Stellan walked past her and opened the door. “I officially refuse your offer. Now leave.”
Sada headed toward the opening. “Very well,” she said, the chill in her voice echoing the icy glint in her eyes. “You had your chance.” Then she glided through the door like a wisp of smoke and was gone.
Stellan grabbed her “gift” and bolted to the pipe-organ tower. He stepped out onto the balcony. On the horizon, dawn crept across a milky, overcast sky. He watched Sada depart on her steed, the snow descending like a curtain as the wind advanced from the north. Only after the murky whiteness had swallowed her entirely did he relax his guard. Yet he remained against the parapet a few moments more, lost in anxious thought.
Mixed feelings about his sister abounded within him, fear and loathing and admiration all wrapped up together like one of Gretchen’s balls of yarn. Father had always favored Sada; his preference had been clear to Stellan from childhood. For one, she possessed the lion’s share of magickal talent and ambition. But it wasn’t enough to make her happy.
Stellan knew the patriarchal chains of control frustrated Sada to no end. Years before, she had solicited Stellan’s promise to rule with her jointly when the throne became his. Not as husband and wife, but as equal partners. At the time, the plan had seemed workable. Shrewd and indomitable, witty and ravishing, she would make a far better king than he. As far as Stellan had been concerned, she was welcome to the monarchy. He would have been content to engage in more creative pursuits.
But that was before Pestilence entered the picture.
Though she would undoubtedly deny it, he was sure Sada had disclosed his plan to betray their father all those long years ago. The moment she learned his intentions threatened her quest for power, she’d retaliated in anger.
At the time, his actions must have seemed like treason. How dare he oppose the Black Mage! How dare he destroy a room’s worth of plague serum, not to mention “valuable” records kept on its development! Renaudas’s wrath that day had been terrible, catastrophic. He was apoplectic with rage and an unstoppable force.
Stellan pushed up a sleeve and fingered the long scars on his right arm, evidence of his father’s eldritch power and fury. Yet if Sada had stayed quiet, he might have escaped punishment. Regardless, he wouldn’t have done anything differently. Pestilence had been a misguided plot. There had certainly been no reason for his father to test it on his own people.
A twinge of deep-seated sadness passed through him. Or their beloved pets–or Mother.
Since then, emptiness had filled his heart. Whatever brotherly love he’d felt had vanished. Stellan found it difficult to forgive Sada’s betrayal, especially since she’d once meant the world to him. As a result, “trust” became a foreign concept.
As if her betrayal hadn’t been bad enough, his father had recreated the serum, as evidenced by all of the victims Stellan had encountered during his exile. In the beginning, he had accomplished all he could with the means available. Now he only wanted to be rid of Pestilence completely.
Stellan stared down at Sada’s gift. Snow speckled its graceful folds. Mistrust filled his mind. It could be a trap with some sort of magickal danger enclosed. He would have to remain ever vigilant.
Memories flooded back of his early adolescent years, when he had thought Sada and he would be together forever. They had shared everything, told each other everything. Given their past emotional bond, no wonder Sada thought she could convince him to join her planned coup. She hadn’t the slightest inkling how much he had changed. Either she believes I’m a fool, or a poor desperate fool, but I am neither!
With a heave, Stellan threw the tiny box into the great, swirling snowstorm that had sprung up around him.
Chapter 25
Drifting along on the edge of sleep, Clarysa tossed and turned in the satin sheets of her bed. The official wedding date was only days away. Each night she reviewed mental lists of all the various tasks she needed to accomplish. Each night she wondered if the wedding would even happen since Stellan was constantly battling Pestilence outbreaks. No matter. She would wait as long as required. The safety of the Five Lands came first.
This particular night, her anxiety about it all must have tormented her more than she’d realized, for visions of a peculiar dream roiled about in her subconscious mind, coming and going like waves on a shore.
Sleep came at last with visions of Stellan beckoning her into slumber–and other nighttime delights. But this was not to last, for her sensuous fiance was soon replaced by lissome specters that slid silently along her bedroom walls. Try as she might, she couldn’t see them clearly. Their presence unsettled her. Who were they? What was their intent?
A sensation followed. Her body became airy, light as a feather. Clarysa was floating and twirling among the demonic shapes, a bizarre dance macabre against the prismatic vistas of the horizon. Was she flying? Impossible. But it felt so real!
The vision blurred and disappeared. Clarysa exhaled–and she was awake. Or was it more dream-state trickery?
Her head ached so much it was like a blacksmith was splitting it open upon his anvil. She tried to rise from the nest of coarse blankets. Yet no matter how much effort she put forth, her body refused to cooperate. Opening her eyes, she saw the woven pattern of a thatched roof above her. This wasn’t her room!
Clarysa screamed, but panic reduced the sound to a mere whimper. Grogginess muddled her mind. Time seemed to both contract and expand simultaneously. Where am I?
She became aware of a pinching sensation in her right arm.
Her stomach twisted at the pain. It hurt. A great deal.
Such a vivid dream! But the pain helped Clarysa gather her wits. She turned her head. A thin translucent tube protruded from her wrist. It pulsed with a soft, incandescent
