The Crown Prophecy

Chapter 24.2

Retracing my way through the stairwells Walmont had led us through to the dungeon, I found myself back in the first-floor corridor, this time blessedly empty.

As I picked my way through the halls, I shoved all my lingering doubts about my abilities out of my mind. There was no longer any room in my heart for fear or insecurity, even as I made my way up the levels of the palace, preparing to face an unspeakably evil, powerful King. I knew it was madness to confront him head-on, but leaving Evander here would rend me in two. There was no other choice for me.

I had faced impossible odds before and had come out the other side intact, and nothing was more important than this. I would not fail Evander now.

The throne room couldn’t be too difficult to find. So far, the castle’s layout was more or less similar to the Enorian palace, and if that parallel held, Orobas’s seat of power would likely be up the grand staircase after a series of receiving rooms. There would be guard rooms positioned strategically along the way, but I hoped my uniform would allow me to blend in.

At the top of the steps, I turned a corner and nearly ran into two palace servants. A squat, middle-aged chambermaid with raven hair and deep brown eyes shot me a dirty look.

“Watch where you’re going, won’t you?”

Her companion, a younger blonde woman, stuck her chin in the air and looked down her button nose at me, similarly affronted.

“My apologies,” I said stiffly.

They didn’t deign to acknowledge me, but I heard their gossip as they passed.

“They’re saying Duke Bora is on his way, but his carriage won’t arrive until this evening. That’s why Orobas hasn’t done the deed yet,” the old woman chittered.

“I don’t think I could wait if it were me,” the younger woman said. “The king of the Wielders . . .” She shook her head, disgusted. “He must be rotten to the core. Though it does seem a shame to waste such a beautiful face . . .”

The dark-haired woman scoffed. “I doubt his head will be so pretty when it rolls on the floor. Serves him right. The bastard’s getting exactly what he deserves.”

I shook with anger at their words, resisting the urge to follow them as they strolled out of earshot. It was valuable information, even if it made me sick to my stomach, but I couldn’t waste another moment. Evander was alive. That knowledge fueled me forward.

The heavy doors of the throne room were flung open wide, and I could hear yelling and jeering as I approached. I hoped the chaos would provide enough cover for me to slip in unnoticed.

Inhaling sharply, I slid inside the doors. Positioning myself with my back to the wall, I clasped my hands behind me in my best imitation of a soldier. Holding my breath for what seemed like an eternity, I waited until I was satisfied no one had noticed me before surveying the room.

In the center, a group of courtiers and nobles, bedecked in finery, shouted at something. There were so many bodies that I couldn’t get a clear look at what they were clustered around, but I had a good idea. Iron bars rose above their heads in a cruel rendition of a bird cage.

My blood ran cold as the group shifted and I caught a momentary glance of the figure inside, confirming what I’d suspected.

Evander.

Cold fury overtook my body as the crowd laughed and jeered at him. They taunted and screamed filthy names that made my frozen blood begin to boil. The floor was littered with broken glass, and I watched as a nobleman threw a heavy goblet, still half full of drink, at Evander’s shoulder.

Through it all, my lionhearted love stood stoic, staring at the ground, giving no reaction to their cruelty. His thick dark hair hung in his face, matted with blood, and one eye was swollen shut.

With effort, I tore my eyes away and looked up at the dais where Orobas lounged carelessly, a glass of wine in one hand and a silver crown askew on his head. Ink-black hair fell to his shoulders, expertly coiffed.

Though he looked to be in his mid-fifties, something in his green eyes spoke of a malice far older. I could feel waves of slick, otherworldly power radiating off him from here, even as he maintained a casual air, laughing with his courtiers.

His gaze was muddled with alcohol and the smug satisfaction of his capture, and his face, all hard lines and unrelenting brutality, sneered in satisfaction at the gruesome show. I had never despised someone more than I did in that moment. Not my mother during her worst moments. Not even Freya when she attacked Evander during the third trial.

This was not an isolated act of misdirected rebellion. This was a daily practice in this court, and from the looks of it, he found it to be fun.

A servant approached him to refill his goblet, but he waved them off lazily.

“Now now, everyone, play nicely,” he drawled. “We needn’t hasten the evening’s activities. Besides, we’ve forgotten our manners. We haven’t even welcomed our new guest.”

His eyes snapped to me, all the haziness gone from them in an instant.

“I wondered when we’d be seeing you, Ms. Parry,” he smiled, tipping his head. “I was beginning to fear you wouldn’t make it in time.”

There was that crazed look again, the one I had seen in Katriana’s eyes–a cat toying with a mouse.

Bending my knees, I threw my arms up at my sides, a protective ward forming at my fingertips. I imagined that shimmering net falling over Evander as well, but I had no way of knowing if it worked.

Even if it had, it didn’t stop me from hearing his anguished scream as he roared my name. The sound cleaved my heart in half. As the crowd parted slightly, Evander gripped the bars of his cage, his good eye frantically searching my face.

“No. No no no no no.” Panic coursed through the words, reaching a crescendo as he turned to Orobas. “Please. Let her go.”

Orobas simply laughed, rising from his throne and taking a few steps off the dais.

“You bastard,” I spat.

“Oh, come now,” he tutted. “Is that any way to treat your host? Especially one who has something you desire so dearly?”

I refused to take the bait he was offering.

“Let him go.”

With a wave of his hand, Orobas’s noblemen cleared the cage.

“Dismissed,” he ordered, and they began to file out of the room dutifully, throwing intrigued glances over their shoulders until the doors closed behind them. The turn of events had me on high alert, but I was thankful for fewer adversaries.

“Best to have this conversation in private,” Orobas said conspiratorially when the chamber had emptied. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, only because I have no intention of letting you leave this room. The courtiers and my kingdom at large are skillfully kept in the dark about certain . . . abilities that I possess.” He began to pace between the dais and the cage, gesticulating casually as if he were telling a story at a dinner party.

“You see, it’s been necessary to maintain a bit of the old anti-Wielder rhetoric in Falerin. Much easier to unite them against a common enemy elsewhere than have them question everything I do. So it might be upsetting to some to learn that I’ve ‘borrowed ’ a few Gifts.”

Helmund’s words suddenly made horrifying sense, and I found the air knocked from my lungs. All those Gifts he had stolen, the power he had collected– this was so much worse than anyone had feared.

Oblivious to my terror, Orobas abandoned his pacing in favor of prowling circles around the bars of the gilded cage. He moved closer with each lap, but Evander ignored him, looking through the bars to address me instead.

“Run, Quinn. I don’t care what you have to do to get out, just go.”

“So dramatic.” Orobas rolled his eyes, flicking a hand toward Evander. His mouth continued to move, but no sound came out. One of the many Gifts Orobas had stolen, I was sure. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but as I watched the brutish silencing, my hatred deepened further.

“Ms. Parry and I are just going to have a little chat,” he promised Evnder with a wink.

“Rial, actually,” I ground out, wishing for the first time my Gift was something that could destroy rather than protect. “ Queen Rial.”

“Oh yes.” Orobas waved a hand again, his favorite gesture of casual cruelty. “How could I forget about that troubling little detail? I had plans for you too, of course, but I’m afraid they went awry. When poor Helmund never arrived with you in tow, I was left to puzzle out how I would track you down, but you’ve handed me such a neat little solution. I really must thank you.” He dipped his head in a mocking approximation of a bow.

As he rose, the doors flew open and a flustered soldier came barreling into the room, out of breath as he nearly skidded on the polished floor.

“Your Highness.” He bowed quickly. “There’s been a breach in the dungeons. The guard from Enorias has escaped.” He made a valiant effort to remain still as he braced himself for King Orobas’s reaction. Even from here, I could tell the man was terrified..

“Your doing?” Orobas asked me, raising an eyebrow. Hiding the wave of relief that crashed over me at the news that my friends had escaped, I gave nothing away.

“Ah, well,” he sighed, turning back. “Give chase if you must, but don’t trouble yourselves too much. I have what I needed from her.”

The guard was still frozen in place, unsure what to do with the apathetic order until Orobas dismissed him carelessly over his shoulder, at which point he fled the room.

“Quite a useful Gift, your captain,” the king remarked. “Though I doubt it will work on you.” He assessed me carefully, narrowing his gaze.

“Lower your shield,” he ordered. The flash of gold in his eyes looked so much like Vanessa’s, it was uncanny. Thankfully, my wards seemed to hold against Maddox’s stolen Gift.

Oroboas hummed. “Just as I thought. I have a theory, Ms. Parry. Would you like to hear it?”

When I didn’t respond, Orobas shrugged. “Humor me.”

I only looked at Evander, who was watching in terror, arms shaking as he gripped the bars of his enclosure.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the existence of a certain troubling prophecy–‘The Deceiver,’ I believe it calls me.” He laughed lightly. “Not very flattering, is it? And what’s worse is that it rather irritatingly predicts my demise, which simply won’t do.

“I went through all the trouble of organizing the retrieval of Queen Evalina, only to learn that she had fallen ill and was passing the Crown to her son.” His lips curled into a sneer directed at Evander. “Inconvenient, to be sure, but I’m a flexible man.” Tilting his head, he raised his palms in a show of complaisance.

I very much doubted that, but I let him continue. If I could keep him talking, perhaps I could buy myself time to construct a plan. I scanned the room, a study in opulence, for anything that might help me.

Its dark carved walls, adorned with gold, rose to a high ceiling peppered with wood and iron chandeliers. The black marble floor had veins of white and red throughout, giving the chilling impression of rivulets of blood.

Even Orobas’s throne, made of obsidian that rose to three jagged points over the seat, felt foreboding. This was what I had pictured when I thought of Falerin. But I didn’t spot anything that looked like it would open the cage.

“Rather than taking the risk of transporting him,” Orobas was drawling on, “I decided it might be best to dispose of him in Enorias. An able-bodied male, trained in combat since birth, would be quite a liability to me on the road to Falerin if he couldn’t be properly subdued. My finest men, my most clever spies, and decades of knowledge and preparation were all deployed for the attack.

“Imagine my surprise, then, when I heard a mysterious peasant girl had foiled the whole thing.” He looked at me disapprovingly, like a school teacher reprimanding a pupil, but I couldn’t help but raise my chin, feeling a tiny spark of pride.

“A shame, too,” he said. “I liked Freya. A gifted Siphon and quite adept at poisoning. From what I heard in my reports, she was doing quite well with the fire-Wielding Gift I gave her, too. That is, until you had your little squabble . Then that plan went up in flames as well . . . ” He laughed, a hand over his belly. “You’ll have to forgive my joke.”

My face remained impassive, and Orobas looked disappointed. I wasn’t sure what he expected, but if my mask were to crack, it wouldn’t be amusement that seeped through, but rage, deep and unadulterated. As it stood, it was taking all my focus to maintain a blank expression that wouldn’t give away the whirring of my mind as I tried to formulate a plan.

“So,” he sighed, writing off my stoicism, “I was forced to adapt again. As they say, to have something done right, you have to do it yourself. At last, the prince was successfully brought to me, but once again things went adrift. Do you know why, Ms. Parry?”

“I couldn’t imagine,” I gritted through my teeth. There had to be something in here I could use. Anything.

“Well, you see,” he continued, “this morning was quite eventful for both of us.” He gestured to the enclosure, but I couldn’t bring myself to look fully at Evander, whose mouth was still moving soundlessly as he urged me to abandon him and run.

“Before disposing of him and securing my rule, I thought I may as well extract his power to add to my arsenal. It is, after all, rather legendary. I even had one of my most talented Siphons perform the incantation. But the results were . . . not what I expected. A useful Gift, to be sure, but not the Gift. It doesn’t seem poor Evander here was the Protector after all.” Orobas frowned. “Do you know what that means, Quinn?”

The force of the realization was like being run over by a horse. We’d been so foolish, jumping to conclusions far too quickly. The prophecy wasn’t about Evander at all. There had never been a chance for us to beat Orobas.

There was the only option left. Evander’s Gift had already been taken because of our mistake, but maybe I could convince Orobas to let him leave with his life if he thought we weren’t a real threat to him.

“If you have his power already, why not let him go?” My words were full of a bravado that I didn’t feel. “If he isn’t The Protector, you have nothing to fear from him. Surely it would only serve to strengthen your position if you were to send your fallen rival back home, stripped powerless at your hand. The Mundane in Enorias might even respect that enough to turn to you.” I avoided Evander’s eyes as I said it. I knew it was horrible, but I would say anything, promise anything, to get him out.

Orobas barked out a laugh. “Ruthless, Ms. Parry. I didn’t know you had that cunning in you.” He nodded his head in a show of respect. “Unfortunately, I think you’ve misunderstood my meaning. Let me see if I can help you along.”

With no further warning, he reached for the cage and wrested it apart as if the thick iron bars were paper. Using Evander’s own Gift against him, he forced him to the ground just outside the jagged opening.

“Any inkling yet, Quinn?” Finally, the mask of indifference was gone, revealing the madman underneath. With wide, crazed eyes, he took Evander’s right arm, the one he always used to stroke my cheek so gently, and in one move, wrenched it out of its socket. Evander’s face contorted in pain and his mouth opened in a soundless scream.

Orbobas’s smile widened further, “Oh, I forgot– Better to have the full effect, don’t you think?”

After waving his hand, he twisted Evander’s now dislocated arm further behind his back. This time I heard his cry of pain, and it threatened to bring me to my knees. Desperate, I tried again and again to ward around him, but the power sputtered out at my fingertips when it met Orobas.

“Stop it!” I screamed. “Stop hurting him!” I had thought the uncertainty of his safety was torturous, but that was nothing compared to the horror of this moment, no greater anguish than watching my love double in pain as I found myself powerless to help him. Nothing I had ever accomplished could make up for this failure. If I couldn’t protect him now, I would never be able to live with myself.

Orobas only yanked his arm again, and Evander let out another gut-wrenching cry.

“ You could stop me if you wanted to, Quinn,” Orobas goaded. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Perhaps I need to give you a bit more of an incentive.”

From his belt, he pulled a jeweled knife. The tip was curved and wicked: a true instrument of torture. He held it to Evander’s throat, one hand still on the injured shoulder, using his own stolen Gift to hold him in place. I was going to vomit.

“All it would take is one tiny movement,” he demonstrated by flicking his wrist in the air, “and your poor prince would be bleeding out on my floor. Don’t you want to protect him?”

Protect. Hope fluttered in my heart at the word. I recalled the language of the prophecy we had poured over, hunched over Evander’s desk until my eyes were dry and my head aching.

“There will come a Time of Darkness when the kingdom is at its weakest. The fated halves of the Crown must find each other before the Deceiver seizes the Gifts of the people. Only the powers that sing to one another will be enough for the Protector to wipe The Evil One from existence and bring stability back to Enorias.”

Every time my Gift had manifested in the last few months, it had been to protect me or someone I loved. The breaths I took in the tank, the shield that protected Evander from Freya’s fire . . .

It was impossible. And yet I knew instinctively it was true.

“I’m the Protector,” I breathed.

Evander’s eyes widened in sudden understanding as Orobas grinned ear to ear.

“Very good,” the mad king praised.

Keeping one hand on Evander, he withdrew a vial from his pocket. Gilded and ornate, it was larger than the others I had seen, but I had no trouble recognizing it for what it was. Instead of a tiny chip along the rim, a large stone of hyalperite was set into the stopper.

“Let’s strike a deal, Ms. Parry, since you made such an excellent point earlier. It would be a rather delicious serving of irony to return you both to Enorias drained and weak. So I will let you live,” he wiggled the vial between his fingers, “ if you let one of my Siphons collect your Gift for me.”

“Quinn, no.” Evander barely choked out the words before Orobas silenced him again.

“Why shouldn’t I just make good on the prophecy here and now?” I bluffed, trying to buy myself time to examine my options. I couldn’t leave Evander here, but I also couldn’t give this monster another ounce of power under any circumstances.

“Yes, that is a bit of a gamble on my part,” Orobas said, pocketing the vial again. “But I’m fairly certain you can’t.” When he leveled his gaze at me, it felt like he was slicing through all my bravado, exposing the fear underneath. “You see, I wield your lover’s Gift now. I confess I thought that line about ‘powers that sing together’ was sentimental drivel, but then I realized . . . your power cannot work at odds with his, can it?” The glint of his green eyes betrayed a hint of that otherworldly malice I had sensed when I first entered the room.

Abandoning all caution, I flung my arms out, allowing my own shield to fall, and tried to cast around Evander one more time. My stomach turned leaden when nothing happened; Orobas was right. As long as he was using Evander’s Gift, I couldn’t touch him. Judging by his satisfied chuckle, he knew it too.

“So,” he urged, “do we have an agreement?”

“You’re a monster.” A monster I had no idea how to stop. My heart beat thunderously, darkness closing in on my vision as he drew the knife and placed it once again on the column of Evander’s throat.

“What a shame. I’m afraid this isn’t going to be pretty, and my courtiers will be so disappointed to miss the execution.”

Orobas raised his thin, dark brows, giving me one last moment to choose. I fought through the nausea as I faced two impossible options: give this cruel madman what he desired, or watch the life leave Evander’s eyes right in front of me. I’d likely follow soon after.

There had to be another way. Something I could do to draw him away, something else I could barter.

“Tick-tock, Ms. Parry.”

Suddenly, his crazed eyes flared wide as something struck his right forearm. The knife he had been holding clattered to the ground as blood began to seep into his fine tunic.

“Step away from my brother.”

In the doorway stood Vanessa, a dark avenging angel, her bow raised and pointed at Orobas, already notched with another arrow. She let it fly, striking true as it embedded itself in his other arm. Orobas’s flinch was shorter than a heartbeat, but the split second his hand left Evander’s shoulder was enough.

Every injustice I had ever experienced, every ounce of fury at what had been taken from me exploded out of my palms.

A voice I didn’t recognize as my own snarled from my lips. “You will never take what is mine.”

Pure power flowed through me, endless and ancient. The room turned a blinding white as the ends of my hair rose off my shoulders and my feet left the ground. It might have frightened me if I wasn’t so desperate for a way to free Evander, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do, no god or devil I wouldn’t call on, to save him.

Pouring everything I had into the power, I coaxed it to obey my will. The very essence of my being poured through my outstretched hands.

It was only when I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and my breath had grown so labored I felt on the verge of fainting that the light faded, leaving chaos in its wake. My eyes flew to every corner of the room, taking stock of what remained amongst the splintered wood and pieces of marble rubble.

Orobas had been knocked back several yards, where he was lying on the ground, unconscious. Vanessa stood in the doorway, unharmed, a visible sphere of shimmering ward surrounding her.

Finally, I turned my eyes to Evander, still on his knees in front of the cage. No trace of blood marred his hair or face, and both his striking blue eyes looked up at me in wonder.

“Quinn . . .?” he breathed.

I ran to him, throwing myself on the ground in front of him in relief. Our arms twined around each other so tightly that I couldn’t decipher which pulse was my own.

Pulling my face out of the crook of his neck, I moved my hands to his cheeks, wiping away the tears there. I kissed him once, softly but fiercely, thanking the gods for every bit of luck and fate they had blessed me with to be in his arms once again.

“We need to leave,” Vanessa called from the door.

I nodded, though I was loath to let Evander go for even a moment.

“My Gift,” he croaked. “We can’t let him have it.”

I looked back to Orobas–or the spot on the floor Orobas had occupied a moment before. Confusion and dread swirled on Evander’s face as he took in the empty space; the wicked king was gone.

“We’ll get it back. Together,” I promised, squeezing his hand.

“We need to get out of the palace before the other guards realize what’s happened,” Vanessa cut in. “Judging by the barracks, there are hundreds of soldiers stationed here, and we can’t fight that kind of manpower, Gifts or no Gifts.”

I knew she was right, so I stood, offering Evander a hand.

“Don’t think we’re not going to talk about that little stunt later,” Vanessa warned, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Don’t think we’re not going to discuss you defying a direct order to get the hells out of here,” I shot back.

“You gave that order to Colette,” she shrugged. “I didn’t promise you shit.”

My face broke into a wide smile that reflected her own shit-eating grin, and together the three of us fled into the night.