Sapora’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not your babysitter. You will have to deal with him like the rest of us.’

  ‘You could send him away. Back to Sereth? He always moans how he misses his tunnels.’

  ‘No. He is here because I need him. He is ruthless when it comes to winning. He’s a capable fighter, reasonably competent, and having lived in Sereth all his life, he knows the Varkain in ways I do not. And you are here because I need you. I need both of you, and I need your loyalty. Especially with Summercourt approaching.’ His cold tone hadn’t shifted, and he spoke more slowly than normal, an air of condescension seeping into his voice. He continued to watch her with an almost unblinking stare.

  That stare alone unnerved her more than his admission that he needed her. ‘You treat me like a child,’ she said. ‘You tell me nothing of your plans, you execute people without warning, you disappear without letting me know!’ Fear had pitched her voice higher than usual, and she struggled to keep from hysterics. ‘You say you need me, you told me you trusted me as an advisor, but you haven’t done anything of the sort!’

  ‘I was not aware I needed to divulge my every movement to you. I care nothing of yours.’

  Isa exhaled through her nose, her own anger rising. ‘I just wish you’d tell me what you’re doing!’

  ‘What I’m doing?’ He asked, almost amused. ‘I am investigating the allegations of Aciel’s powers within the city. I am researching the Arks and having any of their potential locations put forward. I need to consult with the Valendrin on what can be done with my prisoners so they can be put to use when I release the first Ark. I am hunting down the Ittallan spreading dissention in the city, the ones who say I am responsible for Taban Yul’s sickness. I need more rebels found—Tacio’s methods aren’t bringing up anything. I need a team to fly to Corhaven and look for Morgen, who appears to have disappeared from Linaria. And before all that, I am overseeing preparations for Summercourt before our dear father and his retinue arrive and claim our worthlessness.’

  Isa swallowed. She needed to regain her composure. ‘You hid the Arks from me until I discovered you were hunting them. Now you have half the mercenaries in the world out looking for them. You put a bounty on Palom. He’s an ally. A great fighter without whom we would not have defeated Aciel.’

  Sapora shrugged. ‘He killed my Varkain. Murdered them in cold blood. And then killed Mateli. I cannot let every transgression pass otherwise no-one will believe my word means anything.’

  ‘I wish you’d drop the bounty. There are plenty of people who’ve killed Varkain! Why make an example of the one who has given the Ittallan so much hope?’

  He closed his eyes and exhaled in what appeared to be frustration. ‘Is that enough information for you? Anything else you’d like to question? Any other orders you’d like to undermine before I continue?’

  Isa bit her thumbnail as she often did when nervous. ‘The Arks….’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Why the Arks? You already have a Sevastos at your control. Isn’t the god enough?’ She remembered trying to have this conversation with him once before, in the palace gardens. The sudden arrival of a fleet of warships attacking the palace had put things on hold. And after that, everything had just descended into chaos. She loved her brother. They’d grown up together, looked after one another, promised to make things better for the Ittallan and Varkain both. Many citizens of Taban Yul believed him to be emonos, to be a dark omen. And she’d known it would never have been easy to heal the rift between their two races, not after centuries of war and hatred. She wanted to badly to stand with him and help him achieve his goals, but he’d hovered on the edge of no return.

  Now, she didn’t even know whose side she was on anymore.

  Sapora shook his head. ‘I told you already that the Sevastos is not a god. It is a dragon. A beast. It can be tamed and killed as easily as any other.’

  She tried another approach, ‘But everyone in Taban Yul respects you with that dragon flying around. Why instill more fear with the Arks? Isn’t that overkill?’

  ‘Overkill?’ He almost laughed at that. ‘Why do you think I’m after the Arks?’

  ‘How should I know? You never tell me your plans!’ It was a petty, childish response, and she knew it. But she didn’t care.

  ‘A Sevastos sealed Aciel and Moroda in crystal. Yet Aciel’s power of compulsion, his will, is seeping out, turning those in the city against each other, or forcing them to commit suicide.’

  She nodded, still scowling.

  ‘A Sevastos is not invulnerable. If I can have one obey me and Aciel’s will can break free of another, then what happens? What if Aciel’s power is great enough to not just seep out of the crystal, but to eventually break completely free of it? We have an Arillian in the middle of our city. Everyone within ten leagues would be under his command in a matter of hours.’

  The thought of Aciel breaking free terrified her. ‘Then burn him with your Sevastos.’

  ‘Like I burned the traitors who attacked me? Dragonfire is wild and unmanageable. Sevastos fire even more so. I lost a fifth of my city defending the palace. I’d lose all of Taban Yul just to kill one Arillian!’

  She folded her arms.

  ‘The Arks are immortal. In the entire war, they’ve never been defeated. Not by anyone,’ he said.

  ‘Until your Sevastos.’

  ‘Until my Sevastos,’ he repeated. ‘Which is why I need the Valendrin. I bring back the Arks and they stop Aciel in his tracks. They remove him as a threat to Linaria. And they put a stop to the damned dragons who are killing the rest of us after what that stupid Arillian did.’ Sapora’s voice trembled.

  Isa shook her head and walked away from him, pacing along the cellar as she tried to think. Even if Sapora was after the Arks with good intentions, it didn’t detract from the fact they were weapons of war. They’d been responsible for the deaths of countless Ittallan when they had been used against them.

  No Ittallan would ever trust him nor truly accept him as king. How did Sapora hope to control such ancient powers? What was to stop them bringing destruction to the whole world if they—or the Sevastos—decided they wouldn’t listen to him anymore? Then what would happen? ‘You’ll destroy us all.’

  ‘I’m saving us all. There’s a difference.’

  Isa dragged her hands over her face. ‘The Arks were the end of the Ittallan! If they hadn’t disappeared, there’d be no Ittallan left!’

  Sapora shrugged. ‘They were good at what they did.’

  ‘Don’t you understand?’ She marched back to him. ‘If they’d wiped out the Ittallan race, you and I would never exist! This city wouldn’t exist! The Varkain would have taken over and the whole country would be underground! There’d be no palace. No gold. No resources! Nothing!’

  ‘What will happen when Aciel wakes up and no-one can stop him?’ Sapora’s voice pitched almost to a scream. ‘He will enslave every. Single. Person. What then, Isa? The Arks were so powerful they were sealed away. If anything has a chance of destroying Aciel once and for all, it’s them.’

  Isa’s blinked away panicked tears.

  ‘Dragons all over Linaria are now burning indiscriminately. What can put a stop to them? The Arks! It all comes back to the Arks! And if I have them under my control, there is no risk.’

  Isa scoffed. ‘Oh, really? The ancient weapons of the Varkain under the orders of a king less than half a year into his rule? And one who is half-Ittallan? I think not.’

  His lip twitched as though he held back a snarl. ‘I am a Varkain as much as any of them.’

  ‘Exactly. You aren’t an Ittallan. You aren’t one of us.’ She swallowed and immediately regretted her words. She and Sapora had always been outcasts together, not quite Ittallan, not quite Varkain. It had always been them against everyone who ever looked down on them.

  ‘I am an Ittallan as much as you,’ Sapora said.

  ‘No, you’re not! You’re a snake! You’ve always been a snake! You’re a snake just like Tacio! And you’re bringing back the Ittallan’s greatest enemies to kill us all!’ Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, and she lashed out with her right hand.

  Sapora’s claws gripped her forearm tightly, their tips pressed painfully into her flesh, as he stopped her blow. ‘You were about to strike the king.’ His voice was still, and it chilled her to the bone. He snapped a moment later. Like a flame, venomous rage burst from him. ‘You think I wanted this? If I did not claim my birthright and face the trials, we would be under King Tacio. He’d keep us in our tunnels, hiding from the world’s threats, or let us submit to Aciel.’ He pointed angrily through the door of the cellar with his other hand. ‘Live the rest of my life under his smug grin? His condescending boredom? To be his thrall? Or rise up and bring the Varkain back into the light. To make our mark on Linaria as more than maggots in the dirt.’

  Isa swallowed and pulled away, but Sapora’s vice-like grip did not relent.

  ‘I am not going to sit by as Aciel poisons my city and tries to destroy my world. I will fight him with every fibre of my being, call upon every power, even the Valendrin...even the Arks. If that’s what it takes to keep Linaria from desolation.’

  Sapora’s grip relaxed slightly, and Isa yanked herself away. She leapt backwards and clutched her arm where he’d held her.

  Sapora spoke quietly, as if hoping only she heard him, ‘The Valendrin is key. I’ve visited Malashash’s tomb twice and failed to revive him both times. And when I do bring him back,’ he paused as though daring her to object, ‘I need to understand what to expect. How to control him and the others. I need to prepare for what happens when they breathe again.’

  She looked to his muddied clothes and then back to his face. Realisation dawned on her. ‘That’s where you were just now, wasn’t it? Malashash? His tomb?’ Saying the Ark’s name made it somehow more real. Like the fairy stories were slowly coming true.

  He nodded. ‘And to come back to my palace after being unable to resurrect him, only to find you had released one of my royal prisoners and Tacio was about to have your head….’ Sapora left the sentence unfinished. ‘I have no idea what you’re playing at, Isa. But it stops now. I have too many other problems to worry about without you scuttling around the palace stirring up trouble.’

  Isa bit her thumbnail again. For all her anger and disgust at what he was attempting to do, he was still her brother. Still her king.

  She still loved him, and betraying his wishes ate at her very soul.

  ‘I will bring you to my next council meeting. But know that Tacio will be present, and I’m not going to stop him every time he says something...mean.’ Sapora walked to the large table and leaned his palms on it. ‘He is a spoiled child who’s always had what he wanted. He’s an excellent fighter. Has a healthy dose of suspicion. And he’s a better an ally than an enemy. You must remember that.’

  Isa paced again, her loyalties torn.

  Sapora wasn’t going around and collecting weapons because he was power-hungry or deluded, as some of Lathri’s followers would say, he was doing it to save them. To save all of Linaria.

  But she still didn’t agree with his methods.

  Sapora continued, ‘Much like the Ittallan of Taban Yul, come to think of it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They’ve grown lazy and soft here, in their rich city. Surrounded by all their gold and marble. Now they’re having to share with the Varkain who have moved here to make a better life for themselves, the Varkain who—without me—would not have such an opportunity. Some Ittallan have had to give up some of their things and they don’t know how to cope. Such a spoiled people.’ He shook his head. ‘Never told no. Never told to share. And when it happens, suddenly I’m the end of the world.’

  Isa couldn’t say anything to that. She knew much of the nobility were the same—all fawning over one another and trying to get into each other’s good books. It had been half the reason she’d supported Sapora so much and for so long.

  They’d spent fifteen years growing up together in the palace. Bastards were frowned upon in Ittallan culture, but the Varkain often had many children with different partners and there was no such concept as a bastard. The contrast in how they were treated had always put Isa on edge.

  When Sapora had turned sixteen and shown he could transform into a naja, the royal cobra snake, Vasil had collected him and he’d moved to Sereth. Isa had desperately wished for the next year to pass quickly so she could catch up and transform herself. When Sapora left, she’d been alone in the palace beside Goldstones who despised her for what she was, and she no longer had his protection.

  So when her own meraki had appeared and she’d finally been able to transform, she thought it would be her ticket to the life of a proper royal in Sereth with her brother. But she hadn’t been a naja. She hadn’t even been a snake. She was a wild cat, and that meant she’d never be permitted to enter Sereth.

  She’d never be able to see her brother again.

  Of course, Sapora had left on errantry two years later in preparation to take the throne on his twenty-first birthday. He hadn’t left with an entourage, hadn’t left with any gold. He’d only taken two of his father’s scimitars and the clothes on his back.

  Unlike most Varkain, who kept to their tunnels and never fraternised with anyone from outside—unless they were thralls, of course—Sapora had opened his eyes to everything Linaria had to offer. He’d gladly crossed into other countries and learned from different people, all to be a greater ruler than Vasil.

  All to bring his people into the light.

  All for this.

  He’d visited her three times during his errantry, where he’d told her about his travels, about what he’d seen and the people he’d met. He’d purposely kept away from other Varkain so as not to be influenced by them.

  When they’d been younger, they’d planned what they’d do when Sapora took the jade crown from Vasil, and became king. How they’d right the wrongs in their lives, how they’d get revenge on those who belittled them. How they’d make everything better.

  True to their planning, Sapora had killed almost every Ittallan on the old council, along with influential Goldstones who’d spoken against him or against the Varkain. That had been their first step, and Isa had known there would be no going back from that.

  And although Sapora had fought for and earned his right to rule in blood, things had been very different when he became king. Aciel had thrown a small spanner in the works, of course. But it was only after Sapora had moved to Taban Yul that things seemed to fall apart.

  Instead of giving Isa the power and acceptance she’d craved all her life, he had become obsessed with some hidden Varkain treasure—which she now realised had been the Arks. He’d brought a Sevastos to the city—something she hadn’t even known about, despite being a princess.

  Tacio had arrived, too, and immediately set to undermining and insulting her at every chance he had. Sapora seemed to act on impulse and did things that would drive a bigger rift between the three of them and the Ittallan.

  Then she’d met Lathri, she’d been saved by her rebels.

  Everything had been messed up. Everything.

  She’d betrayed Sapora twice—once when she’d begged Morgen to attack the palace and remove her brothers from power, and again when she’d freed Kylos. And still she planned to free Lathri.

  She’d betrayed Lathri twice—once when Lathri had led the rebel attack, where she’d refused to fight her brothers alongside the rebels and fled to the palace to hide, and again when she’d delivered her to Tacio when they’d been caught by him and his Cerastes.

  She betrayed those who looked to her for support and loyalty, and she felt sick for what she had done. Perhaps she would have been better off in Tacio’s cell, under his torture.

  The same tears that had welled up in her anger now threatened again as emotion overwhelmed her. She turned away from Sapora and paced, running her hands through her hair and wiping away loose strands.

  ‘Change is never easy,’ Sapora said. His tone seemed somewhat gentler. ‘Once I rid the world of Aciel, they’ll see that.’

  Isa nodded, but didn’t reply. She didn’t trust her voice not to break if she tried to speak.

  A hesitant knock on the stone wall carried from somewhere above them.

  Sapora darted to the foot of the stairwell before Isa could even blink. She watched as he raced up the stairs three at a time, and hurriedly wiped her eyes dry.

  She used one of the mirrors to double-check her reflection. The whites of her eyes were red raw, and her skin was blotchy. Even though she hadn’t burst into tears, her heightened emotion was clear to see on her face. There wasn’t a lot she could do about it, but she wiped her face with her sleeve and smoothed her hair down as much as she could.

  She’d been about to turn back to the stairs when a flicker of movement in the mirror caused her to stop. Isa took a step closer and peered into it.

  Her reflection looked back at her, but there was something else in the glass, too. She blinked several times and wiped her eyes. Had she been imagining it?

  The mirror was a tall oval held in a heavy iron frame with ornate details running along the edges. Small snakes intertwined with each other like rope, and Isa brushed them with her hand to feel the twisted metal. When she looked back into the mirror, she saw a dark tunnel. Blue flames burned from a pair of torches in the wall, but she couldn’t make out any more detail.

  She’d been in the mines of Feoras Sol as a child, and this looked similar to that—although it seemed much better kept. The walls curved slightly and the floor was meticulously clean.

  ‘Isa.’

  She spun around to find Sapora watching her from the foot of the stairs, evidently having returned down them too quietly for her to have noticed. ‘What’s wrong?’ Isa asked.

  ‘The first guests for Summercourt are here.’

  She nodded and looked back to the mirror, intrigued by the blue flames burning brightly in the tunnel.

  ‘What did you say these were, again?’

  Sapora approached and reached out a hand. He grasped the top of the mirror and turned it to face the wall. ‘Varkain communication.’

 

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