Saebrya

He marched her back through the Spyre, ether irritating her skin under his grip. She wriggled, trying to pry herself loose, but his fingers only clamped tighter. Sippers were crawling down his arm, onto her wrist. Panicking, she tried to yank herself loose.

The Auld spun on her. “Don’t.” His eyes were like fire.

“But the sippers,” she whimpered. Already, they were nipping at her fingers, tasting her.

The Auld ignored her, dragging her deeper into the Spyre. They entered a large, extravagantly decorated hallway that ended in an enormous hardwood door. Rhydderch flung it open and shoved her inside. He followed her, slammed the door shut, and then they were alone.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you see when you look at me?”

Saebrya swallowed, hard. “A Ganlin.”

He visibly shuddered against the door, then shoved away from the wall and strode across the room to pour himself a glass of wine from the bottle sitting on his desk. He drank deeply, watching her. Then, taking an uneven breath, he gestured at the bottle. “Would you like some?”

Bile rose in Saebrya’s throat when she remembered the last time an Auld had offered her wine. She shook her head.

He finished his glass and poured himself another, all in mute silence. Finally, he set the empty glass aside and said, “That sickly boy I saw in line last week… He’s the same one we left in your village?”

Numbly, Saebrya nodded.

“Is he still alive?”

The question tore at her soul.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’ve been away all day.”

Rhydderch considered that, then he said, “Remember what you said you could do for me in that inn, many years ago?”

She nodded.

“Do it now.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

The openness washed from his face in an instant, leaving a thunderhead. “What?” It was no more than a choked whisper.

“You’re going to help Ryan first.”

“You little tart. You swore to me!”

“I’ll do it,” Saebrya said. “After you help Ryan.” She’d been fooled by an Auld before. Never again.

His fists bunched at his sides, dribbling silver ether on the floor. “I swear to you, girl, I will help your friend.”

“I’ve been lied to by Aulds before.”

“You—” He looked away suddenly, taking a deep breath. “Fine. Take me to him.” He headed toward the door.

“Wait,” Saebrya said.

The Auld glared at her, disdain clear in his eyes. “What is it now? A bribe?”

“No,” Saebrya said. “I need to tell you about the sipper.”

“The what?”

“It’s not a fever that’s killing him,” Saebrya said. “It’s a sipper. It’s one of the vermin that eats the ether that living things leave everywhere they go—you call it veoh—but it’s big, like the ones on the towers.”

Rhydderch continued to scowl at her, his face showing no understanding, yet no ridicule, either. “Go on.”

“Remember the baby?” Saebrya said.

“You healed it,” Rhydderch said.

Saebrya shook her head. “A sipper was eating it. I pulled it off. Here. Look.” She thrust out her arm, showing the twin fang-marks of the sipper where it had bitten her. “That’s where it bit me, after I took it off.”

Rhydderch reluctantly tore his eyes off her face and lowered it to her arm. Surprise showed there, before it was quickly stifled. “If the thing killing your friend is the same as the thing that hurt Cyriaca’s baby, why don’t you get it off yourself?”

“That sipper was only three feet long,” Saebrya said. “The one on Ryan is as long as this city is wide.”

Rhydderch’s eyes widened, then visibly shook himself and gave a small chuckle. “Why am I not surprised.”

“What?”

“That boy would have been Auldheim someday, if they could trace his parentage back to whatever Ganlin had sired a bastard while vacationing in the Riverlands. With veoh like that, it wouldn’t be hard.”

Saebrya stiffened. “He’s not a bastard.”

Auld Rhydderch gave another small laugh. “So sure of that, aren’t you?” Then his amusement faded. “So tell me what you want me to do. I obviously can’t see these things you talk about. How would you have me kill it?” He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

Saebrya opened her mouth, but closed it again. She hadn’t thought about this part. She had just assumed that a stronger Auld would know what she was talking about.

“Tell you what,” Rhydderch said, his gaze fixed on her cannily, “You give me what I want right now, without strings, and I will not only find a way to help your friend, but I will also teach him.”

She balked. “But I want to go home.”

“The boy has Ganlin blood in him,” the Auld said. “If the Vethyles catch him, even if they don’t realize he’s an Auld—which any Auld worth his shit will—they will kill him on sight.”

She frowned at that. “Why? Because he’s a bastard?”

“No. Because they’ve already slaughtered the rest of his family like winter pigs.”

As Saebrya stared at him, the Auld uncrossed his arms and pushed off his desk. “If you give me what I want right now, I will promise my protection for the both of you.”

Her eyes flickered automatically to the ethereal blanket binding him, bloated and soggy with molten silver. She could see the ether sloshing within, trapped by the film that bound it. Then, beneath it, she saw the pulsing network of silver veins that wrapped his body from foot to face, beating with his heart, giving his face an image that was untrue.

When she stepped toward him, the Auld let out a quiet breath. She hesitated.

“Go on,” he whispered, need in his eyes. “Please.” He was trembling.

She backed away, realizing she had almost lost the only bargaining chip she had. “I’ll tell you what. You help Ryan first. Then I’ll do it.”

He exhaled in a tortured gasp, his gaze darkening to fury. “How can I trust you?”

“You’ll have to,” she whispered up at him, “Because I don’t trust you.”

For a long moment, it looked like the man would curse her, or threaten her, or tell her to leave. But finally, scowling at her, Rhydderch pushed past her, toward the door. He took a riding coat off the peg and threw his arms into it, his furious gaze never leaving Saebrya’s face. “Come,” he said, wrenching the door open. “Take me to this boy of ours.”

They exited through the front of the Spyre, on the same horse. Saebrya’s back itched where the blanket pushed against it, oozing ether into her body. Sippers crawled down the Auld’s arm from where he held her in front of him, and Saebrya’s nerves were frayed from the Auld’s nearness by the time they reached Ryan’s hiding place.

Rhydderch dismounted, helped her down, and then tore away the trash that Saebrya had piled onto Ryan’s body to hide it. Together, they watched his chest for long moments, waiting.

He breathed.

It was a tiny, shallow gasp, but it made Saebrya’s chest melt with relief.

Rhydderch glanced back at her. “Is that thing still on him?” His eyes were dark, his voice brusque.

“Yes,” Saebrya said, her eyes falling on it.

“Where?” Rhydderch demanded. “Show me with your hand.”

“Its head is here,” Saebrya said, gingerly tapping the thing on the skull as it stared back at her with malice.

“Do that again.” He was looking at the spot where she had touched the sipper.

Hesitantly, Saebrya tapped the skull again, harder.

Rhydderch watched the way her knuckles hit its shell, then leaned forward and passed his hand through the creature’s skull. He glanced at her. “You told me the thing on the baby bit you. Are you telling me they affect you and no one else?”

“It’s killing him,” Saebrya said.

“Obviously,” Rhydderch snapped. “But are you the only one they affect physically?”

She nodded.

He jabbed a hand at the sipper. “Then that thing can hurt you? If, say, it began to thrash?”

She glanced at its jewel-like black eyes. You are so dead. “Yes.”

Rhydderch eyed her, then tossed her the reins of his horse. “Climb into the saddle. Ride as far away from the body of this thing as you can get. I’m about to make it angry.”

Saebrya froze, the reins dangling limply in her hand. “But I don’t know my way around the city—”

“I’ll bring the horse back to me when I’m ready,” Rhydderch snapped. “Now go.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Wouldn’t want you to get killed before you could seal our bargain.”

Seeing the spite in his face, Saebrya got chills. Numbly, fumbled her way onto the horse’s back. She turned it toward the main road and gave it a kick.

The horse lunged forth, almost spilling her from its back. She immediately tugged on the reins to slow it and it reared on her. Saebrya cried out, clinging to its mane in a frantic attempt to stay on its back.

Footsteps stomped up behind her and tore the reins from her hands. “On second thought,” the Auld said icily, “Tell me what part of the city is safe and I’ll send you there.”

“The Spyre,” she managed, her heart thundering.

The Auld stroked his horse, whispering to it. She saw a dribble of ether slip from the blanket surrounding him and into the horse’s ear. The Auld looped the leather straps around the saddle and glared up at Saebrya. “Keep your fool hands off the reins.” Then Rhydderch slapped the animal on the rear.

It began to trot, taking her away from the sipper, away from the alley, away from Ryan.

Without any guidance from her, the horse went to the far side of the Spyre and halted in the shadows near the wall. In the hour that followed, one withered old woman saw Saebrya sitting on the horse as she made her way to the service entrance, but she only gave Saebrya an odd look before continuing on. She was not challenged.

When, finally, the horse spun and began to trot back into the city, Saebrya had almost given up hope that the Auld could help him.

Maybe he still hasn’t, Saebrya thought. Maybe that’s why it took so long.

But, when the horse ducked into the alley, the sipper was gone.

Silver ether was everywhere, covering every surface in several inches of molten white. In the rolling waves upon the ground, Rhydderch had his arms under Ryan and was lifting him from the alley trash.

“Get off my horse,” Rhydderch said.

Saebrya slid down, her eyes fixed on Ryan. “Is he—”

“He’s fine,” Rhydderch said. “I’m taking him to the Spyre.” He lowered Ryan over the back of his horse.

Saebrya gasped, realizing Ryan’s face now held two images, like Rhydderch’s. He had brown hair. And brown eyes. She reached out to brush them away.

Rhydderch caught her hand and threw it aside, his eyes like ice. “I still intend to honor my word, regardless of whether you honor yours. The boy is under my protection. The guise will save his life. Don’t touch it.”

Saebrya swallowed, her stomach twisting at Ryan’s dual visage. Then she tore her eyes away and glanced at the soggy silver blanket that held Auld Rhydderch wrapped in a cocoon of ether. She reached out to tear it open.

Rhydderch jerked away. “Not here, fool. You want someone to see?”

She dropped her hand, biting back tears. “I’m sorry. I should’ve done it when you asked. I was just afraid you wouldn’t…”

For the first time since she had forced his hand, the Auld’s face softened. “I know. And it was wise of you to do so.” His gaze caught on the infected wound in her face and he reached down, and as if it were no more difficult than rubbing away a stain, he pushed his finger across the tender cut in her face, sealing the flesh behind it.

When she realized what he’d done, Saebrya jerked and reached up to touch the smooth skin, stunned. “You…?”

“Just keep your word, Rhydderch said, letting his hand fall away. “That’s all I ask.” He climbed into the saddle behind Ryan’s slumped form. “Stay close,” he said, and nudged the horse into a walk.

Saebrya followed him all the way to the Spyre. The big man-monsters at the gate watched the procession with bored disinterest, as if riding through the gates with an unconscious man slung over one’s horse was a common thing.

It was at that moment that Saebrya realized that an Auld could do anything, in the capital. Whatever fate awaited the unconscious man sprawled in front of Rhydderch’s saddle, the guards simply didn’t care.

It wasn’t their business.

Saebrya swallowed hard, never before realizing just how much difference lay between her and the Auld. If Rhydderch gave the command, the beasts at the gate would probably kill her and Ryan without blinking an eye.

Rhydderch pulled the horse to a halt in the midst of a flower-laden courtyard. Immediately, a preteen boy rushed around the tinkling, ether-infused fountain to grab Rhydderch’s reins. The Auld dismounted.

“Haydn, I want this boy put to work in my kennels,” Rhydderch said. “Dress him in my crest, put him in the loft, and have someone bring him to me as soon as he wakes.”

Haydn bowed and started to take both horse and Ryan away. Eyes widening, Saebrya tried to follow.

Rhydderch caught her. “The boy will be fine. The safest man in the Spyre is a houndsman in my kennels.” He twisted her around, until she was facing him. “You, however, are about to become my whore.”

Saebrya gasped and tried to wrench away.

Rhydderch turned, oblivious to her struggles, and dragged her along with him, back through the maze of passages and staircases, until they were once more in his chamber. He pushed the door shut and leaned against it.

Backed against the desk, Saebrya’s heart was thundering in her ears. “I’m not a whore.”

“You are now,” Rhydderch said and crossed his arms against his chest as he regarded her. After he’d given her a moment to digest that, he said, “In name, anyway. I can’t keep you at the kennels, since I’ve never had a woman tend them before and it would draw attention that neither of us need. The next logical place is in my bed.”

“No,” she said.

The Auld looked amused. “I have an attached chamber for a manservant, which I’ve never used. You may sleep there.”

She let out a pent-up breath.

“You’re welcome.” He pushed away from the door, toward her. “Now. It’s your turn.”