“Yes. Eventually death takes them all. Some scholars posit that they pray themselves dead. This one”—Pine’s voice is thick with contempt—“only lasted a century.”
A century. I know who this creature is. The bearer before me.
“Lucero,” I whisper.
He smiles, an ancient, toothless smile, and says, “You know my name.”
I’m shaking so hard, and I can’t stop. This is what they want for me. A century or more of lying on hard granite, exposed to sun and ice, my fingers eaten by vultures.
Hector’s hand is on his scabbard, and his gaze darts around, sizing up the area. Our eyes meet. I know what he’s thinking. But surely now that I have promised to tell the Deciregi of the zafira, their plan for me has changed?
“What about a ‘willing sacrifice’?” Hector asks after too long a moment. “Franco said it would be better if Her Majesty came willingly. What does that mean?” He edges toward me. His question is merely a stall for time; he wants to get me away from this place, and fast.
“Exactly twice in our history we’ve had a bearer come willingly,” Pine says. “A willing bearer is permitted free reign of the city. He is waited on as if he were the High Deciregus, his every need attended to. In return, he agrees to willingly let us siphon the world’s power through his stone. Both times we had willing bearers, Invierne experienced a golden age. We bore more children, we lived longer. Apparently the zafira is richer and more accessible if the bearer does not resist.”
I stare at the lump of flesh on the altar before me. Lucero was a poor village boy. Illiterate. Surely the prospect of being treated like a king would have made him a willing participant. Why did he resist?
Hector says, “What aren’t you telling us? If being a willing sacrifice is a position of such honor and luxury, surely you would have convinced more than two.”
Pine hesitates. He exchanges another glance with Hawk, who nods. Finally he says, “Having power forcefully pulled through a living stone is somewhat . . . uncomfortable, as I understand. But yes, a willing sacrifice enjoys many benefits to compensate.”
The Deciregus is too glib. Never have I met an Invierno so willing to part with information. Even Storm, my ally and friend, causes me no end of frustration with his reticence.
Storm must sense something amiss as well, for he says, “We’ll no longer need a sacrifice if we have direct access to the zafira.”
No one responds. Wind whistles across the balcony. Beyond the altar, the silhouettes of the mountains are edged with morning light. One of the volcanoes spews a bit of lava. From this distance, it looks like fiery pudding, the way it sticks together midair and plops onto the side of the mountain.
“Please,” comes a whispered voice.
I turn toward the creature on the altar, forcing myself not to flinch at the sight.
“Kill me,” he says.
I step closer. His eyes swim with longing. With pain.
“I came to destroy their power source,” I admit, softly enough that only he can hear. “But I didn’t know it would be a person. Maybe I could take you away from here. I could heal you—”
“No,” he says, sharply enough that it startles me. “Everyone is dead. Gavín, Jedro, Melita . . . All gone. My life, my friends. I lived for the blink of an eye. But I’ve been dying for a very long time.”
I’m surprised by his clarity of thought. His sanity. I don’t know that I would fare so well.
I lean toward his ear and whisper, “If you want me to kill you, I will. But I’m not sure it’s necessary. I’m bargaining for peace. Invierne will never need a living sacrifice again.”
Lucero blinks at me with lashless lids, as if trying to focus. Is he blind? He says, “I think that is not a good place for you to stand.”
“What?”
The earth drops out from under my feet. My stomach leaps into my throat as I freefall into darkness.
“Elisa!” Hector yells.
I crash onto hard ground. My right leg snaps, a rib, a collarbone, as I crumple like weak kindling. Pain explodes everywhere, and I open my mouth to scream, but I can only convulse.
My lungs are empty of air. Blood fills my mouth. It will choke me if I don’t swallow or spit, but I can’t. Something closes in around me, something so much darker than the mere absence of light.
20
HECTOR
I’M only two strides away when the trapdoor opens and swallows Elisa.
I leap forward, bellowing for her to hold on, though there is nothing for her to hold on to. The tips of my fingers just brush her braid as she drops out of sight. I crouch at the opening to jump in after her.
My limbs turn to stone.
Sweat pours from my forehead. My breath comes in gasps. I’ve felt the magical paralysis of an animagus before. I’ve fought through it and won. But this is no mere animagus, and within moments I know this is a battle I will lose.
A stone slab slides across the dark hole Elisa disappeared into and thuds closed. I can hardly take it in, that I’ve lost her again. That they stole her right from under my nose.
“What did you do?” someone screams, giving voice to my own rage, and suddenly my body is released and air rushes into my lungs. I topple forward, barely catching myself with my hands.
I spring to my feet, drawing my sword. I lunge toward Pine, but pull up short because Mula has gotten there first. She pounds him with tiny fists, still screaming, “What did you do? What did you do? Bring her back!”
Pine regards Mula with puzzled annoyance, as one would a pesky gnat, but her distraction was enough to free me from the Deciregus’s grip.
“Mula, step away now,” I order, expecting to be frozen again at any moment. The girl ceases her assault at once and backs away.
It might be best not to launch at the sorcerer after all. I watched my best friend burn in the fiery, unavoidable grasp of an animagus. I switch my grip to a throwing position. I haven’t practiced throwing with a sword this size and weight, but maybe I’ll get lucky. Or maybe I’ll lose my best weapon.
“Take me to the queen at once.” I’m in no position to demand anything; I’m just stalling until I can form a better plan.
Pine raises his chin in amusement. Beside him, Hawk chuckles.
I try a different tack. “If you don’t take me to her, you’ll never learn the location of the zafira.” I sheathe the sword, sending it home with a decisive snick. A weapon won’t help me now.
“They don’t care about the zafira,” Storm says, his voice a near whisper. He stares at his father, his expression unreadable. Was he part of the plan the whole time? I should have forced Elisa to be more cautious with the Invierno. “They just wanted her,” Storm continues. “The other Deciregi would destroy a nation for the zafira, but not my father and his allies. They just want peace for another century.”
In that case, I’ll find the other Deciregi. Tell them that if they free the queen, they can have access to a power source even more vast. But it will only work if I can get us off this balcony.
Hawk and Pine want Elisa for their living sacrifice, so they’ll keep her alive. But badly injured. Like the boy on the altar, they want her at the point of death. So she can’t resist.
My stomach knots, even as my jaw hardens and my teeth clench. In order to help her, I must leave her. Then I can bargain for her release. If that fails, I’ll tear the city apart stone by stone.
Pine and Hawk share a look of triumph. Gently, Pine raises his hand—the bare one—and strokes her cheek. “We did it,” she says, smiling up at him.
Pine turns to me. “We will present the new sacrifice to the Deciregi in two days, at the height of our annual Commemoration.” His voice rings with triumph. “It will be a great coup for our houses. I will present you and the queen’s other companions as well, for my daughter says that you all hold great status in your kingdom.”