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Calm and collected as usual, Aydon merely winces and lowers himself to snatch the scrolls in the wake of my shadows corkscrewing along his back. He mutters something incomprehensible under his breath.
“What was that now?”
Scrolls in hand, Aydon deadpans, flaring his nostrils to proclaim, “You won this battle, Allysteir. But perhaps...you willnotwin the war.”
Smirking to one side, triumphant, I pat my brother’s shoulder, drawing out my contemptuous derision to conclude, “Oh, come now, Aydon, Talahn-Feyran has not seen war since before the Curse. I’m simply one of the lucky royals to have survived...thanks to my bride.”
I turn to depart, but at the last second, I barrage my shades to constrict his throat, knock the crown from his rutting head, and wrench him an inch from my eyes in a lethal assault of a warning. “By the way, Aydon, this is for you daring to kiss my bride.”
I shoot him through the air, beyond my shade barrier, past the curtain until my brother’s body barrels against the throne. It crashes to the floor, alerting the court audience. As predicted, the inertia is too much. Aydon tumbles down the dais and falls right into the Shivering River.
As the court erupts with bone warriors rushing to rescue the Crown Prince, I make a sucking noise with my teeth, bend to fetch the crown, then issue into the Great Hall. The sight almost comical from Aydon’s struggle with our warriors vying with the spirits dragging him lower while the elders chant meaningless rituals. As the Court erupts from the event, I march past the fallen throne, down the dais, and to the edge of the River Cryth.
Soldiers turn their swords on me from the invasion of a foreign presence. I merely grin and wave my hand across the water to quiet the spirits who release my brother. With all audiences’ eyes on me, I direct my shades to fetch my brother from the waters and deposit him soaked and dripping at my side. By the time I finish, not one Court member is left standing. Comprehension on account of my power.
No hesitation anymore.
With the crown in one hand, I clap Aydon on the shoulder with my other, and proudly declare, “Yes, my people: proud citizens of Talahn-Feyal, both Feyal-Ithydeir and human. Let cider and wine gush throughout the land. May the harvest be more bountiful than e’re before. And let feasts be held in every castle and city and small village as we host a grand banquet tonight to celebrate and honor the autumnal equinox...and my bride. Isla Bandya Morganyach is the Tenth-Bride of Talahn-Feyal to survive Aryahn Kryach, God of Death. She has saved us all!”
Aydon’s dip in the Cryth River utterly forgotten, the court envoys scramble to transcribe the message which will catch like wildfire by the day’s end. The other court members explode in applause. Aydon wears a proud but faux smile, leans in, and whispers, “The war, brother. I will win the war.”
When I wake,it's to a servant knocking on the sweetheart suite Franzy and I share, but my leyanyn is gone. Snatching a robe from a nearby hook, I bind it around my figure, hustle to the door, and open it to a stewardess.
She nods to me, holding a tray of shortbread, pomegranates, and a cut of lean pork. "The Crown Princess sends her regards and trusts you slept well, Your Majesty. She went to Court to join her husband and sends you a midday meal and hopes to see you at supper in the secondary hall."
I press my lips together and nod, accept the tray, and bid the stewardess farewell. But despite the food's temptation, I set it aside and issue into the hallway. Energy renewed from my long rest, from the love of my leyanyn, I consider someone else I have underestimated. Someone I should have sought more than the scarce times I'd had over the last nine months. If anyone can give me answers,trueanswers to my future, it's none other than the ghost of Doom.
Flustered, I bustle down the next hall and the next until I arrive at the bridge overseeing the Sea of Bones outside the library tower. The same bridge where Kryach chose his price ofaccess. I remember how exhilarating it was to tempt and taunt the God of Death. Now, he feels more distant. All I bear is his mark which seems as delicate as a frost flower on a dark windy night. One touch, and I fear I'll crumble it to black, crystalline dust.
Here, I linger, purse my lips. Some invisible force squeezes my lungs despite how the salt-laced bone powder wind plunders my nostrils and rifles through my chaotic waves. Though I have survived him, though my future rolls out like a twilight tapestry before my eyes, I am blinder than ever.
Allysteir and I will never have the relationship we once shared. Before this morning, perhaps. Yes, I understand his motivation, but he does not understand mine, much less respect it.
And Ary...
"Ary," I whisper his name. "Where are you?"
When nothing but a cold burst of wind carried from the Sea of Bones greets me, I sigh, rocking back and forth before rushing down the long, twisting staircase. I run past the vestibule and to the alcove of descending stairs.
By now, I've discovered how to summon the River spirits, except for Betha. They usher the boat to me, to my bare feet. Chest lurching, I waste no time climbing in. It becomes more difficult to swallow as the spirits carry me past the Citadel arches and to the deepest parts of the Sea of Bones, past the tourist areas and into darker waterways housed by cavern walls. I curl my shoulders forward and close my eyes, trusting the spirits: these smeared constellations inside the water.
I survived Aryahn Kryach. So, what Doom could Betha have referenced?
I call her name until my throat cracks, dry and brittle. I sing countless melodies I learned growing up and new ones from the Citadel, including Ary's personal lullaby. Rolling with the current wherever they wish to bid me, I follow the whim of the spirits, but nothing works. No trace of Betha.
One last desperate attempt. A selfish one, but Betha is not the only one I wish to see.
"Stop!" I whisper to the spirits once we near the barest crag of black rocks. Nudging the side of an enormous dark mountain face, this small clump of great rocks shines like obsidian thanks to the souls glowing around me. It will be perfect.
If Aryahn Kryach won't respond to anything else, I have to imagine he will to this. Other than the souls, who have no eyes, I couldn't be more alone.
So, I instruct the spirits to berth the boat against those rocks. Awkwardly climb out. But it doesn't feel awkward to remove the bridal gown and cast it upon the rocks. Not my crown. I breathe relief, shoulders sinking. It reminds me of another desolate night...near the Void.
Here, in the solitude of darkness, I am the moon clad in frost and starlight waiting for Death's shadows.
I lower myself onto the rocks and drape my body in a flawless arch across a large, jagged one. A nude opal cameo against a velvet black backdrop.
A moment later, I cup both my breasts, close my eyes, and circle, fondling my flesh. I inhale, nearly coughing from the brittleness of my mouth. I trace little spirals until I arrive at the withered areola and finally, the rose-tipped nipples. I impart a sweet pinch to each one, whimper in pleasure, then gravitate my hand lower to my mound. Just as I poke the skull eyes, I beam and peel back my pubic lips. I hiss through the tightening pangs in my chest.
