The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [229]
Sareth moved forward. “This is an amazing story you have told us Falken, Melindora. But may I remind you …”
Melia waved his words aside. “Yes, Sareth. We have hardly forgotten. Come, everyone. I imagine my requests to the emperor have been seen to. It is time we paid Ephesian our respects and said farewell.”
Grace followed the others from the hall, forcing her legs to function. She could feel the others gazing at her with a mixture of awe and respect. Even Travis. It was utterly dreadful. Then, thankfully, Aryn was there. The young woman gripped Grace’s hand in her own good one.
“So King Boreas was right all along, Grace. You really are royalty. Only you’re not a duchess, but a queen.”
Queen. That was what Marji had called her. Why was Grace always the last to know?
“In fact,” Aryn went on, “as Queen of Lost Malachor, I imagine you’d even outrank Boreas.”
To her surprise, Grace found herself laughing, and the act was steadying, healing. “I don’t think I’m going to be the one who tells Boreas that.”
Aryn joined in her laughter. “Well, don’t look at me!”
They were still laughing when they reached the dais and Ephesian’s throne. The emperor’s myopic eyes lit up when Melia told him of their discovery and of Grace’s royal nature.
“We shall have a celebration!” Ephesian said after roaring with mirth. He turned his attention to Grace. “We’re cousins of a sort, Your Majesty. I am descended from Elsara’s eldest son, and you from her second. Thus I decree that all of Tarras will honor you. We’ll have nine days of feasting and music and dancing. What’s more, you and I can ride together in a parade on a golden barge, and while the people watch I’ll give you some advice on how to run an empire.”
Grace had absolutely no idea what to say to that, so she simply murmured, Thank you, Your Magnificence.
Now Ephesian regarded Melia. “I must thank you, Melindora. This is quite possibly the most interesting day I’ve ever had.”
“And nor is it quite over yet, Your Magnificence,” Melia said. “So let’s not celebrate prematurely.”
Ephesian called forth one of his soldiers, who reported that the Etherion had been made ready as Melia commanded. After this, the companions bade their farewells to the emperor—with both Lirith and Grace promising to visit soon—then departed, marching across the vast throne room and leaving the emperor alone. The gilded doors of the palace swung shut behind them with a boom that reverberated through Grace’s body.
The vibration grew in force. A roaring filled the air, and the tiled surface of the courtyard rose and fell violently under Grace’s feet. She cried out as she and the others tumbled against one another. It wasn’t the vibration of the doors closing, Grace finally realized. The ground was shaking.
“What’s happening?” Falken shouted above the roar.
However, even as the bard spoke, the trembling of the ground ceased, and an eerie silence fell over the palace, punctuated by the distant barking of dogs.
Grace struggled to regain her feet, letting go of Sareth, whom she had clutched to keep from falling. A webwork of fine cracks covered the tiled courtyard. She was certain the cracks had not been there moments before.
“That felt like an earthquake,” Travis said.
“I do not like this,” Sareth said, gazing at Vani. “The cavern of the demon lies beneath the city. This trembling cannot bode well.”
Vani opened her mouth to answer, but a moan of pain interrupted her. Nearby, Melia staggered, her face ashen.
Falken rushed to her. “Melia, are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“What is it?”
At last Melia managed to croak a single word. “Misar …”
Grace knew enough of what had been happening in Tarras to understand. Another god was dead, consumed by the demon.
76.
Travis craned his neck, gazing up at the blue dome high above. It was hard to believe it wasn’t the sky he was looking at. Birds dived and darted, then soared toward white clouds. It was only after staring for a minute that the illusion finally became apparent. The clouds never moved, painted in