Eight Will Fall, page 28
The lieutenant stopped before Amias, holding Vania tightly.
“Looks just like her, doesn’t she? It would be a shame if something were to happen to Larkin’s only living sibling, all because you didn’t want to tell me the truth.” Ilona cocked her head and thought for a moment. “I suppose something will happen to her regardless, or you wouldn’t think me serious, now would you?” The queen’s teeth flashed. “Cut off one of her fingers.”
Over my dead, bloody body, thought Larkin.
She had to think quick. If she tried to use magic from up here, she’d be slower. Vania or Amias could die when Ilona realized she was here. If she jumped from the balcony, she might hurt herself, but she could kill the majority of those in the room before any of them knew what had happened.
“I told you I know nothing!” cried Amias.
Vania shrieked and twisted in the guard’s grasp.
Larkin rushed to the edge of the balcony, ready to dive over.Ilona glanced up at Larkin, her grin victorious. “So predictable. Hela, now.”
Larkin had been lured here.
Before she could think to move, Hela locked eyes with Larkin.
Traitor, thought Larkin. Hela had been in line with Ilona all this time.
The tutor’s eyes left Larkin, falling on Amias. “I’m so sorry, Amias.”
Hela raised her hand, flexed her fingers over her heart, and clenched her fist.
Fabric, flesh, and bone dissolved, and for a moment, Hela’s heart was exposed, emitting its last few frantic, quivering beats before she collapsed.
“No!” Amias cried, diving toward Hela and scooping her body into his arms.
Ilona’s horror and rage tore through Larkin as Larkin faltered, dazed. Had Hela believed this was the only way out of Ilona’s control?
A victory horn echoed faintly through the layers of stone and luminite.
“The rebels, my queen!” cried a soldier.
The rebel battalion’s footsteps were thunder as they stormed the bridge, even from deep within the catacombs. They were alive, and strong in number. Jacque had won.
“Kill them,” Ilona ordered the lieutenant, seething, before fleeing toward the guards.
Larkin jumped from the balcony, landing on the stone below. Her leg popped, and she screamed in pain before launching herself at the lieutenant. She crushed his windpipe, leaving him gasping and wheezing on the floor. Vania backed away, terrified.
Larkin limped forward, collapsing as Vania fell into her arms. “You’re all right.” She held her sister as the child clung to her, sobbing into Larkin’s hair.
Larkin glanced up. Ilona and her guards were no longer in the room.
Neither was Amias.
Move, she ordered herself. If she didn’t move, something terrible was going to happen.
Holding Vania’s hand, Larkin limped to the open prison door and pushed through the passageway, blades of fire shooting through her leg. She’d broken it—she was certain—but she had to find Amias.
A long tunnel stretched before her, lined with the same barred doors. Cellblocks. The bodies of the five soldiers littered the stretch of tunnel. Larkin bit back her pain and limped past them, clutching Vania’s hand tighter.
Heat licked through her, tortuous, charring her bones. The rage was so unlike him, she was certain it couldn’t be Amias’s. It felt like Kyran’s.
BOOM.
The ground shook, rock dust trickling from the ceiling. Larkin entered the next room to an array of hairline cracks decorating the walls. The pillars that once supported the ceiling were nothing but mounds of dust.
Amias.
Up ahead, two people were on the ground, one hovering over the other. Larkin pushed Vania behind her as the figures before her sharpened in the dim light.
Amias held Ilona to the floor by her throat. The queen clawed at his hand, his wrist marred and bloody, but his grip remained tight.
Not even a luminite dress could save Ilona now.
“Why?” cried Amias.
“Because you are hers, and Rahele loved you like a fool!”
Amias jolted back, his shock mingling with Larkin’s.
Rahele Ekko—Kyran’s disciple, and Amias’s ancestor. Larkin’s mind raced, trying to understand how Rahele had been in the palace all this time.
She was supposed to be in the Reach. Hela.
“She never went in.” Ilona struggled against Amias’s grip, coughing. “She pledged allegiance … remained in the palace. How do you think I’ve stayed alive all this time?”
Hela—Rahele—had lied after all. She’d said that many Empaths had kept Leliana Ilona alive all of these years, but there had been only one. That’s why Ilona never killed her. She needed the disciple, a woman who’d been honing magic for a millennium. Rahele’s skill was valuable if the queen could use it for herself. Hells, it had saved her from a thousand years of darkness.
“You could take her place,” the queen wheezed. Her hands left Amias’s wrist. “You could be my right hand, Amias, as you were raised to become.”
Amias flexed his hands, and Ilona screamed as the skin on her forehead split, blood pouring down her face.
“How about I leave you to bleed all over the floor instead?”
Larkin said his name softly.
Amias shut his eyes. His guilt leaked into her, his pain growing deeper and more subtle as he suppressed it. Even after every horrible thing Ilona had done, Larkin couldn’t imagine Amias torturing her to death. If he did, he would leave this room a different person. He would be burdened by guilt for the rest of his life.
Larkin herself could handle such a burden, but she didn’t want Amias to suffer too.
Ilona’s widened eyes darted to Larkin, and her faced twisted in fury. “Her?” The queen tore her attention from Larkin and back to Amias with a snarl. “I have cared for you for years, Amias. I have given you everything you need to be the most powerful Empath in this realm.”
Ilona’s chest heaved, her breathing ragged. Ilona thought that Amias wanted power. All those years, and she didn’t know him at all.
No, thought Larkin. Ilona only hoped Amias wanted power. A last desperate hope that Amias would be her new Otheil. If Amias was the realm’s most powerful Empath, and she had controlled him before, she could do it again.
“Rahele died for you.” The words left Ilona in a hiss. “I have sacrificed…”
Amias dug his thumbs into the hollow of her throat. Ilona’s voice faded as she writhed for breath.
Larkin felt Vania tremble behind her, her sister pressing her face beneath Larkin’s shoulder blades. The back of Larkin’s tunic was soaked in tears.
“Amias.” His name left her lips boldly this time, demanding his attention.
Amias complied, his expression painted with anguish and hatred. She knew those feelings intimately.
From inside herself, Larkin summoned tranquility. The same tranquility she sensed so often from Amias. The calm that had grounded her in the Reach. His calm.
Amias showed her that this emotion was possible, even in the darkest moments. And she would remind him.
“She doesn’t deserve this, Amias, and you know that,” said Larkin.
It wasn’t only that Ilona deserved a punishment worse than death. She also didn’t deserve Amias’s rage, and Larkin wouldn’t let her claim what innocence Amias had left.
Ilona’s reign would end, and with its ending, Amias would find peace. Larkin would make sure of it.
THIRTY-NINE
Most of Jacque’s battalion had survived, but the soldiers fighting for the queen were not as fortunate.
Death stained the capital, the mountain swallowed by smoke. It would take the rest of summer to know how many Empaths were left alive, and maybe even longer. But there was life. Demura had survived both Kyran and Ilona.
Larkin wanted to see her parents, to collapse in her mother’s arms. She wanted to help her father bury Garran in the vale. Somewhere beautiful. Somewhere he’d never had the chance to see.
But Larkin couldn’t stay to witness the rebels releasing Ilona’s prisoners from their cells. She still had a job to do.
Through the night, a few members of the rebel battalion escorted Larkin, the remainder of her party, and Ilona across the vale. Moonlight caught on the ruins of many of the farms they passed, but it was peaceful. The destruction had finally ceased. Rebuilding could begin.
At dawn, they arrived at the mouth of the Reach. The jaws of the portcullis were wide open.
Leliana Ilona had pieced together well enough how this was going to end. Holding her head high, she walked herself into the Reach and waited until the portcullis lowered behind her before turning back toward Larkin.
The queen was dressed simply, no longer wearing her luminite gown. Larkin made sure Ilona would have no defenses against the remaining four disciples who waited to greet her. If she survived long enough to meet them.
Wrapping her delicate hands around the bars, the queen smiled at Larkin as she approached. It was the closest Larkin had ever been to the queen, even closer than when Ilona had visited Larkin’s cellblock. Maybe she was imagining it, but the queen looked so much older now, her body frail, her skin thinner than parchment.
She was mortal.
“You can’t sense me now, can you?” Ilona glanced up at the shimmering luminite surrounding them. “But isn’t that what you wanted all along? To sense me suffer?”
Ilona was right—the luminite was too thick for Larkin to sense her. But Larkin didn’t need to sense to see the way Ilona’s fingers trembled around the bars, or hear the inflection in her voice.
And her eyes—the terror in her eyes was what truly gave her away.
“You killed my brother.” It was the first time Larkin had said the words out loud. She’d been forced to fight away her grief until now. Now her grief had returned, and she wouldn’t combat it.
Garran lived through her grief. It was the only way he would ever visit her again.
“And you destroyed my army,” Ilona said coolly. “Decisions are costly, Larkin.”
Indeed they were, and Larkin was wondering if she was making the right one now. Maybe she should have let Amias kill Ilona. Maybe Larkin should have killed the queen herself.
But Ilona didn’t deserve such an easy escape.
“If you make it back to the palace, you can keep your life,” said Larkin. “You will likely come across many of Kyran’s creations. There’s even one who’s made in your image.”
Ilona’s smile fell.
“Think the other disciples will be partial to befriending you, after you exiled them for a dozen lifetimes?” Larkin asked, then turned to go.
“You can’t leave me defenseless.” The demand left Ilona as a growl. “I gave you weapons!”
“You want a weapon?” Larkin gave the queen a cloying smile. “You sent me to kill Kyran for you. I was your weapon. You’ll fight this one alone.”
* * *
Beyond the outpost and remaining soldiers, Vania picked flowers in the meadow. A breeze whipped her dark hair into a tangled mass.
Suddenly, Larkin wasn’t angry.
Jacque’s lieutenant approached Larkin. Strands of the lieutenant’s gray hair were coming undone in the wind. She was the same age as Larkin’s mother, but her eagerness was youthful. “We need to talk.” Wary, she asked, “Are you planning to seize the city as your own?”
Seize the city? Larkin couldn’t begin to fathom what the lieutenant was asking her. “I don’t want to rule.” She wouldn’t dare tempt herself, not when she knew what the darkness inside her was capable of. She wouldn’t want people to follow her out of fear. “I’ll leave that to you,” said Larkin. “Choose a ruler, or take the throne for yourself. I won’t interfere, as long as Empaths stay free.”
The lieutenant’s smile was hesitant. She held out her hand, and Larkin took it.
Larkin understood why the lieutenant didn’t trust her, after everything. One battle couldn’t undo a thousand years of distrust. Mending her relationships with those who did not share her magic would take time. And Larkin would have to be patient.
Larkin pulled away from the lieutenant and limped toward her sister. Larkin expected a grin, the same way Vania smiled when Larkin and Garran came home from the mines, sprinting to Larkin and jumping into her arms. But things were different now.
Vania waited, cautiously watching Larkin approach. She held her tiny bouquet of wildflowers in both hands. Her cheeks were stained red, but they were dry. She was perfect and beautiful and yet somehow looked much older than when Larkin had left.
Vania held the flowers out, and Larkin felt her composure uncoil. Larkin reached her little sister and fell to her knees, gathering Vania in her arms.
Larkin felt brave, and terrified, and relieved. She felt like collapsing in grief. For a fleeting moment, she even felt like laughing, as if there was no other way to release the emotion trapped inside her. She felt everything, an amalgamation, brimming over until Larkin worried she’d frighten or overwhelm her little sister. Especially when Larkin began to weep.
Vania wrapped her arms tightly around Larkin’s neck. “I love you too.”
EPILOGUE: AUTUMN
Within the farm’s small and cramped forge, Jacque and Risa melted gold together, creating their rings.
* * *
They both wore white, with yellow flowers tumbling through their loose hair. Sunlight clung to Risa’s golden hair as she and Jacque poured the liquid metal into the casts.
Larkin caught Amias’s eye as he stood between Skye and his mother. The corner of his mouth twitched as he withheld a smile from her. A smile she craved.
Her mother’s elbow jutted into her ribs. “Don’t embarrass me,” she murmured. Her father coughed to mask his laughter.
A few wandering eyes were staring at her, amused. Skye covered her mouth to hide her giggle, and Larkin flushed. This whole desire thing was much too new to her. She was almost beginning to miss the damned luminite.
At least she wasn’t the only teenager in the village struggling to keep her emotions in check. She decided to avoid Amias’s eyes for the remainder of the ceremony.
Larkin studied the other guests. Casseem’s older brother, Teneil, whispered something into Risa’s brother’s ear, flirting. On the other side of the forge, Elf stood with her troupe, passing an azure handkerchief down the line of Jacque’s sniffling sisters, until it reached Jacque’s father, who wiped his eyes.
Elf winked at Larkin, and she grinned back.
When the rings were doused in water and cooled, the girls’ faces glistened with sweat from the flame. Risa leaned in and kissed Jacque, both of them alight with joy, like an endless glitter of stars on the clearest night. Infinite. Hopeful.
The audience began to sing the hymn of bonding.
They were married. Not everything was lost, after all, and the fate of their love was in their hands alone.
So is mine, Larkin thought. She knew this was true, and yet it was still so hard to believe. They were free. All of them.
Jacque’s commanding lieutenant was temporarily reigning over the demolished capital. The Empaths who had survived had conjured this village at the end of their world. Larkin was given the honor of naming it.
Aerie Farm. A nest in the sky. That’s what it felt like.
She’d told the lieutenant that if she chose to toss the city’s supply of luminite into the ocean, the Empaths would return to help her rebuild. Although she thanked Larkin for the proposal, Larkin knew it would never happen. The lieutenant respected Larkin, and had so far honored her agreement with the Empaths, but she did not trust them. Perhaps she never would.
She couldn’t worry about that now. The capital was not hers.
But Aerie. She would fight to the death for this village, and those within it. And that was all that mattered. As long as the lieutenant, or whoever else came to power, left them alone, they could live peacefully for many years.
While villagers mingled around the forge and helped conjure tables for the celebration, Larkin approached Elf, who was dressed in a tunic of brightly colored fabrics and a traveler’s cloak.
She beamed as Larkin approached.
“Leaving tonight?” Larkin asked.
“Yes, tonight. Just wanted to stay for the wedding and all.” Elf backed up, spreading her arms to show off the pattern of feathers on the inside of her cloak. “Conjured it myself. How do I look?”
“Lovely, but I miss your wings.”
Larkin had only meant it as a joke, but Elf grew serious. “Yes, yes. Perhaps my wings will make a return. They are useful in these open skies, after all. But first, I need to uncover the mainlanders’ feelings about Empaths.”
“What if they outlawed magic ages ago, just like we did?” Larkin knew so little of the mainland, after all. “Will you come home?”
It was hard to imagine Elf and her troupe sailing to the mainland and all of its harbored mysteries. Larkin felt like a large hand was squeezing her heart.
Elf scratched her chin. “No, I believe we need to tell the mainland about us. They deserve to know.”
Larkin nodded. She knew that sharing the tale with others granted Elf power over their story, their narrative. The truth had been buried beneath myth for so long.
Elf embraced Larkin. “I will miss you.”
“And I will tell my children the story of your wings,” said Larkin.
She sensed Elf’s joy, and knew she’d granted the girl the only gift that mattered.
* * *
The ocean was the biggest thing she’d ever seen. It made the caverns that snaked beneath the isle seem minuscule.
From somewhere deep within her, Kyran spoke.
You can own it all, he told her. Every land, any people you come across. It is yours.
Is that what Kyran had hoped for? That she would hunger to seize the world?
Is that what had happened to him?
There was one thing that perhaps Kyran hadn’t planned for. Larkin was stronger than he was.
