“And he gave her corpse to the Black Camellia. So she could never be used as a vessel.”
Liz’s ears pricked up. “She was a vessel?”
“For the Faerie King. Just as, I am told, Artheus was a vessel for the Spirit King.” Meteia paused to take a sip of water. All the talking seemed to have dried her throat. “After that, he lived for vengeance. He hunted down the primozlosta, plucked out their manastones, and cut the head off the Demiurgos’s body.”
And it had turned out that after absorbing such a variety of curses, Hiro no longer needed a vessel of his own.
“But they’ve made him...thin. Like he’s teetering on the edge of nonexistence. And the balance could tip at any time. That’s why it would be unwise to let him fight the Demiurgos.”
No one could predict what might happen if he did. If they wanted to save him, they would first have to force the Demiurgos back into hiding. Only then could they concentrate on unraveling the curses within Hiro, hopefully before his body failed.
“His time is limited,” Meteia said, “but it is not a matter of days. There will be time to attend to him after we deal with our more pressing problems.”
“That’s good to hear,” Liz said. “I just hope he stays put in the meantime.”
“He would not if he could help it. That’s why I relieved him of the Black Camellia.”
“He shouldn’t be able to pull anything with Scáthach on watch, but we shouldn’t let our guard down.”
“I’ll visit him later,” Aura said.
“Good idea.” Liz smiled. “Do tell him off for me while you’re there. It might get through if it comes from you.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. The trio turned as one.
“It’s Garda,” said a gruff voice from outside. “I think we should talk.”
＊＊＊＊＊
“Lady Aura has arrived, or so I have heard.” Scáthach’s shoulders shook as she stifled a giggle. “I can only imagine what she will say about your present embarrassment.”
Hiro could only smile ruefully. After all, he had no one to blame for getting locked in the dungeon but himself.
The guards returned from the dining hall, and they looked scandalized by Scáthach’s amusement. In the eyes of those who worshipped the Spirit King, laughing at the king of Baum bordered on blasphemy. She was still their superior, however, so they had no choice but to stand back and watch the exchange unfold.
“You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t beat you silly with the Black Chronicle. Let me warn you, it’s surprisingly heavy.”
“She wouldn’t use that as a weapon.”
“She might if she was angry enough. Then she’d make you read it cover to cover and write an essay before the sun was up.”
“I shudder at the thought.”
Aura’s love for Mars was intense to say the least. She would no doubt thrust the Black Chronicle under Hiro’s nose the moment she saw him. Scáthach sensed more amusement in her future.
Unfortunately, the tide of history had not released its hold on Hiro just yet.
“Never mind,” he said, gaze shifting past her shoulder to something behind her. His relaxed demeanor was nowhere to be seen. “I don’t think she’ll have the chance.”
Seeing the change in his face, Scáthach realized an intruder had entered the dungeon. She spun, calling Gáe Bolg to her hand.
“Identify yourse—”
She slammed into the ground as if struck. The guards flew backward, crashing into the walls. In an instant, the corridor was filled with unconscious bodies—an uncanny sight, at the center of which stood an even more uncanny figure.
“Finally, you show yourself,” Hiro said. “Took you long enough.”
The perpetrator was a young girl of fewer than ten years. In her hand rested a crimson flower known as an anat, a rare blossom that grew only in the north.
“Why did you not heed my advice?”
She spoke with the hoarse voice of an old man, or perhaps of an old woman—it was curiously androgynous. Ignoring one’s ears, she seemed every bit a delicate young girl, but ignoring one’s eyes, she seemed something else entirely; an unsettling disparity. Hiro, however, was unperturbed. Not only did he know her, he had been waiting for her arrival for a long time.
“It’s been too long, Spirit King. Where have you been hiding?”
The girl lodged the lotus-like anat in the bars of his cell. “You ignore the question. Why did you not do as I asked? I warned you of the consequences countless times.”
Hiro snorted at the Spirit King’s arrogance. A provocative grin took root on his face. “And end up with the Lords fighting for control of Aletia a second time? Not a chance. You would have undone everything we fought for. You shouldn’t be surprised that I headed you off.”
“Perhaps not.”
The Spirit King’s voice was dreadfully empty, devoid of joy, sorrow, or anything else. Even Hiro almost questioned whether the entity before him really existed at all. Yet that was the way of the Lords of Heaven—they regarded the world with doll-like impassivity, never showing emotion, acting as if all the world was an open book to them. The one exception was Surtr. If anything, he had been too forthright with his feelings. But the rest of his brethren followed the habit of the Spirit King, displaying no interest in others, pursuing their own desires to their exclusion of all else, harboring no mercy even for their own siblings. In their eyes, the people of Aletia were nothing more than toys, and fragile ones at that.
The Spirit King held a black mantle through the bars. “Put it on.”
“Why?” Hiro paused. “Actually, how did you get that?”
The Black Camellia had been in Liz’s keeping. It was hard to believe the Spirit King could have stolen it from her. Even a Lord would not have emerged from that confrontation unscathed.
“Do you think it beyond me to fetch an unattended item from an empty room?”
She made the task sound far easier than it was. Then again, a Lord would have the advantage of being invisible to Liz’s Far Sight, and it was doubtful anyone on watch was equipped to detect the Spirit King’s power.
“If you give me that back,” Hiro said, “you know what I’ll do.”
The Spirit King nodded. She was undoubtedly plotting something, but whatever it was, he could not read it. He narrowed his eyes, but she only tossed the Black Camellia into the cell.
“Do as you will.”
“Excuse me?” Hiro cocked his head. It almost sounded like she was conceding, but that was absurd. She still had cards to play. It was all too obvious this was a trap.
“I will not disgrace myself with futile resistance. And more to the point, the future you will bring is the one I desire.”
Was she lying or telling the truth? It was impossible to tell beneath her haughtiness. Hiro had always disliked that about her. He had never managed to provoke jealousy, hatred, or anger from her, no matter how much he tried to goad her. She was as impassive when her plans failed as when they succeeded, always working mechanically toward her goals, making and disposing of enemies and allies alike as necessary to adjust her plans. Out of all the Lords, she was perhaps the most relentless.
“How magnificently you surpass my expectations. Perhaps that is why I can concede with grace.”
Her praise sounded sincere. It did not seem to be for Hiro, however, but rather for someone else who was not there.
“I repeat, do as you will. I lost this contest a thousand years ago.”
She passed through the bars and approached him, holding out her hand.
“But do not forget that all dance in his palm.”
In her palm rested her core, a Lord’s only weakness. Hiro regarded it warily but took it nonetheless.
“The Demiurgos won’t have his way,” he said. “I won’t give up as easily as you did.”
A dazzling light spilled from the core. It grew blinding to look at, brilliant enough to set the world aflame—and for just an instant, it banished the darkness.
＊＊＊＊＊
“Please, come in,” Liz said.
The door opened to reveal the burly, lilac-skinned figure of the zlosta Garda Meteor. After a fateful meeting with a slave girl, he had once roused a slave rebellion in Lichtein, only to be defeated in battle by Hiro and the armies of the empire. In exchange for that girl’s safety, he had sworn Hiro his loyalty.
“My thanks,” he said, stepping inside.
“You aren’t usually the type to listen at doors.”
Garda rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Forgive me. Eavesdropping was not my intention.”
Indeed, he was not at fault. Liz had called for him and he had duly complied. She had not foreseen that she would be discussing Hiro with Aura when he arrived, or that their conversation had caught his ear. Nonetheless, he had overheard something he was not meant to know. He lowered his head in unreserved apology.