Shapeshifters (71 page)

He would live until his body starved, but he would never again open his garnet eyes. I knew that as surely as I knew Ecl's damning darkness. And I knew that nothing good would become of this world without him.

Behind me, I heard Keyi cry.

“No!” the child shouted.

Oliza frowned. “Keyi, you need to—”

“Don't wanna!” The child pouted and launched into a tantrum. “No, no, no!”

“Keyi, do I need to—”

Oliza cried out, recoiling from her daughter as golden red bands of magic whipped across her arms, drawing blood. Her eyes widened with sudden terror.

“Calm down, Keyi, please,” she said.

Keyi continued to wail and stomp her feet, sending a stream of scalding magic at Oliza. Oliza screamed and fell, and only then did Keyi's tears stop.

“Mommy?”

Keyi hurried to Oliza's side, her eyes wide and afraid. “Mommy?” she wailed. “Mommy?” Her hands touched the blood as she shook Oliza, begging her to wake. “Mommy, come back! Mommy? Mommy, get up, please. I won't cry anymore. Mommy!”

“I need to talk to Oliza,” Nicias was saying. “I—she—oh, gods.”

“Nicias, you can't!” I cried, spinning toward him. “She can't rule. You know that.”

He shook his head. “It isn't my decision.”

“It needs to be someone's,”
I snapped. “You of all people know the possible consequences if Oliza returns to the throne.”

“And
you
of all people know that Araceli's predictions are not to be trusted,” he replied. “Darien believes it is possible to protect any children Oliza might have, and Cjarsa trusts Darien's judgment. Since Oliza is returning only as Diente, she won't need to worry about choosing a mate the avians will accept—”

“Nicias, don't be a fool.” Instinctively, I reached toward him magically, trying to show him. If he could only see what I had seen—

Nicias recoiled, slamming magical walls between him and me so fast that I felt as if I had been slapped.

“Nicias, please, listen to me.” I begged without shame, but I could see in his eyes that it was no use. I had been careless in my haste and had warmed the seeds of mistrust that still lingered in Nicias from his time on Ahnmik. He had experienced firsthand how powerfully manipulative a falcon's persuasion magics could be, and he would not allow himself to be fooled a second time.

What he might never understand was that there was no magic more powerful than that his own mind could use to convince itself that it was right.

“Nicias, I have seen the future in which Oliza takes the throne. I have seen you screaming when—”

“You have said yourself, many times, that
sakkri
can be misleading. They can show us that which we most fear.” Before I could argue, he added, “You are not the only falcon who can spin a
sakkri,
Hai. Your mother has hope.”

“My mother can't see past Oliza's magic.”

“And Cjarsa?”

Was wrong. I didn't know how, but Cjarsa was
wrong.
Yes,
sakkri
could be misleading, but this one was too real. I believed absolutely that if Oliza took the throne, this world would be destroyed. Cjarsa feared the return of a wyvern so much that I could not understand how she could possibly be fooled by the hope that Nicias would be able to keep us all safe by binding the magic. How could she not
see
? Long before, it had taken all of the four falcons' power to tear Anhamirak's magic in half to keep it subdued. How could anyone believe that one prince, who had begun to study his magic only a few months earlier, could do what the high priestesses of Ahnmik and Brysh and the priest of Ecl could not?

“I will try to warn her of the danger, but, Hai, Oliza is all we have left,” Nicias said. “If you are afraid of what might happen, then
help
us. Your magic is as powerful as mine. I know it overwhelms you sometimes, but despite that handicap, you still wield it with more precision and power than I can. I do believe we can protect Oliza. I would like to have you on our side.”

I closed my eyes, letting a million futures drift before them. I saw Keyi. I saw fire, and I saw ice. I saw Rosalind weeping, Sive cold and dead, Nicias shrieking—

“I love you,” I said, opening my eyes. “I have come to care
for Wyvern's Court, and for Oliza. I do not know what Cjarsa does or does not know, or what my mother does or does not believe.” All I knew was that my mother would risk much to prove Araceli wrong and to get Nicias back on the island. “But I … I swear, I will do all I can to keep Wyvern's Court safe.”

To Ahnmik, who holds all vows true, this I swear.

“Speak to Oliza,” I said. “I will be here when you return.”

 

Oliza already didn't trust me; if Nicias wouldn't believe me, there was no use arguing with the wyvern. She would trust her loyal guard over any other falcon. However, I had spoken true when I had made my promise to Nicias.

Because he was wrong.

Oliza
wasn't
all we had left.

 

I walked through Wyvern's Court with a deep weight in my heart.

Nicias, you gave me this pain,
I thought, weeping.
If it wasn't for you, I would never have loved this land. I would never have needed to fight for it.

I found myself at the green marble plaza, at the very center of Wyvern's Court, regarding the tall marble statue there. The wyvern looked so proud and sure.

I knelt and pressed one hand to the statue's base. From this spot, I could feel the heartbeat of the land.

I could also hear the argument Nicias was having with Oliza. Though I was glad that some of my warnings had reached him, I knew they would not be enough.

“I'm not returning as wyvern; I'm returning as Diente,” Oliza said when Nicias pointed out, as I had, that there had been many reasons for her to leave the first time. “I need to fill only the one role, so there will be no conflict as long as I choose a serpent for my mate.”

“And your child?” Nicias asked.

This, too, Oliza had an answer to. “The Dasi's magic became unbalanced when Maeve left the coven, but there is a group where that balance has been preserved among her descendents.”

“Obsidian.”

“Yes. I wouldn't have been able to make the alliance as wyvern, but as Diente, I can. Their leader is …” Oliza's voice wavered a little. She had no words of love to speak. “He is not a bad man. He has been kind to me.”

 

I could already hear the child I had seen in the woods, Obsidian's wyvern child, laughing.

I closed my eyes and sent my spirit outward as I whispered a prayer to Ahnmik.

“White falcon, give me strength. Help me do what must be done.”

 

“Obsidian will make a good Nag. He leads well and is charismatic enough that I think he will be able to earn the favor of our people despite the prejudice against white vipers.”

“Your people will be uneasy enough about your choosing a new mate,” Nicias warned. “And even if you weren't pledged already, you know that the serpiente won't react well to anything they see as
a political marriage. It is going to be difficult to force a white viper on them at the same time.”

“I don't have a choice!” Oliza snapped, the words choked by sobs. “Gods … Salem.” She bowed her head, no doubt struggling to compose herself, to stop thinking of her dying cousin and her abandoned love.

 

Prying myself away from Oliza and Nicias, I turned my prayers to another deity.

“Anhamirak,” I said, “you have never answered me. The magic of my mother's ancestors ripped your serpiente worshippers in half, and all I have to call you by are the shreds left behind. I know that. But please, I'm struggling for your people now. Please, if ever you would help a mongrel, make it now.”

 

“It's the only option,” Oliza was saying.

“It isn't a perfect solution, but … there might be some way you could adopt—”

Oliza shook her head. “If all I wanted was to be safe from my magic, that would be the answer—but if I
must
do this, make this choice, then I want more to show for it than survival. The Obsidian guild has been abused by the Cobriana for millennia. Anjay Cobriana promised them equality, but his death destroyed that chance. My father was pledged to a white viper, and then ended up executing her. I have a chance to make this right.”

 

Oh, Oliza, there is no way to make this right.

“Ahnleh …”

What could a mortal say to the merciless Fate?

I forced myself to my feet.

A'le-Ahnleh
was the traditional end to a prayer. By the will of Fate.

“A'le-la,”
I whispered defiantly.

By
my
will.

I had plans to make.

 

When Nicias returned to Wyvern's Court, his steps were heavy with sorrow and exhaustion, and his beautiful eyes were distant.

“My love,” I said, greeting him.

He leaned against me. “I spoke to Oliza. She will be here in the morning and will speak to her parents, and then she will make the announcement of her return in the evening.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “It's all right,” I said. “We will make it all right. But you should rest for now.”

He took a deep breath and whispered, “Stay with me tonight?”

“Yes,” I said, the word a prayer. “Tonight.”

And then, the next day, I would lose him.

He lowered his head, and we kissed. It was sweet, and gentle, and it made tears come to my eyes.

“Just hold me,” I said. “I love you. Please believe that. Please trust me. I love you. I have always loved you.”

He kissed me again and then picked me up in his arms and carried me inside to his bed.

We wove between us the magic known by every lover—that powerful spell of passion. We slept side by side beneath soft blankets. We dreamed, accompanied by the music of our breath and heartbeats.

Peregrine and gyrfalcon wings, hair like sunlight tangled with strands the deep tone of a cobra's scales, skin like alabaster next to skin the color of honey, coated with a sheen of sweat. This was bliss.

The morning came too soon.

I dressed and then pulled open a drawer in the bedside table. Silently, I removed a small bundle, which Nicias had brought back from Ahnmik at the behest of my mother, and which had remained here in his home. I had not wanted it.

I still did not want it. Nevertheless, I unwrapped the hand-carved box in which my mother had kept all her mementos of my father. With shaking hands, I retrieved my father's signet ring. I stared at it for a long time before slipping it on.

“Please trust me,” I whispered again to Nicias when it came time for us to part.
Don't hate me,
I silently begged his still-sleeping form,
for what I am about to do.