In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(101)

We checked every chamber in the hall, knowing the key would unlock each one, fully expecting to find nothing of consequence within. It was a strange place to keep Eusia, but I would throw open every door, search every chamber, just to be certain.

Lachlan and Agatha followed me back out into the hall, toward my guards, when one of the doors ahead of us opened. I yelped and reared back, bumping into Agatha as I did. Of course the whole place was riddled with tunnels and hidden halls, just like Fort Linum.

Agatha’s fingers dug into my arm as we took in the imposing, serene figure of the empress. There had always been an undeniably heartless quality to her, and I would expect nothing less of a ruler with such vast control, but even in her quiet stillness, that quality seemed magnified now. She was laden in shadow, the outline of her tall crown tilting to the side as her head cocked to study us.

Lachlan pulled his sword and placed himself in front of me and Agatha. My guards ran down the hall too, weapons drawn at her back, but Nivala was tranquil. She raised her ring-studded hands. “What a fuss. You fools must know that if you kill me, every one of you will die a miserable, torturous death. Don’t you?”

“I’m quick and efficient,” Lachlan growled. “No one would know until we were long gone.”

Agatha took a small step forward. “Lach. I’d rather we just go.”

Nivala righted her head at Agatha’s voice. “Oh, hello, again.” She gave a regretful shake. “I do hope you can forgive me. When Halla told me what you were, that Queen Imogen cared for you… well, I had no choice. I needed Ligea’s daughter, you see. And there was no getting her alone.”

Anger congealed in my middle. “You have me now,” I said, with a heavy dose of ridicule.

Even in darkness, I knew that the empress smiled. It curled the ends of her words. “Not quite.” She turned and started toward the end of the hall, where my guards stood. “Come along. It’s clear you want a tour of Fort Vuoria. Let me give you one.”

This moment with her was unavoidable. One way or another, she would have found me and gotten me alone. “Only if my guards come.”

She gave a low chuckle. “Oh, yes. Your little collection of sailors. You may of course bring them along.”

Lachlan scowled at me over his shoulder. “No, Imogen. It’s a bad idea.”

“I know.” But I’d not come all this way to avoid danger. I came to look it square in the eye. “We’ll follow you, Empress.” I raised my voice, speaking to my retinue. “Weapons drawn.”

We let her lead us out into the wider main hall, where I tried to keep behind her, but just like she’d done in Theodore’s ballroom weeks ago, she came to my side and took my hand. Her fingers were unnaturally cold and bony, and this time, rather than stroke the scars on my palm, she pressed her fingers onto the too-quick pulse in my wrist. Feeling the blood rush.

“Queen Imogen,” she drawled. “Not long ago you were only Lady Nel. What a change.”

“I am what I have always been.” I kept my attention ahead, listening to the sounds of Lachlan and Agatha behind me, and of my guards behind them. “Only now I know it.”

“Hmm.” She patted the back of my hand, and her gold and silver bracelets chimed. “This keep is very old,” she stated, in a voice that a mother would use when telling a bedtime story. “I’m afraid there’s not much here now, but when I was a girl, this place was bustling. Filled with my father’s war council and bannermen. This is where he planned it all—the conquests.” She leaned in familiarly and when I tried to pull away, her fingernail dug into the soft skin of my wrist. Right over my veins.

I hissed, panic heaving through me, but something stopped me from protesting further.

“Now, now,” she said so only I could hear. The two hushed words were a clear threat. We entered the heart of the fort and, just like the last time, a creeping pressure began to press in around my temples, like fingers crushing into the soft hollows on either side of my skull. “Tell me, Imogen, how do you feel?”

My lungs felt like they sagged in my chest. Last time, I’d thought it was my nerves, my emotions wreaking havoc, but no. It was this place—the mountain and its stones. I stopped hard in the middle of the entry hall, forcing the empress’s sharp pressure from my wrist, and rubbed the hurt spot as she kept walking on toward her throne room.

Agatha came to my side with fear in her eyes. “What is it? You’re pale.”

The empress turned back before I could answer. “Come along,” she said. “We’ve much to discuss before you leave for Mustkiva and the feast.”

She walked into her small throne room with its ridiculous seat, and if I wished to know more, I knew I had no choice but to follow. The torches whispered and fluttered beneath the windows. “Why did you bring me here? To this fort.”

She climbed her towering dais slowly, the deep-purple train of her gown trailing behind her. She waited until she was perched upon her glittering throne to answer. “I wanted you to see it.”

The back of my neck nettled. My breaths came tight, as if something sat upon my chest. “Why?”

“I placed you rather quickly as Ligea’s daughter,” she said. “I’d only met her once, but she was rather striking, with those mean yellow eyes.” She smoothed the skirts over her legs. “Your eyes. Embarrassingly, it took me a moment longer to realize that he was your father. Perhaps I didn’t want to believe it…” She paused, gaze darkening with an obvious look of resentment. “But when I saw that spinel on your finger and learned your name, I forced myself to accept it as fact.”