Rayst eyed the aberration warily as he recalled the lasso from my wrist. “The syraza are aloft working the vertex. We will construct the binder here.” He swept his arm in an arc a few feet from the thing. “Set a quadrant of portal anchors. That will be very useful.”
Portal anchors. I could handle that. Maybe. I mean, I was pretty sure I could, though I’d never done them in a quadrant before. I started to turn toward the perimeter, then grimaced. “Wait, I can’t.” Sighing, I tapped the damn collar. “I can’t touch the arcane.”
Rayst snorted softly, reached and slid his hands around my neck, then slipped the collar off.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling in relief as my sense of the arcane flowed in. “But you know I have to blame that on you as well, right? I’ll throw you right under the bus, I’m warning you now.”
“Since it is already done, agreed,” he replied, eyes flashing with humor.
With the collar off I could see more of the anomaly. In the light phase, brilliant rays flashed from it. In the dark phase, all light sucked into it, and even the room dimmed. I moved to where Rayst had indicated and began to puzzle out how to do a quadrant of anchors. I finally set it up in the way that made the most sense to me, yet after a few minutes I had to wonder if I was doing it wrong. I felt as if I was wrestling six octopuses at once. Was it supposed to be this difficult?
“Ah, Rhyzkahl comes, and he is not pleased,” Rayst said, smiling as if that was a good thing. With a few flicks of his hand he set sigils around my quadrant, though I thought I caught a slight frown as his gaze took in how I was holding the anchors. “Now set a basic ktirem to hold it stable, and we have our foundation.”
“A…what?” I could barely hold the anchors. How the hell was I supposed to do something else, assuming I even knew what it was?
“A ktirem,” he repeated. He quickly traced an unfamiliar pattern and anchored it to the quadrant. “You can hold it, yes?
Gulping, I shook my head, oddly embarrassed at my fumbling efforts. The quadrant had been bad enough, but now I felt like I was trying to sprint while wearing a loaded backpack. “I don’t know how,” I gasped. “I’m sorry.”
Rayst exhaled, brow furrowing as he took in the structure of my anchors. “Why do you have it—” He shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished, but I had a feeling it was something like “Why do you have it in that godawful fucked up configuration?” or something similar. I had to be doing something wrong. Why else would I already be so wiped out?
But obviously Rayst didn’t have time right now to teach me how to do it properly. He quickly laid strands of potency on each of my anchors, then gathered them and passed them to me. “Now hold that like you would a veil for a portal. All you need do is not let go.”
I gathered the strands to me, relieved and ashamed, feeling as if I’d just been handed training wheels. Rhyzkahl entered with long strides, angry cast to his face as he took note of my presence. He stopped across from me and began to add to Rayst’s pattern. “You were not to move,” he said, eyes going from me to Rayst.
“He forced me,” I said breathlessly, jerking my chin toward Rayst and giving him a slight wink.
Rhyzkahl began to speak, but Rayst cut him off. “How far along in the shikvihr is she, Rhyzkahl?” Even as exhausted as I was, I could tell it was one of those probing questions like “So, what sort of books does your child read?”
Rhyzkahl’s face went dark and dangerous. He began to trace fluidly, merging his work with Rayst’s, but with a distinctly harsh edge. He lowered his head and spoke in demon to Rayst.
The other lord shook his head and raised an eyebrow as he replied, eyes still on Rhyzkahl. Meanwhile I wondered what the hell a shikvihr was if asking about it could piss off Rhyzkahl so much. And I couldn’t even wonder that for long. The two lords were definitely having an effect on the anomaly, but each yank of their pattern sent my own strands wavering. I continued to hold, but I was fast approaching the point of not being able to do much of anything.
Rhyzkahl made a slashing gesture that sent a wave through the pattern, accompanied by a single word that I had a feeling was Enough, judging solely by tone and body language.
Rayst replied with two words, and I didn’t have to know demon to know it was something awfully close to Fuck you.
The two lords worked in tense silence. I wanted to watch, see Rhyzkahl in action, but I didn’t dare pull any focus away from my own pattern.
Without any warning, the anomaly disappeared with a crack.
My pattern collapsed along with it. I took a staggering step to the wall and slid down it. Sitting felt like a really good idea at the moment. How the hell could Idris do all this stuff so easily? What the hell am I doing wrong?
Rhyzkahl straightened, gave a slight nod to Rayst in what was probably effusive thanks, considering his current mood, then said a single word and held out his hand, palm up. Rayst pulled the collar out from within his robes. My heart sank at the sight of the damn thing. I hated it. Hated. These past few minutes had been glorious, even though I clearly didn’t know what the hell I was doing. How could I possibly go back to being so muzzled?
But to my surprise, Rayst paused before setting it in Rhyzkahl’s open hand. “Why the need for the collar, Rhyzkahl?”
Rhyzkahl snatched it from Rayst’s grasp. “Because there are eight other qaztahl in my domain,” he practically snarled. “And I do not care to have her touched.”
“Ah, yes,” Rayst said. “A valid concern most assuredly. Then why not simply add an addition to the guest oath specifying that she is not to be deeply read?” He smiled. “I will gladly offer mine first.”
Well, this was interesting. I stayed very still and quiet and did my best not to draw any attention to myself.
Rhyzkahl’s gaze remained intense upon Rayst. “Then offer it,” he snapped, followed by a phrase in demon. I frowned. Why couldn’t Rhyzkahl have done this from the start so that I didn’t have to wear the collar?
Rayst repeated the sentence in demon while swirling the fingers of his right hand against his left palm, coalescing a marble-sized sphere of potency. He offered it to Rhyzkahl with another few words that sounded formulaic. Rhyzkahl took it and said something back, then tightened his hand around the glowing ball. When he opened his hand again the ball was gone.
Apparently satisfied, Rayst glanced back to where I sat oh-so-elegantly against the wall. “Kara, you need rest.”
I gave him a weary smile. “Yeah, I’m gonna sit for a bit first.” Rayst took a step toward me.
“I will tend my summoner,” Rhyzkahl nearly snarled as he moved swiftly to my side and crouched.
“Sorry,” I said with a grimace. “I guess I overdid it a bit.”
“You did well, dear one,” he said, touching my cheek before lifting me smoothly in his arms.
I looked over at Rayst with a warm smile. “Thanks,” I said, meaning it on several levels.
“Rest well, Kara Gillian,” he replied, then turned back to clean up the residuals of the anomaly while Rhyzkahl departed with me.
As the distance from Rayst increased, the tension in Rhyzkahl faded, leaving me wondering if the two had some sort of antagonistic history. Rayst seemed perfectly nice to me, but I’d been fooled by an easy smile before. There was every chance I was only seeing what he wanted me to see.
I leaned my head against his chest, enjoying the warm feeling of being carried and cared for. Rhyzkahl cradled me close, murmuring something in demon as he walked.
“Why didn’t you have the lords swear from the beginning not to read me so I wouldn’t have to wear that stupid collar?” I asked.
A measure of the tension returned to his neck and shoulders. “The collar was far safer for you and for my interests,” he said, then exhaled. “Yet I sensed how deeply you despise it, which is why I accepted Rayst’s compromise. The lords will still be able to read your surface thoughts, but none will dare delve once I have secured their oaths.”
“Thanks,” I
said, relieved. I was damn glad to see the last of that stupid thing. “What’s a shikvihr?” I asked, unable to hold back the yawn.
He didn’t answer for several heartbeats. “A shikvihr is a ritual foundation,” he finally said.
“Y’gonna teach me?” I yawned again, eyelids heavy.
“I will teach you many things,” he replied as he entered my rooms. He set me on the bed and tugged my boots and pants off, then pulled the covers up over me.
I reached for his hand. “Stay with me.”
Rhyzkahl hesitated, then sank to sit on the edge of the bed. A smile touched his mouth, but it seemed somewhat pained. “I will abide for a time.”
“Is something wrong?”
He looked away, silent for a moment. “These times are so uncertain and perilous. There is much treachery.” He shifted his gaze back to me, gently pushed my hair away from my face and leaned in to kiss me lightly before sitting up again. “I feel it keenly with those who are within these walls.”
I gave his hand a light tug. “Then lie down with me and forget all that for a while.”
“I cannot. I must secure the oaths of the other lords, and the conclave meets again shortly.” His face went unreadable then softened. “I have something I would like to show you tomorrow,” he said. “Come to me in the great hall after the midday bell, and I will take you there.”
I lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”
“The plexus—where you found me before we dealt with the anomaly. It is where I adjust the planetary flows of the arcane as well as those for my realm.”
“I can’t wait,” I said, fighting to keep my eyes open. Finally, I gave up the struggle and drifted off to the feel of him lightly stroking my hair.
Chapter 15
The next morning the weather confined my explorations to the indoors. Grey and frigid rain sheeted down with possibly some sleet thrown in for good measure, to judge by the hissing patter against the windows. Fortunately there was a shitload of palace to explore, though more than once I wished I had a tour guide to explain some of the features. Demons lurked everywhere I went, and I had no doubt that I was being watched. None, however, approached to offer any sort of guidance.
My wanderings took me past two large kitchens—one dark and quiet, and the other bustling with luhrek and faas hard at work—then through a sizable, empty dining hall and into a glassed arboretum, warm and moist despite the chill outside. Butterflies and furry hummingbirds flitted among the flowering trees, and little demon-lizards scurried away here and there. I sat for a while by a burbling pool, contemplating a climb to the snug tree house tucked high into the branches above, before giving up the notion for the moment and heading out again. Eventually, I located the summoning chamber as well as a library that took up several floors. I would have gladly spent the rest of the day there, but the midday bell came before I could even set foot inside.
With a sigh of regret and a mental promise to return, I closed the library door and headed to the great hall, rather proud of myself when I actually managed to find it with only one or two wrong turns—though I ended up coming in through some sort of antechamber instead of the main corridor. My steps slowed as I entered and saw that Rhyzkahl was far from alone. A slim, dark-haired lord who I could only assume was Jesral and, ugh, Kadir were at the base of the right staircase, while Rhyzkahl stood in the center of the hall with Amkir, apparently in deep conversation.
I dawdled near the door through which I’d entered, since I didn’t want to interrupt, and I sure as hell didn’t want to make some sort of stupid social error. I tried to tell myself that this gave me a chance to see what I could of the other lords, but the drawback to that was they could do the same to me. Kadir’s violet gaze slid to me like an oily touch, and I carefully avoided any eye contact.
Thankfully it was only a few seconds before Rhyzkahl looked my way and gestured me over. Amkir turned and watched as I approached, dark eyes keen upon me like a hawk on a mouse. His predatory regard unnerved me, but I did my best not to show it.
“Kara Gillian,” Rhyzkahl stated in a formal tone. “You are honored by the presence of Lord Amkir.”
I turned my attention to Amkir, fairly sure that his eyes hadn’t left me this whole time. I had a feeling there was some sort of protocol I was expected to follow, but since I was basically clueless I had to hope I could muddle along and fake it. I gave the lord a slight bow. “It is indeed my honor to meet you, Lord Amkir.”
His eyes remained hard upon me, clearly assessing my worth. “Kri,” he murmured, then curled his lip and said another word I didn’t quite catch, though judging from tone and inflection, it probably wasn’t a compliment.
I flicked a glance to Rhyzkahl in hopes that he would either translate or intervene, but he looked away as Jesral called out something to him. He glanced back at Amkir. “I will return.” Then he strode off toward Jesral without another word.
Shit. I really didn’t want to stay here, but even without knowing specific protocols, I had no doubt that ditching this lord would be considered pretty damn rude. I forced a smile for Amkir, reminding myself that I’d been in plenty of social situations where I had to talk to someone with whom I wasn’t totally comfortable. Not that there was much talking going on. He’d yet to say a word to me in English, and I wasn’t about to start a conversation.
“Make yourself useful,” he abruptly said, eyes fiery and face hard. “Bring me wine.” He flicked his gaze toward a table by the wall. Wine and glasses were there, as well as a faas perfectly ready to serve as needed.
I kept my face as immobile as possible. Rhyzkahl was still deep in conversation with his back to me, so there was no hope of rescue from that quarter. Fine then. I had no desire to make a scene. I could suck up some hazing for a few minutes. I gave Amkir a tight nod and smile, then turned and headed for the wine. I poured quickly and returned at a brisk walk, though not from any desire to leap to his bidding. I simply wanted to get this shit over with.
“Your wine, Lord Amkir,” I said, holding the glass out for him.
He made no move to take the glass from me. “You dare offer me that which you have touched?” His lip curled in revulsion. “Pour again and do so properly,” he ordered. His right hand twitched as if he was barely holding himself back from striking me for my affront.
I took two steps back from him, just in case, then turned and went back to the damn wine table, mentally tracing the stupid fucking pygah to calm my impulse to tell Amkir where he could shove his wine glass. I poured again, this time holding the glass in a napkin. Rhyzkahl still hadn’t glanced my way and seemed intent on his discussion with Jesral, but by this point I’d decided that I’d give Amkir his fucking wine and then go wait somewhere else. Because this was bullshit.
“Chikdah,” he murmured as I returned, followed by something else that probably was not Thank you, oh so much! I didn’t need to know the language to know that “chikdah” meant “cunt” or something equally charming. Yeah, this asshole was a regular sweetheart.
Too late, I remembered that the lords could still read surface thoughts. Amkir’s eyes blazed with anger as he snatched the glass from my hand. Before I had time to even flinch, he threw the wine in my face, then hurled the glass toward the wall.
I gasped in shock. “Are you fucking kidding me? What is your goddamn issue, asshole?” Instantly, I knew my response was a mistake. It was as if I watched the words come out of my mouth in slow motion, completely unable to stop the torrential flow.
Amkir snarled in what could only be satisfaction. With lightning speed he lifted a hand and open-hand slapped me in a strike that sent me staggering. Even as I reeled back he stepped toward me, hand raised for another strike. I lashed out at him with a punch to the chest that sent him stumbling back awkwardly…
…and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t actually touched him.
Grove power thrummed through and over me as I faced Amkir. I was pretty sure I looked awesome as shit, glowy and all, but I wa
sn’t about to stop and check myself out in the nearest mirror.
Black fury filled Amkir’s face as he recovered. Strands of potency like long writhing whips coalesced in one fist as he regained his footing, and I had no doubt he intended to put my ass down.
I heard Rhyzkahl shout something in demon. I couldn’t understand the word, yet I had a sense of the meaning nonetheless—an unexpected benefit of holding the grove power. Hold or something close to it. But Amkir either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him. Snarling, he drew back his hand and lashed the whips of potency toward me.
Crying out, I threw my hands up while I struggled to form the power I held into some sort of block or shield. Rhyzkahl moved with demonic lord speed, catching Amkir’s wrist so that only three of the lashes barely grazed me. Even the light graze stung like crazy. Rhyzkahl snarled something to Amkir, the gist of which seemed to be “stand down.”
“Kara Helene Gillian. Subside now,” Rhyzkahl said over his shoulder in an I am SO not fucking around voice.
I held the power, breath coming raggedly, but I knew there was no way for me to win this. I was going to have to trust Rhyzkahl to keep Amkir from turning me into bloody mist. I released the power and straightened, controlling the shudder as normal sensation returned. I gave Amkir a parting sneer and turned, back prickling as I stalked to the door, absolutely certain that I’d get a ball of power between the shoulder blades any second now. I was almost shocked to reach the door unscathed.
As soon as I ducked through and shut the door behind me I began to tremble. What the fuck just happened? I wondered, utterly bewildered and shaken. I began to pace in an attempt to burn off the excess adrenaline. What the hell had I done to warrant that attack?
My steps slowed as I felt a flare of potency beyond the door. I heard and felt a crack, and then the potency faded, only to be replaced by voices raised in argument. I wasn’t holding the grove power anymore, but some of the sense of the words still came through to me. Something from Amkir about some important thing that had to be completed, and something from Rhyzkahl about getting the fuck out of his fucking palace.