Misrule, page 33
“Regan, I…”
“Think before you choose her again.”
The cold air stings in my lungs. Wood smashes as a ship collides with a rock at the base of the cliffs. The roving dots that are sailors hurry from bow to stern, lassoing ropes out to try to reel in the survivors of the sunken ship. Cannons boom. Destroying the fleet would be so easy—the same as when I peeled up the docks in the harbor a hundred years ago. Mortania’s presence floods my veins, thrumming through every limb.
And then a flicker of gold catches my attention. I sharpen my eyesight until I can see clearly. Aurora. She’s standing at the prow of the ship, the Briar crown gleaming on her head.
As if she can feel my gaze, she turns. That connection between us hums.
“Damn you, Nimara.” Regan nudges her steed closer. “You’re not some whimpering half-Vila anymore. You are Mistress of the Dark Court. And if you will not do what is necessary, I will do it for you.”
Before I can utter a word to stop her, the Vila leader spurs her mount and takes a flying leap over the cliffside.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The other Vila assume I’ve come to join their fight against the Ryna fleet. They raise their fists, my name mingling with the punches of cannon shot. Some of the Fae riders notice me as well and abruptly change course, staffs sparking. I let my power loose, and it jumps from one Etherian to the next, repelling attacks. Callow joins me, rending faces and slicing steeds with her talons. Fae plummet into the sea. Mortania cackles.
But dispensing with these threats slows me down. By the time I reach Aurora’s ship, Regan is poised above the mast, too high up to be touched by their guns or harpoons.
“Stop!”
Her steed rears. “I vowed to protect you—protect our home—at all costs. And I will show you what it means to keep a promise.”
Regan’s steed snorts and bucks, feeding off her energy. She stares down, brow pinched in concentration. The sea groans and heaves. The Ryna ship begins to wobble, more like a toy than a warship. And then, to my complete shock, the water directly behind the ship begins to rise. It’s as if a string is attached to the whitecaps, reeled upward by an invisible hand until a massive, lethal wave looms. Droplets fly from its inky surface and fleck my cheeks. Fins and tentacles puncture the wall of water and then vanish. This is powerful magic.
“Regan!”
Sweat pours down her face and her eyes are fever-bright. The wave climbs higher, level with the cliffs themselves. The ship will be capsized. I have to stop her myself.
I bid my power unfurl and find Regan’s before it’s too late. But for the first time since I learned how to use it, my magic resists. I can feel it pulsing inside me, but it won’t budge.
Mortania.
This is for the best. Her voice winds through my skull in oily ribbons.
No. I reach for my magic. Claw for it. The ancient Vila blocks every attempt. And I am so stunned that I nearly lose control of my Shift and fall out of the sky. All these years, I considered Mortania an integral part of me. A mentor, even. Whatever she’d done in the past, she was the one who guided me to take control of my magic. Harness my rage and wield it like a weapon against Briar. She shouldn’t be able to restrict the use of my power. But she is. And the full truth of the last years trembles through me. I’d terribly misjudged the ancient Vila. Mortania has been hiding. Casting herself as a vague and barely present spirit. Waiting, just like Kal waited, until the moment was exactly right.
Mortania’s sinister laughter echoes in the deepest part of my soul. We are one and the same now, pet. There is no untangling us. Fighting it will make things harder on yourself.
White-hot panic rises in stride with Regan’s wave. If I cannot use my magic, I cannot prevent this. But no—I will not lose Regan. And I will not let Aurora be drowned.
I charge toward the ship.
Regan anticipates me. A jet of water erupts in my path. I swerve to the right only to pull up short in front of another, then another. Not even Callow is quick enough to dodge them.
“Regan, please!” I shout above the roar of the sea.
Through the veil of salty mist, her eyes lock with mine. And in their emerald depths I glimpse the sadness buried in her core. The years she endured before she came to Briar, driven into hiding. Her mother’s death. Her sister’s disloyalty. Mine. An elixir more potent than any I could have concocted as the Dark Grace. A cold certainty spreads like rivers of ice through my veins. Regan came here for Nimara, but that isn’t who I really am. It never was.
Regan appears to realize that, too. She raises her fist, the silver snake ring on her hand shining in the sun, and bellows a war cry. The wave begins to vibrate, like a beast readying for a strike. And then—
A howl of agony reverberates between the spears of water. Regan clutches her chest and curls into herself. It’s her power. Regan’s intent was strong enough to summon the wave, but she’s only half-Vila, and there was never enough magic to maintain it. The tether inside her snapped like a too-taut string.
No. Not like this.
Her name wrenches from my lips, but Regan can’t hear me. Her body goes slack. Without her magic to guide it, the wave shudders, and then begins to collapse back into itself.
Regan falls with it.
She slides from the saddle, and her steed whinnies and rushes away. Several other Vila streak toward us in an attempt to rescue their leader. I tuck in my wings and dive, but I’m not fast enough. Regan somersaults, head over feet, and disappears into the sea in a splash of white froth.
My first instinct is to plunge in after her, but I wouldn’t survive it. The Ryna fleet bobs like a cork in the wave’s wake. Vila howl Regan’s name.
“Alyce!”
My attention jerks back to the ship. Aurora is braced against the railing. The sea absorbs the shock of the slamming wave like a blow. The Vila scatter. Aurora’s ship is flung toward the cliffs at an impossible speed. I dart after it, muscles rebelling as I Shift in my arms.
Just as the hull of the ship crushes against the cliff face, I scoop Aurora up and catapult into the sky.
* * *
—
We skid onto the cliffs and roll apart, bruised and drenched. All I can see is Regan’s body as it was swallowed by the waves, her face contorted as her magic guttered out. The air is too thin. My hacking coughs turn into sobs. My fingers dig into the loamy earth, desperate for something solid to hold on to. Desperate to change what just happened, even though I know it wouldn’t have mattered. Regan made her choice. And I made mine.
Callow lands near me and brushes her wings against my cheek.
“I’m so sorry, Alyce.” Aurora’s voice penetrates the fog of my grief.
Without thinking, I reach for her. Her arms come around me, and I let myself cry into her chest. Clutch at her. She holds on to me just as tightly. Strokes my hair, and murmurs comforting things I can’t make out. And when I’ve finally caught my breath, I look up at her. She’s blurry through my tears. The pad of her thumb skims the ridge of my cheekbone.
“You saved me,” she says.
I let out a breathless laugh. “Of course I did. I love you. I don’t know how to do anything else but love you.” I scoot away from her, hugging my knees to myself. “I wish I did.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes.” I swipe my arm over my face, skin stinging with salt. “No. I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter now, does it? Not after everything that’s happened.”
Aurora doesn’t answer. She pushes herself to stand and watches the tumult of the sea below. A few Vila are still patrolling the area where Regan vanished. The rest of the Ryna fleet is struggling to stay afloat in the repercussions of the wave. Several of the ships have tipped over, and one is completely capsized, its barnacled hull sticking out of the water like a whale breaching. The one that carried Aurora is nothing but scraps of wood. I shudder, imagining her broken bones at the bottom of the sea. Right next to Regan’s.
“Leythana lied.”
Aurora’s voice brings me back into the moment. “Leythana…lied?”
“That book,” she replies, “where you read about how there was another realm that tried to negotiate with the Vila. We didn’t know what they offered or why the Vila allied with Leythana instead. But I found out.”
I get up, wincing at the aches in my muscles. “Is it really important right now?”
The battle rages around us.
Aurora continues as if it isn’t. “I discovered some of Leythana’s writings, locked away in the royal crypt. It’s where I found this.” She picks up the crown from where it tumbled from her head. The wreath of bramble and thorn glimmers in the sunlight.
I frown. One of the humans must have taken it there to honor Mariel. They’d hidden it well, too, for I never saw it.
“There wasn’t anything left of Leythana’s. I told you already that I checked.”
“There wasn’t anything behind her effigy,” she says. “Not like with the other queens. No special gowns or other tribute. But I found a loose brick far in the back of the crypt. The writings must have been stashed there long before your siege.”
“Dragon’s teeth,” I mutter. If I’d lived at the palace for another century, I never would have thought to go scrabbling about prying bricks out of the walls of that dank place. “What writings?”
“Leythana’s journal entries, some of them from before she was queen. A few were from her time on her fleet of dragon ships. Others during the Fae challenge.”
I step closer, curiosity piqued. “The Fae challenge? And she wrote about how she convinced the Vila to surrender Oryn’s staff?”
“Yes. She offered the Vila a weapon or something. It wasn’t explicitly clear,” she says. “And that’s not what’s important. Leythana lied. She told the Vila she would get them this weapon. She made them trust her. And then she never followed through.”
“Are you sure? Maybe she just couldn’t forge the weapon or—”
“No,” Aurora interrupts. “Leythana knew she would never get it. But she lied to the Vila in order to persuade them to give up Oryn’s staff. So that she could win the challenge and become queen.”
It hums between us, burying the sounds of the fighting. I have no idea what to say. What to think. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because when I found what she did, I was shocked. Angry. My whole life, I’d idolized Leythana. But she built her reign on deception.”
My hand twitches, wanting to reach for her. But I force myself to hold back.
“And then I thought, what did it matter? Leythana wasn’t remembered for her deceit, but for all of the other things she accomplished. I could be, too. The ends would justify the means.” Like Regan said. The crown glimmers in the sunlight. “And that’s why I went to Oryn. Why I lied to lure you to the High Court. I thought that if Mortania was somehow gone, things would return to how they used to be. And that everything I’d done would be worth it.”
I stare at her. “But at the black tower, you said—”
“I was angry. And I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me.” She exhales a long breath. “But you were right. We can’t go back. And I was asking you to give up a piece of yourself. To change into someone who I wanted you to be.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to be powerless. I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are.”
The salt-laced air burns in my lungs. “Are you sure?”
She nods, tears leaking from her eyes. I close the distance between us and trace the silver trails on her cheeks, warm and wet against my fingertips.
“I love you,” I say. “I might not have said it, but—”
“I know. And I love you, Alyce.” She pulls me closer. “Always.”
It does not soothe all of the wounds we’ve inflicted on each other. It does not make anything right. But it is the truth.
My heart thuds away in my chest. Mortania whirls in her den, warning me that this is another trap. Another ploy to get me to lower my defenses. But I believe Aurora. Her face tips nearer. Even covered in the dirt from the last days, she is beautiful.
A whinny pierces between us. We break apart to see a Fae steed hurtling out of the confusion and toward the cliffs. Aurora points. “It’s Chaos!”
It is. Last I checked, he’d been taken to the stables to rest after our journey home. Callow warbles a greeting at the sight of her friend. One of the Vila must have been brave enough to saddle him for the battle. But it’s not a Vila riding him now. It’s Derek. I thought he was on the Ryna ships—and likely dead now…
Clods of dirt fly from beneath Chaos’s massive hooves as he lands. Derek swings from the saddle and reaches Aurora in two strides. “You’re alive. I thought—”
I bully myself between them and shove him back. “You thought you’d dump Aurora on a ship while you escaped. What are you doing riding my steed?”
Callow settles on my shoulder. I slide a suspicious glance at Chaos, who tosses his head in what might be an apology.
The prince swipes his sea-slick hair out of his face. Cuts mar his handsome face, seemingly his only injury. “I left Aurora on the ship because that was the safest place I could find. And then I returned to the palace to offer my assistance. By the time the sentries signaled to us about the wave, my steed had been taken. Chaos was the only one left. I had to get back here.”
It’s exactly the sort of irritatingly heroic endeavor I would expect from this prince. I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow at Chaos. “You didn’t think it better to buck him into the sea?”
“Alyce.” Aurora nudges me in the ribs.
I don’t apologize. “Why is your fleet firing at the Etherians anyway?”
He grins at that. “The ships are Fae, as my father sent what was left of his army to Oryn in exchange for my safe return. But we decided to give them a taste of their own medicine—misdirection. We feigned an alliance until the fighting started.”
That’s…a clever plan. Much to my annoyance, some of my anger at the boy ebbs. “And why would you do that? Did you miss the Imps?”
“Not because of them. Because of Oryn.” He gestures in the direction of the fallen black tower. “Rulers like him are the reason wars exist in the first place. Setting rigid borders and hoarding power when it could help others. That enchanted cage he plans to cast is the perfect example. I don’t want to live in a world that’s so…senseless.”
Senseless. The word carries an uncomfortable resonance. I look out at the fighting. The Dark Court pitted against the Fae. Shifters returned to us in pieces. Malakar. The Fae heads on the throne room walls. We initiated this war for revenge—and there is much I do not regret—but what will be left at the end? Are we forcing the Fae prophecy to come to pass, hacking away at one another until there’s nothing left?
“Well,” I say, attempting to disguise the gruffness in my voice. “I don’t see how your fleet is going to make much of a difference at the bottom of the sea.”
“Alyce,” Aurora chides again.
“But thank you,” I relent. “For keeping her safe. And for helping us. I know you’re the reason Regan came to my rescue at the black tower.”
And why I’m still alive, I don’t say. I wouldn’t want to give the boy too much credit.
He looks at me like I’ve grown horns. “You’re welcome.”
Chaos chuffs, like the boy should show more appreciation for my praise. And he should. It will likely be the last time he receives it.
“And what are we to do now?”
The palace still burns. Clouds of charcoal smoke chug across the districts, laced with the cries of the Fae steeds, and the dying, and the song of steel on steel.
“We have to end this some way.” Aurora turns the crown around in her hands.
“There seems an obvious solution.” Derek waves toward me. “Can’t you blast the Etherians to pieces or something?”
“Not at the moment. Mortania blocked me after I tried to keep Regan from releasing that wave.” I reach for my magic, but it’s still locked within whatever prison Mortania devised. I can almost feel her pacing inside it. “I can’t use my Vila magic at all. And I probably won’t even be able to manage a decent Shift now that her power isn’t bolstering those abilities.”
“Decent?” Aurora laughs. “Alyce, you pulled me from a sinking ship and hauled me through the air like I weighed nothing at all. I would call that decent.”
She has a point, and it sounds a lot like what Neve said in my chamber, about my having flown back to the Dark Court in a single day without tiring. All this time, I assumed Mortania amplified all of my magic. That she was the reason I grew wings and claws on the day of my siege—and every other instance after. But if that were true, I wouldn’t have been able to pull Aurora from the ship after the ancient Vila blocked my power. And for the first time I wonder—What if Mortania only provided the confidence I needed to Shift? If I never actually needed her at all?
“Dragon’s teeth,” I mutter.
The ancient Vila had far more control over me than I ever realized. Neve was right; I’ve been ignoring a whole part of myself. Despising it even, out of ill-founded prejudice.
“We might still have a chance,” I say, an idea taking swift shape in my mind. One that is dangerous and reckless and the last thing I will probably ever do. “Oryn is going to try to recast his enchantment. We have to get to him before that happens.”
Chaos rolls his shimmery wings and snorts.
“Oryn?” Derek asks. “We have no idea where he is—or if he’s even alive.”
“He is,” I insist, still convinced that I couldn’t miss something as monumental as the High King’s death. “And he must be at the black tower. Whatever remains of it is the only thing that can protect him from our latent magic. And that,” I take a deep breath, “is where I’m going to challenge him to a duel.”
