The Price of Survival Read online

  “I am pleased to see the rumors of your return were not speculative,” he spoke at last as he watched her. “You look well,” he added.

  His tone had more distance than he had ever directed at her before though, and Z felt her heart sink. Would he turn them away? Did he blame her for everything that had happened surrounding Tenia, or worse, for everything that had happened in his kingdom?

  “As do you,” she managed to reply quietly.

  Her words caused him to step closer, and Z saw the effort it took him to pause in his motion. “What brings you to Istuion?” Zyrhis demanded as he stopped himself from approaching her again. “Especially to Istuion with the Islierre and the Mithane?”

  Obviously Zyrhis had a problem with Islierre. Sighing inwardly at immortal squabbles that they seemed to feel were superior to mortal ones that were their mirror image, Z tried to find an answer she felt would not anger him while she searched for information. Exhaustion, however, left her deciding to choose the slightly more brusque path.

  “I thought an old ally would be willing to discuss matters that could directly impinge upon the safety of his kingdom. Apparently, I thought wrong. No worries, King Zyrhis, we will go elsewhere.”

  “Zimliya, hold,” Zyrhis ordered quickly as he took another step forward. His smaller size was now even more apparent as he grew closer to the two taller immortals; even she was taller than he was by several inches. “You do not need to withdraw from my lands. You are welcome. The Mithane is likewise welcome.” His eyes darkened dangerously though when they moved to the Islierre.

  “But I am not,” the Islierre interjected with a smile. “Point taken. Zimliya, if you need me I—”

  “You are not,” Zyrhis interrupted and agreed, “but because Zimliya has clearly accepted your presence I will overlook it enough to allow you access to Istuion. If you breach even the most minor of laws, however, you will be penalized to the highest level. I am certain you understand?”

  “Completely,” the Ryelention remarked dryly. His eyes were a furious orange and he turned them upon Z, who was trying to suppress the cringe she could feel surfacing. “You did exceptionally well with this one,” he told her coolly.

  “So glad he meets your approval,” she managed to drawl. “What’s with the archers, Zyrhis?” she then demanded of the Syallibion harshly. Her tone dropped several degrees on the word ‘archers’ and his name did not cause the chill to thaw. She also purposely dropped his title.

  “There has been a small amount of difficulty in the realm lately. They are merely practicing their aim. Apparently,” Zyrhis added with a dark look up at his men. A look that caused most of them to shift their weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “You were seen as a threat. I apologize for that. It will not happen again—”

  “If I become a threat I do hope it does,” Z countered stiffly.

  “As you say,” Zyrhis agreed before glaring at the Ryelention for a moment. “You are not the only visitors to grace Istuion this day,” he added with care.

  Z’s brow rose sharply. “Who else is here?” she wanted to know curtly, but before Zyrhis could speak, someone else entered the conversation.

  “A Shade, an annoying and hopelessly incapable Alantaion heir, and myself,” a familiar voice inserted smoothly.

  Z felt her heart stop in relief as Nivaradros appeared in the walkway behind Zyrhis. He didn’t even show his injuries—which made her instantly jealous—and he approached her with an air of smugness that would leave cats envious. There was not even a trace of his wounds in his step, and had their positions been reversed, she was certain she would have displayed something. His moment of arrogance grew when he held out a hand for her to accept and she moved easily to accept it. He pulled her close with a small smile appearing on his mortal-seeming features, and he didn’t hesitate to inspect her keenly for any hidden injuries.

  “You brought Shevieck?” she asked him softly when he was satisfied she wasn’t wounded. She was beyond relieved and amazed he’d gone after the heir when they had split ways.

  “I did,” he agreed with a small smile. “I did promise to look after him, and since you went after the Mithane it was clear you would not have time to rescue the Mithani as well. I considered it my duty to take up the slack,” he teased with calm green eyes.

  Those eyes didn’t even brighten as they noticed the Ryelention. He offered the immortal a stiff nod, but it had an air of politeness that made his reaction to the Islierre’s presence seem positively friendly in comparison to the others Z had seen today.

  “The Shade brought himself,” Nivaradros added. “He informed me you had taken the Mithane into the shadows. Due to your concern for his safety, I figured you would end up here.”

  Z was surprised Nivaradros had correctly guessed where she would arrive. It was both impressive and concerning. She didn’t want to be that transparent. Still, it was a major step forward for the Dragon and she knew the latter was the more important.

  “Your skills with mortals are forever improving,” she teased cautiously.

  She glanced at Zyrhis and saw the Syallibion’s expression was pinched, and his eyes were furious. Like all the other immortals—no matter how well they hid it—he did not approve of or like her relationship with the Dragon. He had tolerated it up to this point, but it was clear her easy acceptance of contact from Nivaradros when she wouldn’t accept the same from him was a sore spot. She wondered if anyone would accept her friendship with the Warlord without feeling that flash of jealousy she didn’t understand.

  Since he had known she had given Nivaradros the title of ‘friend’ before she had left, Z didn’t understand what the problem was. Surely he had gotten used to the idea while she had been away. Her time away from everyone here though had taught her a few things. Zyrhis was apparently jealous that Nivaradros—the Dragon who had nearly killed her—could touch her without fear. She should have expected the jealousy, but she hadn’t considered the consequences of her actions.

  Granted she still would attack the Dragon—still had attacked him—when he startled her, but Nivaradros no longer had to worry about losing the chance of her trusting him unless he did something terrible. Zyrhis and the others did. She hated the insight having lived somewhere else had given her. Closing her eyes briefly, she exhaled sharply and then gently pulled away from the Dragon.

  “Zyrhis,” she called quietly. The Syallibion’s eyes went from deadly to guarded in an instant and Z cringed inwardly. “If you mention—at all—any interest in me forming a lasting relationship with anyone that does not include the term ‘friend,’ I will kill you.”

  A smile appeared for a second before it vanished. “I take it you have been the target of the same thing I have been subjected to for the past several months. Am I to assume you made a decision on a husband?”

  She chuckled darkly. “Have you chosen a wife?”

  “Your point,” Zyrhis responded easily. He had spent a fair amount of time among the Rangers, and that particular phrase had become one of his favorites. His solemn expression returned seconds later though. “The Dragon and you seem to be getting along rather well since your return. Shevieck claims you tried to kill him when he came to greet you upon your return.”

  “He attempted to hug me,” Z told him shortly.

  “That would be his fault then,” Zyrhis chuckled. His stance relaxed at long last. And he offered her his hand slowly. She accepted it without pausing, and she felt Zyrhis tense in astonishment before he pulled her closer to his side.

  “What has been happening in your realm since I left?” she asked softly. “The Dragon can see that the Islierre and the Mithane do not cause trouble,” she added when Zyrhis’s gaze went to the two elder rulers standing on the steps leading to his palace.

  Or what was the Syallibion version of steps. While their Keep was made from stone, Istuion was not. It was made out of and part of one of the last ancient trees of its kind. With their inborn magic with anything remotely flora-like, the im
mortal race had taken the twelve-million-year-old tree and turned it into a castle, stairs included, without harming the tree at all.

  Zyrhis grimaced at her words but nodded slowly and he pulled her hand lightly in a silent request for her to follow. She did and she did not retrieve her hand. She had an idea of how tonight would end up, and therefore she steadied herself for the inevitable. They reached the main hall and Z was surprised when Zyrhis led her through a servant passage rather than through the normal halls. She raised a brow at him when he glanced back at her, but it wasn’t until a good fifteen minutes later that Zyrhis exited the passage with her on his heels.

  “I apologize for this,” he told her quietly as he finally released her hand. She glanced around the room quickly—recognizing it at once—and was relieved to see strong protection and attack spells in place. “But Nivaradros had time to warn me you were acting different from your normal before you arrived. I thought being hounded by my advisors would possibly tax your patience—if you have any left following your travel with those two companions—to the breaking point.”

  Z smiled warmly. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that,” she informed him with an inward sigh of relief. “Now what is going on?” she pressed.

  “My advisors are on my side—or as much on my side as can be expected—but there are others, and they are many, who have risen up in challenge of my ascension to power. According to the majority I have spoken with while they have made their attempts, my assassination of my father in the manner I was forced to take displayed a level of weakness the kingdom cannot afford to show or have. Or that is what they claim. I believe however—”

  “They disapprove of your relationship with me and have therefore decided this is the surest way to sever ties between the Rangers and the Syallibions,” Z finished with a roll of her eyes. “They do realize doing that would surrender their fate into their own hands when Midestol comes calling, right?”

  “You would think,” Zyrhis sighed. “But clearly that is not the case. I am sorry, Z. You’ve walked straight back into a grove of viresitas, and you are still recovering from the event that drove you away to begin with.” He held up a brown hand before she could speak. “I am not an idiot, Zimliya,” he told her in a stern tone.

  “Yes, Midestol attacked you. Yes, you were wounded, but you had planned to leave long before that. He was just the excuse you needed to flee.” She remained silent this time since his assumption was correct. “Nivaradros asked me to place you here for the night since you are unpopular with many of my people,” he added quietly. “You should be able to withhold your magic if a struggle occurs—the room’s power should be enough. This is your room now. No matter when or why you decide to use it. You may therefore deny the Dragon entry. You may even deny me the same.”

  Brown eyes held hers. “And because I know you are worrying over this far too much; I will be fine.” Z wanted to be reassured, but his tone was off, his stance was tense, and when he spoke again Z felt the ground fly up to hit her. “But the next time you call for an Alliance gathering, Istuion will capitulate to your command.”

  Chapter 5

  She stared at him in absolute astonishment. For a second, she considered running him through with Kyi’rinn, but the thought passed quickly as her mind worked through the words carefully. She forced herself to think on what Zyrhis had said instead of just hearing his words and giving in to the horror that had overtaken her. Closing her eyes as she exhaled, she stepped back and held up a hand to keep him where he was. She was far too tempted to kill him, and she knew it was out of shock more than anything. Falling victim to her emotions at a time like this would not help her.

  “Explain your reasoning,” she finally managed to say curtly.

  Zyrhis winced at her tone, but he did take a seat in the chair furthest from her, which told her he was worried how she would respond. It was one of the many chairs that had been coaxed out of the trunk of the tree with magic and, as most of the room’s furniture had also been shaped from the tree, Z noticed a distinct lack of items to throw, and she found herself desperately seeking something to throw.

  “Tell me of the agreements Istuion has with Arriandri,” he requested after a lengthy silence, startling her with his chosen words.

  Frowning, she recited the treaties that had shaped the current relationship between the Alantaions and the Syallibions. When she finished he asked her to detail the trade rights between Istuion and the Ryelentions. And then the treaties between his people and every other kingdom—absenting only Midestol’s connections—whether they referred to trade, arms, or just a truce. When she finished answering his final query, Zyrhis steepled his fingers before watching her intently enough that Z’s desire to kill him disappeared entirely.

  “I have sixteen advisors,” he told her at last. “Not a single one of them knows the specifics of any treaty. They are immortal—they do not forget—and they have no idea what we have or have not promised any other kingdom or race without looking the documents up because they never bothered to find out what was promised. They were not in power when those documents were made. You do. You know every single agreement between every single kingdom, even if the treaties were made millenniums ago. And, unlike my advisors, you will not try to get out of any part of it.” She opened her mouth to speak and Zyrhis raised a hand to swat away her words.

  “I need that knowledge,” he explained coolly. “And I need it on my side. You walked away from your rightful place as Tezérac’s ruler so I am commandeering you to be my kingdom’s instead. You have the power to do this. You merely lack the drive, the confidence, and the desire. I need your help, Zimliya. Please, Zimliya,” he added when she tried to speak again. “If I stay in power I will be forced to choose a Consort, and you know there is no one I can trust among the choices I have.”

  He was right. Curse him to the hells and past, Z knew Zyrhis could not choose from his choices. It would lead to war in the best case, or his demise in the worst. And, yet, if he did not choose, the results could still be the same, and she would lose the tentative hold she had gained in Istuion. He had successfully backed her into a corner. If she took command of Istuion she gained Zyrhis a few years—possibly—of breathing room. She’d also have him back to being second in power, which would grant her the ability to borrow him again. Still, she hated him for what he was attempting to do. No doubt the other rulers would be highly amused with her situation—until they realized that they would have to deal with her when it came to dealing with the Syallibions.

  “You learned your lessons well,” she admitted coldly at long last as she seated herself as far from him as she could get. “You’ve become ruthless.”

  She rolled her shoulders to get some of the stiffness her anger had caused out and then froze as she realized she had been ignoring something important. She hadn’t been well since Nivaradros had shielded her from the attack, but she had assumed her exhaustion, the light shake in her muscles, the shortness of breath, and her occasional misstep had been from a missed injury despite the Mithane’s brief healing. But her weaknesses were growing, and Z feared the price for awakening the Shades was striking her. Not now, please not now. But she knew, even as she tried to think of another cause behind her condition, that it was the only possibility.

  “I’ll agree to this,” she said at long last. “I don’t like it, but I will agree to it. I don’t know if it will buy you much time, if any. Zyrhis, I could die at any time.” And she knew as she said those words that it wasn’t an unknown time. It was now, and she could not tell him.

  “That is a risk I must take,” the Syallibion replied gravely. “Thank you, Z,” he whispered after a slight pause. “I am sorry to have to force you into this.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t do it again,” she growled in a low tone. “I consider this a betrayal, and I happen to hold off on using the term ‘friend’ because of it.”

  It took a long time for Zyrhis to realize what she had implied. His ey
es widened slightly at their edges. “Z—” he began brokenly then.

  “If you run into the Mithane on your way out, please send him this way,” was her formal and icy reply.

  Only when he was gone did Z stand again and begin to pace the room angrily. It kept her mind from her darker concerns, and it allowed her to have the semblance of strength. By the time the Mithane arrived and the doors to her rooms opened, she was exhausted and sweating enough that her shirt clung uncomfortably to her skin. Glancing up at him as he arrived, she tried to manage a smile, but judging by the instant shift of brown to black in the Mithane’s eyes, it hadn’t been convincing.

  “How is the Islierre settling in?” she wanted to know. It had been a good three hours since she had left the two with Nivaradros. Long pauses in conversations with immortals tended to make time vanish in a dizzying sort of way.

  “Fine, I presume. We are on opposite ends of the castle—on opposite floors,” the Mithane said with a vicious smile. “I believe we are not trusted if we are not more than a thousand feet apart. Shevieck is well,” he added before she could ask. He fell silent then and stared at her with his healer’s gaze, evaluating what he saw. “How long?” he wanted to know.

  “Since I pulled us into the shadow world of my creation,” she replied quietly. It was true—she simply hadn’t been paying enough attention to the warning signs until it had been too late. “It just recently fully flared up.”

  “Do you feel any pain?”

  She raised a brow. “Seriously? You’re going to ask me that? No, I do not,” she answered when he raised a brow in return.

  “That may be more of a blessing than you know,” the Mithane informed her as he closed the distance between them until he was two feet from her. “Ask,” he whispered.

  “How long can you keep it at bay?”

  “A couple of months if we are incredibly lucky,” was the very grim and soft reply. “But, Zimliya, you cannot get even so much as a scratch or I will not be able to help.” He watched her weaken. “And now is not a time I can ask you to abstain from any and all events where you risk an injury.” He moved forward suddenly and touched her shoulder lightly before taking a step back. “Did you know when you came back?” he wanted to know.