The Shadowed Throne Read online

  “It’s too risky. If she dies, everyone’ll know it was me. There’d be riots. An’ she’s got her son an’ daughter all ready an’ waitin’ to take revenge—she made sure I knew it, too.”

  “If you do not kill her, she will kill you,” said Oeka.

  “If I ain’t careful enough, maybe,” said Laela. “I need her around for now.”

  “You do not,” said Oeka. “For now, she is a nuisance and a danger, and she is already beginning to stand in your way.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Oeka. I got a plan.” She turned to walk back into the Council Tower. “C’mon. I’m gonna go have a word with Inva.”

  That night, after dinner, Oeka and Laela retired to their quarters. Rather than go to bed, Laela followed her partner into the adjoining room that housed her nest and walked out onto the balcony. It had no railings and was meant as a platform for Oeka to take off from.

  Oeka accompanied her human into the open air. “Is something wrong?”

  Laela was looking out over the city. “Just came out here to see the view.”

  Oeka followed her gaze. “My vision is weak at night.”

  “Beautiful, though, ain’t it?” said Laela. She twined her fingers in her hair, looking almost dreamy. “My city. Look at them stars.”

  Oeka did. They didn’t look any different than usual. Bored, she sat on her haunches and began grooming her wings.

  “Just think,” said Laela. “Them stars are shinin’ on places I never been. Places that belong to me. My lands, from here all the way to the mountains.”

  Silence.

  “I never would’ve thought this could happen,” said Laela. “Me, a Queen. I was born a half-breed peasant who couldn’t read, an’ now look at me.” She chuckled. “Funny ole thing life, ain’t it?”

  “I would not have thought that I would have a human who was a Queen,” Oeka said eventually. “Though I knew I was destined for greatness. My powers would bring me nothing less.” She cocked her head toward Laela. “I feel them grow. Every day, I sense more and more. I scent thoughts, emotions, intentions. I learn to interpret those scents, and they tell me many things. Soon, I shall scent more than even that.”

  “Wish I could do that,” said Laela.

  “You do not need to,” said Oeka. “I shall tell you what I know.” She leant toward her human, air whistling through her nostrils. “I smell . . . uncertainty. But I smell another . . . something strong . . . you are pleased.” She stiffened. “Triumph. I smell it. It is growing stronger.”

  A slow grin had spread over Laela’s face, and she put a hand on her partner’s feathered shoulder. “Yeah. But yeh don’t need powers to guess that. Look.”

  Oeka turned her head, looking over the city again. Icy wind blew in her face, entering her nostrils. “I smell smoke. I see . . .”

  “Yeah. See it?”

  A dull red glow had appeared down among the lights of the city. It pulsated slightly, like a heart, and above it a column of smoke darkened the moon.

  “Fire!” Oeka exclaimed.

  “Yeah.” Laela rubbed the griffin’s head with her knuckles. “Pretty, ain’t it?”

  “The city is in danger. You should do something.”

  “Don’t need to. Saeddryn says the Night God don’t want me around—why should I care that her precious Temple’s burnin’?”

  “The Temple . . .”

  “It’s made of stone,” Laela said carelessly. “It’ll be saved. Can’t say it won’t be damaged, though. What a shame.”

  “You did this,” said Oeka. “You had the Temple burned.”

  “Now why would I go an’ do somethin’ like that?” Laela tucked her hair back. “Seems there’s a woman we brought back from Amoran what doesn’t like the Night God much. Got it into her head that Gryphus is the real god. An’ we all know Gryphus burns what makes him angry. If only the maniac hadn’t got her hands on a barrel of lamp oil an’ the key to the back door. Oh well, too bad.”

  Oeka’s tail twitched. “I see.”

  “They’ll catch her soon enough,” said Laela. “But she won’t stay in prison long enough to talk. I’ll have her executed straight off. Terrible crime, blasphemy. Meantime, if Saeddryn wants my money to fix the Temple, she’d better start singin’ the song I want to hear.”

  Oeka looked down on the red glow. “Truly, you are your father’s chick.”

  “I’m gonna be as dangerous to my enemies as he was,” said Laela. “But unlike him, I ain’t lettin’ her win. He left that to me.”

  Saeddryn had gone to bed early that night, wanting to be well rested by moonrise, when she would have to conduct the nightly ceremonies. Normally, the High Priestess would live in or close to the Temple itself, but she was a griffiner and owned some of the finest living quarters in the Eyrie. Her husband had shared them with her once, but that had been a long time ago. Now he had his own rooms, closer to where he worked. Saeddryn couldn’t sleep at all any more, unless it was alone.

  She curled up under her furs, frowning slightly as she drifted off. On her bedside table, a sprig of drying pine spiced the air. Lately she’d been having more trouble sleeping than usual, and the smell helped to soothe her. It took her mind back to an older time, when she would leave her home in the village and slip away into the mountains to be with her mother.

  Old Arddryn had always greeted her daughter formally—Saeddryn didn’t remember a time when she had smiled to see her. It was the ice, she used to think. All that ice and stone in the mountains. They got into a person’s soul.

  Saeddryn never blamed her mother for that inner hardness, never resented it. War took something away from a person, and years of despair took even more.

  I’ve become her, she thought sadly in the darkness. Old, one-eyed an’ bitter in the soul.

  And maybe, like her mother, she would be killed by Arenadd’s betrayal. His weakness.

  Saeddryn fell asleep with that thought, and it seeped into her dreams—tainting them with old fears, old resentments.

  Arenadd. Her cousin. So handsome. So strong. So far away. Everything she had wanted and always been denied.

  He smiled at her, but it was a wolf’s smile—a cruel smile. All you wanted, the smile said.

  Saeddryn realised there were people all around, hundreds of them. They were cheering, shouting, throwing themselves forward in joy. Cheering for me, she thought, for me, for me . . .

  Then she realised she couldn’t move. She was trapped, frozen in a block of ice, watching as Arenadd walked away into the adoring throng.

  The dream twisted, and a rush of confused sensations tangled themselves around her. Cold, so cold. Moving cold, cold clutching at her, embracing her, muttering and moaning in her ears, and she was helpless, sick inside with the knowledge. Isn’t this what you wanted?

  She woke up retching, confused by the sound of knocking outside.

  “My lady! My lady!”

  Saeddryn sat up, blinking. Her ruined eye ached horrendously, and she put her hand over it. “What? What’s that . . . ?”

  Light poured into her room, and a shadowy figure came with it. “My lady—! I’m so sorry, but something’s . . .”

  Saeddryn snatched up her eyepatch from the bedside table and got up, still wearing her woollen night-gown. “What’s going on?” she snapped. “This had better be important, or I swear—”

  The young woman who’d disturbed her was too distressed to bow. “It’s the Temple! Saeddryn, it’s burning! The Temple’s burning!”

  Saeddryn gaped at her. “What? What d’ye mean it’s . . . ?”

  “It’s bad, my lady. Very bad. They’re trying to put it out, but I don’t know . . .”

  Saeddryn felt as if someone had reached into her chest and tried to rip her heart out. “How?”

  “Deliberate, my lady,” the messenger gulped. “They already caught the o
ne who did it.”

  “Who was it? Who did this?”

  “I’m not sure. Garnoc has her down in the cells—they’ll be questioning her now.”

  Saeddryn was already pulling on a gown. “I’m going to go see this myself.”

  “Yes, my lady. Should I go tell the Queen?”

  Saeddryn stopped. “She hasn’t been told?”

  “Not that I know. I came to ye first.”

  “Go an’ tell her, then,” Saeddryn growled. But she already knows.

  She dressed as quickly as she could and almost ran into Aenae’s nest to wake him.

  The big griffin rose, huffing irritably. “What is this?”

  “It’s the Temple,” Saeddryn said. “The half-breed’s made her move.”

  “What of the Temple?”

  Saeddryn closed her eye for a moment. “She’s had it set on fire.”

  Aenae’s wings opened. “Our Temple?”

  “Yes.” Saeddryn’s fists clenched.

  Moving quickly and efficiently, Aenae unhooked his harness from the wall and tossed it at her feet. “Put this on me. We must go there at once.”

  Saeddryn obeyed, and, within moments, she was on his back, and he was taking off.

  The air was freezing outside, the night sky brilliant with stars. But they were all outshone by the terrible glow down in the city. Saeddryn saw the smoke blacken the moonlight, and her heart gave another, brutal wrench.

  As Aenae flew down toward her beloved Temple, she began to see the full horror of what it had become. The tower behind the dome had become a pillar of flame, red and orange tongues stretching high into the sky. The dome itself, made from stone, was veiled in a huge bank of smoke, and below it the windows threw ghastly orange light over everything.

  It’s the wrath of Gryphus, Saeddryn thought irrationally. The Night God has abandoned us for accepting a half-breed as our ruler. My Temple . . .

  Aenae landed outside the front doors. They were hanging open, and a group of priestesses were clustered outside, watching helplessly.

  They ran to meet their leader.

  “I’m so sorry, my lady,” one said. “There was nothing I . . . if only . . . oh Night God . . .” She broke down in sobs.

  Saeddryn stared stonily at the burning building. Not much was being done to save it—because there was nothing humans could realistically do against a fire of this size. Around it, people were climbing on rooftops, desperately throwing buckets of water over thatch to stop it from going up. At least there didn’t seem to be much danger of the fire spreading—there was a decent amount of open space around the Temple that had managed to stop that. A few small patches had spread, though, and people were fighting those instead.

  The priestesses, many of them actually trembling with the shock, kept close to Saeddryn—silently asking for her protection and help.

  “Who did this?” she asked eventually.

  “Blasphemer,” the Bear priestess spat. “One of the Queen’s Amorani blackrobes. I caught her while we were escapin’.”

  “Did the Queen send her?” Saeddryn asked, very quietly.

  “No,” the Crow priestess said at once. “She’d never be stupid enough. The blasphemer was a madwoman. She babbled on about how Gryphus made her do it, said he came down from the sky an’ commanded her.”

  “What she said doesn’t matter,” said Saeddryn. “We need to find out—”

  “No-one lies that well,” the Crow priestess muttered. “No-one.”

  They stood in silence for a long time, too stunned to do much beyond try to comfort each other without words.

  Even Aenae looked shaken. He circled, like an anxious dog, keeping close to his human but obviously unsettled by the flames.

  Something crashed and broke inside the Temple, and the fire flared up briefly. Saeddryn jerked away in fright, her hand groping for support. Aenae was there at once, and she leant on him, pressing her face into his neck. “I can’t take this,” she whispered to him.

  Aenae stilled. “I will stop this,” he said. “Go to your friends.”

  Saeddryn moved away from him, proudly refusing the help of the other priestesses. Aenae took a few steps toward the fire before hesitating, bathed in its light. He was a handsome griffin, with his father’s black and silver mixed with his mother’s grey and autumn brown. His eyes, though, were an extraordinary silver-blue, narrowing against the glare from the fire.

  He stood very still, apparently thinking, and then prepared himself—subtly altering his stance to make himself firm and steady with his paws well on the ground. His wings lifted slightly and his tail twitched. Then, suddenly, it stopped.

  Aenae’s whole body became stock still, and a moment later he lifted his head, opened his beak wide, and unleashed his power.

  Blue light poured out of him in a torrent, forming a column like a concentrated jet of water. It punched straight through the Temple doors and into the heart of the inferno.

  For several long moments nothing changed. Aenae, unmoving, poured his strength into his magic, which continued to rush out of his beak and throat without slowing. The fire raged on.

  Then it faltered. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the angry orange of it began to fade. The smoke thinned, and the flames licking around the windows receded. Above, the tower crumbled and came crashing down, but the fire that had consumed it had died down. When Aenae finally closed his beak and slumped onto his belly, the Temple was still burning—but only a little. The worst was over.

  Saeddryn finally dared to go to her partner’s side. “Aenae, are ye all right?”

  He turned a glazed eye toward her. “My own power. Great enough.” The eye closed.

  The Wolf priestess put a hand on Saeddryn’s shoulder. “He’s not . . . ?”

  “He’s just resting. Leave him be.” Saeddryn looked up at the blackened shell of the Temple. “He’s saved it . . . or part of it. An’ we’ll rebuild it,” she added. She raised her voice. “We’ll rebuild it! Our Temple will come back, greater than ever before—I swear it on the Night God’s holy name! An’ the one who did this will feel her rage—but not before she’s felt ours.”

  Yes, she thought privately. Whoever “she” might be.

  5

  Riven

  The council met in the small hours of the morning, as the sky outside began to turn grey. It was a messy and undignified affair—nearly all the councillors were bleary-eyed and had obviously dressed in a hurry. The griffins were irritable and kept shifting in their places, eyeing each other distrustfully.

  Only Laela and Oeka looked calm. The Queen wore a beautiful black gown with a gold sash sewn with jewels, and the crown rested neatly on her head. She probably had had even less sleep than everyone else, but she looked possessed by some energy that kept her alert. Beside her, Oeka was as glossy and quietly smug as always.

  The mere sight of them made Saeddryn sick with hatred. She had intended to approach the situation as calmly as possible, but when she saw the half-breed standing there, radiating triumph, it was too much.

  She ignored all protocol and spoke out before everyone was in place. “My Temple is destroyed. I demand justice.”

  From the way the councillors reacted, it was obvious that they all supported her. Saeddryn felt some of her confidence return. “Who did this? Who’s the filth that committed this crime?”

  “Calm down,” Laela smoothly advised. “The poor lunatic was caught. I’ve just had a report from Commander Garnoc.”

  “I know that!” Saeddryn spat. “I want t’know who! Who is she?”

  “One of our people brought from Amoran,” said Laela. “Went by the name of Tyria, or so I’m told. Seems she converted to worshippin’ Gryphus. Got all sorts of mad ideas. Garnoc’s men have been trying to get information out of her, but she ain’t sayin’ much that makes sense. Looks like the whole t
hing was just a sorry accident. But don’t worry—she’ll be dealt with.”

  “Enough about that,” Torc interrupted. “Our Temple is in ruins, no matter why it happened. What are we going to do about that?”

  “Rebuild it, of course,” said the Master of Building.

  “Yes, an’ I’ll be happy to provide all the fundin’ yeh need,” said Laela, while looking straight at Saeddryn.

  Saeddryn gritted her teeth. “I’d expect nothing less.”

  “Well of course,” Laela smiled sweetly. “Anything to help out my dad’s beloved cousin. Now then, I’m sure our friend the Master of Buildin’ Stuff here can start organisin’ everythin’ the moment the sun’s up.”

  “I certainly can,” the Master of Building said stiffly. “As soon as I’ve rounded up the manpower.”

  “An’ I’m sure we can rely on yeh for that,” said Laela. “Fundin’s up to me, an’ I’ll see what I can do. Of course,” she added, “all this means there’ll be some trouble with my womanhood ceremony. An’ me an’ Saeddryn were just plannin’ it yesterday an’ all.” She shook her head sadly.

  “I’m sure we can find somewhere else, my lady,” said Iorwerth.

  Laela looked thoughtful. “I’m sure there are other sacred places that might be right for it. Lady Saeddryn, what d’you think?”

  Saeddryn’s eye burned. She opened her mouth to say no—to shout no. To curse the half-breed for the traitor and blasphemer she was. But an inner voice stopped her. It was the same voice that spoke up sometimes, when she was in trouble. The voice of reason. It was always the voice of her mother.

  Stop. Think.

  Saeddryn made herself breathe calmly. She bowed slightly and fixed a respectful look on her face. “My Queen,” she said. “I know a perfect place.”

  The others there looked curious.

  “Go on,” said Laela, watching her through narrowed eyes.

  Blue eyes. Bile rose in Saeddryn’s throat. “Yer own father went through his manhood ceremony under my mother’s eye. But not here. His ceremony happened a long way away, high up in the mountains. Once, those mountains were the only place we could live free. There’s a place there that’s more sacred than our Temple ever was.”