“Someone was compelling him?” Khalad asked, aghast.
“I have some experience in that area too. When Aenah compelled me in the past, I couldn’t tell any of you what she was doing, even though I wanted to, and I was made to believe that I was acting of my own volition. Couldn’t the same thing have happened to King Vanor?”
Khalad was already nodding his head. “It’s possible. In fact, it’s more than possible. If he loved Mykaela, his heartsglass would have remained with her. But if someone had cast a spell on him and compelled him otherwise…”
“Then that would explain why I couldn’t retain my hold on his heartsglass,” Mykaela finished, her eyes widening. “But how could someone keep control even after his death?”
“King Vanor,” Khalad began, “do you know where Mykaela’s heartsglass is?”
Silence.
“That was one of the questions he never answers,” Zoya reminded him.
“King Vanor, is there a reason why you cannot tell us more about Mykaela’s heartsglass?”
“Yes.”
That he even answered startled us all, and the forger pushed on doggedly. “Is it to protect her?”
Silence.
“Are there certain questions that you cannot answer because you’ve been bespelled by someone before you died?”
No answer.
“Let me rephrase that. Are there certain questions you cannot answer but would like to if given the chance?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who killed you?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell us who?”
Silence.
“I still don’t understand,” Polaire said. “Why is he answering some questions but not others?”
“Because whoever bespelled him couldn’t anticipate all the possible questions we could ask or the loopholes we could use. They never thought we would know that he’d been compelled, remember? None of us had considered the possibility before. As long as we do not ask him directly about the location of Mykaela’s heartsglass or who killed him, he can answer.”
“I repeat Mykkie’s question. How is it possible for someone to control him even after death?” Althy demanded. “I was one of the asha who examined the king when he died. We found no traces of spells on his person.”
“The control could be through a rune we do not know, a spell we have not been taught—anything is possible at this point. Remember, there were missing pages from the Faceless’s book.”
“Vanor,” Mykaela said softly. “Did anyone from Daanoris bear any resentment toward you?”
“No.”
“From Tresea?”
“No.”
“From Odalia?”
More silence.
“If that isn’t an answer, then I don’t know what is,” Zoya looked smug. “He won’t respond to certain questions, but if we limit his answers down to a yes or no and eliminate possible answers as we go along, then I think we’ve found our loophole.”
“I hate complicated,” Kalen grunted.
“King Vanor, was the Duke of Holsrath responsible for your death?”
Silence again.
“OK, not the right question. Vanor, did the Duke of Holsrath begrudge your relationship with Mykaela?”
“No.”
“Did King Telemaine?”
“Zoya!” Kalen protested.
“Process of elimination, remember? We can eventually get to the…” Zoya’s voice trailed off. “He didn’t say no. King Vanor, did King Telemaine resent your relationship with Mykaela?”
The king said nothing, and a chill crept up my spine. Surely that didn’t mean…
Zoya swallowed. “Did King Telemaine wish to become king by assassinating you?”
Silence.
“Did King Telemaine wish he were the firstborn son instead of you?”
For the first time, Vanor tore his gaze away from Mykaela to focus on Zoya. “Yes.”
“Was King Telemaine willing to do anything to become the King of Odalia?”
Silence.
Khalad gasped. Mykaela clapped a hand over her mouth.
“I can’t believe that,” Kalen said hoarsely.
I spoke up, voice trembling. “Do the elders have Mykaela’s heartsglass?”
“No.”
“Is the Faceless, Aenah, working with the elders?”
“No.”
“Is Aenah in league with the king?” I asked.
King Vanor’s gaze shifted to the shadows. That was the only warning I had, but it was not enough. White-hot electricity lanced through me, the pain barely fading before I found myself on my back. From the groans and startled cries around me, I knew I was not the only one.
“That was sheer genius. I must congratulate you all on your creativity.”
Still unable to move, I opened my eyes—and stared straight into King Telemaine’s smiling face.
“How could you, Telemaine?” Polaire hissed from nearby.
The king shrugged. “Vanor was a fool. Throwing his heart away for a Dark asha—he was the laughingstock of Odalia, and he was too besotted to realize it. Your azi can rage all it wants outside these city walls, Lady Tea, but it means nothing here, where I am in control.”
“Impossible,” Althy said through gritted teeth. “You have no inclination for runic magic.”
“No, he doesn’t,” a voice behind him agreed.
I lunged upward, desperately clawing at the walls in a bid to right myself, to will myself the required energy to leap at the newcomer and attack her mind—to no avail. The pain in my head increased, and I slumped back down. The figure stepped forward.
“But I do,” said Aenah.
I remembered the hanjian and his painful transformation, his protruding tongue and blackened face before the bone witch killed him, before he could become one of those hideous creatures. I remembered the poor Daanorian soldiers. In these elders, I saw the same horrifying changes. Their features distorted and twisted until their faces were no longer familiar, and more limbs and appendages burst from their bodies until they were parodies of humanity.
Twelve of the elders had undergone differing anomalies, though all resulted in the same kind of horrors: a bison-like creature with an armadillo’s armor; a snake that stood several yards high with a long forked tongue, six hoofs, and a spiked horn that grew at the end of its tail; another with the jaws of a crocodile and the wings of a dragon; a praying mantis ten feet tall, with eight legs that ended in hooked talons.
Mistress Hestia was gone, and the ripped remains of her hua were the only evidence she had once been a woman. In her place was a nightmare: a terrifying beast with a beak and the facade of a rooster but with lion’s arms and a sentient tail of snake heads. Her wings fluttered, growing several feet on either side of her body, and three-pronged horns adorned her head in a terrifying mockery of a crown. Like the others, her silver heartsglass was fused to her chest, shining faintly.
“Impossible!” Lady Mykaela cried out. “They’ve been blighted!”
The horned rooster crowed, laid its beady eyes on the bone witch, and opened its mouth. Something that looked like blue fire erupted from its beak, lancing straight toward her.
Fox leaped for the Dark asha, as did the Deathseeker. Magic sparked around Lord Kalen, and Lord Fox pulled Lady Tea to the ground, shielding her body with his own. But it was the savul that moved quickest, throwing itself in front of its mistress, shrieking as the intense fire burned through its skin. It sank to its knees.
Red-hot flames blazed atop Lord Kalen’s hand, arching toward the hideous asha-beast. Almost at the same time, Lady Mykaela lifted her arms and lightning rained down from the sky. But the creature simply ducked its head, and both attacks glanced harmlessly off its hide.
“They are invulnerable to magic, just as daeva are!” I gasped.
“Send the rest of the soldiers back!” Fox all but snarled to his men, lifting himself up. “Protect the empress and the princess at all costs, but do not engage in this fight! Asha and Deathseekers, to me!”
“Fox,” the bone witch said softly. “Thank you.”
“Habits are hard to break,” he said shortly, helping Lady Tea back to her feet.
“See to Inessa’s safety first. Whatever you say, we both know I am no longer your priority. As it should be.”
“Tea—”