The Half King

12

Several hours later, Cerise was in want of a great many things, chief among them a bath and a generous dusting of medicated powder. She never wanted to travel on horseback again. She felt sorry for the animals, adapted as they were to the Mortara heat, but she felt even sorrier for her backside and her sweat-dampened thighs, which chafed with each bounce in the saddle. She gave her horse—a gray-spotted gelding she’d nicknamed Ash—a scratch on the neck to thank him. He probably wasn’t enjoying himself, either.

She hadn’t fully appreciated how strong an enchantment the priests had woven over the royal lands. Magic shielded the palace in a protective bubble that dulled the sun’s fury by a few precious degrees. She missed that bubble. The scarf covering her head provided protection from the sun but gave her little relief from the heat. The scorching wind blowing over the fabric made her feel like an acorn roasting on a harvest bonfire.

Daerick and Kian were more accustomed to the elements, though they had no more insults to share. All teasing died as soon as they left the palace grounds. The only member of their party seemingly unaffected by the sun was Blue, who rode in his sling, barking at desert lizards, sniffing the wind, and consuming so little water that Cerise suspected he had been sired by a camel instead of a goblin.

“I’m not saying it’s hot out here,” Daerick announced from his horse in front of her. “But rumor has it the goats give evaporated milk.”

Cerise laughed. “And the beets come from the ground fully cooked?”

“No beets,” Kian said from behind. “But you might find a sand melon if you know where to look.” He pointed to a brown tangle of thorns growing in the shade of a long-dead tree. The brambles were so well camouflaged that she had to squint to see them. “The fruit grows at the bottom, all the way under the thorns. You’ll tear up your arms trying to get one, but it’s worth it if you’re desperate enough.”

Cerise tucked away that knowledge and hoped she would never need it. “What about our guide?” she called ahead to Daerick. “You haven’t told us who you hired.”

“That was deliberate,” Daerick said. “To give you plausible deniability, in case Father Padron asked you any questions about our plans today.”

“He hasn’t said a word to me since I saw him in the kennels,” Cerise told Daerick. “I think he’s lost interest in me.”

“Even so, the less we all know about our guide, the better,” Daerick said. “Not even I know his name—or what he looks like. He doesn’t interact with the public. I hired him through one of my contacts in the city.”

“Why the need for secrecy?” she asked. “Is it because of the sunset runes? Do you think someone would try to steal them from us?”

Daerick wobbled a hand as if to say partly . “It has more to do with the talents our guide will use to lead us on the right path and to help us find water.”

“Talents?” she asked. “What does that mean?”

“You won’t like the answer,” Daerick warned her.

“Oh, just tell her,” Kian said. “She has to grow up sometime.”

Cerise turned and glared at Kian, who grinned and winked in response.

“If you must know,” Daerick called over his shoulder, “he’ll use magic.”

“Is he a rogue priest, then?” she asked. “Like the soothsayer?”

“Neither one of them are priests.”

“Well, not anymore,” she clarified. “They ran away from their temples.”

“I mean they never were priests,” Daerick told her. “They’re not second-born, and they never lived at a temple.”

Cerise shook her head. Impossible . That contradicted everything she’d been taught. “But priests are the only wielders of Shiera’s magic. Any other abilities are unnatural.”

Daerick turned and gave her a look of disappointment. “I thought I taught you better than that. There’s no such thing as an unnatural tendency. If something occurs within nature, it is by default natural. What’s un natural is to vilify it and criminalize it and force people into hiding for being born the way they are.”

“But…” Cerise stammered, trying to make sense of it. “Are you saying there’s no such thing as sorcery or dark arts, that there’s only magic , and all of it is the same?”

“Maybe not the same,” Kian interjected. “I’ve never seen magic in the wild that can match the power of my priests. But all gifts, whatever they may be, originate from the same source, wouldn’t you say?”

“From the goddess,” Cerise said. She began to see the logic. “If Shiera created all things and all life, then everything in creation has to be in accordance with her will.”

“I agree,” Daerick told her. “But the priests don’t see it that way.”

“Which is why our guide operates in secret,” Cerise said. “All right. So where are we supposed to meet him?”

“Just there, up ahead.” Daerick nodded toward a boulder, or rather two halves of what used to be a boulder, flanking the entrance to a small cave at the base of the northernmost mountain. He slowed his horse and shielded his eyes. “I don’t see him yet.”

“If he’s smart, he’s inside that cave,” Kian said.

“That’s where I would be,” Daerick agreed.

They rode ahead until they reached the split boulder, where they tethered the horses within the shaded mouth of the cave. Cerise unfastened her sling and let Blue walk beside her, though she kept a close eye on him. She had taught him to stay on command, but even though his abilities were uncanny, he was still just a pup.

The air was marginally cooler in the cave, growing more crisp with each forward stride and smelling faintly of animal dung. From the darkness ahead of them, a young man stepped into view, dressed in linen and standing so tall that Cerise had to tip back her head to look him in the eyes. She recognized him at once, even without his elderly soothsayer companion.

“You,” she said. “The one from the city.”

“Me,” he answered flatly in a deep voice. “Your guide.”

The young man didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her. Clearly, he had known that she would be there, which made her wonder what had changed since their meeting in the secret den in the pleasure district, when he had bristled at her and ordered her to leave.

He hitched his upper lip and pointed at Blue, who stood faithfully beside her, tipping his wrinkled puppy head to and fro and studying the guide. “What’s that ?”

“ He is my hound,” she answered. “His name is Blue.”

“That’s no hound,” he said.

“Half of him is, I assure you,” she told him. “What I want to know is why you agreed to come here if you knew Lord Calatris and I were the ones who hired you. The last time I saw you, you couldn’t wait to be rid of us.”

“You were a stranger to me then,” he said. “I don’t make a habit of trusting strangers. It’s a sure way to die.”

Cerise didn’t believe him. The real answer probably had more to do with what the soothsayer had said about her blood: umbra sangi .

“So does that mean you trust me now?” she asked him.

He responded with a grunt.

“What about me?” Kian asked, lifting his chin in a regal way that clashed with his farmhand facade. “I’m a stranger to you. Is that going to be a problem?”

The young man laughed without humor. “You’re no threat to me, Half King. I’m glad for your company. The two of us will have much to discuss.”

Cerise drew a breath and looked to Daerick and Kian, neither of whom seemed shocked to learn that the young man had seen through Kian’s transformation. It took her a moment to remember that the guide possessed magical talents, perhaps even the same ability as the soothsayer to detect bloodlines through scent.

“Well, now that we’ve established who we can trust,” Kian said to the guide, “by what name shall we call you?”

“You can call me Nero,” he said, and then he extended a massive palm toward Daerick. “Do you have my fee?”

Daerick snickered as he handed over the satchel of coin. “Straight to business. I can respect that. Now we can be on our way.”

Nero glanced above their heads at the horses tethered in the shade. “Is that all you brought with you? Provisions for one day’s ride?”

“Two days,” Daerick corrected. “But yes. Without meeting you, we had no way of knowing how long the journey to the Blighted Shrine would last or how many resources we might need.”

“More than that,” Nero said.

Daerick paused as if waiting for more information. When it didn’t come, he asked, “Can you be more precise?”

Nero shrugged. “The Blighted Shrine is at the top of the mountain. How long it takes to get there depends on many things, but I can promise you no one has ever done it in a matter of days. And then if you earn the runes, you’ll have no way of knowing where they will take you or how long you’ll travel until you reach the object you seek. Plan for weeks or even moons. And don’t forget to bring feed for the horses. There’s not much for them to eat on the mountain. That’s why I travel on foot.”

Kian swore under his breath. “We’ll need wagons for all of that.”

“Which will slow us down and make the trip last even longer,” Daerick said. “But there’s no way around it. We won’t survive long without supplies.”

A distant roar sounded from outside the cave, and Nero added, “Protection wouldn’t be a bad idea, either. Creatures mostly hunt at night, but some will come out during the day if they’re hungry enough.”

“Creatures?” Cerise asked. “Do you mean predators like the desert panther?”

Nero shook his head. “Predators that hunt the desert panther.”

Blue whined, seeming to share her fear.

“Well, that decides it.” Kian put his hands on his hips and peered outside at the position of the sun. “I’ll ride back to the palace and assemble a caravan. The three of you get started and make it as far as you can before dark. I’ll send General Petros to lead the caravan immediately so you’ll have protection overnight.”

Suddenly, it occurred to Cerise that they hadn’t discussed Kian’s disappearance at sunset, or more importantly, his re appearance at the bedside of Delora Champlain each dawn. And then there were the spontaneous daylight hours that the king lost to the curse. Kian could vanish at any moment and then awaken at the palace with Delora.

“Your Majesty,” Cerise said, “may I have a word with you in private?”

Kian walked with her to the horses at the mouth of the cave. He positioned them behind his horse and turned away, blocking Nero’s view, and lowered his voice to a murmur. “What is it?”

“Lady Champlain,” Cerise whispered. “If you want to travel with us, then she’ll have to join the caravan. And that would risk her safety more than if she stayed at the palace. Do you think we should find the runes and the blade without you?”

Kian froze for the span of a heartbeat, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he abruptly cleared his throat and told her, “Let me worry about Lady Champlain’s safety. I’ll see you at sunrise, my lady of the temple.”

“But…there’s another problem,” Cerise said. She paused to consider how to voice her fears and her mixed feelings. She wanted protection from the creatures Nero had mentioned, but not enough to risk the safety of the caravan by asking them to travel in the dark while those same creatures came out to hunt. “General Petros is only one man. Will his protection be enough for the group?”

“No, it won’t,” Kian said. “That’s why I’m sending Padron with him. There’s not a beast in these mountains that can survive my high priest. The general can drive the wagon and Padron can ride on horseback. The two of them are all the protection we need.”

“But we don’t trust Father Padron.”

“We certainly don’t,” Kian agreed.

“So why not send the royal guard instead?”

Kian heaved a sigh. “Do you know how many men it would take to equal the power of one priest?” Before she could answer, he did: “Dozens—or more. And each guard requires provisions and rides a horse that requires provisions, and before you know it, we’re traveling with twelve wagons instead of one, and our journey will last until the end of time.”

Cerise hadn’t considered any of that.

“I don’t like it, either,” Kian told her. “But Padron is the strongest weapon in my arsenal. I would be a fool not to use him to my advantage.”

“But what about Nero?” Cerise whispered in her softest voice. “Whatever magic he has, he would never use it around Father Padron. The Order would stone him for sorcery.”

“Nero can use his magic when Padron isn’t looking. No one has to know.”

“What if he refuses to help us?”

“Then we won’t give him a choice,” Kian hissed. “We need the runes so we can find the Petros Blade.”

“What are we going to do, chain Nero to us?” she asked. “He knows these mountains. We don’t. He can slip away whenever he wants and leave us stranded.”

“You really do underestimate my high priest,” Kian said darkly.

His words plucked a note of dread inside her. She wondered if he was right.

Kian must have decided the discussion was over, because he mounted his horse and, without another word to anyone, rode off into the desert the same way they had come.

Daerick and Nero joined Cerise at the mouth of the cave. Nero crossed both arms over his massive chest, and for a long moment of silence, the three of them watched the king ride away. Then Nero swiveled his gaze to Cerise and told her, “We need to talk before we leave.”

She waited for him to go on.

“Alone,” Nero clarified, giving Daerick a pointed look.

“I have no secrets from Lord Calatris,” Cerise said. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to the both of us.”

Nero heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes to the cave ceiling. He then used a thumbnail to open a thin cut on his palm, and after that, several things happened at once. Nero pressed his bloodied palm to the cave wall while his other hand shot out and gripped Cerise’s wrist. She opened her mouth to object, but no sound left her lips. She seemed suspended in time, as though the world had stopped turning. Abruptly, she felt the sick sensation of falling. Then she closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, she was standing in the middle of a dim cavern with Nero still gripping her wrist and Daerick nowhere to be found.

“What…” She jerked free of Nero’s grasp. “What did you do? Where is Lord Calatris? Bring him back at once!”

“Your friend hasn’t moved,” Nero told her, holding both palms forward in a gesture of surrender. “We have. I only want to talk to you in private. After we talk, I’ll return you to your friend. I give you my word.”

Cerise released a breath and peered all around her at the black slab walls, which were glossy from moisture leaching through the stone. Strangely, it was the moisture that provided the only light, the drops emitting a faint glow reminiscent of moon-flies. The air was cool and smelled metallic, like the charge before a storm, but it was a welcome relief from the desert heat. Distantly, she could hear Daerick shouting her name, but she couldn’t tell where his voice was coming from.

“Where are we?” she asked, her fear fading and giving way to wonder. “Lord Calatris is worried for me. I can hear him.”

“He won’t worry for long,” Nero told her. “Time passes slowly here. A moment for your friend out there is like an hour for us in the Below.”

“The Below,” she absently repeated as she took in her surroundings.

The cavern floor was carpeted in thick, lush mosses and silken grass, and if she looked closely at the ground, she could make out an occasional lavender blossom peeking out from between the grassy tufts. She bent down and plucked one of the flowers, admiring the way its petals seemed to glow from within. Now that her panic had receded, she could appreciate the cavern’s unusual beauty. She even detected the babble of gently falling water echoing from somewhere out of sight.

“What is this place?” she asked. “It looks like an underground oasis.”

“In a way, it is,” Nero said. “The blood of Shiera was spilled on this mountain. The ground absorbed her darkness and her light. Her wrathful side created the blight you see from above. And here below”—indicating the luminescent walls of the cavern—“is what grew from her merciful side.”

“Darkness and light,” Cerise murmured, gazing at the lavender blossom. She tucked the delicate flower in her pocket. It would make a perfect addition to her offering at the Blighted Shrine. “How does your magic allow you to come here?”

He chuckled without humor. “How are the stars born?”

“Fair point,” she admitted. Her question had been a stupid one. Nobody understood how magic worked. “Are there places like this everywhere on the mountain? Or only here?”

“The Below exists only here,” Nero said. “But my blood can carry me here from any place on the mountain.”

“So you have an escape,” she said. “No wonder you can survive out here for so long.”

Nero shrugged a massive shoulder. “The better question is why you want the sunset runes. What do you hope they will help you find?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because if I lead you to the runes, I’m complicit in what you do with them.”

“My intentions are good. I can promise you that.”

He chuckled again. “Intentions are more meaningless than grains of sand. It’s your actions that matter.”

Cerise chewed the inside of her cheek and considered whether she should tell Nero the truth. She didn’t know Nero well enough to trust him. But to be fair, he didn’t know her, either, and he had trusted her enough to display his magical talents, which—knowing as he did of her proximity to the Order—was akin to putting his life in her hands. Besides, if Nero was as skilled a mountain guide as he had claimed, the caravan would need his help after she secured the sunset runes. Sooner or later, he would learn what object she sought.

“Very well. I’ll tell you,” she decided. “I want the Petros Blade.”

That didn’t seem to surprise him. “For what purpose?”

“To break the noble curses.”

“Shiera’s curses?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

His question confused her. “Why wouldn’t I do that?”

“Because I know who you are,” he said. “A failed oracle sent here to play politics with the king. It’s the goddess you really serve, not the royal line.”

Cerise gaped at Nero. He could have learned her identity from any number of sources, but only three people on Mortara knew that she had no Sight. Her reputation as a “blessed oracle” had only gained momentum since the fire at the palace, so how could he know that she was a failure?

“It’s true,” she admitted. “I serve the goddess.”

“Then why break her curses?”

“Because I don’t want to see anyone suffer,” she said. “Why is that so difficult to understand?”

Nero must not have expected that response, because he watched her for a long, silent moment before he finally said, “Then I need your vow.”

“What vow?”

“The Petros Blade is no ordinary weapon,” he told her. “If wielded by the correct hand, it can kill any living creature, even a goddess.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I’m well aware of the blade’s history. That’s the whole reason we want it—to atone for the Great Betrayal.”

“Do you think you’re the first one to try?” Nero retorted.

“Well…” Cerise stammered. “Yes, actually, I did.”

“You’re not,” Nero told her. “Generations of nobles have hired guides like me to lead them to the sunset runes, hoping to find the Petros Blade so they could break Shiera’s curse and save themselves.”

“And none of them found it?”

“None of them were worthy ,” Nero said.

Cerise shook her head in confusion. “But I thought only a worshipper of pure faith can earn the sunset runes. How can a person be unworthy if Shiera entrusted them with a map to the Petros Blade?”

“Because faith is not the only thing that determines a person’s worth,” Nero said in the same lecturing tone that Daerick often used. “The Petros Blade never should have been forged. The only reason it still exists is because it can’t be destroyed. A weapon like that could do terrible damage, even in the hands of the faithful, so it’s been safeguarded by more than just a vanishing hiding place. That’s why it hasn’t seen the sun in a thousand years.”

“Safeguarded by what? Beasts? Magic?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Nero told her. “I’ve never looked for it before. Others have tried to hire me to take them to the Blighted Shrine, but I knew better than to waste my time on them. And now I want to know that I’m not wasting my time on you.”

“So you want my vow that I’m worthy?”

“You won’t know you’re worthy until you’re tested,” he said. “What I want is your vow that if we find the blade and if you’re able to retrieve it, then the blade will never leave your side. You will sheathe it to your body, day and night. You will allow no other to lay hands on it, and you will kill anyone who tries.” Nero towered over her, his lethal gaze boring into hers until Blue growled at him. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” she said. Even if Nero hadn’t insisted, she would have been vigilant in protecting the blade. “I swear it.”

Nero nodded, seemingly satisfied by her oath. “Then we will return to your friend.”

He extended a hand to her, she took it, and with a violent lurch and a dip of her stomach, she was back at the mouth of the cave, squinting against the sunlight.

“Charred bones!” Daerick cried, grabbing Cerise in a hug before she had fully opened her eyes. He muttered a strand of curses and pulled away but kept a grip on her upper arms. “Are you all right?” He fired a glare at Nero. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he didn’t hurt me,” Cerise assured him. “He only wanted a word in private.”

Daerick cast her a skeptical look. “Well, it must have been an incredibly loaded word, because you weren’t gone long enough to exchange a full sentence.”

Cerise glanced at Nero, recalling what he had said about the passage of time in the cavern. The minutes they had spent “Below” had passed like mere seconds for Daerick. Nero grinned at her as if to say I told you so .

“Now we can begin,” Nero told them. “I know a safe place to make camp in the next ridge. Your horses will slow us down, but we should be able to reach it before nightfall.”