The Empty Throne

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  AMBUSH

  Zabriel and I had kept our heads low since the awful morning in Luka Ivanova’s office. We’d stayed out of everyone’s way to the extent possible, and in situations where we couldn’t avoid the company of others—such as dinner—we were polite and respectful. Though the fray appeared to have blown over, we needed to be under less scrutiny in order to have the best chance of getting out of the mansion to meet Fane.

  I stepped out of my bedroom well after sunset on the day following my trip to Tairmor, dressed in a dark green tunic and leggings, the apprehension and excitement churning in my stomach making me wish for something to calm my nerves. A small bag with a few supplies—cloth bandages, a length of rope, and a rather dull table knife—hung from the belt at my waist. I hastened through the quiet corridors to the west turret, and dashed up the winding staircase to Zabriel’s room. His door was open, inviting me to enter.

  “Ready, Anya?” he asked, standing by the window, flexing his magnificent wings.

  “I guess so.” I glanced dubiously past him, noticing he had already removed the pane of glass. From the debris, it looked as though he had used a method akin to Spex’s. I didn’t bother to ask how he had obtained the molasses—a maid somewhere in the house had probably been beguiled by his overabundant charm.

  “We’re traveling light, so don’t carry anything that’s not essential.” He gestured toward my pouch of supplies, then distractedly tugged on his silver-blond hair, leaving it standing straight up. “Wish we had a weapon, just in case. Were you disarmed, too?”

  “Too?”

  “I was disarmed when I was arrested. But every member of the Fae delegation had to put their weapons in the Governor’s safe, with the exception of the conduit blades. Personally, I find it a little amusing, since the Queen has full-fledged elemental powers at her disposal—fire, water, earth, air. If she needed to defend herself, she could.”

  “That explains it,” I muttered, sinking down on the edge of the bed. The Queen had never inquired about the Anlace, but Zabriel had just made it clear that she wouldn’t expect to see me with it. She assumed either that it was in the Governor’s safe with the other Fae weaponry or that I had hidden it away. In the former case, she wouldn’t want to ask about the weapon for fear of alerting the humans to its special significance; in the case of the latter, she wouldn’t ask about it while in the mansion. Though the Queen’s visit would soon be ending, I still had a little time to find and reclaim it.

  “Explains what?”

  “Oh, nothing. But to answer your question—I had to turn my weapons over to Luka. All I have with me is a knife I swiped from the dinner table. Sorry.”

  “I hope you’ll be of more help the rest of the night,” he teased, turning to stare out the window.

  “So how are you going to carry me? Do you have a harness or something?”

  “No.”

  I frowned and walked over to join him, pondering the stone wall we needed to successfully maneuver without being seen.

  “Will I ride on your back?”

  “No—that would interfere with use of my wings.”

  “You don’t have a plan, do you?” The muscles around my rib cage tightened, threatening to cut off my oxygen.

  “Plans are overrated.”

  With that, he launched himself out the window, spreading his wings to catch the air currents, and I felt a stab of jealousy. I watched him soar higher, his wings glimmering slightly in the moonlight; then he dropped to hover just outside the window.

  “Show-off,” I muttered, and he grinned.

  “Flying always feels good—I must admit.”

  He grabbed the window frame and folded his wings against his back to once more perch on the ledge.

  “There’s only one way this is going to work, Anya. I can’t fly us, so I’m hoping to glide us off the estate. My wings just have to fight the pull of gravity long enough to get us over that wall.” He pointed at our goal, as if that somehow made it easier.

  “But I still don’t know how you’re going to carry me.”

  “Well, actually, it’s more like you’re going to hang on to me. This will be a bit like a plummet, only we’ll be moving at an angle toward the ground rather than dropping straight down. All you have to do is grab my neck, wrap your legs around my waist, and press close to my body to cut wind drag. I’ll do the rest.”

  My stomach lurched, his description enough to nauseate me. Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer, I posed what I thought was the most likely outcome. “And if we don’t make it?”

  “Don’t be such a worrier, Anya. We’ll make it.”

  I grabbed him by the upper arm. “I want an answer. What if we don’t make it?”

  “Then we crash. And get hurt. And get caught.” He grinned at me. “This is what makes life interesting. Besides, we’ll make it.”

  I released his arm and retreated into the room. “I’m not so sure about this, Zabriel. If we get caught, we’re not going to be much help to anyone. And we’ll never get a second chance. So we’d better think this through more carefully.”

  “You think if you must, but I’m going to meet Fane.”

  He pivoted on the ledge, preparing for another launch.

  “Wait! You can’t go without me!”

  “I can and I will, unless you’re willing to do this my way.”

  I glared angrily at him—he was too reckless and too impulsive for his own good. And yet in the pirate world, that’s what had earned him his reputation. Still, I wasn’t about to be left behind. With no alternative, I did as he asked, literally wrapping my body around his. Then I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Here we go,” he exclaimed, then he pushed off the ledge. “Don’t scream!”

  I felt the wind fill his wings, then his powerful downward thrust against the air currents to try to maintain our elevation, but we were nonetheless dropping. I pulled myself almost inside Zabriel’s skin, my arms so tight that my nails were digging into my opposite forearms. Nausea roiled my gut, and I wondered what would happen if I vomited in midair. Flying I had always enjoyed—out-of-control descent was not to my liking.

  Zabriel was fighting now, tipping his wings, maneuvering his body position in an effort to keep us on track, but I could tell from his heavy breathing and the curses he was flinging that it was going to be close.

  “Open your eyes, Anya,” he suddenly shouted. “On the count of three, throw yourself away from me—you’ve got to grab the top of that wall!”

  “What? I can’t—”

  “One.”

  “Zabriel!”

  “Two.”

  I twisted my head and gasped—we were on a collision course.

  “Three!”

  I released my legs and pushed off Zabriel’s chest with my hands, one of my feet shoving off his thigh, then stretched out my arms in a frantic effort to catch myself. I crashed into the stone with a chest-first thud, arms flung over the top, trying to claw a grip to keep from sliding to the ground like a squashed bug. Zabriel lifted slightly with the loss of my weight, and he literally rolled across the top of the stone to drop off the other side. Down below me, guards were running, shouting. Our voices and the impact of our bodies had drawn attention. I scrambled with my boots, searching for a toehold—with one wrist still in a splint, I wouldn’t be able to hang on for long.

  “Zabriel,” I cried, wondering what had happened to him. Since we’d already been discovered, I raised my volume even more, practically screaming his name. “Zabriel!”

  “Up there,” I heard from below my feet, and I pictured guns being drawn, the guards preparing to fire. Panic filled me—I wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Then hands clamped around my wrists; Zabriel had landed on top of the wall. With a jerk that sent se
aring pain through my right forearm, he pulled me up and over, his wings slowing our momentum as we dropped to the ground on the other side. Excitement poured through my veins like hot oil, and I flopped on the grass beside my cousin, both of us breaking into crazed laughter. But our relief was short-lived. Men were coming through the gated entrance to the Governor’s estate and heading in our direction.

  “Run, Anya,” Zabriel urged, hopping to his feet.

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I sprang up beside him, and we raced down the street, taking random turns to our left and right. When we were certain we had outdistanced any pursuit, we halted in an alley, our breath coming in heaving gasps, trying to steady our bodies and our nerves.

  “Well, that was fun,” Zabriel declared. Then he gently lifted my broken wrist. “Did it hold up?”

  “It’s still attached, isn’t it?”

  He nodded, then wiped the sweat off his brow. “We’ve a bit of a walk from here. Best get started.”

  He strode off down the street, and I quickly fell in step with him. We were headed toward the marble bridge that spanned the Kappa, for that was where Gwyneth had indicated we would meet Captain Fane. Every now and then, Zabriel would glance behind, but he detected no sign of continued chase.

  “Evernook Island,” he at length said. “We finally have a chance to talk.”

  “Yes, only I have some information to share first. I don’t know if you remember this or not, but Shea’s father, Thatcher, gave her a necklace with a pendant that’s shaped like an upside-down looking glass.”

  He glared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Why are we talking about a necklace, Anya? I don’t care what kind of jewelry Shea might have worn.”

  I shoved him. “Just be quiet and listen. Thatcher was contracted to build the box that was used to support that poor human we found on the island with the Faerie wings grafted to its back.”

  “Shea’s father?” Zabriel stopped and faced me, his voice ringing with disbelief. “So he’s involved in all of this...whatever this is?”

  “Not involved anymore, but at one time, he was on the fringe of the group.”

  Zabriel glanced around, then headed down a side street, forcing me to jog to catch up. The sound of the Kappa was louder now, telling me we would soon reach our destination.

  “Go on,” he said, voice tight.

  “The humans somehow infused magic into the pendant, because it helps to control the Sepulchres. But it was also designed for the sending of concealed messages. Apparently, a message can be written on a piece of paper and not be visible, unless you’re looking at the words through the pendant.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” I knew from his use of a human curse that something I’d said was of significance. “I think I’ve got just the thing to try it on.”

  “What do you have? It only works on messages.”

  “I might just have a message.”

  I grabbed him by the arm and forced him to stop, wanting to give my legs a break and feeling he was talking in riddles.

  “Pretend I’m stupid and tell me plainly and simply what you’re thinking.”

  He smirked, and I wanted to shove him again.

  “I stole something from Luka’s study when we had our wine-tasting party.”

  Now it was my turn to stare in disbelief. “What did you steal? And how did you keep it hidden—you were searched!”

  Zabriel pulled a coin from his pocket and played with it in his hand, slipping it between and around his fingers, making it appear and disappear. While he maneuvered the coin, he answered my questions.

  “I stole a blank piece of paper, no more than a note, really—it folded up nice and small.”

  “Why would you steal a blank piece of paper?”

  “Because it was locked inside a box. Anything locked inside a box is important to someone.”

  Tired of watching him twirl the coin around his fingers, I grabbed it from his hand. “So how did you get it out of Luka’s office?”

  He pointed at the coin and grinned. “Sleight of hand, Anya. And sleight of hair.”

  He took the coin from me, once more making it dance around his fingers, then with a grin, deposited it on top of his head, hidden in his hair.

  “That’s the one place I wasn’t searched. Farrier got close—he searched my mouth.”

  I laughed, then laughed some more, picturing how thorough the Constable would have been in patting down Zabriel. As I tried to check my outburst, my cousin glanced up at the moon.

  “Let’s keep moving. Not only isn’t the Captain the most reasonable sort—he’s also not the most patient. We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

  We started off again, and Zabriel returned to the topic at hand.

  “About the island. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and everything we found there, along with everything else we know, leads me to one and only one conclusion.” He hesitated, his voice troubled, and fear coursed through my veins to set up a pounding in my temples. I knew what he was about to say, that he was going to confirm the conclusions I had reached but didn’t want to accept. “Think about it, Anya—the Fae abductions, the capture and abuse of the Sepulchres, the experiments we discovered, the attempt to infuse magic into objects and graft Faerie wings onto a human, the secrecy surrounding everything—it all adds up to one thing. Someone with a lot of power, someone who can use government resources and break the law with impunity, someone who assuredly hates the Fae with a passion is trying to figure out a way to enable humans to cross the Bloody Road.” His statements hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, I couldn’t catch my breath. “And that means—”

  “Our realm is in danger. It works out the same way in my head, too. But who could it be? And how close are they to succeeding?”

  Zabriel shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s why we can’t trust anyone right now—not even our own people, with very few exceptions. Don’t forget, there are Fae who would like nothing better than to start another war with the humans and could therefore be involved in this.”

  We turned another corner and caught sight of the bridge, shining white in the moonlight. In the middle of the bridge, spread out along both sides of the railing, were a dozen or more men.

  “That’ll be Fane,” Zabriel said, excitement rising in his voice. “He’s always expecting a fight. And the openness of the bridge means no one can sneak up on him.” He laid a hand on my arm. “Look, Anya, we’re smart and resourceful, you perhaps more so than me. So we’ll get to the bottom of this scheme and shut it down. But right now we should solve a problem that’s more manageable. Are you ready to tell Fane whatever he needs to hear to get him to leave Shea alone?”

  “You know I am. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  He nodded and glanced around. Satisfied we weren’t under watch, he jogged to the near end of the marble bridge, then strode out to meet the Captain. I followed, skeptically examining the group of men Fane had with him—their expressions were menacing, their clothing was roughly made, and the scars on their faces and arms were almost as plentiful as the knives and pistols they carried.

  “I’ll be damned,” Fane greeted my cousin. He was taller and more thickly built than Zabriel, his bearing that of a man in charge, and though the weather had warmed since we’d last been together, and we were nowhere near the sea, he wore his signature knee-length brass-buttoned coat, his impressive hat framing his rugged features. “Is that you, boy, or am I seeing a ghost?”

  “I’m flesh and blood, Captain,” Zabriel responded with a grin.

  “Gwyneth told me, but I thought she was just spinning a tale—wanting to get Shea out of the fire. You’ve got some explaining to do, lad.” He reached up to muss Zabriel’s hair. “They’ve sure turned you into a dandy.”

  “I know, and I’ll explain everything. But first abou
t Shea—I’m not dead, so there’s no need for the revenge you seek. I’d like you to leave her alone.”

  Fane squinted at Zabriel, though his blue eye seemed to be examining me while his brown was fixed on my cousin. “The fact you’re alive doesn’t change the betrayal she dealt. But I’ll think on your request.”

  “Please, Captain,” I interjected, gritting my teeth around the words, not wanting our efforts to get here to be in vain. “I feel the same. Shea had reasons for what she did, and since Zabriel is alive and well, I don’t want her to come to harm, either.”

  He considered me, and a grin softened his weathered face. “All right, seeing you both has put me in a forgiving mood.” Turning to his men, he loudly shouted, “Pyrite’s back, boys. Let’s find a pub and do a little celebra—”

  A gunshot rang out, and a bullet hit the marble railing of the bridge, sending a chip flying. Fane’s crew closed ranks, uncertain from where the danger had come; then black-clothed men flowed over the side of the bridge from their hiding places beneath it.

  Fane immediately grabbed Zabriel by the collar. “Did you turn me in, lad?”

  “What? No, never!”

  “I didn’t think you would. Have you a weapon?” When Zabriel shook his head, the Captain shoved a pistol and a dagger at him. “Run, lad. Get the girl out of here.”

  Though I registered Fane’s command, I was too shocked to move or react. But Zabriel didn’t hesitate. Latching on to my hand, he flung me forward in front of him.

  “Move, Anya!” he shouted, and I fled, stopping and starting as I dodged the fight going on around me. I was almost free of the battle zone when someone grabbed me from behind, a hand over my mouth. I thrashed about, trying to pull the table knife from my pouch. Unable to get it open, I reached behind to clutch a handful of my attacker’s hair, yanking hard. He cursed but didn’t release me, instead dragging me toward the side of the bridge. My heart pounded in terror—was I about to be flung over the side? I clawed at his hand, desperate to scream, to summon help, to let someone know I was about to disappear forever.