Power & Majesty (34 page)

She stared at the bright red tear in his skin.
What is this—a suicide pact?
‘I…’ was all she managed to say. Pain twisted in her belly.

He lowered his throat over her. Even with a knife in her gut, the close proximity of his body was disturbing. His blood smelled fresh and exciting. ‘Drink,’ he urged her.

She stared at him in horror. The vision of Poet’s limp body in Ashiol’s arms, feeding from him like a greedy spider, flashed into her mind and would not leave. It was one thing to offer her blood to others, but to drink it herself? What the seven hells had Ashiol turned her into?

‘Velody, please. With mortal blood the skysilver can’t hurt you. The wound will heal. It’s the only way.’

The blood was dripping from the cut in his throat down onto her collarbone, onto the beautiful dress. The thought of tasting it revolted her. But she was so cold, and the blood was so warm…
I didn’t think I’d like raw steak
, she reminded herself, and it almost made her laugh. Almost.

‘Velody, now!’ Crane demanded, in a rage worthy of Ashiol. ‘Feed!’

She raised a numb hand to the side of his head and guided his wound to her mouth, closing her eyes as she did so. The blood tasted of life, and of warmth that went beyond sunshine.

To think she had spent so much time worrying about a stolen kiss on the rooftops! This was far more intimate. She suckled on the cut in Crane’s throat, swallowing him by the mouthful. He was the freshest of fresh meat, the richest wine, the thickest and sweetest blood. Her body responded to him with a shudder and she pulled him closer.

The fact she was lying on her back in the yard, surrounded by people she barely knew, was there in her mind, but it was difficult to see it as being at all relevant.
Crane’s body covered hers, his muscles pressing into her soft curves, and there was one muscle in particular that she could feel, hard and urgent against her.
Definitely going too far
, she thought, even as she raised her chimaera claw to slice his clothes from his body.

It wasn’t there. She could not remember consciously changing and yet the claw had withdrawn back into her own narrow, stub-nailed fingers. She stared at them for a moment, and withdrew her bloody mouth from Crane’s throat.

He kissed her mouth in what could only be a ceremonial fashion, tasting himself on her lips.

She reached for her familiar shape of little brown mice and could not find them. In a panic, she tried to shape herself into Lord form, then chimaera, and remained nothing but Velody. ‘What have you done to me?’

Crane opened his mouth to speak, but she shoved him away and sat up, her mind racing. She was in a yard filled with the most powerful members of the Creature Court—with all of them, in fact. The courtesi lined the shabby fence, naked or dressed in elaborate finery, and all five Lords were in attendance. Everyone but Ashiol.
They’re all here and I’m powerless.

Priest was the first to speak—or laugh, rather. ‘Darling demoiselle, did no one ever tell you what sentinels are for? You can’t have honestly thought they were there as your bodyguards.’

‘They’re food,’ broke in Livilla in her usual sneering drawl. ‘A particularly convenient food, reserved for those of the highest rank. Their blood can save you from most of the deaths of our kind, even the skysilver wounds that can heal no other way.’

‘Didn’t do Garnet much good,’ said Velody.

‘He found the one death we couldn’t save him from,’ said Crane in a small voice.

She looked down at herself. Macready’s green-hilted knife still rested in her stomach, pinning the dark sapphire
dress into her flesh. It didn’t hurt. She didn’t even feel short of breath. ‘How?’

‘Skysilver wounds those of the Creature Court,’ said Crane. He took hold of the hilt, pulling out the blade. It emerged smoothly from Velody and her dress, leaving a hole in the fabric. ‘Drinking me made you mortal.’

She swallowed. Was it as easy as that? ‘I’m not your Power and Majesty any more then. You can all leave. Make sure you close the gate on your way out.’

Now it was Poet’s turn to laugh. ‘Oh, you’re still queen of the castle, precious one. Your animor will assert itself over the mortal blood within a day or so.’

‘I’m supposed to believe that you won’t kill me in the meantime?’

‘Why should we?’ asked Warlord. He had a rich voice heavy with a Zafiran accent. ‘We cannot quench a mortal. Your death would serve no purpose but to make the Court weaker.’

Velody squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them again. ‘Fine. If I’m still your Power and Majesty, you can start by telling me where Delphine is.’

‘Her,’ said Livilla with disgust. ‘You can have her back. She’s been nothing but trouble.’

She moved aside, and the taller and darker of her two courtesi dragged a struggling Delphine out from a corner of the yard, pushing her roughly to the ground. Delphine wore only a faded camisole slip, so thin as to be indecent, and the clumpy street shoes she had pulled on to make her dash to the laundress’s. Her hands were tied in front of her and a rough gag had been shoved into her mouth. She looked more angry than scared.

Crane passed his steel knife to Velody, who slit the cords that bound Delphine’s wrists. Delphine pulled the gag from her mouth herself. ‘What the hells—’ she started to say.

‘Go inside,’ said Velody. No time now to collapse in relief that her friend was not dead. There were other friends at risk this nox.

‘If you think I’m leaving you alone with these maniacs—’

‘Please, Delphine. Now.’

Reluctantly, the blonde pushed herself to her feet, glared around the yard at the intruders, and headed for the kitchen door.

‘And now,’ said Velody in a voice so calm that it frightened her, ‘perhaps one of you can tell me if Macready is alive.’

Delphine turned at that, and sat suddenly on the steps, eyes wide.

Velody looked straight at Poet, eyes locking hard with his. ‘Well?’

‘No point in asking me, little miss,’ he said insolently. ‘I wasn’t there.’

Her eyes passed over each face of the Creature Court until she reached Dhynar. ‘Well?’ she said again.

The Ferax Lord shrugged and grinned. ‘He was breathing when we left him, Lady Power.’

‘There’s dried blood on the hilt of his dagger,’ she said.

Dhynar’s grin widened, and he opened his long red leather coat to reveal a second skysilver blade—Macready’s sword. ‘Even more blood on this one, Lady Majesty.’

‘He was bleeding, all right,’ said one of Dhynar’s courtesi, a young man with white hair and strange, pale eyes. ‘Bleeding from every bit of him.’

‘Breathing may be a luxury he has since learned to do without,’ Dhynar admitted without shame.

Velody rose to her feet, fury crackling under her skin. ‘One of you will fetch him to me,’ she ordered in a strong voice. ‘Now.’

There was a long pause. ‘I think you have failed to understand us,’ said the rich Zafiran accent of Warlord. ‘You are still our Power and Majesty, Lady, but if you want us to obey your commands, you must make us do so.’

‘You have to bully us into it,’ said Priest, sounding amused. ‘Scare us enough to force us to do your will, or
convince us by any other means you have at your disposal. Since you are currently powerless, we’re all rather interested to see how you manage it.’

Solemnly, he raised his eyes to the sky. They were all looking upwards, even Crane. Velody was the last to realise.

Even as the last light of evening faded into darkness, thin veins of light crackled along the clouds. How had she missed it? Ashiol had trained her so well that she should have tasted the coming of a silverstorm long before the attack began.

But she had no animor to hear the sky’s warnings. This nox, she was mortal.

T
he air was cold for a summer nox. Shapes moved across the dark sky; stabbing shapes like spikes of ice. Ashiol was nowhere in sight, and Velody didn’t have enough animor in her to produce a single little brown mouse.

‘Ouch,’ said Poet with some satisfaction. ‘This is going to hurt.’

Velody sighed. ‘I suppose there’s little chance of convincing you all that you should leap into the sky and defend the city simply because it is your sacred duty?’

‘I like her,’ said Priest. ‘She’s funny.’

Velody stared helplessly at their hostile faces. ‘What do you want from me?’ she asked finally. ‘What will it take to get you in that sky?’

The clouds were screaming now, and there was a nasty orange glow to the south, which meant that fireworms were a definite possibility.

‘More than you have, pretty lady,’ said Warlord.

Very deliberately, Livilla spat on the ground. Priest took two steps away from her, but said nothing. Dhynar grinned so hard that it was surprising his face didn’t fall
off. The courtesi were mostly blank-faced, waiting for their Lords to make the decisions.

Poet sank to his knees before Velody. Behind him, both the giant Halberk and skinny boy Zero followed suit. ‘Lady,’ said Poet. ‘My courtesi and I are at your command.’

Velody blinked. ‘What?’

‘Only say the word, Power and Majesty, and we three will hurl ourselves into battle against the sky, or obey any other command you choose to make of us.’

‘Poet, this is not what we agreed,’ Livilla said sharply.

‘Speak for yourself, sweetie-pie,’ he tossed over his shoulder. ‘I just got a reputation as her Ladyship’s most loyal follower.’ He smirked at Velody. ‘I told you that you could count on me when things got difficult.’

‘So you did. I might be flattered if I didn’t think you arranged these fun and games just to produce this particular result.’

‘You wound me,’ he said happily. ‘Are we taking to the sky?’

A sizzling bolt cracked over their heads, slicing down into the nearby neighbourhood. There was an explosion, and skysilver shards burst into the air. ‘Go!’ Velody ordered.

‘You heard the lady,’ Poet told his courtesi. He fell apart into a horde of white rats who soared up into the empty air as if they weighed nothing. Halberk became a bear and leaped after his master, while Zero shaped himself into a gang of weasels and followed suit.

For a moment, Velody could hear nothing in the yard but Delphine’s shaky breathing. She was quite shaky herself.

‘His effort was wasted,’ sneered Livilla. ‘One Lord cannot hold the sky alone. Without the rest of us, the fool will die up there and the city shall fall.’

‘Well, then,’ said Velody, ‘Poet must have a great deal of faith that I can convince the rest of you to join him. Shall we open the negotiations?’

The four remaining Lords stared at her.

‘Well?’ she continued defensively. ‘Obviously I can’t threaten you into this. I’ll have to bribe you. What do you want from me?’

Warlord unfolded his body from the nearest fence, a superior look upon his face. ‘Blood,’ he said.

Velody still held Crane’s steel knife. She tilted it obediently towards her wrist. ‘How much?’

Warlord spluttered with something like laughter. ‘Mortal blood is of little use to me, Lady Power. When you are Creature King again, your blood will be worth something.’

She gazed steadily at him, pleased with her ability to do so. ‘I can’t spare all of it.’

‘A goblet will be sufficient.’

Velody couldn’t help the look of distaste that crossed her face. ‘Fine, just don’t tell me what you plan to do with it. I may throw up.’ Until now, she had managed to ignore the fact that her own face was encrusted with dried blood from Crane.

Warlord was still staring at her. ‘What?’ Velody said impatiently.

‘You agree to my request?’

‘I just said so, didn’t I?’

‘You will truly give me a goblet of your blood—of Creature King’s blood?’

‘I expect you to work for it. But yes, if you fight the skybattle this nox, to the best of your ability, I will reward you as you ask.’ At his disbelieving expression, she jabbed the tip of Crane’s steel dagger into her thumb, drawing a dot of blood. ‘Blood oath, if you like. It seems appropriate.’

After another startled pause, Warlord bowed low in the Eastern manner. ‘Majesty,’ he said. He nodded to his courtesi, and they all took to the sky in a tight military formation: a hardened gang of brocks, greymoons and bats led by one powerful black panther.

Velody looked around the remaining Lords. ‘Has no one thought of giving you presents before?’

‘The courtesi give offerings to the Lords, and the Lords give offerings to the Kings,’ said Crane, sounding amused. ‘It never happens the other way around.’ The ugly wound in his throat no longer bled.

‘Well,’ said Velody, ‘the idea was for me to be a very different Power and Majesty, wasn’t it? This sounds like a start.’

‘I have a request,’ said Livilla suddenly.

‘Ask away,’ said Velody.

The female Lord swayed forward on unwieldy heels. She wore a revealing black flapper dress—the flapper fashion as interpreted by high-class brothels. The dress was made of a satin so fine that every contour and detail of her rail-thin body was visible.

If I ever retire as Power and Majesty
, Velody thought giddily,
I could have great fun designing wardrobes for these people.

‘I want a promise,’ said Livilla. She eyed the red dab on Velody’s thumb. ‘A blood oath, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Velody as if she did this every day.

Livilla raised a pencilled eyebrow and pursed her wine-red mouth. ‘When Ashiol Xandelian fucks you for the first time, I want to be there.’

For a moment, Velody thought she had had a stroke. There was a strange buzzing in the back of her head. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard,’ Livilla said slyly. ‘Everyone knows it’s going to happen sooner or later. I want a front-row bench to the action.’

‘Everyone knows…’ Velody repeated. She stared wildly around the yard. ‘Does everyone
really
think I’m going to end up in Ashiol’s bed?’

Delphine’s hand shot up. The Lords and Court looked amused, all of them.

‘Wonderful,’ Velody muttered. The very thought of it made her skin crawl. Ashiol Xandelian. It would be like embracing a rabid lion in a snake pit—insanely dangerous.
She turned her glare back to Livilla. ‘It’s never going to happen.’

‘So you say.’

‘I mean it!’

‘Well, then. The vow earns you my obedience on this one nox and costs you nothing.’ The wine-coloured mouth curved into an unpleasant smile. ‘It seems to me you have the best of the bargain.’

Grumbling, Velody jabbed her thumb with the dagger again.

‘Velody,’ Crane said in a low warning. ‘Ash won’t like this.’

She shot him a scornful look, and displayed her bloody thumb to Livilla. ‘I swear that in the very unlikely event that Ashiol and I have sex, you can witness it.’ Ha, that would be a nice little insurance policy, at least.

‘Thank you,’ Livilla said sweetly. She returned to her two courtesi. With solemn precision, the three of them stripped their clothes from their bodies, making sure everyone had a good view of the show, and then shaped themselves into animal form. Several wolves leaped into the sky, surrounded by a flock of ravens.

Velody looked at Priest and smiled her best smile.

He shook his head. ‘No point in that, little miss. I cannot be bought off by trinkets like the young ones. You have nothing that I want.’

Velody looked up. The sky was ablaze with light and colour. She might not be a Creature King right now, but Crane’s blood had at least left her with the basic senses of a sentinel—the awareness of skybattles, for a start. You couldn’t see much from down here, but an occasional familiar shape would dart across the clouds straight above them, battling a power tendril or chasing a skybolt. Poet, Warlord, Livilla and their courtesi had their work cut out for them.

‘The fact that your friends need help means nothing to you?’ she asked.

‘They’re not my friends,’ said Priest.

‘The city may well be destroyed this nox.’

‘It’s not my city.’

That was true enough. Ashiol had told her that, of all of them, Priest had the least allegiance to the city itself as he had arrived only a little over a decade ago, a fully developed Lord.

Velody nodded. She moved towards Priest, looking him up and down. Hard to tell if he was playing a game like Poet, or if he truly meant what he said. Perhaps meaning what he said was the game. ‘Nice waistcoat,’ she commented.

Priest eyed her suspiciously. ‘You’ve been doing so well with honesty this nox, Lady Power. A shame to act the coy demoiselle now.’

‘No, really. I like it.’ She reached out and tugged a little at the green velvet that enveloped his paunch. ‘Good fabric. Shame about the cut.’

Priest shifted in annoyance. ‘This was made by the finest tailor in Aufleur.’

‘Oh, Donagan,’ she agreed. ‘His work stands out. I recognised it instantly. A master craftsman, I agree. His designs have stood the test of time.’

‘If you’re suggesting my tailor is old-fashioned,’ he growled, ‘I prefer last century’s styles.’

‘Of course.’ Velody nodded. ‘They suit you. But as I was taught as an apprentice, the older styles can be made so much more comfortable and flattering by applying a little modern technique. Poor old Donagan still uses all the stitches that his grandfather taught him. Classic, of course, but hardly cutting edge.’ She smiled at her own pun.

Priest tipped his head back, looking her over. ‘What exactly are you offering, little miss?’

‘A waistcoat, of course. I have a peacock design that would suit you so beautifully, and I think you’ll have trouble going back to Donagan after you feel the results of my tailoring.’

‘You’d make it for me with your own two hands?’ he demanded roughly.

She wiggled her fingers at him. ‘The only hands I’ve got.’

‘You strike a hard bargain, Lady Power.’

‘Power and Majesty,’ she corrected in a firm voice.

Priest shook his head and smiled. ‘Power and Majesty,’ he agreed. ‘I look forward to collecting my waistcoat.’

‘My best work,’ she promised him.

‘Come, ladies,’ he called to his courtesi. ‘We’ve got a sky to fight.’

As Priest and his women scattered upwards in a cloud of feathers, Velody turned her attention to Dhynar. Crane came to her side, his skysilver blade held loosely in his right hand.

Dhynar smirked, his four courtesi flanking him. ‘And what are you going to offer me, little miss? I’ve got a few ideas on how you can please me enough to send me into battle.’ He jerked a head in Delphine’s direction. ‘You can have her giftwrapped, for a start.’

‘Oh, you misunderstand,’ Velody said sweetly. ‘You’re not fighting the sky this nox, Dhynar. I have another use for you. You’re going to show me exactly where you left Macready. If he’s still alive, you can survive the nox.’

Dhynar laughed openly. ‘And what exactly are you threatening me with, Princessa? Your boy’s stabbing knife? I could break his neck before he got anywhere near me.’

‘True enough,’ said Velody. It was amazing, really, the senses at a sentinel’s disposal. She had never wondered about the extent of their powers, but now she was wholly reliant on them. She could feel Crane’s entire presence, his every reaction, without even looking at him. She knew exactly where he was and what he was ready for. She was aware of another presence, beyond the wooden fence, and was just as aware that Dhynar remained oblivious to that presence. Interesting, the limitations of a Creature Lord. She had thought them able to sniff out any danger.
Perhaps the pervading scent of blood and skybattle in the air had clouded his senses.

‘Crane is not the only blade at my disposal,’ she said quietly.

‘Oh, please,’ Dhynar laughed. ‘Let the little blonde come at me with a kitchen knife. I’ll enjoy that.’

A long blade blossomed in his chest, sliding through the leather as if through butter. He staggered, unable to fall. The sword had pinned him through two palings of the firm wooden fence, from the other side.

‘You forgot to count, Ferax,’ snarled Kelpie as she strolled through the open gate. ‘You only disarmed one sentinel this nox.’

‘Been out there a while, have you?’ Velody couldn’t help asking.

Kelpie turned unfriendly eyes on her. ‘I like to know what’s going on.’

Blood dribbled out of Dhynar’s mouth. Velody stared at him. It was hard to find sympathy for his belly wound. ‘He has Macready’s sword,’ she said.

Kelpie patted her victim down dispassionately and removed the sword from under his coat. ‘Now he’s got mine instead,’ she said. ‘Fair trade.’

Dhynar’s four courtesi were hanging back, unsure what move to make.

‘Now,’ said Velody, staring at Dhynar. If she could get through this without her legs collapsing from under her, she would be happy. ‘I want to know where Macready is.’

‘Ashiol too,’ broke in Kelpie. ‘They’ve done something to keep him out of the way.’

Dhynar smiled fiercely. ‘Don’t know anything,’ he coughed, and there was more blood in his mouth now.

‘Let him die,’ said Kelpie. ‘We’ve got five skysilver blades between us now. We can cut the truth out of his courtesi.’

‘The Creature Lords serve me,’ Velody said between gritted teeth. ‘He will answer my question.’

Dhynar’s eyes flashed defiantly. He pushed his hands back against the palings of the fence and took one staggering step forward, then another, dragging his body painfully along the long blade of the sword.

‘Oh, no!’ Kelpie shoved her hands against his shoulders, pushing him hard against the fence again. ‘No quick death for you. Answer the Majesty’s question.’

Dhynar was too far gone now even to talk. His whole body convulsed. His courtesi crept near him, huddling at his feet, each of them trying to touch him.

‘Can they help him?’ Velody asked in an undertone.

‘They can help themselves,’ Kelpie spat. ‘Parasites. There’s nothing they can do to heal him from a skysilver wound—they’re staying close so they can quench him when he dies.’