Riven, page 19
Then, it was Fura’s turn.
Although Mars had been with her just a few short moments ago, the sight of her marching down that aisle with her head lifted high, her arms rigid at her sides, and her determined look sharp enough to cut glass made his breath hitch as he drew it in. He’d called her princess more than once, and she’d never looked the part more. Her black dress trimmed in gold fanned out behind her like raven’s wings as she walked. Her pale hair, tied in a multitude of braids, resembled a golden crown.
“Your mouth is open, Halfur,” Katrìn said, slight mocking in her voice.
Mars closed his jaw so hard his teeth clacked together. She was mesmerizing—and he wasn’t the only one to have fallen under that spell. Nearly everyone in attendance watched raptly as Fura gracefully ascended the stairs and walked past the kith leaders into the center of the circle.
Once there, she faced her mother, who had closed the circle behind her. Smiling genuinely for maybe the first time since Mars had met her, Elìn stepped forward and began to speak in a voice that rang nearly as loud as the trumpets had across the great expanse of the hall. “I, Elìn Erisdòttra, dòttra of the Torvald Kith, do declare my daughter, Fura Elìnsdòttra, as my sole heir and successor. There shall be no others, save through the will of the Titans and Asvaldur. By the name of Svölnir, I accept you.” As Elìn spoke the titan’s name, she dipped a finger into the bowl she held, then raised that finger—now covered in blood—to Fura’s forehead, where she drew a red slash from her brow to her nose.
Fura bowed once to her mother, then turned left to face the next kith leader. “I, Liam Ornsvane, vane of the Jens Kith, do acknowledge Fura Elìnsdòttra as heir to the Torvald Kith. By the name of Magda, I accept you.” He too reached a finger into the bowl, then drew a red mark on Fura’s forehead next to the one Elìn had placed there. Fura bowed once more, then turned left again, this time facing the leader of the Krog Kith.
Once again, the leader accepted her, this time in the name of Alanta. The ceremony repeated a total of nine times, until all nine of the kiths and all the Titans had been invoked, leaving only the Fifth remaining.
“Kneel, daughter of Riven,” the Fifth said as Fura faced him. She obeyed, sinking to her knees with the same regal grace she’d possessed since first entering the hall. Once there, she tilted her head back, keeping her eyes locked on the Fifth. He raised his hands over Fura’s head, the bowl balanced between his palms. “I, Patrek Arnasvane,” he said, “the Fifth of Riven, chosen by its people and endowed by the Titans and Asvaldur to ensure peace, prosperity, and honor in our country, do acknowledge Fura Elìnsdòttra as heir to the Torvald Kith. By the blood of Jörn, I accept you.”
He upended the bowl, sending a shower of blood spilling down over Fura’s head, turning her pale hair into a red, wet crown.
With the blood now spilled, Fura rose from her kneeling position. She surveyed the assembled crowd, her face smeared with red streaks, her dress stained. She looked like a warrior returned from battle. “By the Titans and Asvaldur, I vow to honor my kith and my country. I will honor Riven and serve her with all my heart and will.”
As she spoke, Mars felt a tremble slide through his body. He remembered that day in Festivale when she’d vowed she would change the world. He hadn’t believed her then. But now, here, surrounded by all these politicians, the power plays and backstabbing, all in the halls once walked by the Consortium of old, he suddenly found he believed her. If only for a moment. He still didn’t know what the Primer could do, but one thing was certain. If Fura Torvald ever got her hands on the power to change the world, she would do it.
Sixteen
Three more days passed before Mars finally got the chance to investigate Katrìn’s room. Though it wasn’t one he manufactured.
“What do you mean I’m not invited?” Mars asked, staring over his cup of coffee at Fura, who had finally joined him in the solarium, where he’d been waiting for her for nearly an hour this morning.
Although the solarium was central to the Torvald apartments, it was rarely occupied, having little inside it to lure would-be visitors. A single slender birch tree was the only green and growing thing inhabiting the area, the flowerbeds as empty as freshly dug graves. The only color came from the yellow cushions the Torvald servants had placed atop the stone sitting areas, and the only warmth from a thin swath of sunlight penetrating the birch’s leaves.
Well, that and the warmth of the delicious coffee. Mars inhaled the revivifying smell as he waited for Fura to answer.
“It was Christel’s idea. And probably Liv’s as well. You know the two of them.” Fura rolled her eyes as she bent toward the tray set next to Mars’s chair and poured her own cup of coffee, topping it off with two sugars and a splash of cream.
Mars had no trouble imagining Liv, heir to the Jens Kith, and Christel, heir to Hadder, scheming this together. Those two were like squirrels fighting over the same nut.
“A women-only trip to the sacred springs, though?” Mars arched an eyebrow.
“Indeed.” Fura took an unladylike slurp of her drink.
Mars hid a smile behind his own cup. He’d heard tales of the springs, the very place where the Titans once took their leisure. The water there sprung from the earth hot as a bath, pure and fresh. He understood the appeal but disparaged the design, the opportunity it might provide Fura’s enemies. It had been quiet the past few days—too quiet.
“Is there no way to get out of it?”
Fura shook her head. “My mother is going. She believes it will be all right. The guards on duty at the springs are some of Riven’s best. Apart from them, only the dòttras and their daughters will be there, as well as our lady’s maids as servants. Ones with proven service.”
“To ensure none of them is like me,” Mars said, and Fura nodded.
He supposed that would make it reasonably safe, and it would give him the chance he needed to finally explore Katrìn’s room. That made the risk worth it. Still, he knew better than to just accept the situation easily, lest he raise suspicions.
“I could always follow from a discreet distance, keep an eye on things.”
Fura snorted, a hint of amusement in the sound. “Nice try. But you know perfectly well we’re going there for nude bathing.”
Mars grinned back at her. “All the more reason for me to follow.” He was only teasing her, as he’d been doing more and more often the past few days, but her answering blush caught him off guard. Memories of the way it had felt to kiss her crept into his mind, but he shoved them away at once.
Clearing his throat, he stood. “Very well. But if I can’t go, you should take this with you to be safe.” He handed over Bekka’s dagger. It was his only conventional weapon, but he would be fine without it. “I know you can handle yourself.”
Fura accepted the dagger, her lips parted in thought. She didn’t ask how he came to have it. Instead sliding it into a fold in her skirts, she only said, “Thank you.” Her gaze lingered on his, the sudden silence like a heart beating between them.
Mars took a step toward her, uncertain of himself around this softer, warmer version of her that she’d been showing more often of late. “If you want, I could show you a few tricks. Some techniques your Rivna mentors likely didn’t teach.”
He expected her to say no, rejecting the offer to learn any form of fighting beyond the honorable practices of the Rivna Knights. Instead, she tilted her head and motioned to the solarium. “Will this place suffice?”
He glanced around. “Perfectly.”
He stood, stretched, then stepped into the open center area of the solarium. “First,” he said, as she joined him, “it’s wise to know the basic ways to get free of any hold. I’ll demonstrate. Here, grab my wrist.” Mars held out his arm, and after a moment, she slid her fingers around the cuff, the leather pressing gently against his skin.
“Like this?” she said, still hesitant.
“Harder, like you mean to drag me all the way to hell.”
“It’s not easy with this cuff in the way.” She stretched out her fingers, tightening her grip before loosening it again with an annoyed snort. “Why do you wear these, anyway? Are they for protection?”
Mars shook his head. Of course they did protect him, but not in the way she thought.
“Then why do you wear them? I’ve never seen you without.”
“They are my tribute,” Mars said, always ready to deflect such questions. “All foxes of the Den carry an accoutrement special to them. If we die in service to the Den, our tribute is placed on a shrine to Ragna in remembrance.”
“Ragna? The hidden Titan?” Shock colored her voice.
“Indeed. Mistress of shadows and patron of mercenaries.”
Fura shook her head, a look of bemusement on her face. “And to think of all those times you teased me for my devotion to Rivna.” She laughed again. “Maybe we’re not as different as I once thought.”
He smiled, a hundred different arguments flitting through his mind, but he ignored them all. “Maybe not.”
The next hour passed in a blur as Mars walked Fura through his best maneuvers for fending off an unanticipated attack from behind, from the sides, and even from above. Fura proved a quick and eager learner, her lithe body and agile mind well suited for the training.
“It’s funny,” Mars said, standing behind her with his arms wrapped around hers, pinning them to her sides, “but you would’ve made an impressive merc.” His breath teased the hair by her ear as he spoke, and he felt a shiver slide through her body.
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment.” She stepped closer to him, preparing for the move.
“You should.” Mars tightened his grip around her, planting his feet to make the release a challenge. His thoughts drifted to the night of the Felling, and for a wild moment he considered spinning her in his arms and re-creating their kiss.
But in the next instant, Fura jerked both her arms upward, forcing his grip higher on her body. Then she stepped to the left, thrusting out with her hip to disrupt his balance as she moved her right leg behind his left, then grabbed his other leg and knocked them both to the floor. His grip broke as he fell, and she landed half on top of him. From there, she pivoted, using her knees and shoulder to pin him down in a hold he’d just taught her.
She leaned her face close to his. “Very well, then. I shall.”
Instinct nudged at him to raise his head, take the chance, but before he could do so, the door to the solarium opened.
“What in the nine are you two doing?” Katrìn put her hands on her hips.
Fura scrambled off him, quickly rising to her feet. The flush in her cheeks had little to do with the exertion.
Mars, too, felt a flush spread through his body, the sensation an alien one. He climbed up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. “I was just showing her a few tricks for fending off an attack.”
Katrìn folded her arms. “I see. It seems to be going well.” Her lips twitched, but she managed not to smile. Or perhaps she was too weary to smile. Although she’d recovered from the salvo’s injuries, her health seemed to be in decline these past few days, her skin pale and wan, and the reddish hue of her burn scars more prominent than usual. Bluish half-moons hung beneath her eyes. He supposed the stress of being here, combined with whatever work she and Fura were doing in her rooms, was the likely cause of it, and he hoped a long soak in the springs would help. Legend claimed the waters possessed healing qualities.
Fura clapped her hands, dislodging the grime from their grappling. “It was very useful, yes.” She sounded breathless.
Mars forced his gaze onto Katrìn. “You both need to be careful and vigilant. Take nothing for granted.”
“We won’t,” Fura said. “And same to you as well. I wouldn’t put it past my enemies to regard you as a target even in my absence.”
She had a point. The interested parties had shown little regard for collateral damage. Still, wanting to ease her fear, he placed a hand over his heart, affecting his most charming persona. “Your concern is touching. I will do my best not to get killed between now and this evening.”
Fura cast him a playful scowl. “See that you do. I’d rather not have to feign sorrow at your unexpected demise.”
Mars laughed, then shook his head. “All kidding aside. Don’t linger overly long. If you’re not back in time for dinner, I’ll come looking for you. Nude bathing or not.” He winked, the gesture coaxing another blush from Fura.
Then, downing the last of his coffee, he excused himself and left the solarium, his pulse starting to quicken. Half a day to get into Katrìn’s rooms. More than enough time.
By evening, the Primer formula would be his.
Mars wasted no time heading to Fura’s apartments as soon as she and Katrìn had departed. He wore Fura’s cloak to hide his movements, seeing no reason to waste his own energy if he didn’t have to. The only true obstacle was the Fifth’s guards standing at the door. They were there at Elìn’s insistence. She feared an assailant might break in, lying in wait for Fura’s return. Mars supposed the precaution was wise, except he knew it was possible Bekka wasn’t the only false guard here.
Still, so far none of those who wished Fura harm had made it inside. With a bit of misdirection, courtesy of Rift magic, Mars lured the guards away long enough to slip inside undetected. Wasting no time, he headed for Katrìn’s door, and was unsurprised to find it locked. He made short work of it and stepped inside, relocking it behind him as a precaution. Turning, he faced the room, excitement swelling in his chest at being so close to finally possessing the formula . . . only to deflate like a burst wineskin. The bedroom was in perfect order. There was no disarray, no sign at all of the equipment he’d spotted. In fact, it appeared so clean and perfect that it looked nearly unlived in. This couldn’t be. He refused to accept the truth his eyes insisted on telling him.
Spying the wardrobe nearby, Mars threw the doors open, hoping to find the items in there, but only clothing awaited him. He checked the drawers, the corners, under the bed, everywhere in the room he could think of. Nothing.
Growing desperate now, he went next door to investigate Fura’s room. It, too, was orderly and clean. He checked the wardrobe, beneath the bed, in every drawer. But again, there was nothing out of place, not so much as a scrap of paper with a scribbled note to read. Dismayed, Mars returned to Katrìn’s room. Had he imagined it all? No, he’d seen what he’d seen, this room covered in objects. But they were gone now.
She knew, Mars realized. Of course she did. He retreated to the bed and sank down on it in defeat. Fura had suspected him and had moved whatever they’d been working on somewhere else. But where? There were no other rooms in these apartments, and he was with Fura and Katrìn all day long, picking them up here in the morning and leaving them here at night. The equipment must be here.
Mars stood, flicking his wrists to make the sacrifice as he willed the Rift to sharpen his senses and focus his mind, giving him the insight he needed to answer this puzzle. Holding his arms out at his sides, Mars slowly turned in a circle, allowing his eyes to roam over every surface. He examined the walls, the floor, the furniture, everything.
As he came full circle, his gaze finally landed on the mirror positioned directly across from the bed. Intricate lines ran through the gilded frame, a blur of curling, random shapes, organically flowing over the metal like vines. Only . . . they weren’t all random. There in the right-hand corner was a shape he’d seen before—a circle with two small half spheres drawn through its top and bottom. Just like the one in the orrery.
Mars took a step back, wanting a better view of the mirror. It was so large that if it had been a window, he could’ve stepped through it. Uncertain of what sort of relic it might be, Mars lowered the hood of Fura’s cloak, wanting to check his reflection in it. Although it was strange to see his bodiless head, nothing else seemed out of place. He approached the symbol, the magic already flowing through him growing stronger, as if it anticipated the relic waiting to be fueled by it.
Holding his breath, Mars placed his palm against the symbol. Darkness thick as curtains enveloped him, the magic tingling down his skin like soft caresses by a thousand tiny hands. For a moment, there was no one else in the world save him, no thing else. Then the darkness parted like a crashing wave, and he found himself in a narrow corridor that disappeared into reams of darkness.
Disoriented by the sudden change, he spun, then froze at the presence of a window, the same size and shape as the mirror, that looked into Katrìn’s room. He approached the window, searching for the back side of the mirror, some sort of hole in the wall. But there wasn’t any. The wall and window were solid, offering no way through. That is, until he spied the relic symbol in the window’s right-hand corner. The relic must be a portal of some kind, working in the same fashion as Una’s cloak, which allowed her to disappear and reappear somewhere else.
Mars frowned. What in the nine were those old adepts up to, building something like this? Although Hàr Halda had been the capital of Riven before the Cataclysm, the Consortium had built the city and been its caretakers. The only purpose this window could’ve served was to spy on the room’s occupants.
He turned back, summoning fire into his palm to illuminate the area. To his surprise, a small worktable stood a few short strides down a hallway to the left, its surface laden with scientific tools and accoutrements. This must be where Fura and Katrìn were working, a table similar to Henrik’s and Gellir’s. Only he couldn’t figure out how they’d gotten it in here.
The muffled sound of a door opening behind him made Mars jump. He spun toward the window, dousing the fire in his palm as he stared through it, horrorstruck to see Fura and Katrìn sweeping into the room beyond.
“I’ll check the mirror,” Katrìn said, heading straight for Mars. “You check the other rooms. But be careful. The intruder might still be here.”
