In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(89)

“You loved him.”

Nivala pinched her lips, as if refusing to answer.

Eusia pushed away from the pool’s edge to float in the center once more. “It would seem, Nivala, that you have gotten precisely what you asked for. My part of the bargain is upheld. But I did not get what I was promised. I am the one who will suffer your deceit, so it is only fair that I ensure you know such anguish in turn.”

“Please,” Nivala begged. “Please, I have come all this way to gift her to you.”

Eusia struck the surface of the pool with her small fist, sending water cascading over Nivala and her babe. “What good is that useless thing to me?” Eusia cried. Her voice went low and sober, like she was speaking a curse. “Hear me, Nivala, empress of Obelia—that babe in your arms is the last miracle you will receive from me until your debt is paid. Let her be a reminder of your treachery, of your abject powerlessness, of your deficit.” Silent tears poured down Nivala’s cheeks, but Eusia was unmoved. “Leave.”

My eyes flew open as the carriage jostled to a stop.

The door banged wide, and a footman’s crisp, melodic accent sounded. “Welcome to Obelia.” He reached in a gloved hand.

I stared, frozen.

Nemea’s daughter. Halla was Nemea’s daughter. My sister. Somehow, it did not strike me with the reverberation I’d expected it to. Somehow, learning of him doing something so despicable as deceiving the empress, as claiming he was a God, was as shocking as hearing of the sun’s rising. And still, it filled me with fury, it filled me with a deep, inescapable pain.

I could not focus on the weighty emotion, though, because something was terribly wrong. Deep in the middle of my body, I knew. Aleka and Markis watched me from across the carriage, so I set my hand within the footman’s and looked up into his water-hued eyes.

“Where are we?” I asked.

His thin mouth pursed in confusion. “At the palace, miss.”

Aleka shook her head with distaste. “She is the Queen of Seraf and Anthemoessa, you dolt,” she said. “Address her as such.”

The footman blanched, then bowed. “My apologies, Your Majesty.” He gave my hand the barest shake. “May I help you out?”

My body felt like it had been drained. “We are not at the palace. The palace was by the sea. Where are we?”

The footman inclined his head respectfully. “Ahh. Your Majesty, forgive me. Perhaps you refer to the empress’s castle keep, Mustkiva? The black one on the bay.”

I nodded my head, setting a shaking hand to my hollowed-out stomach.

“You’ve reached the empress’s palace.” He gestured behind him with a regal sweep of his upturned hand. “This is Fort Vuoria.”

I could not see beyond the carriage opening, nor could I see through the small, curtained windows, but I didn’t need to see what lay beyond to know. While I’d slept, we’d climbed the white, jagged cliffs that had loomed over the winding coastline and massive port.

We were far from the sea.

“Gods damn it,” I hissed, as I pulled my hand from the footman’s hold. “Shit.”

Markis’s brows bounced high.

Aleka’s eyes went wide. There was a bite of reprimand in her voice. “Is everything as it should be, Your Majesty?”

“No,” I snapped. At my outburst, the footman had taken a wide step back. I bounded out of the carriage unassisted, balling my full skirt in my fists so I wouldn’t trip. The courtyard was wide, ringed in high, snow-capped walls.

Frantic, I searched the swarm of people exiting the carriages and carts. The opulently dressed nobles, and dour-faced officials, the gold-armored guards. Theodore had to be near, but before I could spot him, my retinue of armored sailors filed in around me, encasing me like plaster.

I tipped my head back to take in Fort Vuoria and my alarm doubled. Its entry doors were towering and arched, carved with the Obelian runes that were emblazoned on their flag. Above them, the center of the building came to a tall, vicious-looking point, flanked on either side by four formidable turrets.

Just like Fort Linum.

There was no doubt in my mind that Nemea had based his mountain fort on this one. Save for the color of the stones, they were each other’s mirrors.

The cold seemed to grow and burrow toward the middle of my bones. I told myself I had not returned, but I could almost smell the dry earth and cypresses. If I spun, I half expected to see the bloodstained execution stone haunting the middle of the courtyard.

I tried to bat away my mind’s trickery and searched between my guards’ shoulders and heads. They’d begun herding me toward the main door with everyone else. I searched the crowd of Varians, all of whom were woefully underdressed for the wintry air, but I couldn’t spot Theodore amid them, nor could I see Halla’s white flash of hair.

He needed to know what my vision had shown me.

The crowd moved into Fort Vuoria’s tight entry, and I breathed with relief to see that its interior did not at all resemble Linum’s. It was a tall, circular room with a steeply arched ceiling, dark and dour within. Unlike Linum’s washed, smooth stones, Vuoria’s had a black patina clinging to its crags. A single partially lit iron chandelier hung low above us.

“What a surprise.” The husky, composed voice rang from the upper landing of the single narrow staircase. The empress peered down on us from the banister. It was disarming to see the ghost of her youthful face within her older one. She’d broadened in the cheeks, softened in the jaw, but the penetratingly keen blue of her eyes remained. A slow smile spread over her bright red mouth. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”