Chapter Text
The day had started off calmly enough. Sivrin had woken, remembered with quiet pleasure that she was alone in bed, and begun her morning with a small breakfast of fruit. She’d checked on baby Anali, tickled her stomach and smiled when she laughed, and then left her to the wet-nurse while Sivrin headed into the lower areas of the castle to administer to the needs of the day.
It had taken some getting used to, but by now she actively enjoyed her role as lord. She knew where every hay pile should be, the names of all the dogs and falcons and each and every servant and craftsman who worked at the castle. The village she knew less well, but still enough to greet many people by name and to know when a puddle in the road was out of place. She’d grown up in the servants’ halls after all, running with the peasant children in the mud, and her people loved her for it.
When Alikora had moved in he’d tried to take over the day to day running of the castle and village. He was the reigning House member, he said, even if Sivrin was the one who carried the title. It wasn’t as if she had the House Talent.
It hadn’t been a resolution of his that had lasted long. Not that anyone had objected to his face, of course, but everything had somehow gone . . . noticeably slower and rougher when he’d tried to direct it than when she had. And it did at least say something in his favour that he’d stepped back once he’d recognised that.
Sivrin spent the morning attending to any problems that needed her hand, and then began the afternoon with sparring. Alikora hadn’t objected to that, thank goodness. There were only so many times she was happy to cross him. The suspicion the entire House had about her blood was not going to go away, after all. The last thing she wanted to do was draw unnecessary attention to herself.
The exercise relaxed her and Sivrin returned to the castle tired and sweaty but satisfied. She had been heading to her room to change, when the world irrevocably fell apart.
She didn’t even notice the beginning. She’d been inside, and the heavy stone walls did a good job of cutting out the sound. She’d just made it to her room and opened her clothes chest when her maid ran panting into the room. “Lord Sivrin!”
She turned “Lestig? What’s wrong?”
“We’re under attack! House Rivenstone, I think! People swimming through the walls!” There was a trickle of blood down Lestig’s forehead and her hair was damp against her skin.
House Rivenstone? Under attack? And Alikora away, no Talented member of House Aetherclaw here to send for reinforcements. Damn them, why?
Why didn’t matter. What mattered was that her friends, her people were dying. She snatched up her swords from the wall she’d leant them against and strapped them back to her belt. “Send birds for help, quick as you can. I’ll see if I can have a word with their leader.”
Fighting wasn’t an option. Not without Talent of their own. And there was no chance of Sivrin using hers. It’d take more than an invasion for her to show the world she was her mother’s daughter.
She ran through the corridors of the castle, the halls echoing with screams. Miraculously she made it to the balcony that looked out over the courtyard without some Rivenstone hand reaching out of the wall and slashing or clutching at her.
The courtyard was a mess of blood and bodies and naked steel, soldiers in grey Rivenstone colours milling in battle with her own guards and several peasants who had snatched up arms to join the fight. She could even see a few members of House Rivenstone, the earth deforming around them as they swam close to the surface.
“Stand down!” She cried out, voice echoing across the courtyard. “I am Lord Sivrin Aetherclaw and I call for a parley! I would speak with your leader!”
And, thank the gods, they heard her. Some even listened, breaking apart and leaning against walls, panting heavily.
The walls of the balcony deformed around her and two Rivenstone men, tall and bearded, smelling of blood and sweat and metal, stepped out onto the stone floor. The heavy plates of their natural stone armour creaked. She took a step back toward the doorway, heart pounding. The one on the left smiled. “Greetings, Lord Sivrin.”
She swallowed and stood tall. “Rivenstone. Why are you here? If you want the castle I will give it to you without bloodshed. My husband is away, I know I cannot stand against you alone.”
The smiling man took a step towards her. “We don’t want the castle, Lord Sivrin. We want all of you gone. The whole of House Aetherclaw. Just as House Dreamdancer’s was, the latest Council meeting has declared your Talent too dangerous to remain in the world.”
It had what? In any — no. No. She did not have time for this. She could panic later.
If there was a later.
Sivrin’s hands closed around her hilts. “I’m Talentless. You should know that. I’ll surrender, there’s no need to kill anyone else.”
“How noble of you. Bring us to your daughter and we’ll consider it.”
Daughter. Anali.
They wanted to kill Anali.
She couldn’t let them do that.
No.
No!
Wait. There was a third option. A bad one, but if they were going to kill her anyway they might at least do it for the right reason.
She’d known this day would come eventually. Like this, she even got to put some purpose in her death.
Trying to keep her face calm, she nodded. “Follow me.”
As they walked through the corridors towards the nursery, Sivrin pushed her mind outwards. She hadn’t used her Talent in a long time; safer not to, every time she did was a chance to be discovered. Now she reached with the tiniest edge of her mind towards Alikora. Not too much, or she’d become noticeably groggy, and that would give the whole thing away.
Alikora wasn’t too far away, thank any god who was listening. He’d only gone to stay with his brother. She brushed at the edge of his mind and felt him recoil. Teeth gritted against the pain of her extended mind, she pushed harder, popping the bubble of his thoughts and launching herself inside.
Alikora screamed.
“Quiet!” She screamed back, filling his mindscape with blackness. “Quiet! It’s me, Sivrin. I need you to focus! Now!”
The world had vanished around her and all she could see was the emptiness she’d made of Alikora’s mind. That must mean her body had collapsed and the Rivenstones had realised what she was. Only so much time left.
“Siv — Sivrin? You — you’re a Dreamdancer!” His tone went from shocked to accusatory.
“Yes, but there’s no time for that! We’re under attack! Rivenstone! They’re going to kill Anali, I need you to bring her to safety. Please!”
“Anali . . . Rivenstone . . .”
“Please Alikora! Save her, they’ll be there within a minute!”
It was at that moment that a sharp kick to the ribs snapped her back to her own mind and she realised that she was lying on the cold stone floor, an angry Rivenstone standing above her.
Rough hands grabbed at her wrist and pulled her to her feet, twisting her arm behind her. She cried out, voice a little fuzzy in her own ears.
“Dreamdancer, eh?” The Rivenstone’s voice hissed hot and angry and far too close. “Looks like we’re killing two birds with one stone today. Went running for help, did you? Who did you call?”
“No one.” She felt oddly calm now. The worst had happened. She’d been found out and she was going to die, just like her mother. At least she’d done her best to help her daughter escape.
“Really now,” The Rivenstone twisted her arm harder and she cried out again, pain shooting through her shoulder. “I don’t believe you. Verion’s gone after your child, by the way, she’s still going to die.”
“Then kill me already and get it over with,” She snapped. “Taunting me won’t make any difference.”
All of a sudden the Rivenstone let go of her arm and kicked her legs from under her. She collapsed back to the floor, and the last thing Sivrin felt before the world went dark was the Rivenstone’s boot connecting with the base of her skull.
Sivrin hadn’t really had time to expect anything, but if she had, it would have been to never wake up again. So the rigid pole sticking into her back and the throbbing pain behind her temples came as quite a surprise.
With a groan she shifted and felt harsh hempen bonds cut into her wrists and waist. She opened her eyes and found herself looking at a wall of cream cloth. A tent. She was in a tent.
And she’d been bound to the central tent pole. Sivrin twisted her wrists, but nothing gave.
“Good morning, Lord Sivrin,” Said a voice, cool and smooth. Sivrin’s eyes cast about for the source, but all she could see was tent wall. “How are you feeling?”
Sivrin tugged against her bonds again, but they held fast. She fell back against the pole.
“Why am I still alive?” She asked. Her mouth felt like hot sandpaper.
Footsteps, boots against the canvas floor. The owner of the voice came into view, a tall, regal-looking woman with a crown of fiery red-gold hair. She stood and regarded Sivrin for a moment, eyes moving up and down as though she were an animal for sale at the market. “Why are you still alive?” She asked at last, raising an eyebrow. “Good question. You outed yourself, after all, quite irrevocably I think. You made an enemy out of the world today.”
“I know!” Sivrin glared at her.
“I suppose I know why,” She continued as if she hadn’t heard. “It’s understandable you’d want to save your child. You succeeded in that, by the way, though it remains to be seen if you won’t regret the price you paid.”
Anali was safe. Oh gods, Anali was safe! Alikora must have done as she’d asked, taken her and fled. She was safe!
“But to return to your question,” Her words cut through Sivrin’s relieved thoughts, dragging her back to her uncomfortable and unexpected situation. “My dear, you are still alive because you have a very, very rare Talent. Almost extinct in fact. I had eyes on you for a while, but you were very good at hiding it. I thought you were a dud, but no, here you are, a beautiful Dreamdancer, and all mine.”
Something flipped sick inside her. “We’re supposed to be killed on sight.”
“I know,” The woman smiled brightly, revealing crimson teeth, and at the sight of them the bottom dropped out of Sivrin’s stomach. “I’m the exception. Don’t you recognise me?”
Oh, she recognised her alright. Sivrin twisted in her bonds, but the ropes held tight.
The last of House Sunblaze, the House that had destroyed itself on Dreamdancer orders, the disaster that had started the purge of Sivrin’s Talent. Fineal Sunblaze, the one child who had survived. Lord Sunblaze, head of a shattered House. And equipped with full rights of vengeance on Sivrin’s destroyed bloodline.
Oh gods, this was bad. “You have to know,” She managed, voice suddenly quite shaky. “I wasn’t even born when House Sunblaze died. I had nothing to do with it.”
She continued to smile. “I know. I also don’t care. Your Talent, my dear, convinced my entire House to commit mass suicide. Whether you were involved or not, your blood was, and that is enough. I’ve waited far too long for this already,” She put out a hand and brushed her fingers lightly over the exposed skin at Sivrin’s neck. Sivrin twisted as far back as her bonds allowed. “Now that I’ve got you, I’m going to enjoy my vengeance. Nice and slowly. I hope your daughter’s life was worth the rest of yours.”
She gave Sivrin something foul tasting and thick. Some sort of drug, for after she’d choked it down she felt dizzy and distant, like the world hovered comfortably at arm’s length. Then Fineal cut her down from the pole and took her to a carriage. Sivrin sprawled on the floor at her feet, pushing against her thickening mind to do anything, to get up, to open the carriage door, to run. But all she could muster was a little twitching of her limbs. And then, as the driver shouted to the horses and the floor began to rattle beneath her, she found herself slipping entirely into the darkness.
At some point the carriage must have stopped moving. Sivrin’s eyes blinked blearily open as strong hands gripped her wrists, pulling her out and over someone’s shoulder. Dirty cobbles swayed beneath her. A horse neighed close by. And then her eyes drifted closed again.