Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3) Page 3

  The city rose around us expansive and almost Mundie futuristic. Metallic looking buildings with strong architectural arches and rising staircases carried my gaze over the empyreal landscape. The city wasn’t composed of skyscrapers. Most of the structures didn’t exceed five or six stories, but the hustle and gleam of the surroundings felt very metropolitan.

  In the distance, a massive, bronze palace melded into the solid rock of the mountain beyond. With the afternoon light streaming in from above, spires and parapets shone like liquid caramel, reaching up to the bluest sky I’d ever seen.

  I turned a slow three-sixty, my ears still thrumming with the rush and crash of water. Ocean waves crashed against an iridescent dome covering the entire city. I followed the line of shimmering silver, bronze and brass spires. Up and up, I followed the arc of an iridescent field. Amazing. It was like one of Jade’s privacy bubbles, but it domed the entire city on a massive scale.

  Freya and I were helped out of the wading pool by two uniformed guards wearing bronze, sleeveless breastplates, black Kevlar-looking pants and metal wrist cuffs. They each held a six-foot staff with runes running the length of the weapon. Without a word to either of us, they resumed their posts as soon as we descended the six steps into the bustle of the walkway below.

  “Follow me,” said Freya as she moved into the crowds.

  Well-polished citizens draped in silken chitons and richly colored tunics made their way along glittering walkways and across wide, expansive courtyards.

  I’d been invited to the most elaborate toga party ever.

  I glanced back to the guards at the pool and others at the gates and bridge posts. Sleek, black armor, military stance, and a ranking system that could be indicated by the color banding the shoulder brackets of their chest pieces. My inner warrior nodded in approval.

  After checking myself out, I nodded. Passable. My new Jimmy Choo boots were fab and I still had on my leathers, my long-sleeved Under Armour and battle-vest from my 5th period weapons class. I quickened my step to keep up with Freya as she crossed a maze of bridges and paths over and along a complex system of canals.

  Water crafts hummed up and down the crisscrossing waterways. I couldn’t hear if they were motorized over the sound of water crashing. “How can you stand the noise?” I shouted to Freya. “It’s deafening.”

  Two women ahead of us jumped and turned.

  “Then turn it down.” Freya rolled her eyes. “In your head.”

  I stared at her for a moment and she rolled her eyes again. “It’s as basic as it gets,” she said. I followed her lips, thankful that lip reading was a mandatory surveillance study for the Talon. “For goddess sake, you’re a water Fae.”

  I am? I laughed without humor as my ire rose. Good to know. Fine. If I was some lost descendent of one of the water Fae races I should be able to affect water, right. Hells, yeah. Silence, I thought. Be quiet. Nothing happened. Enough. Freya was fighting back a condescending smile, which just added fuel to the fire of my mood. Turn. The. Fuck. Down.

  I huffed and turned away from my new-found sibling. Picturing the noise as static coming out of a stereo I reached for my mental volume control and turned down the dial.

  “Ha!” I shouted as the rush quieted to a background buzz.

  When I glanced back to Freya she frowned. She swept her straight, jet black hair over her shoulder and strode off again. “You’ll stay at the Palace, of course, until after the celebration of our sixth. Then all Eligibles move to our new homes.”

  “Cool. What’s—All of us? How many of us are there? And what are we eligible for? And what race of Fae are we, cause I’ve tried to figure out for years where I come from. I’ve researched them all. And if I’m staying at the Palace why are we going into the town?”

  She sighed heavily and eyed me up and down. She fingered my battle vest and glared at my leathers. “You can hardly go before the Queen looking like this.”

  Freya’s shoes click-clacked over another wide waterway that passed between a light gold office building and a chrome restaurant. With her skirts fisted in her hands, she booked it toward what looked like a busy part of the city. The gathering of her skirt exposed her feet and the gorgeous pair of midnight blue, open toed sling-backs she wore. Well, whatever her shortcomings in hospitality, she had good taste in footwear.

  After a few more twists and turns down side streets and across storefronts, the street opened to a large courtyard. Bronze, metallic trees lined the streets on all four sides, bordering a wide, cement courtyard. From each of these fake ‘trees’, two or three shiny chrome, hula-hoop swings hung with teenagers perched and twirling in rotating circles. The reflection of the surrounding water pathways bounced off the hoops and glittered in sparkles around the courtyard giving everything a kind of happy-happy kaleidoscope feeling.

  “Oh, my.” Freya froze then double-timed it along the row of storefronts. “Over here. Hurry.”

  A crowd had gathered in the courtyard, voices meshed in raised whispers. I scanned the group and my heart beat faster. I had always stood out because of my size, or lack of it, but here I fit right in. The men were slightly taller than the women, but everyone seemed to have features which either matched mine or accented them. Could this really be where I came from? Where I belonged?

  “Would you hurry up?”

  I jogged after my sister. “What’s the crowd gathering for? What’s doin?”

  “Nothing you need worry about.” Freya climbed the three steps to the entrance of a dressmaker’s shop and knocked on the door. “Simply a worthless lawbreaker getting his due.”

  The door of the dress shop opened and a little man stepped into the doorway. His high-pitched trill cut through the hum of the bustling street. “Princess Love, come in, come in. A courtyard beheading is no place for you and your friend. Such nasty business. Come in.”

  “Beheading?” I cast a glance over my shoulder. From the store stoop I could see a dozen men in battle-gear standing on a raised platform at the far end of the courtyard. They were erecting what could only be . . . “A guillotine?”

  The dressmaker winced, ushering us in to the elegant shop. “Nasty business. Nasty indeed.”

  After closing the iron door, the little man drew the window shades. I wasn’t sure if he had inherited some dwarfism through genetics or if he was suffering from a physical condition. The man barely topped four foot and his legs were proportionately smaller than his upper body. His skin had the faintest green tint to it and his hair was a wiry mass of white standing on end. It gave him the appearance of a summer dandelion gone to seed.

  “Who have we here?” He hobbled in a quick circle around me. “Obviously an Eligible. That cannot be mistaken. No. But who? Who indeed. I know all the Princesses—” His eyes lit as his mouth fell open. “You’re the one. You are her. The missing. . . Oh, my. Oh, my, my.”

  Amused by the total befuddlement of this odd, scattered man, I offered my hand. “I am Alexannia Grace.”

  As the dressmaker gasped, Freya grabbed my wrist and pushed my hand away. “Eligibles do not touch the common.” She turned to the man, who was dabbing his wrinkled brow with a swatch of bunched up linen. “Stop sniveling, Stitch. She doesn’t know her place. She never had a mentor.”

  “No mentor?” His eyes softened with an unmistakable sympathy. “How awful for you, Princess. To be taken from your home and not have a mentor.”

  “I’m sorry.” I said, rubbing my temples. “I didn’t mean to upset everyone.”

  Stitch waved my words away and tucked his hanky away “Shall we find you something to wear that exemplifies Grace as the virtue it is? You did say you were the Princess of Grace, yes?”

  I caught Freya’s nod and repeated it. “Ah . . . yes, that’s right. Grace.”

  Apparently, my second name was the virtue I represented and the Princess of Grace should be decked from toe to ear lobs in lavender. A lavender chiton with a smooth lavender rope twined around my waist and a lavender choker. I adjusted the gown
where it gathered over my left shoulder. That, at least was good. If I needed to draw a weapon, I wanted my right arm free. I checked out the look from every angle, pivoting in the mirrored room Stitch and I were in.

  It wasn’t hideous. Actually, far from it.

  And other than giving me a hard time about strapping my thigh sheath under my dress and the fact that I preferred boots to the shoes he insisted I wear, Stitch had been decent about trying to not make me too much of a Faery creampuff. He was right though, I loved the brushed velvet platform pumps.

  “Do you have a gown ready for your Sixth-day celebration?” Stitch asked.

  “Yeah, a Vera Wang strapless—” I sighed. That dress was hanging in the Haven castle awaiting the bacchanalia ball that was scheduled to take place in six days. Not that anyone in my family seemed all that enthusiastic about it. I bit my lip and shook my head. At least here, my birthday was an event to be celebrated. “I have a beautiful dress in the other realm. Do you think I could send for it?”

  Stitch shook his wispy, white head, looking mildly affronted. “I’m afraid not, Princess. A few years back Attalos went through a bad time. The city was sealed off from the other realms and the nobles forbade further import from the two realms. Attalos builds on its own foundation now.”

  “Oh . . . I see.”

  “Don’t let that sadden you, Princess, I have long finished the preparations for the other Eligibles and will dedicate my undivided attention to creating something spectacular for you. If you wish, of course? I would never overstep.”

  As he pulled out the fabric swatches again and started to fidget and pat, I shook my head. “No. I’d love to see what you come up with. Should I come back for a fitting tomorrow?”

  He lowered his eyes and wrung his hanky in weathered but nimble hands. “Could you give me two moonrises? I must send for a few things from the middle rings. I do apologize.”

  “The middle rings?”

  Stitch dabbed his forehead with his fabric hanky again. “My apologies, Princess. Attalos is laid out with the palace and water lands serving as the nucleus of our world and then the other Faery elemental lands expand in great rings. Next to water is earth, then wind and the outer ring is fire. It rests against the far edges of the cupola shield. I will have to get the permits to import what I need from earth and wind, but I am sure the result will be well worth it.”

  “No worries. Two moonrises it is.” After Stitch and I exited our little funhouse of mirrors, I joined Freya where she’d propped herself on the counter by the door. She was peeking outside from behind the shade, obviously unamused by our little Project Runway.

  I patted the pockets of my leathers as I folded them and slipped them into a woven bag I’d been given. “How should I pay you for my gown?”

  Freya let out a horrified squeak.

  Stitch shrugged. “I am in lifelong servitude, Princess. All I have is yours to take. There is no cost to you or anyone of the royal line.”

  To take? Before I could respond, Freya grabbed my wrist.

  “We have more important issues to address.” Freya pushed the door open and dragged me out behind her. “We’ll never get back before the Queen retires if we don’t get going.”

  I barely snatched up the bag with my Haven clothes before she yanked me out the shop door. “Thank you, Stitch,” I called over my shoulder. “I appreciate your help.”

  Freya stopped as if she’d hit an invisible barrier and whirled, her lips flapping a mile a minute. It took me a second to turn down the sound of the ocean again, but I got the gist of her rant. “—servitude, for goddess sake. You are an Eligible. Why don’t you get that?”

  “He is a man who spent the better part of the past two hours with his shop closed so he could dress me. A quick thanks is the least I can offer him, especially since he won’t get paid. And since we’re on the subject, how is that right?”

  Freya rolled her eyes and I had to stop myself from smacking her. That was getting real old, real fast. “What does it matter? He’s in—”

  “—servitude. Yeah, I got that.” With my temper raising I felt the tension snap in the air of the courtyard around us. My instincts kicked into high gear and I reached for my knife. Right. Damn. I hated being light on steel. I glanced into my bag to ensure my battle-vest weapons were within reach.

  Freya cast me a dirty look before turning a saccharine sweet smile toward an officer moving to join us amongst the now dense and unsettled crowd. “Master Constable Estes.”

  “Princess Love.” The officer bowed as he stopped before us. Standing more built than any other man in the crowd, Estes reminded me of the warriors of home. Thick, dark hair pulled back in a queue, charming smile and biceps the size of my head. He wore a guard uniform, like the others, but his chest plate was brass instead of bronze and he wore a full, indigo cape instead of the colored banding strips across his shoulder brackets.

  “What are you ladies doing here unattended?” Without waiting for our reply, he raised a long, gold whistle to his lips and after two short peeps and one long, two more soldiers cut through the throng of the crowd to join us. “Return the Princesses to the Palace. I don’t trust this mob and I wouldn’t want anything unforeseen to happen.”

  Mob? It looked like a whole lotta normal people worked up about a guy getting his head lopped off. “Actually, I’d like to see what’s going on.”

  “That isn’t possible, Princess. This is a military matter.”

  I lifted my wrist to the Master Constable and called my brand. As the enchanted ink of Talon’s signature golden hawk prickled onto my skin his eyes widened. “I am a Talon warrior, a military enforcer in all realms. Don’t let the gown and heels fool you, Master Estes.”

  I’m not sure the officer knew what to make of me, but he made a valiant effort to smile. “Be that as it may, I don’t think that under the circumstances, that is such a—”

  “I can decide for myself, thanks.” My gaze shifted back over the crowd. The shrill call of Estes’ whistle seemed to have drawn the attention of more than the two soldiers. I was stunned at how many people were throwing thinly veiled scowls our way. “Who is the man being taken onto the block and what exactly is his crime?”

  Estes looked at me, then to Freya.

  “Excuse me.” I waved my hand between them and snapped my fingers. “I asked you the question. Not her. Now tell me, who is the lawbreaker sentenced to die?”

  Estes narrowed a dark gaze on me and I saw the warrior within him rise. Despite his air of refined civility, the man didn’t like being on the receiving end of an order. “He is a betrayer of the Queen, Princess, and before you ask, he has confessed and has accepted his sentence. This is a fully sanctioned execution. No need to concern yourself.”

  Over the heads of the crowd I checked out the bronze stage. It glistened in the descending sun, casting copper light up the stone wall it backed against. A man with disheveled brown hair was led across the raised platform to the guillotine. By the slow shuffle of their procession and the awkward gait of the prisoner, his feet must have been bound at the ankles. He wore what once had been an elegant tunic, now ripped and stained with blood. Apparently, other forms of penance had already been exacted from him.

  With the guillotine’s blade and mouton rising toward the late afternoon sky, a pompous man, wearing a long red coat and a golden sash, strode to the front of the stage. No matter the land or realm, there was no mistaking preening politicians.

  Raising a scroll before him, the man read aloud, “Balor, fourth generation breeder to the Queen, barer of Eligibles, has been charged with the following crimes: concealing the birth of an Eligible from the Queen, unlawfully rearing said Eligible for two cycles, accessing the portal pool without permit, traveling beyond the boundaries of Attalos without permit . . .”

  The crowd buzzed with a cacophony of gasps and chatter as the orator continued.

  My stomach twisted, my mind numb. Was he saying . . .

  The prisoner shuffled to the
front of the stage heavily favoring his left leg. Battered purple and blue, he straightened to his full height. The hum of the crowd fell silent as he cleared his throat. “I, Balor, seven-time breeder to the Queen of Attalos, confess to all charges and make no apology. The child left in the Realm of the Fair was placed with a host family of my choosing for her own good. Neither she nor her caregiver knew of my deception, actions, or intentions and should not be held responsible.”

  The man with the sash grabbed a fistful of Balor’s hair and yanked his bowed head up to face the crowd. “You see, he confesses and shows not a kotyle of remorse. And how did you breach the City safeguards and enter the Realm of the Fair undetected—”

  That’s my father.

  The world spun as the pounding of water crashed inside my head once more. I tried to Flash up to the stage, but my power didn’t come. Grabbing shoulders, I squeezed past bodies, forcing my way through the blurred and swirling crowd. The words from the stage were swallowed by the buzz of my own blood thundering in my ears. With my legs and arms heavy as I continued my struggle, it was like swimming with lead limbs to an ever-distant horizon.

  “—and you swear no one helped you open the portal pond. You had no aid or accomplice in your actions?”

  He smiled then, and I could see what a handsome man he was beneath the violence of his situation. “I do so swear.”

  The politician scoffed. “A confessed betrayer of our Majesty’s grace and a righteous kill for us here today.”

  “No,” I gasped, unable to find my voice. Listing to the side, I grabbed another woman, still well back from the stage and tried to straighten. “Stop this.”

  With Balor’s admission complete, two uniformed soldiers walked him around the back of the structure and laid him along the bench. I’ll never make it. Balor’s hands and legs were strapped down. His head rested in the bottom lunette. They lowered the top piece to encircle his neck.

  I’m not sure if he heard my screams or sensed me somehow, but before the blade fell he found me amongst the crowd. The sheer joy that stirred in his soft eyes shattered me to my depths. His irises were violet, like mine, his nose a bit bigger, but the same shape. “Alexannia,” I heard in my head as if a memory unlocked, “my sweet daughter.”