Flames Like Vines

The Party, Part 4

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This is a companion story to ICE LIKE FIRE, the sequel to SNOW LIKE ASHES. I say "companion" as it parallels the beginning events of ICE LIKE FIRE -- and as such, you will find a few minor spoilers for ICE LIKE FIRE.

If you are the sort of reader who screeches in horror at the thought of a spoiler of any kind, LOOK AWAY NOW.

But if you are the sort of reader who flips through the pages of a book, perusing lines here and there before you've quite finished it yet...well, read on, dear rebel reader. Read on.

***

"Give him to me," Ceridwen snapped at the guard. The gold chain fell into her palm in a thin line of cold metal. She walked through the rising intensity of the celebration, plunging a way through the crowd without looking back. Amid screams and laughter and shooting pillars of fire, the gurgling of wine pouring from barrels, the faces of Simon's new purchases, who should have been horrified, but instead were drunk and gleeful, their S brands pronouncing their doom.

This was her life. No matter how many caravans she freed, no matter how many of Simon's plans she unraveled. She would always be one step behind him and his accursed conduit, that unfair source of magic that made him eternally victorious.

And she couldn't take it anymore.

Lekan fluttered past as she neared the door. His glare of warning said everything he didn't dare say aloud, but Ceridwen ignored him and dragged the man out of the celebration. She pulled him through the palace, winding along the corridors to her chamber until she slammed the door behind them and threw the lock and pressed her forehead to the cool wood. Silence, finally. The man didn't speak, just stood behind her, waiting to see what his fate would be.

"What's your name?" Ceridwen moaned into the door.

The man shifted, his chains clanking against the stone floor. "Emil."

She turned, realizing as she did that she still held onto his gold chain. She dropped it in disgust and hurried to a wardrobe in the corner. When she turned back, Emil stood before her, unmoved, blinking curiously. As if being away from Simon had woken him up. Now that he was coming out of his stupor, it looked as if he couldn't remember how he had gotten here.

The Summerians always looked the same. Dazed and deliriously happy—until they were returned to their cages. Until Simon was done with them. Then they woke up muscle by muscle, every area of their body remembering what had happened to them in slow, debilitating clarity. It was like a drug wearing off, a strong drink leaving their system, until there was nothing left inside of them but them. Ceridwen couldn't count the number of times she had heard weeping echo through the palace after a celebration.

And now . . . the Ventrallan captives looked the same.

Ceridwen could barely bring herself to consider what this meant. How had Simon done it? It was impossible. The Royal Conduits only affected their respective kingdoms, and even if it were somehow Jesse controlling his own people, he would have to be close by, close enough for Ceridwen to know he was here. And Jesse may have been weak, but he was not cruel.

What had Simon done?

Emil shook his head, gripping his temples. The chains around his wrists clanked and swayed, but his attention broke between his returning focus and Ceridwen, standing in front of him with a lock picking set in her hands.

She stepped forward and took one of his hands in hers. The first lock fell in a few easy clicks, and she talked as she went, unable to look at Emil's face. "This room is on the third floor. There's a vine outside the second window from the corner that will lead you to the stables. Take a horse and leave through the southwestern gate behind the kitchen garden. It won't be patrolled. Once you're in Juli, ride. As hard and as fast as you can, and don't stop for anything."

Ceridwen finished with the second lock and stood again, rummaging through her things until she found a water bag and other supplies she used when on raids. She handed it all to Emil along with some of her clothes and an old pair of boots. "Ride west, and keep riding until you pass into the Southern Eldridge Forest. There's a camp there, on the far western border, with other people like you. It's the only place where—" Ceridwen's hand went to her face, the spot on Emil's cheek now swollen and disfigured by the branded S.

She jerked her hand down as realization dawned on Emil's face. Any kingdom in Primoria would know him by that S, and wouldn't hesitate to give him back to Summer. He was Ventrallan though—he could easily cover his brand with one of their masks. But one slip was all it took. One mask that didn't quite fit, one glance from the wrong person, and then what?

And now, as if that wasn't enough to separate him from society . . .

Simon could control him.

"You need to hide. Go," Ceridwen whispered. She turned her back on him, busying herself with straightening papers on her desk, pretending ignorance. Pretending she didn't hear Lekan's voice in her head warning her: We can save them, Cerie, but this is too obvious—

No. In a few minutes, Ceridwen would call for the guards, sobbing that the Ventrallan had overpowered her, stolen her things, and escaped into the palace. By the time the palace was searched, Emil would be well into Juli.

Clothing rustled and the window opened in a burst of warm Summer air. For the longest time, Ceridwen just stood there, one hand on her desk, her back to the window.

She wanted to follow Emil. To climb out her window and dissolve into the Eldridge Forest. To forget that she had ever belonged to a kingdom that could cause such pain.

To forget how many times she had failed, and would continue to fail, over and over.

Simon was right—whatever he had done, however he controlled the Ventrallans . . . he was infinite now.

Unstoppably, horrifyingly infinite.

***

That concludes FLAMES LIKE VINES! To keep up with Ceridwen, Simon, and the Summer Kingdom, grab your copy of ICE LIKE FIRE, out 10/13/15!