those I did hear seemed to indicate that the threat or danger had come from outside the castle walls, not within.
Since Tejus and I had heard the news, I had been under the impression that it was Jenus who had committed the crime—he had poisoned his father, maybe to get revenge for the outcome of the trial. But perhaps I was wrong? If he had done it, then the man deserved an Oscar for his stellar acting performance.
I surveyed the room, trying to think who would have the most to gain from the emperor’s death. But as I looked from Tejus to his other brother, Zerus, and the ministers, it occurred to me that none of them really had anything to gain. Obviously, I had very little understanding of sentry politics, but I really couldn’t see what the benefit would be to ending his life when his reign would be over so soon. Did anyone in the castle have anything to gain? I wasn’t so sure.
But that left another big question—who else would do such a thing?
Ruby
He came back.
We’d been waiting anxiously in the cellar for what seemed like forever. It was worse because we had no way of determining the time. It could have been a night or two nights—without light there was no way of knowing. But we were weak with hunger and feeling dangerously dehydrated.
Now an axe thwacked against the wood of the trap door, and with each splintering of the wood, small shafts of light were coming through. The wood showered down on us, but I barely felt it. All I could focus on, all I cared about was the steadily widening opening of the door.
Before long, a sentry peered down at us—a tall, hulking frame with dark eyes. He reached down and offered his hand, waiting to pull us out one by one.
“Come on,
easy does it—we need to hurry though,” he called through the door.
I lifted Benedict up, so that he could be first. My heart gave a jump of joy as his small frame was lifted up and out of the cellar. Julian went next, and I could feel his malnourishment as I helped him up.
When the hand reached out again, I jumped up and grabbed it. A firm, calloused hand closed around mine, and I felt profoundly grateful to our savior.
“I can’t thank you enough,” I said, dusting the wood splinters and hay off the boys and myself. “I’m so glad to be out of that… hell hole!”
The sentry nodded, and turned back toward the open wagon he’d been driving. It was being led by a magnificent white creature—it looked like a horse that had been super-sized, but had curly horns growing from either side of its head, so the effect was of a half bull, half horse, with the strength of the two creatures combined.
For a moment I thought the sentry was going to leave us stranded, but he returned promptly, carrying two flagons of water and loaves of crusty bread under each arm.
“A miracle,” Benedict groaned with hunger.
“Take small bites, and chew slowly,” I reminded them. “I don’t know how long it’s been since we last ate—we need to be careful.”
The boys nodded, but fell on the food with ravenous hunger. I tried to hold back, to follow my own advice, but as I bit into the freshly baked bread and felt the cold, crisp water hit the back of my throat, I threw caution to the wind.
As I ate, I could feel the sentry studying us with interest. His eyes barely left me, and it was only after I’d finished half the loaf that I realized how rude we were being.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m Ruby. This is Benedict and Julian.” I gestured to the boys, who didn’t bother to look up from their feast. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ash,” he replied.