Shrouded Sky (The Veils of Lore Book 1) (19 page)

“You know you must undergo examination first.” Her eyes narrowed. “What a pity it would be if I found you lacking,” she said.

“I assure you, I’m not lacking. If anything, this test has made
me more duty sworn.”

“Test?”

Orryn went down on one knee. “Yes, and I bow to your wisdom for it, my Lady, for what greater way for a Pedant to prove his loyalty to you than to face his base desires and come out the victor over them.”

The Sovereign rose from her seat slowly. “Come to me then,” she said, “and we shall see who is the victor and who is not.”

Chandra stared
as Orryn knelt before the throne. The Sovereign’s slender white hands gripped his head, and the look on her face was as calm as his was pained. He cried out and went limp, but strangely he did not fall. The Lady’s hands were like a vise around his skull, holding him firmly in place.

Fear for Orryn swept through Chandra’s veins, sparking an unexpected impulse to save him. She looked at Jhon, her eyes seeking advice, but he had resumed his seat and was focused on the Sovereign, his face void of expression.

Orryn groaned, redirecting Chandra’s attention. A new wave of emotions clawed through her: surprise and confusion, followed by anger and frustration. Orryn was in pain, yet somehow she knew that were she to protest or allow her feelings to show, the Sovereign would make him suffer all the more for it.

Chandra fisted her hands at her side. She desperately wanted to help him, but her instincts told her one did not question the Sovereign. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything but the pain she knew Orryn must be suffering.
The palace,
she told herself. Perhaps if she accepted the Sovereign’s disciplines, she herself would one day live there, like she once pretended as a child, when she would put on her mother’s skirts and pull them up under her arms, and wear a paper crown and gaze out the window, waiting for her prince to rescue her from dragons.

A loud hiss sounded in her mind.
Dragons
. Chandra blinked opened her eyes, realizing the Sovereign’s form was morphing into a filmy shape. It was still the Sovereign, and yet it wasn’t. Her dark eyes were now glowing like coals, and her skin, once smooth and white, was scaled like a reptile, its forked tongue slipping in and out of her thin-lipped mouth.

Chandra took a startled step back.

Jhon half rose from his seat, but then he glanced at the Councilmen on either side of him and quickly resumed his place. He narrowed his eyes at Chandra, and like magnets her pupils were drawn to his. Jhon’s expression did not change, his mouth did not waver, yet Chandra felt a strange calm wash over her. She turned her eyes back to the Sovereign and realized how truly beautiful she was, how gentle her hands were as she cradled her knight’s head, how sweet her kiss was as she planted it upon his brow.

The Sovereign let go her hold on Orryn and he crumpled to the floor. The Lady stared down at him, breathing hard. “Councilman Seth,” she said. She sank back onto her throne.

Jhon rose. “Yes, my Sovereign Lady.”

“You may take your son home.” Her eyes slid to his. “But he is to go nowhere else unless it is to come to me.”

“Yes, my Lady.” He bowed his head respectfully. “When do you wish to see him again?”

“When he is worthy.” The Sovereign waved her hand then let it drop as two guards rushed forward to lift Orryn’s unconscious body from the floor.

“And the Imela, my Lady?” Jhon asked cautiously. “The Council was under the impression you were to examine her also.”

“It was my intent, but . . . I will consider her later.” She leaned her head back against the throne and closed her eyes. “Until then, you and the Council are in charge of her,” she said wearily. “This meeting is adjourned.”

The Council members rose from their seats and filed out of the chamber.

~~~

It took little coaxing for the Council to agree to Master Seth’s request: he would temporarily house the Imela if they would agree to discuss the possible ramifications of her ancestral memory. Within moments a carriage was called to whisk Chandra, Jhon, and Orryn from the palace, and as it did Chandra pondered the events unfolding around her. Not only was the carriage they were travelling in like something out of a fairy tale, but the handsome knight lying unconscious on the seat across from her was possibly the most romantic figure she had ever seen.

Jhon, whose hand had been on Orryn’s forehead since they’d entered the carriage, leaned back on the seat next to her.

“Is he sick?” Chandra asked with growing concern.

“Yes, very,” Jhon replied.

“He’s—he’s not going to die, is he?”

“I will do all I can for him.”

Chandra bit her lip. “Is this what would have happened to me?”

“No. This is different.”

“So why didn’t she examine me?”

“Something happened with Orryn. I’m not sure what, but it appeared to have sapped the Sovereign’s strength. This has never happened before, at least not that I know of, but it was lucky for you that it did.”

Chandra gazed out the carriage window. The scenery swept past like a movie going from fast to slow, grainy to bright. At times the carriage was slowed by crowds in the marketplace, allowing her to watch mobs of strangely dressed citizens weaving and haggling amongst stalls of produce and assorted wares. Other times the carriage swayed noisily down dark cobbled alleys, the walls on either side of it blocking the sun in shafts of darkness. As she watched the city speed past, Chandra realized it was nothing like the fantasies of her childhood. In those, everyone lived happily ever after. Here, the possibility of a tragic end lay within inches of her.

The carriage came to a stop and the door swung open. Nyal and Bren, the two attendants who had met them the night before, lifted Orryn out of the carriage and carried him toward the house.

Mayra and Tiersa were out the door before the men could reach the steps.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Mayra cried.

Tiersa rushed toward her brother. “Orryn!”

“Not here,” Jhon said. “Nyal, Bren, get him inside.”

They all hurried into the house. Jhon ordered the men to take Orryn to his room, while the rest of them followed. A rush of footsteps echoed down the corridor as the staff hustled to attention.

Chandra hovered just inside the bedroom door as the family gathered around the four-poster bed where Orryn was now sprawled.

“Draw the curtains, Tiersa,” Jhon ordered. “Nyal, Bren, keep watch outside the house. If anyone approaches—and I mean anyone—notify me immediately.” He stepped to the bed. “Mayra, alert the servants that Orryn is ill and must not be disturbed.”

“Can you save him?” Mayra asked frantically.

Jhon remained silent.

“Jhon!” She grabbed his arm.

“I will do what I can,” he said.

“What do you mean, do what you can?” Tiersa demanded. “You’re the one who put him in this state!”

“No,” Jhon said. “The Sovereign put him in this state. She examined him, then performed lavation immediately after.”

Mayra gasped. “Without time to recover? But why would she?”

“I don’t know,” Jhon said. “All I know is I closed passageways and opened others so she would see only what we wanted her to see. If she did to him what she did out of anger, then her reason for doing so was based on something else.”

“But what could he possibly have done?” Mayra asked.

“Only Orryn knows the answer to that,” Jhon said. “Or maybe he doesn’t. Regardless, he’s paying the price for it now.”

Jhon unclasped his Council robe and removed it, then tossed it aside. “Get that out of my sight,” he said, rolling up the sleeves of his tunic.

Mayra picked up the robe and headed out the room. “Florie,” her voice could be heard saying in the hallway. “Take this to Master Seth’s chamber, and tell the other servants that we are not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Florie said. Her footsteps hastened down the hall.

Mayra reentered the room. Her eyes fell on Chandra. “The Sovereign allowed the Imela to return with you,” she said, surprise in her voice.

“Yes,” Jhon replied. He felt the pulse in Orryn’s neck. “His heart is strong at least. Tiersa, run to my study
and bring me the bottle of borro.”

Tiersa nodded and hurried out.

Chandra stepped hesitantly to the bed. “Orryn,” she said. She rested her hand upon his cheek, trying to comfort him, but as she did a powerful surge of energy coursed through her veins. Images flashed inside her head, appearing and shifting, linking and unlinking. She jerked her hand away.

Suddenly she felt dizzy, disoriented. Mayra grabbed her by the arm to keep her from falling and guided her to a nearby chair. “What is it, girl?” she asked.

“I—I don’t know, pictures—in my head—so fast.” Chandra closed her eyes to keep the room from spinning.

“Jhon,” Mayra said.

He looked at Chandra with confusion. “I only linked her conscious mind to past imaginings,” he said. “What she describes makes me think something has caused the pathways to disconnect.” Orryn groaned and Jhon turned back to him. “Take Chandra to Tiersa’s room, Mayra. She just needs to rest.”

“No,” Chandra said, rising unsteadily to her feet. She took a step toward the bed. “I have to be here.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Jhon insisted.

Chandra could barely breathe. Orryn was her friend, her link, her only ally. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t! “I’m staying,” she said, grabbing his hand in hers. She held it tight, but this time there was no energy, only skin against skin, and his as cold as ice. She lifted a blanket from the foot of the bed and pulled it across him.

Jhon planted a hand on Orryn’s forehead. He closed his eyes, concentrating.

Tiersa ran into the room. “Here’s the borro,” she said breathlessly. “How is he?”

Jhon straightened and took the bottle from her. “We need to get this down him, all of it.”

“What will it do?” Chandra asked.

“It will help him stop fighting.”

“Stop fighting? Don’t we want him to
keep
fighting?”

“No,” Jhon said. “The Sovereign planted terrible images in his mind, and he thinks they’re real.” Jhon narrowed his gaze at her. “I fear you play a role in those images, Chandra.”

“What?”

“I saw Orryn’s mind just now, briefly, but enough to know the Sovereign performed lavation while he was in a far too weakened state. It appears that during her initial examination she found something she didn’t like. That alone could have given her reason to slay him, but instead she chose to hurt him. By making his worst fears seem like realities, she has arranged for his two selves to battle each other: he that would fight for her vs. he that would fight for, well, you.”

Chandra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Orryn had never given any indication that he liked her, much less cared for her, yet now Jhon was implying his son had feelings that went beyond duty. Were they real? Or were they something that had been planted in Orryn’s head? But even more importantly, what would happen once he was free of them? “If you give him this,” she asked, realizing the greater issue, “will he no longer care what happens to Tygg, or to me?”

“Perhaps. But if the Pedant in him is not the victor, the Sovereign will slay you both anyway, and Orryn along with you.”

Chandra let go Orryn’s hand. “But you said, he said, that if we were both able to get into her graces we could find a way to save Tygg!”

“That was before.”

“So now you’re saying there’s no hope?”

“For Tygg, little. As for you and Orryn . . .”

“This can’t be happening.” Chandra began to pace, then stopped suddenly. “What if neither is the victor?” she asked. “What if it’s a draw or there’s a truce?”

“The Sovereign Lady has set this as a fight to the death. To defy her would not be worth the risk.”

“But it
is
worth the risk! If the Pedant wins, then Orryn loses. And if he loses, what are the chances you’ll ever get your son back?”

“She’s right, Jhon,” Mayra said, stepping forward. “Orryn has sacrificed enough.”

“But Mayra, all that we’ve worked for.” Jhon shook his head. “No. It’s too soon.”

“All we’ve
worked
for?” Mayra said, her temper rising. “Our son is dying!”

Orryn groaned, and Mayra rushed to his side.

“This is the only way,” Jhon said.

“No!” Chandra snatched the bottle from his hand. “I won’t let you do this.”

“Don’t be a fool.”

“He needs a fighting chance!”

“She’s right, Father,” Tiersa said.

“But if the Pedant in him loses, the Sovereign will not let Orryn live,” Jhon said. “Don’t you see? We’ll lose him either way.”

“For once let Orryn be who he is!” Tiersa said. “Don’t you think he has a right to it?”

“I don’t think Orryn has a chance of winning this one,” Jhon said sadly.

“But he does have a chance,” Chandra insisted. “You said yourself, I’m a part of the fears the Sovereign planted in his mind. So let me try to reach him. Maybe I can convince him that I’m not in any danger, and—”

“And what?” Jhon asked.

“That the illusion isn’t real, but I am.”

“At least let her try, Father,” Tiersa said. “Please.”

Jhon looked at Mayra. She nodded, signaling she agreed.

“Very well,” he said, though he clearly wasn’t convinced. “Chandra, you may try. But if you fail, if he can take no more of it, he drinks the borro. Understood?”

“Understood.” She stepped to the bed. “I think it would be best if you left us alone.”

Jhon glanced anxiously at his son.

“Come,” Mayra said to him, then to Chandra, “We won’t be far. Call if you need us.” The three of them exited through the door, closing it quietly behind them.

Chandra felt a pang of doubt as she looked down at Orryn. She’d been given a chance to reach him, to save him, but in truth she didn’t know where to begin. All she knew was that he was hurting, maybe even dying, and if the Pedant in him took over fully, not only would Orryn be lost, but Tygg would die and she would become a slave to the Sovereign—if she survived at all.