The Rival Read online

  Solanda ran faster, nearly flying, her paws off the ground. Behind her, Islanders were screaming. Some Fey were flanking her — she suspected they recognized her — and others had moved ahead. They all knew how crucial this was. It was like a bad dream. There seemed no way out of it.

  The road wound into the business district, and still Gift ran, knocking into Islanders carrying their wares. Baskets spilled, curses filled the air, and the bird dove, narrowly missing.

  "No, Arianna!" Solanda yelled, but she was too far away. Islanders heard her, and a few Fey, but no one else seemed to. She was getting winded, and she couldn't afford to.

  Everything rested on her.

  She doubled her speed, ignoring her tired legs. Adrenaline was pumping through her. She wove beneath the feet of a dozen bystanders, keeping Gift in her sight.

  He was staying close to buildings, to other people, so that he could duck if Arianna attacked him again. He glanced over his shoulder, features so like his mother's that Solanda was startled for a moment. Arianna was flying low, sometimes skimming the heads of Islanders as she passed. She had an agility she shouldn't have, not if this was a new form.

  The girl had been holding out on her.

  Solanda let the anger from that thought fuel her tiring limbs. She was having trouble seeing. The Fey flanking her were growing tired as well.

  Gift had to be in fine shape.

  Or he truly didn't want to get caught.

  He leapt over a pile of broken cobblestones, but his foot hit an edge. He seemed to move in slow motion, tottering forward, arms pinwheeling as he tried to gain his balance.

  Solanda cursed and used the last of her energy to speed to him. Arianna was smart. She would use this moment.

  Solanda was almost to Gift's side when Arianna dove.

  Solanda leapt, mouth open —

  — and caught the robin in her powerful jaws.

  ELEVEN

  The cat came out of nowhere. It leapt impossibly high. Before Arianna could get out of the way, the cat's mouth closed on her right wing, ruining her momentum, and sending her sprawling. She would have Shifted in mid-air, but there were Islanders around. They didn't need to see their princess, naked and vulnerable, kicking a cat in the middle of the street.

  She landed on her left side with such an impact, the wind went out of her body. The cat hadn't hurt her yet, but it would. But she could out-think it.

  If she could breathe.

  No wonder a cat could so easily kill birds. It dazed them.

  But the cat hadn't gone for her neck like she suspected. Instead it backed away, and sat on its haunches on the cobblestone. "You all right?" it asked softly.

  "Solanda!" Even though Arianna shouted the word, it came out as a whisper. She really didn't have much air in her body. And the cobblestone was hard. "What did you do?"

  "I saved you, you stupid little fool." Solanda was whispering too. "Now shush. The Islanders are used to Fey, but not to Fey like us."

  Arianna rolled her eyes, and raised her head slightly. The Fey man was gone. Long gone. "He got away," she said.

  "And good thing, too."

  "You know who he is?"

  Solanda nodded. "I just don't know what he wanted."

  The Islanders were picking up the spilled baskets and making a wide berth around the remaining Fey. Those Fey were trickling off in different directions, an obvious ploy to keep Arianna from knowing where the Fey man went.

  One Fey, a shadowy woman with indistinct features, knelt beside Solanda. "Need help?" she asked. Even her voice had a shadowy quality. Arianna squinted but the woman didn't come into any clearer focus.

  She was female, and Fey, and that was all Arianna could tell about her.

  "I don't need help," Solanda said softly, "but I think my friend does."

  The woman nodded. She bent over Arianna. "I'm going to pick you up. Tell me if it hurts."

  Up close, the woman's features looked as if they were made of sand that water had washed over. They were distinct enough to seem like features, and yet they were blurry around the edges. Arianna almost felt as if she were perceiving the woman through a thick fog.

  The woman's hand closed around Arianna. The woman's skin was warm and soft. Arianna's wing ached where she had landed on it, but the wing that Solanda had touched didn't hurt at all.

  The woman set her upright.

  "Stretch your wings," Solanda said.

  Arianna did, slowly. She could feel the tiny muscles straining.

  "Can you fly?" Solanda asked.

  Arianna nodded.

  "Then meet me in your room, as soon as you can."

  "But what about — "

  "We'll deal with him." Solanda turned her small, triangular face toward the strange Fey woman. "Thanks for your help."

  "Anything for the Black Throne," she said.

  Solanda grunted. Arianna fluttered her wings, testing them. They felt fine. Tired, but then she was tired. She had never flown so far, so fast, in all her life.

  Or had been that angry.

  That Fey man had somehow threatened her brother's life. He would pay for it. She would make him, without Solanda's interference.

  "You won't find him," Solanda said softly. "They've got him hidden now. Meet me at the palace."

  Arianna frowned, unhappy that her thoughts were that obvious. She hopped, then fluttered her wings again and rose into the air. She circled over the city once, peering at roads, at dwellings, at the river. But Solanda was right. The Fey man was nowhere to be seen.

  "I'll find you," Arianna murmured. And she would. Without Solanda's help. That comment about the Black Throne worried her. Solanda had helped the man get away. She had nearly hurt Arianna. And she had mentioned the Black Throne before, saying that all Fey loyalty had to go there first.

  But Arianna was only part Fey. And the Black Throne wanted her brother.

  She couldn't do this one alone. Her father knew more about the intricacies of the Fey than she did. As much as she loved Solanda, her own family came first. Her brother, her father, and herself.

  Arianna would talk to her father, and tell him what happened. He was King. He could decide what to do next.

  TWELVE

  He moved faster in the heat of the day.

  Flurry flew over the Island countryside, following the roads carved through the rolling land. He was the size of a small spark, invisible even to the most practiced eye, following the updrafts and air currents, using the power of the wind to propel himself forward.

  The wind blew south to north today, and it was perfect for him. Rugad wanted him in the capitol city by nightfall, a push even for the fastest Wisps. By horseback, the journey took three to four days. Getting there in one would rely on wing-speed, favorable winds, and luck.

  He had the speed — he had been one of the fastest Wisps on Galinas — and he had the favorable winds.

  Now he needed the luck.

  The countryside was startlingly different the farther he flew. The marshes were green and brown, the water thick and murky from his height about the ground. Scraggly trees grew inside the marsh and he could see, from the air, small roads, bridges, and solid areas that enabled knowledgeable Islanders to cross the marsh.

  A wide, well traveled north-south road spanned the marsh, and he followed it. The Islanders had told him, and the Warders had confirmed it with the few recalcitrant prisoners, that the road went directly to the capitol city.

  If he stayed on the same path, he would get there.

  Through the marshes, he saw very few Islanders. Those he did see were heading north, like he was, as if they were fleeing the Fey army.

  They probably were. Rugad had said he wanted Islanders to escape. He had a plan for this Isle, a plan he hadn't shared with anyone outside of his advisors, and it differed from other campaigns Flurry had been on. In those, the Fey never asked for surrender.

  Surrender was assumed.

  Surrender was the end result of a Fey victory.

 
; Surrender, sometimes, wasn't even necessary. There usually weren't any leaders left to capitulate.

  But Rugad was exercising caution here. Some said it was because his son got trapped and died here. Others said it was because the Islanders had special powers.

  A few years back, word had leaked through all the ranks that the reason the Fey never returned from Blue Isle was because the Islanders had their own magick. That magick came in a bottle, in the form of poison that killed Fey with a single touch. Flurry had thought the rumor untrue until he spoke to one of the Warders a year later.

  It seemed that a handful of the Nye had practiced the Islanders' religion. The religion never really got off the ground in Nye, and the missionaries from Blue Isle returned to their home. But a few of the Nyeians still practiced, still believed, and still hoarded the magick poison, or holy water, as they called it. Only the Nye had never learned its Fey-killing properties.

  They never learned those properties at all.

  The Fey executed the religious Nye and confiscated the magick poison. And then experimented with it.

  The Warder had told Flurry that Rugad's people had solved the riddle of the poison. They had a neutralizer, an antidote, and a warding spell. The Warder said that, as soon as the neutralizer and the antidote could be produced in large enough quantity, Rugad would have his troops warded, and invade Blue Isle. Flurry had scoffed. Everyone had heard how impossible Blue Isle was to invade. And, at that point, everyone had thought the first Fey force had died in the ocean crossing. It wasn't until later that the failure of the first force became clear.

  And then Rugad had said he wanted to conquer Blue Isle.

  Some Fey had been surprised by Rugad's decision to invade. But Flurry hadn't. Rugad was a warrior, and even though he felt the armies needed a rest after they conquered Nye, he also knew that the Fey would have to fight again. The Galinas continent belonged to the Fey. They had nowhere else to go.

  Except to Blue Isle, and on to the Leut continent.

  Rugad's grandsons weren't capable of taking the Fey onto the Isle. Rugad had to do it himself.

  Flurry dipped and followed a twist in the road. The tall marsh grass was thinning, and the water had receded into small puddles. The ground was rising, and ahead he saw it level out in a sort of plain. The land was divided into different colors, like a quilt made by Domestics, and gradually the divisions resolved themselves into patches of land with a small clumps of buildings.

  Farms.

  Prosperous farms from the looks of them, with healthy mid-summer crops. This was the Blue Isle that the Nye talked about, not the poverty-stricken hovels near the Snow Mountains. These farms obviously kept themselves fed, and shipped crops all over the Isle. No wonder the Islanders hadn't starved without trade from Nye.

  They hadn't needed it in the first place.

  Trade had only made them richer. Now their prosperity had leveled off.

  Flurry smiled to himself. The Fey could use this land. The Fey could use this place. His moods were rising. He had served with Rugad for four decades now, and he had never seen Rugad make a mistake. If the Islanders had to be approached differently than anyone on Galinas, so be it.

  Rugad would help the Fey not only win, but thrive.

  The wind dropped for a moment, putting a strain on his tiny wings. He flew low over one of the farms, seeing the large stone house, and the large grain storage buildings beyond. Animals grazed on a small patch of ground behind the storage buildings. Wealth.

  His wings ached. Without the wind, he couldn't maintain this pace. He would burn himself up.

  He toyed with the idea of stopping, of resting, and he would have to soon if the wind didn't pick up. This was why winged Fey couldn't fly across oceans and other great distances. They tired. Their endurance lasted only so long. Rugad was asking Flurry to fly to the edge of his endurance and beyond.

  Flurry would try.

  But he might have to stop.

  As he lowered himself toward the grain silos, the wind picked up again, and carried him forward. The great effort he had performed a few moments ago seemed less now. He wasn't as tired. And, by his calculations (and if the tortured Islanders were right) he was probably halfway. He just might make the capitol city by nightfall.

  Then his problems increased. He had to find the palace based on someone else's description, and he had to find the King. Somehow, a blue-eyed, round-faced, middle-aged yellow haired man, unusual by Fey standards, didn't seem so unusual here. He only hoped the Islanders acted differently toward their king, treated him as if he were a Shaman or something. He was related to their great religious leader. That might count for these people.

  Even though Flurry had been forced to study the Islanders for the year before this journey, he still felt as if he didn't know enough. He was proficient in their language, he had been taught their odd religion, and he knew details about their culture.

  Still things surprised him. Like Rugad, he hadn't expected poverty. And unlike Rugad, he hadn't expected this great wealth.

  The farmlands seemed to extend forever. He would know he was getting closer to the city of Jahn when he came to a series of bridges. Then, the Islanders told him, he would be able to see the city in the distance. The Tabernacle was on this side of the Great Cardidas River. He was to avoid that place, even though it looked like a palace. The palace was the other big building, on the far side of the river.

  If his luck ran true, the day's heat would continue into the night. Then he would be able to fly through an open window, and search the palace.

  He would deliver his message and leave.

  Rugad would take care of the rest.

  THIRTEEN

  Gift stopped at the edge of the river, under the great bridge. He was panting hard. He doubled over, grabbed the back of his legs, and stretched, feeling the blood rush to his face.

  She had nearly pecked out his eyes. If Solanda hadn't stopped her, his own sister would have blinded him.

  Such ferocity. Arianna loved Sebastian too. Maybe he could use that. Maybe he could tell Solanda what was happening and she would get Arianna to protect Sebastian.

  Or maybe she wouldn't. Solanda considered him unnatural, and not real. She seemed to have a pure hatred for him, based on what he had been, not on who he was.

  Gift leaned against the stone of the bridge. His heart was pounding hard. The river had a marshy stink here, clustered under the stone itself. There was a smell of decay, of urine, of old forgotten places. He had hidden here before, on his few trips to the city, because Islanders rarely came here, and those who did were the unfortunate, the unloved, and the homeless.

  He failed. He hadn't expected to. He had thought he might have difficulty convincing Sebastian, but he had thought they would get away.

  Now he didn't know what to do. It felt as if every moment he waited doomed Sebastian.

  Or himself.

  If only he had found the room from his Vision. If only he could tell exactly when the Vision occurred. If only Arianna had left him alone.

  If only.

  Now he didn't know what to do. He could go to the Shaman, but he doubted she'd be much help.

  She hadn't been any help before.

  She knew that Visions could be changed, but she didn't know how this one could be. Or these two, since they represented a fork.

  And he understood the fork.

  Either he or Sebastian would be killed that day.

  Unless they were both out of the palace, away from Jahn.

  He took a deep breath. The humid air had a thickness here, along with the stench. It almost felt as if he were breathing the river.

  Getting Sebastian out of the palace would be difficult. He hadn't realized Sebastian's resistance went so deep. He had seen Sebastian follow others' suggestions, but they had never been about abandoning his family or the only home he'd ever known.

  Maybe Gift could convince Arianna.

  He would have to explain who he was. That would be difficult
. And he didn't know what her reaction would be.

  His breath was beginning to return. His legs still felt wobbly, uncertain, weak. He hadn't run like that ever, at least that he could remember. And he had never been so terrified in all his life. If she had caught him, if she had harmed him, the magick would have stirred in the Black Blood.

  If she had killed him, she would have destroyed the Fey.

  Sweat trickled down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. He needed to rest before he went back to Shadowlands.

  If he went to Shadowlands at all.

  He still had one solution. He could get Coulter. They hadn't seen each other a lot since they were boys, but they were close, as close as Gift and Sebastian were. Maybe closer.

  Coulter was an Islander whom Solanda had brought to Shadowlands when he was just a baby. She claimed he had magickal abilities. The Fey scoffed at her. No one had magick except Fey. Then the Domestics confirmed his magick and his age. He was too old to have been born to a mating between Islander and Fey.

  Solanda abandoned him, and the Fey ignored him. He ran wild through Shadowlands, and an Islander prisoner, Adrian, took care of him. But on that day Gift's real mother was killed, Gift nearly died because his Link with his mother had not been properly severed. Coulter broke into Gift's house, severed Gift's Link with his mother, and forged a new Link, Binding Coulter and Gift together, forever.

  Only Enchanters could do such things. Gift's grandfather decided to test Coulter, to see if he was an Enchanter. But the tests amounted to torture, and the prisoner Adrian helped Coulter escape from Shadowlands. Since then, Coulter had lived at Adrian's farm, as Adrian's son, and was, for all Gift could see, extremely happy.

  Gift had never been to the farm. But he had seen Coulter in Jahn a few times, when Coulter was bringing in the harvest for sale in the city. They usually talked across the Link, so it felt odd to talk face to face.

  Just as it had been odd to talk to Sebastian face to face.

  Two other Fey ducked under the bridge. They weren't panting as hard. The first was a Spy, Epla. He was as old as Gift's grandfather would have been. Young Spies had indistinct features that could be molded into other faces, not replicas of faces they saw, but something close. Older Spies like Epla had evolved a face of their own, one that took the best features of all the faces they once wore. Epla could still change his face to look like someone else's, but in repose, he was among the most handsome of the Fey.