VIII. The Enemy's Interlude

The throne room of Arcem Tenebris was a massive chamber, the apex of its arches and the limits of the walls lost in shadow. It gave the impression of being lost in an ocean of night, the only light coming from dim, flickering, colorless white flames that burned in steel braziers without putting off smoke. The inconstant illumination gave the shadows a life of their own. Laenus was lost in the depths, a wavering dream-figure allowed to visit this place by virtue of sorcery alone. The massive pillars and the great throne at the end of the hall dwarfed even most demons. Even knowing that his physical body was back in Tamaris was no protection from the wrath of the Divine Prince. If Saraqael became angry, he could use sorcery to burn Laenus's body from the inside out so long as this connection remained open. That mix of dread and awe was making the Immortal's whole body shake slightly as he made the long walk to the foot of the throne.

Saraqael was there, black robes disguising much of his silver skin. Laenus could see the flash of the massive fire opal set into that gleaming golden diadem as the giant figure lifted his head, turning away from his contemplation to regard the man before him. Being under the gaze of those flawless, expressionless obsidian eyes was like being ripped open and placed beneath a magnifying glass for the closest of inspections. The Divine Prince's beautifully symmetrical, silver face carried no human expression. He was forever calm, forever pensive, forever perfect. There was no external sign of thought—no tapping fingers or biting of a lip or furrowing of a brow—nor any other emotion or process that mortals wore so plainly on their fragile bodies.

You have not fulfilled my expectations of you, Immortalis. The inhuman, deep, musical voice echoed in Laenus's head without needing to pass through his ears. Saraqael did not, as a rule, refer to his Immortals by their personal names. He seemed to feel no need to grant them so much individuality. As far as Laenus could tell, they were all interchangeable to the Divine Prince with one apparent exception. That is an unenviable position for you to be in. The task I set you was a simple one, one which you demonstrated an aptitude for previously. How is it, then, that you have not completed it? Those unblinking eyes didn't even flicker. Speak.

Laenus dropped to his knees in front of his master. "Divine Prince, she has many allies. She is more protected than she was before."

What you call protection is sentiment, a force turned against its wielder more easily than any other weapon. She has given you many avenues to strike at her from in the form of her associates. The most parsimonious explanation is often the most correct one, and that explanation at present is that you are infirm of purpose, Immortalis.

The Immortal went white as a sheet despite his naturally tan skin. "I swear to you that is not the case, Divine Prince," Laenus blurted out.

Are you now wiser than I?

The Immortal was drowning in icy fear. "Never, Divine Prince," he said. "I just—"

Hush. I will remind you of the barest taste of failure, Immortalis. Let us see if the lesson adheres sufficiently.

There was no gesture or incantation necessary, only the crushing and complete domination of Saraqael's will. Laenus felt his body engulfed in horrific, freezing pain. It was worse than any frostbite a physical body could ever experience. It was as though Saraqael had snuffed out every hint of life inside him. The Immortal started to suffocate, his body slowly dying around him. He couldn't move his hands to claw at his own throat or catch himself as he fell. He became a motionless heap on the floor, unable to twitch or scream or weep. After an eternity, the feeling slowly began to return to his limbs. He was so cold and hollow, but he was alive again. Laenus had felt what it was to die without actually being allowed to die.

Do you remember now, my inconstant one?

Laenus opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He had to nod instead. He was too cold to even shiver, barely oriented to where he was and what was happening.

I take no pleasure in this, Immortalis. It is merely what is required. Nothing more, nothing less. Ilex must be made to turn to me again. That cannot happen while she is clinging to her fragile, make-believe world. The army she is building to resist me will shatter. Her alliances will crumble. In time, she would understand her mistake. But in this case, there is a narrow window of opportunity before the other princes begin to understand my intent. You will break Ilex. You will burn everything that she loves to ashes, but you will leave her untouched. Then she will have no choice but to return.

The Immortal nodded again before gathering his fading courage to speak. "Naris has been working to destroy the Queen, Divine Prince," he croaked.

And her efforts thus far have been inefficient and timorous. The time for indecision, for hesitation, is long since passed. Eternity calls, Immortalis. You are not made to fear meeting it. Remind Ilex of her place, as I have reminded you of your own. Do what necessity demands, nothing more and nothing less. Do as I bid.

"I understand," Laenus whispered.

See that you do.

There was a horrible wrenching feeling and then Laenus was back in his trembling body, staring wide-eyed at the far wall. He could taste copper. Blood had dripped out of his nose and stained the pillow and the sheets at some point while he was dream-walking. Naris was sitting in a chair at the bedside, her expression for once without a smile. Her face was still scored by angry, red scratches from Lieren's nails. It was unpleasant-looking, but she would heal without a scar. Laenus felt another shiver run through his body. How was he still so cold? He knew better than to bother fumbling for the blankets. They would do him no good. This was ice of the soul, not the body.

"He was displeased," Naris observed. She knew the look of an Immortal who had been on the receiving end of Saraqael's displeasure. She'd never experienced it herself, but she was familiar with the after-effects. Laenus would not be himself for some time.

Laenus nodded jerkily. "We've been too cautious," he said. "Too slow."

Naris frowned. It was highly unusual for a Prince of Iron to rush anything. They were patient creatures, always calculating carefully. For him to push them along meant something important was pressing. "If anyone would understand that such things require time, it would be the Divine Prince," she murmured.

"He is concerned about the other Princes intervening," Laenus said. He didn't understand why.

The elf looked as puzzled as he felt at that notion. "Why would any of the others care about one little failed Immortal?" Naris asked.

"Because she's special," he said bitterly. "He even called her by name. We need to think of something now. If something were to happen to the Queen and her little friends caught the blame for it..."

"Yssans are naturally suspicious of things that are different. It wouldn't be overly difficult to push Fionn in that direction." The elf's green eyes turned thoughtful. "But now that I think about it, we've overlooked quite an obvious line of attack. One a great deal more defenseless than the Queen of Yssa."

Laenus felt a slight tightness in his stomach that had to be anxiety. It was an unfamiliar emotion, but he was in more danger now than he had been in a long time. At least, if he followed through with this. He had an inkling of what the elf was talking about. "He's Fionn's son as much as the Queen's. If we get caught—"

"It doesn't matter if we get caught. This is the end of the world, Laenus. If everyone knows that it happened because of her, even if we are caught, the focus and much of the blame will rest on her. I can think of nothing better for alienating her from the Queen and ending her time in Yssa. Oh, her friends might rally to her, but I think she can safely be relied upon to pull away from them out of guilt. Besides, there won't be proof if we're careful."

He felt a growing horror at the idea. Ilex was not a kind creature. If she suspected anything... "There doesn't have to be proof!" Laenus hissed. "I've seen what Ilex is capable of doing to people she likes and respects. She turned Palisandru into a forest of impaled bodies, and she thought the Oameni were honorable people. I can't even imagine what she would do to someone she hated if given that kind of cause."

"We have Fionn's protection," Naris reminded him.

"You do!" Laenus ran his hands through his short hair to keep himself calm.

"So you would rather disappoint the Divine Prince?" The elf was smiling now. "What better way to drive Holland back into Saraqael's arms than remind her that she hasn't really changed at all? We have a duty, Laenus. Shrink from it because you're afraid if you like, but I fully intend to attend to reality. I'm certain the Divine Prince will be most understanding of your qualms."

Laenus pulled in a deep breath. The elf was right: they had no choice. That meant engineering a successful attempt without implicating himself directly, just in case they needed Fionn to push her out. "There are those who hate the Yssan Crown enough to do it. I'll arrange something."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Naris's amusement was easily readable. "Comb the dungeons for your recruits. Perhaps kill a few to assure the guards that cruelty is your intent. I'd prefer we do it ourselves, but there's merit to operating remotely. Do make certain they're capable, however. Little Devyn is protected."

"Not as well as the Queen right now." The Immortal got up, smoothing out his pants more to steady his quaking hands than to remove the wrinkles. "What happened with the elf witch?"

"The orc hauled her away. Hopefully the creature's medicine infects a wound and kills her," Naris said venomously.

Laenus smiled faintly. He wasn't certain what Lieren had said to get so deep under his companion's skin, but it was somewhat satisfying to see the perpetually put together elf spy come apart at the seams with anger, whatever the reason. It was also certainly amusing. However, the task ahead of him was not. He was certain that even without proof, Holland was going to snap and attack him. Maybe it would get her cast out of Yssa again and maybe not. Fionn was a reliable enough protector, but the Queen had become much more powerful since Holland's initial exile. It was possible that she might even overrule him.

After all, the woman was building an army to take on the Princes of Iron. It was an army destined to failure, but the fact that she'd managed to work so hard to create it without being discovered was impressive. Eventually, he would need to tell Naris that was what Seva was doing, but for the moment he was fine with leaving the elf in the dark. Her job was to keep her hooks in Fionn.

"And Lord Gray?" Laenus asked as he pulled on his shirt.

"Kicked back into obedience by the Queen, of course. I managed to overhear most of it," Naris said. She looked pleased with herself. "Something has certainly changed in her. I think we managed to finally push her over that edge. A heart of stone. I think it will drive a wedge well between her and Holland."

"I don't understand what Holland sees in her."

"She's a lovely creature, Laenus. Even you've commented on it once or twice."

He shook his head. "It's not about that. She's as devoted to the Queen as she was to Saraqael. If a pretty face were enough to do that, she'd be yours or Lieren's in a heartbeat."

"Perhaps she sees something in the Queen that she can't find in herself," Naris said with amusement. "Does the reason really matter?"

"I suppose not." Laenus went over to the bowl of water standing on the table and splashed his face with it. It felt warmer than his own skin. Once he had scrubbed his face with the towel, he continued, "I just...I remember Ilex. She didn't care about anything but duty. People made her a lot of offers over the years to distract her. Every vice you've ever thought of. She always did what she was commanded anyway, putting the whole lot of them to the sword. A pretty face was no more protection than wet tissue paper. Even the ones she admired or respected, like Adriana Vãduva. You might have thought they were just wheat and she was nothing more than a scythe, for all the concern she seemed to have. I can't imagine anything to make her change. Not even what I did."

"It's a fine act," Naris said. "But did she really change? No. You can cut away the flesh, but the bone remains. She will always be Saraqael's Invicta. This little endeavor of ours will show that, by the end."

Laenus nodded. That was much easier to believe than a genuine transformation. The niggling little voice of doubt didn't quite go away, though. And if Ilex really had changed, what did that say about him or what he'd done? They called her the Lady Penitent. What had it taken to make her feel regret? Was this his doing or her own?

"It seems I have work to do," Laenus said almost absently, his thoughts churning. "You?"

"I have a wound to rub salt into," Naris said pleasantly, standing up. "I'm sure Fionn will be unintentionally obliging."

Laenus shook his head slightly and chuckled. The world could change, but Naris remained a constant. The Queen would be seething at the very least by the end of the day. "Enjoy your work."

The elf's response was airy as she breezed out the door. "I always do."