Forty One: Succession

The storms hit Shadow's Reach like the fury of a slighted god. Nova knew when they hit, even though she had been in the dungeons with Harkenn at the time. The whole castle seemed to shake with the mountain gale that blew hard from the north, and though the stone fortress was too solid to really move, the impact was loud enough that it shuddered down every corridor.

Ethred looked up at the distant ceiling of his cell and said calmly, "Ah. I was wondering what time it was out there."

He smiled, a thin, pitiful thing. Faellian returned a darkening scowl. His victory with Eril's letter – which had hinted that the rot went deep in the Orthanian house – had been short-lived. Ethred was not moved to give anything else away, and seemed genuinely baffled by the key Nova had found. When he expressed a complete lack of knowledge about the object, Nova was forced through gritted teeth to tell the lord that the man wasn't lying. In other, calmer times, she might have lied just to add more to Ethred's list of crimes, but always in the back of her mind were the nights she spent in Grace's room and the forbidden moments they had together. If she gave Harkenn any cause to doubt her, he'd watch her much more closely. And if that didn't result in them getting caught, then it would at least bring an abrupt end to it all.

It didn't help her mood that she had had no luck with her searches, either. The key was the only thing she had found, and with Faellian not trusting enough to tell her what was stored in the chamber it opened, she was at a loss of where else to look. Harkenn had simply had the locks changed on the strange secret door, stationed two guards outside it, and said no more on the subject. She was beginning to think wistfully of her boring life in the armchair at the back of his study. At least then, when she had given answers to his questions, they had not been likely to earn her half the breakable items on his desk being thrown at the wall perilously close to her head.

She partially blamed Yddris's absence. The Unspoken had not left the lord's side so completely for many years. She had a feeling Harkenn was finally appreciating just how much the Unspoken was worth, and she did not envy Thorne that future mantle.

Soft footsteps heralded Nika's approach. Nova turned with relief, Harkenn with ill-concealed irritation. The Unspoken had done an admirable job of standing in, as far as Nova had seen, but Harkenn's main criticism – that he wasn't Yddris – was proving insurmountable.

"You asked for me, my lord?" Nika said. His soft voice still carried well over the low rumble of the storm. His cloak was beaded with damp.

"In my study, yes," Harkenn said shortly. "And not until the dinner bell."

"With all due respect, my lord," Nika said, "the dinner bell went twenty minutes ago."

Harkenn's scowl deepened. "Very well." He turned to Ethred as if to snap something, but visibly restrained himself from doing so. "I'm coming."

He stalked away, leaving Nova to trail behind him. When she caught a glimpse of Ethred's face as she left, it chilled her.

"I'd keep the shutters closed if I were you, Anarabelle," he said softly. She forced her feet to keep moving, even as her heart stilled in her chest. He knew. He knew somehow, about the Angel who had spied on her and Grace several nights ago. Grace had taken to sleeping in the kitchen since, and Nova was glad of it. The kitchen had no windows and plenty of knives. She had seen no hint of a wing feather since, save for brief glimpses of Jeorge coming and going; of course, on the rare occasion she actually did want to speak to him he avoided her like plague.

She settled in her chair at the back of the room with an inaudible sigh. More bureaucracy, no doubt. The endless rolling account of one mishap or misfortune after another was starting to gain a predictable rhythm, and from inside the castle walls they paled in comparison to the threat of her family spying on her. She had never found out what the last spy wanted, and now there was another, with her no better off.

Harkenn settled in his chair with a much more audible sigh. "I am hoping for good news and expecting bad."

Nika remained standing, almost eerily still. "My apologies, my lord. I'm afraid it isn't good."

"I thought as much," Faellian said sourly. "Well, get on with it. By the time you're finished it might be late enough to drink myself stupid."

"There've been three plague cases in Helshut," Nika replied. Though his voice remained unchanged, Nova was sure she sensed a flash of anger from him. "And the Felix reservoir is already too full. The Aven is threatening to burst the banks in Bisa."

"Night take me," Faellian muttered. "Helshut? You're sure?"

"I'm sure, sir. I got the report from a colleague of mine who passed through."

"And he's here?"

"From all the reports I've gathered, I surmise that Unspoken cannot contract this plague. It is demon-carried, so I assume our Gift affords us protection from it."

Nova hadn't been out of the city since her enslavement, but she knew Helshut was a farming town a day or two from the city limits. The plague had spread fast from the first alert in the depths of the south, which only supported Nika's conclusion. Demons ranged far and fast, when they had a mind to.

"Do all kinds of demons spread it?" Harkenn demanded.

"It's hard to say, my lord, without a full investigation. I've seen three reports of a maddened demon entering settlements, all of differing species. Many more do not know where the contagion started, so I hypothesise that it can also be spread through a demon's bodily fluids if they contaminate food or water sources. A small relief from that, if it can be called such, is that this contamination does not appear to last long, otherwise we could expect to see whole settlements fall sick. There have only been isolated incidents so far, within households or between immediate neighbours."

"And people can spread it to each other, yes?"

"Yes, my lord." Nika paused. "Though the residents are very quick to isolate cases as they happen. I imagine it is hard to pass on a contagion when you've been barricaded into your house."

Harkenn's mouth went into a thin line. "Quite."

"There have also been claims of Angel sightings in settlements a few days' from Shadow's Reach," Nika continued. He spoke almost unwillingly, and Nova was hard put to keep her face neutral. Even as Harkenn scoffed, she knew the claims were likely true. Where there was one, more followed.

"I have been in direct correspondence with Lucifer over a spy in my household a few months ago. I made my stance very clear. He will not be sending another in a hurry."

"He already has, my lord." Nova heard herself say the words with a detached kind of horror. She hadn't been planning to tell him. She had told herself it was wise, that it wasn't because she was simply hoping the problem would go away.

It seemed like that possibility was long gone.

"What do you mean, he has?" Harkenn's voice was deceptively calm and level. His eyes and aura promised pain, and every scar on her tightened in dread.

"I...sensed one. A few nights ago. On the grounds." Her voice trailed to a hoarse whisper as Faellian jumped out of his chair towards her. Her skull hit the wall with a crack that dizzied her.

"My lord!" It was the first time she had ever heard Nika shout. "Is that really necessary?"

"Don't question how I treat my property, Whisperer," Harkenn growled. He hauled her out of the chair and forced her to stand in front of the desk. The room span around her from the impact, and it took a moment for her to focus on his face. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to clear her thoughts, and bells jangled in her ears. "Tell me what you should have told me the minute you sensed them."

She told him, though in her account she had been in the kitchens where she was supposed to be, and not in Grace's bedroom. She prayed she did not stutter over the lies.

"And what would your sister want with you?" Harkenn said. "Your uncle holds the throne and his children would be the heirs. What is she doing ordering spies about?"

"My uncle has no children," Nova replied. "He has never managed to conceive an heir on any of his partners or mistresses. By Caelumese law, that means my father's children, in their birth order, are his heirs. He cannot exile or otherwise do away with them without good cause, so he has settled to weeding out those who do not share his politics in other ways. My older brother died in the Annexe War, and my sister and I were next oldest. I was born several minutes ahead of her."

"You're twins."

"Yes, my lord."

"And you are a slave."

Nova swallowed. It all felt like another lifetime, one that had begun well and ended badly, infecting the life she hoped would end well. Not that she was having much luck so far. "She always shared more of his views than I did. My uncle removed me from the order of inheritance when he banished me. If something were to happen to him, and loyalists to my father's way of thinking got wind that I was alive, her place in the order would be threatened." She looked at the floor before she could see the denial and condemnation in her owner's eyes. "Whether or not I would ever be able to fill that role."

"Why was I not aware that you were so close to gaining the throne?"

She'd already had her head smacked against the wall; maybe if he did it again she'd be out cold and not have to think for a while. It sounded quite nice, when she put it like that. "You never asked, my lord."

Harkenn looked as though he wished to punch her again, but Nika stepped up to the desk at that moment and appeared to alarm the lord enough that it paused his trajectory. "Would you like me to request the Caelumese records from the Guildtown archives, my lord?"

"No." Harkenn seemed to forget he had been planning to deal Nova another blow. She couldn't help feeling relieved, despite her earlier cynicism. She could feel that her head was bleeding, warm wetness seeping into her hair. It was a flesh wound only, from what she could guess without touching it. It would come with a horrifying bruise, but it had saved her a cracked skull. "I have enough in the castle archives to look through. Send me the captain of the guard. The rest of the demonshit news you brought me is going to need some thought, but at least I can fob the reservoir problem off on someone else. Go." He glowered at Nova. "You go, too. I'm fed up with looking at you. Whisperer, make sure that wall didn't break anything."

Nova preceded Nika out of the room, aware of his eyes on her already assessing the damage. She couldn't help but admire him for leaving the study without bowing, but it was still reckless.

"Don't risk his wrath for my sake," she said softly.

"He will never fully approve of anything I do," Nika replied. "He will never forgive me for turning down the succession of Yddris's post. I did the irreparable damage eight years ago, and I find his methods highly distasteful." They walked down the stairs, and Nika walked at her side as no one else ever did. As if she was an equal. "I'm ashamed to have made excuses for it for this long, but the ordeals that Thorne has been through in the last few months have made me see several people in a different light." He sighed. "And I'm much of the opinion that his sister is sorely undervalued here. She's incredibly intelligent. The Lady Kerrin would love her, I'm sure."

Nova almost protested. She wasn't proud of it, as she knew what he said was true. Grace got a raw deal in the castle and deserved so much more – but if she got it and it meant she left, Nova would be alone again. It was terrifying how quickly she had become accustomed to having Grace around, to knowing she would be there.

They reached the kitchens, saving Nova trying to find anything to say. Nika sat her on a stool at one of the great stone worktops and pulled off his gloves to pick through her bloodied hair with light fingers.

"I don't think anything is broken," he said after a moment. If he noticed the wary looks the kitchen staff shot him, they didn't bother him. "But I think you may need a few stitches." He paused and then added, "I might get away with just dressing it."

"I would be much obliged if you could avoid stitches," Nova said. It was funny, she thought in a distant way, that after all these years of slavery, she had never got over her aversion to needles.

Nika made a low, thoughtful sound in his throat. "I think I could manage that for you."

Nova sagged on the stool in relief as Nika rummaged in the satchel he always carried with him, laying his equipment out on the table beside her. He disappeared for a moment to fetch water, and she tentatively felt around the wound with a finger. It wasn't deep. The impact had been more shocking than forceful, but she would still have a headache in the morning.

"Don't fiddle with it," Nika reprimanded her, pushing her hand away. A cold shock ran down her arm at his touch, a reflection of his strange aura. He began cleaning around the wound. "You're not to sleep on hard flooring tonight, alright? It might open this further, and then I'll have to stitch you up. Ask someone to find you something to put your head on."

"Most wouldn't oblige," Nova pointed out. "Harkenn hasn't said I can."

"Well, a physician has." Nika pulled a small scalpel out of a leather carry-case. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take some hair off."

She felt the light tugs as hairs parted under the blade, but barely noticed the sting. To her chagrin, she was starting to get so attuned to Grace's aura that she knew when the girl was approaching without her even being in the room yet. A moment later, she blew through the kitchen door on a gale-force wind that set the hanging pans and utensils to jangling, and a potboy had to run over and help her push the door closed again.

"Oh my god," Grace gasped, as if to herself, as she removed the cloak she wore. She hung it up on the washing line nearest the fire, where it hung heavy and dark, dripping onto the flagstones.

"It's got worse, then?" Nika asked. His fingers didn't pause on Nova's scalp.

"It was absolutely – what happened to your head?"

Grace noticed Nova on the stool for the first time and hurried over. Her hood had soaked through and her hair and dress were saturated. In the warmth of the kitchen, she steamed lightly.

"I displeased his lordship," Nova replied. "As I do frequently."

"That's a lot of blood." Grace's clammy hand gripped at Nova's fingers where they lay in her lap. She stiffened, even though she suspected the Unspoken already knew about them.

"Don't worry, it's not deep," Nika assured her. "Head wounds always bleed a lot. Miss Haverford, I've advised her to put her head on something more supportive than a slab of rock tonight. Do you think you could arrange something?"

"Of course," Grace said. Her grip tightened on Nova's fingers, and Nova succumbed to the touch, winding their hands together. Stupid, stupid, she thought, even as everything inside her felt as though it was unravelling. Grace's answering smile stopped her heart in her chest.

For a while the only sound was the fire crackling and Nika's low muttering to himself as he worked. She had spent the morning listening to a litany of the city's issues already, but Nova could only pretend she didn't notice the furrow of worry in Grace's brow for so long.

"Was it just the storm?" she asked. "You've got your worry line."

The last part slipped out before she could hold it back. Did Nika's fingers pause in their work for a split second? Grace's bright hazel eyes met hers in surprise. Nova braced herself for a warning glare, but Grace only said, "I have a worry line?"

"Yeah." Nova touched between Grace's brows, where a furrow had been just seconds before. "Right there. And I know you're about to spout some demonshit about how you're probably imagining it. So just tell me."

Grace smiled so warmly that Nova felt her own face heating up. She was hyperaware, suddenly, of the Unspoken behind them. "I just noticed that things seem really tense around the city today. It didn't seem like it was just the storm."

This time Nika's hands stopped completely. "Tense in what way?"

"There were lots of...hushed conversations and hurrying about. Even though the weather was dire. If it had been just one or two groups I'd probably have ignored it, but I heard so many complaints. Something about Unspoken protection and a whispering wall for one, and another it was plague or food shortages or storm damage. The taverns were full but so quiet, it was actually quite sinister."

Nika slowly returned to dressing Nova's wound. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Maybe it's just a bad season," Grace suggested.

"So much has gone wrong," Nika said. "Even in a bad year, we could expect maybe one or two of the issues we're facing now. I would not blame people for doing something rash in their frustration, but it is hard to know what it is they'll do."

"Riot," Nova murmured. "Orthan and the Devils want a riot."

The Tivier book, the food store burning – they fitted. There were, however, still huge holes in her theory; for one, why either party would want to destabilise the city that way, and why they would work together to do so. Demonfire liquor production was one thing, but Nova would never have expected a House that thought so much of themselves to work with Nictaven's worst on anything as huge as this. And yet, she supposed, the Devils would know exactly how to get the results they wanted.

"You know this for sure?" Nika asked, sounding unconvinced. "I doubt Orthan would ever work with the Devils. If you'd said Caelum, that I could believe."

Nova shook her head. "No, I don't. I'm guessing."

She hated that she even cared, only for the fear that Ethred would gain the throne, or worse, her uncle would. The only two men in the world she hated more than Harkenn. Harkenn's disdain of her was not personal; he only saw her as a useful possession. Ethred's fascination with her filled her with horror at the thought of what he might do if he ever gained ownership of her. And her uncle – well, that had never been anything but personal. It was hard to reconcile with a family member who'd been trying to find ways to get her banished or killed since she was old enough to understand what was happening.

She felt all the warmth from Grace's arrival flooding away. "I hope I'm guessing wrong."