The twice cursed serpent, p.25
The Twice-Cursed Serpent, page 25
But if Bethrian did kill them, how would he explain the loss of two Soul Carvers? The emperor wouldn’t care as much about Caes. But Alair? And Cylis? What accident would Bethrian use to explain that? Caes prayed wordlessly to whatever creature, spirit, or demon that would listen for Alair and Cylis to escape—run—far from here. If she had the power, she would have thrown everything she had at this wish—it was the only hope she had left.
She wouldn’t make it. They still had a chance.
“Let’s get this over with,” the bearded guard said. “It doesn’t make it easier for any of us for this to drag on.” Caes smirked. Of course—they needed to worry about this being “easy.” Hopefully her death gave them nightmares.
“Yes.” The young guard turned his attention to Caes. “Do you have any gods you wish to pray to?”
“No,” Caes said, bowing her head. May the guards rot in the lowest hell, reserved for traitors. “As far as I’m concerned, the gods are as dead as I will be.”
The bearded guard nodded, went to the chest, and opened it, revealing an array of weapons and small vials sitting in pockets along the chest’s edge.
“Choose,” the guard said, motioning Caes over.
Caes crept forward. The three guards tensed behind her, and Caes expected a stab in the back at any moment. Not like she could do anything about it. She peered into the chest at what would be bringing her death. And she found she couldn’t choose.
“The poisons are painless. We made sure of it,” the young guard said. Caes focused on the two little gray vials.
“Are they different types of poisons?” Caes asked.
“Yes,” the guard said, his eyes downcast. “One takes longer than the other...I thought you’d like the choice.”
“Hmmm...” Caes slowly reached towards the vial. She survived a poisoning once. Maybe she could do so again.
“I need to warn you,” the young guard said, “we were told there can’t be a repeat of what happened in Glynnith. As soon as you fall asleep, we will toss you from the highest tower.”
So much for that plan.
“Ah,” Caes uttered, trying not to reveal that she’d been thinking the same thing. “Though” —she turned to the young guard— “I’m finding the choice of weapon less important than how it will be used. And frankly, at this point, I wish you had made the choice for me.”
“I told you this was going to be a waste of time,” the third guard said, speaking for the first time. “Just pick a dagger and be done with it.”
“A dagger is fine,” Caes said, taking a few steps back towards the center of the room, while the bearded guard pulled a dagger out of the sheath at his side. Her breath quickened and her eyes homed in on the blade.
If only Alair would run. That Cylis would run. That they would make it out of here.
Run.
Run.
The guard held out his dagger, a long blade with a black leather-wrapped hilt. With an executioner’s heavy stride, he stepped towards Caes.
“My only condition, my lord, is that you face me,” Caes said, her voice breaking.
Emotion swept across the bearded guard’s face, his stoicism cracking. “My lady, I—”
“Stop. Just get this over with.” Caes wiped her eyes. There was no point in being afraid of the pain—she had already suffered enough. But she was afraid of what would come next, after death. Would she see her father? The goddess who failed her? Or was there nothing? And Alair....now she’d never know what would have happened next. If they ever would’ve been able to be together. If she would have been able to piece a life together once more.
“Alright. I can do that much for you.” The guard faced Caes. Caes stared him in the eyes.
In a panic, Caes muttered every prayer she knew at once.
The guard thrust his hand back to strike Caes in the chest. Caes froze, preparing for pain. Suddenly she gasped, which seemed to echo through the room like thunderstrike and a shudder wracked through her.
The guard stopped. His mouth dropped open as he stared at Caes. At her eyes.
Her eyes. Did they...?
Without thinking, Caes rushed forward and grabbed the knife in the guard’s hand by the hilt. He recovered from his stupor at the same moment Caes’s hands wrapped around the dagger, and the two of them crashed and fell to the floor, trapped in a deadly struggle for the blade. He was much stronger than her, much larger—this wouldn’t be a long fight.
While the two of them fought, the other guards rushed towards them, and then the door burst open. Instantly, Caes was overcome with a blinding headache, her vision nothing but searing bright light. Unable to think from pain, Caes thrashed and screamed on the floor, lost in agony. She was vaguely aware of the guards grunting and screaming, and a wet warm liquid covering her arms.
Soon the pain evaporated and Caes’s vision cleared. She rolled over and surveyed the wreckage.
The bearded guard laid on the floor in a circle of crushed ice, blood streaming from his head. The two other guards lay still, nothing moving other than the blood pooling from wounds in their stomachs. Bloody ropes emerged from the wounds and splayed out on the floor. All the bodies were covered in ice, which had frozen them in place and emerged from every orifice.
Cold breath tickled Caes’s face. Cylis crouched over her, his eyes glowing dark blue, his swollen face covered with purple blotched skin. Light frost spread across his body, a web of ice, culminating in his pained breaths.
“Cylis...” Caes said, weakly lifting her hand.
Cylis reached out a hand, his other clutching a bloody dagger. “Come,” Cylis said, helping Caes stand. She yelped from his cold touch. “We need to go.”
“I’m bleeding” —Caes reached at the bloodstain on her dress— “no...it’s not mine...”
“It’s alright.” Cylis gripped her hand and tugged. “I’ll explain later.” They took two steps before Caes stopped at the body of one of the frozen guards. What the hells did Cylis do? Cylis did all of this? Wordlessly, Cylis pulled Caes away, down the hall back towards their rooms.
“Why—where are we going?” Caes asked.
“No choice—we’re leaving the estate, but we have to go to your room. The rest of Bethrian’s guards will know something is wrong soon enough—if they don’t already—but if we don’t grab you a cloak, you’ll be dead from the cold.”
“The main hall, the one near the entrance,” Caes blurted out, “they always have extras there.”
Without looking at her Cylis nodded, changing their course for the main hall. They moved down hallways and into the courtyard, avoiding a dozen guards and servants who scurried about, seemingly oblivious to what had gone on in the fortress. They paused at the entrance to the main hall, which led to the estate’s main gate. “Wait here,” Cylis said. He rushed into the main hall, a blur of ice and blade as he attacked the guards. Apparently, he thought it best to use his element of surprise.
Cylis was a marvel. Each guard fell before him, clumsy oafs in comparison. Ice erupted from everyone he touched. What his blade didn’t kill, his ice finished, rendering them into a pile of ice and gore.
No wonder Malithia conquered so well.
Cylis spared the servants—he merely dodged and knocked them on the head as needed. All deadly blows were saved for the guards, and only those stupid enough to get in his way.
While Cylis fought, Caes dove into the small closet next to the door. Frantically, she dug through the closet, grabbing the first things that caught her eye. She tugged on thick boots that were too small for her and three cloaks, two of which she threw over her shoulders. Would Cylis even need a cloak? She grabbed one for him anyway.
“Alair,” Caes said when Cylis returned. His face was now a deep plum color, his mirrored bloodshot eyes lined with frozen tears that were plastered to his skin. The dashing man was completely gone, replaced by this swollen, grotesque monster. The monster who had saved her life. Cylis wordlessly grabbed the cloak Caes handed him, lightly throwing it around his shoulders.
“We need to get Alair,” she insisted.
“We need to go, Caes,” Cylis grabbed her arm with his piercing cold hands. Caes screamed from the pain while he tugged her towards the gate.
Caes dug her feet into the slushy snow. “I’m not leaving without him.”
“You have to.” Cylis stopped and turned to her, his eyes wide and angry, a terror of ice and blood. “You want to die? This is how that happens. He’ll be fine. They won’t kill him. He can take care of himself.” Cylis grabbed Caes’s forearms and urged her on.
“But the guard said—”
“They won’t. Trust. Me.” His words hit her like a hammer. Trust Cylis? After everything?
She did.
Women screamed in the corners of the courtyard and the sound of thundering footsteps echoed inside the estate.
“Why are you helping me?”
“I’m sworn to.” Cylis tugged her away, and this time Caes followed, but not before casting a look back to the estate, where somewhere, Alair was trapped. “Hurry, Caes,” Cylis insisted. “He’ll live. But you won’t unless you move! He wouldn’t want you to stay. You know it.”
He was right. Alair wouldn’t want her to stay.
Caes swallowed her sobs and followed Cylis.
They ran past the stables, opened the gate to the servants’ entrance, and rushed onto the snow-covered main road. “Horses,” Caes cried. “Shouldn’t we take horses?”
“Too difficult in this terrain. None are ready to ride,” Cylis said, dragging Caes along. “Trust me—just run.”
He didn’t mean…he did. They were going to run through the woods, off the main road. Together, they left the road and entered the forest, leaving Caes stumbling on slick rocks and logs. Cylis kept her upright, but the mountainous terrain was treacherous. That was the point—Bethrian wouldn’t be able to take horses after them. Dashing through the rocky, snow-laden wilderness, as opposed to the open, flat roads, was their best chance at escape.
They ran for what felt like hours through the snow and ice. Thorns and branches caught Caes’s thin skirts and ripped at her legs. Her blood dripped onto the snow, leaving a red speckled trail of pain. Cold air burned her throat, her lungs, each breath driving her further into frozen misery.
Would it end? Would it ever end?
Finally, Cylis led them into a small stone enclosure, a shelter from the wind. Exhausted, Caes collapsed next to Cylis, who wore his cloak wide open, welcoming the cold on his bare skin. His face had mostly turned back to his normal skin-tone color. There was no sign of his Soul Carver power, other than the frozen tears at his eyes and the blotchy purple skin on his hands, and his black nails.
“Here,” Cylis said, moving to give Caes a little room against the rock. “They won’t be able to follow us for some time. Rest. We have time. Rest.”
Caes’s eyes darted around. Every bush and tree seemed to be hiding some pursuer. “They won’t search for us?”
“They will, but not tonight,” Cylis said, his mirror eyes reflecting the moonlight. He gave Caes his familiar condescending glance. “If you need some peace of mind, while I don’t have enough strength now to kill more than a dozen of them, I can still do enough. Rest.” Caes opened her mouth, but Cylis interrupted her. “And not one word about Alair. I promise, he’s fine. Keep this up and I’ll toss you in the snow.”
There, that was the Cylis she knew.
Caes nodded, having no choice but to accept that answer. Struggling to get comfortable on the rock, she resisted the urge to lean against him as a source of warmth—there’d be none from Cylis—before wrapping her cloaks over herself as best as she could. She slept fitfully, and when she woke, she discovered the third cloak draped over her as well.
Chapter twenty-seven
Caes awoke in the sea of pine trees, with the sun creeping over the horizon, and snow blown in massive drifts around her.
In this wintery lair, the prior night was nothing more than a nightmare. From here, she could see Bethrian’s estate, a little dot against the mountainside. Too close. They were too close.
“Cylis. Cylis? What had happened last night?” How was she still alive?
Caes rolled over and she found him, sitting cross-legged a few paces away, staring at the snowy landscape. He still wore only his shirt and breeches—apparently, he had no need of a cloak.
“I don’t know what happened myself,” Cylis muttered. “Except—I’m sorry, Caes.”
I’m sorry. Did Cylis really say that? To her? Caes must’ve hit her head. No, he was looking at her with such a pained expression...
“And I am sick of hearing that,” Caes said. Cylis’s expression turned to annoyed while Caes ranted. “First the guard, and now you—”
Cylis smirked, apparently amused by her outburst. “I doubt the guard was truly sorry.”
“No matter. Why are you sorry now? I didn’t know you were capable of that feeling.”
Cylis rubbed his face with his hands and sighed. His nails were still tinged dark purple, and parts of his skin carried frost etchings. Did using his magic help him handle the cold better? Or was his appearance merely a side effect of being surrounded by ice?
“I am sorry,” Cylis said, “because we thought you’d be safe here. I was wrong. I knew that Bethrian had goals with Seda. Alair did too—he trusted that Bethrian would not anger the emperor—neither of us considered that he’d dare take it this far.”
“Really?” Caes said, disbelievingly, not angry at Cylis so much as herself for not seeing through Bethrian sooner. Oh, she was aware he wanted something, but her death? That was unexpected. And it almost killed her. Caes wrapped her cloaks tighter around her. Bethrian may still kill her yet.
“You don’t understand how unexpected Bethrian’s actions are. How could you? You’re Ardinani.” Cylis shook his head slowly. “Even Bethrian’s personal circumstances aside, for a lord to kill a ward of the emperor, in his own hall, who was a guest—such a thing is a great offense. Both under the law, and under the eyes of the divine.” Cylis held her gaze. “And you don’t know what it is for a Soul Carver to fail at protecting their charge.”
His pained expression took all the fight out of Caes. Cylis was before her, more vulnerable than ever. Oh Cylis…he really was upset.
“I don’t blame you, Cylis,” Caes finally said. “I didn’t notice anything about Bethrian sooner. I should have. And if it wasn’t Bethrian who acted, I’m sure Seda would have found some other way. There’s nothing we could have done.”
“Maybe. But she didn’t. This was the one she chose, and she chose it well.”
Caes faked a smile. “Besides, you don’t like me anyway, why would you care about what happens?”
“Like has nothing to do with it.” Cylis huffed. “You could be a cantankerous bitch for all I care. Some days you are. Like I said, I was charged with protecting you.”
“By the emperor?”
Cylis scoffed. “That oaf? No. There is one that I am prepared to take any orders from, that we all do.”
“Karima?”
“Who else? We all swear in her name to protect our charges. No matter who they are.”
“Alair said you owed him a favor.”
Cylis’s eyes narrowed. She had touched a nerve. “And what, exactly, did he tell you?”
“Only that he helped your family. And that you owed him.”
After a long moment, the anger melted from Cylis’s face. “I see. And I take it you want to know what he did?”
Caes did not answer.
“Maybe someday I will tell you. But” —Cylis coyly raised a finger to his eye— “you have been keeping secrets of your own. You’ve never mentioned your eyes. Which may explain a few things. What are you hiding, Ardinani?”
Caes quickly covered her eyes. Dammit, she had all but forgotten. Why didn’t he mention the damn thing sooner? Then again, would glowing eyes be remarkable to Soul Carvers? Probably not.
Cylis watched her reaction. “Not the first time this has happened, I take it?”
Caes slowly lowered her hands and sighed in resignation. No point in hiding it now. “No. The last time, Alair fixed it. A temporary fix. Obviously.”
Cylis stared at Caes in disbelief. “Huh. I am not sure how he managed that...but I don’t talk to Alair much for a reason. A habit you should consider.”
“So, you don’t know what this is either?”
“Nope. But whatever it is, hiding it was probably the smartest thing Alair ever did for you—while taking up with you was probably the dumbest.”
It was Caes’s turn to ignore Cylis—and just how much he knew. “What happened to you and Alair? The last I saw, at dinner, he was so tired.”
Cylis leaned back against the stone, groaning while he stretched. “That’s the thing. We were served wine, good wine too, and something about it felt off. I don’t know how to explain it. Just, I decided to only take a few sips, while Alair had a single glass. I figured if everything was fine, I’d get drunk in my room later.”
“Charming.”
“Hey—guarding you is dull work. Most days. But right when I was about to settle in with my bottle, I felt a... tug.”
“A tug.”
With the deftness of a skilled magician, Cylis picked up a handful of snow and started forming it into a ball, his skin turning a sickening black and blue while his magic grew the ball in his hand. “Something told me to run. I remembered that the guards didn’t take you in the direction of the lord’s rooms, so I went the way I saw you go last. I grabbed my weapons, followed the stairs to the lower levels, heard you scream, and that was it.”
“And slaughtered three guards in the process.”
“They didn’t give me much of a choice.”
He had a point. The guards were probably under strict orders to kill anyone who interrupted.
“And the others?”
Cylis huffed. “My priority was keeping you safe. His men would’ve at least stopped you, killed you at the worst. Either was unacceptable.”
“What will they do to Alair? The guards said—”
“Can’t you think of anything else? Dammit, Caes. We are in more than a bit of trouble here.” Cylis pointed to himself with his right hand, while the left held the ball of ice. “I won’t freeze to death.” He pointed at Caes. “You are another matter. And I’m next to useless for keeping you warm. We have no food. No shelter.”
