Chronicles of a Falling Empire [Bloodstained, Bloodshed]

her eyes are fierce, her heart is kind
for every wound, she seeks to mend
with every strike, with peace in mind
she fights until the battles end

- "The Shield," Verse 3

We walk half a mile downstream, until we can't see Lady Fate's bridge anymore. The current banks sharply to the right—we turn with it, into a lush, green meadow. Tall grasses, flowering plants of countless hues, and ancient trees give the terrain a peaceful energy. The River of Time shimmers with a silvery glow, reflecting light from three suns and casting an ethereal ambiance over the surroundings. A few yards from the bank is a natural clearing that looks adequate for altar building. Two magnificent trees on either side of the weeds provide privacy. The river's gentle flow is meditative—the water rushes by with a melodic hum.

"Get stones from the bank," Audrin tells me. "They should be large and flat. Whatever you do, don't touch the water."

I find a couple of rocks that fit his description and carry them back to the clearing. He sets them up in a triangular pattern—perhaps it would be heart-shaped if I'd been able to find more. Frowning, he slips a golden ring off his finger and places it in the center of the stones.

"Do you have anything to offer?" he asks.

I unpin a title from my leathers and set it next to his ring.

We collect flowers and vines from the surrounding terrain—roses, lilies, lavender, forget-me-nots. Audrin twists daisies into a crown, slitting the stem with his fingernail before sliding another flower through the narrow loop. He weaves ivy around the alter stones and places the blooms by leaves. Then he sinks to his knees at the far point of the triangle, bows his head, and begins to pray.

"Great Lady, guardian of the heart and protector of our most sacred bonds, I call you in this hallowed place," he says. "In this moment of profound need, I require wisdom and compassion. I am burdened by the sorrow of past actions, by the loss of my beloved Adelaide. I humbly ask for your assistance in navigating the time web to find her presence and understand the truths that have alluded me."

Nothing happens.

He snaps his fingers twice.

Still, nothing happens.

"Has this ever happened before?" I ask.

"I've only been to the River of Time once," he says. "It…wasn't ideal."

"Does the snapping thing work in the Lands of the Living?"

"Always," he says. "It's the privilege of a lord with a departed Lady—we can call our incarnates to us when we require guidance."

"How often do you do it?"

I'm pushing my luck by asking so many questions, but I can't help it—I'm curious about magic.

He's staring at the altar, a devastated expression on his face. His lips are twisted, pursed, and his eyes are glassy.

"Twice since she died, which was five years ago," he says reluctantly. "She came to me both times. Reluctantly, but she came."

"Not more?" If I could call a Lady to me, I'd never not be asking questions. "Don't you want to see her?"

His voice is testy. "Must you be so inquisitive?"

"Sorry, Your Highness."

He runs his slender fingers across one of the stones, tracing a symbol—it looks like a ruin. "Addie, where are you?" he murmurs.

Silence, then…apologize.

It's not a voice, not really, but I hear it in my mind, feel the vibration in my bones. Audrin stiffens—beneath his crown, the wind rifles his hair. Tendons stand out in his neck—he wipes his palms on the chest of his red robes. Beads of sweat appear on his forehead.

"No," he says. "You left me to join Brid Naya'il—forgivable. But you left our children too, and for that…Addie, I meant what I said. You did it in front of Lucian, woman. Do you have any idea how badly that mucked him up?"

I was finishing L'Angly's circle.

"Lady Darkbloom offed herself in front of her son—that meant it was okay for you to do the same?" His shoulders slump. "You lost your mind. The medics told me it happens to some woman after parturition—I should've been watching you more carefully. That's on me. But I'm not apologizing for accusing you of betrayal. You ruined our son."

Archille's son.

"Our son." His nostrils flare, and he raises his chin. "What's happened to you?"

She appears then, rising from the center of the altar in smoky waves. It's as if candles, or a lit campfire, are beneath the earth—the gray clouds form into a woman as solid as Audrin. She stands tall and elegant, slender and regal. She almost seems to be hovering above the altar—maybe, despite her solid appearance, she really is made of smoke. A flowing gown of delicate, shimmering fabric seems to be made of light itself—it shifts in colors from soft pink to ivory and gold. Her hair cascades in long, lustrous waves down her back, shining like spun silk. As always, I'm struck by her incomparable beauty—Audrin may be good looking, but he's too pale, with a nose slightly crooked at the bridge. His twin is flawless—pristine features that look like they were carved from marble. She wears a crown made from the same flowers we placed around the altar—the roses, daisies, and lavender seem to have disappeared from beneath her. Around her neck hangs the pendant of a dove—it glows with a shimmering red light.

"What happened to me?" She bares her teeth. "What happened to you? You forgot Brid Naya'il—forgot the promises we made to meet her in another life. She was alone, suffering. I could hear her crying for us every time I closed my eyes. You should have joined her with me."

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"And abandoned our children?"

"We could have brought them with us."

"Addie." He raises a hand, as if to placate her—he's still on his knees. "Your mind is sick—you're mentally ill. Death is never the answer—not if there's any way for the living to avoid it."

"When everyone you love is dead, there is no other answer."

"You had our children." Anguish punctuates every syllable. "Jebah. Me."

"She had no one."

"She had Killián."

Adelaide laughs a wild, wicked laugh. "That man is no comfort. He won't even tell her who killed her."

"Because we all watched it happen! The man who slayed her died moments after!"

"I'm finished with you," Adelaide says. "You forget your vows to remain with the women who loved you—a river flows between us. In losing us, you lose your ties to Lady Love." She turns to me. "You—you I can work with. A son of Love, born to Lust, changed by Fate, sworn to Loss, chosen by Death."

"Hi, Queen Adelaide." I drop to my knees, bow, rise. "Um…could I get my soul back?"

It's so ridiculous that I almost laugh. If I wasn't so confused by their previous interaction—or scared shiteless that my soul has been stolen, broken, and divided between L'Angly and Leómadura—I probably would laugh. Her lips flatten, curl into a smile.

"Do you know the parts that make up a soul?" she asks.

"Lefe's looked like a glob of light," I say.

"Essence, spirit, memory." She ticks them off on her fingers. "The essence represents the core of an individual's identity and the inherent ownership of the soul. It's the unique signature that defines who you are. A symbol of personal sovereignty and the fundamental right to existence. Without essence, a person loses the claim to their own being."

"OK," I say. "So…can I have it back?"

"I don't have your essence," she says. "Nor do I have your spirit—the life force and energy that drives a person's will, emotions, and actions. I have your memories—the accumulated experiences, knowledge, and wisdom of your life. That's why Audrin was able to bring you here—as my lord, what's mine is his."

"I still have my memories," I tell her. "I mean…I remember growing up on L-Street. I remember my sisters, my time on the frontline."

"The mind is a curious thing," she says. "What's important is I have them too—and I've been protecting you. Have you ever wondered why the mirrors are blank when you enter the time web?"

"Why would you do that?"

"You were born to Lust," she says. "By divine right, you are mine."

"I chose Loss—then Death."

Her nose crinkles. "I forgive you."

"I'm not getting my memories back, am I?"

"If you had your memories, Galtero would've destroyed you when you entered the mirror with him," she says. "Do you have any idea what he's capable of? Have you seen what he's done to Staffmaster Lefe? The worst moments of your life—the lowest of the low—would be dissected in slow motion for his enjoyment. He would deem you a sinner, a whore, a reprobate. Is that what you want?"

"Death should have my memories," I say. "I swore myself to her church. That's what Killián wants from me—allegiance."

"You wish to reconstruct your soul—and give it to Brid Naya'il?"

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"Better than Yosif." She thinks for a second. "Better than Killián. Ladies are always the best option—until they choose to trade you to their sisters. Then you lose everything. Your church. Your choice. Your divinity."

"I don't have any divinity," I remind her.

"You will." Her expression is distant. "If you marry a di Vivar…well. Love and Fate will tie you to the bloodline forever."

"Vestal Brid wants to be general of Lady Death's guard—not my husband."

Audrin is looking at me with a curious expression on his face. "That's not a terrible plan for Killián," he says. "For Lady Death to own you. You'd be married to her. It makes sense for the di Vivar family. Brid will succeed her aunt, not her father."

"I'm a worshipper," I say, deeply uncomfortable. "I don't want to be owned, but…better Death than someone else, right? I mean, she's my Lady."

"Few lords would put themselves entirely in the hands of an incarnate," he says. "We prefer to be the ones holding the playing cards—men tend to make better decisions than women in regard to the soul trade."

"Lies," says Adelaide. "But, one truth—most lords would rather be playing than played."

"I trust Lady Death," I say.

She looks at me for several moments. At long last, she nods.

"I'll pass along your memories," she says. "And I'll attempt to persuade Marix to swear over your spirit—he stole it from L'Angly during his mirror bout with Galtero. The titan Poussin lost his church to the Lord of Hope."

"Who did what?" I stare at her. "When?"

"A lot happens when we go into the mirror, Ko." My surprise seems to amuse her. "The titans play the Ladies' game when they get the opportunity—they're addicts. Marix died young, without sin, virtue intact. He has a distinct advantage."

"Marix?" I close my eyes, try to reach him. "What the eff?"

I'm giving your spirit to Death. The thought is distant, diluted. Loss conquers all.

Apparently Adelaide hears Marix as well. "Trade the spirit of Ko to Lady Death, and I'll give you Angeliana's soul. You can do as you wish with it—keep it, if you loved her as much as you claim. Or return it to Yosif and gain a woman you'd prefer in return."

Tempting, Marix's thought voice sounds intrigued. So tempting. How'd you get the Angel of Death?

"Yosif lost her. Bad bet with L'Angly—and his souls are mine."

Fuck. When did that happen?

"Audrin and Killián's last mirror bout."

"What?" says Audrin. "Yosif lost Angeliana? Adelaide—how could you not have told me?"

She ignores the question, turns her attention back to me.

"Marix will consent to my terms," she says. "Your essence will remain lost—there is nothing more I can do for you."

"You said essence is ownership?"

There's pity in her gaze. She nods.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I guess I'll have to find a way to take down Leómadura, then.

"Thank you for everything, Queen Adelaide," I say. "I have one more question."

"Which is?"

"How do we get out of here?"

"There's a backdoor that doesn't involve the bridge of Fate," she says. "In other words—the same way you got in."

"How the eff are we supposed to find mallow by the River of Time?" Audrin asks.

She holds out a pipe.