The Black Queen: The Sixth Book of The Fey by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Author:Kristine Kathryn Rusch [Rusch, Kristine Kathryn]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: WMG Publishing
Published: 2012-08-17T07:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

It was barely dawn when Gift slipped out of his bed. He dressed in the chill silence, pulling on his apprentice robes even though he no longer held that position. He made the bed, as all apprentices had to, with such precision that an inspection later would find the sheet crisp, the blanket folded, the pillow fluffed. He doubted he would sleep here again, but he saw no reason not to adhere to the rules.

He hadn’t really slept here the night before. He had tried. But his door had opened countless times: Shaman coming in to report things they didn’t feel they could say in the meeting. Some had Visions of Kerde dying at the hands of a Fey with dark hair trailing down his back; others had Visions of the Triangle of Might forming across the land; and still others had Visions of Blood against Blood, instigated when Gift again set foot on Blue Isle.

But those Visions were somehow expected. They didn’t disturb him like some of the legends did, the legends no one wanted to speak of before the other Shaman.

Those who reported the legends insisted he not get out of bed, he not look at them. Many of them wanted to pretend as if they were speaking to someone who wasn’t really there. He let them. He wanted to hear what they had to say, not know who felt they had to hide their identity while speaking.

So the whispers came to him, like Warnings:

“…the Throne consumes its standard…”

“…the Black Ruler is the opposite of Shaman…”

“…Anyone who touches the Throne loses his heart…”

Gift heard those over and over, but they weren’t the one that chilled him. The one that chilled him was just as simple, but even more terrifying:

“…The Throne feeds on blood…”

He heard variations of that all night:

“…The Throne was created by blood…”

“…The Throne constantly seeks new blood…”

“…The Throne will not be satisfied until the land is covered in blood…”

And the one that made him wonder about all the others:

“…The Throne strives for Blood against Blood…”

After that, he hadn’t been able to sleep, even though most of his visitors appeared in the early part of the night. When he did close his eyes, he saw the floor of the cavern, Blue Isle’s Place of Power, the floor that had once been white, and which had turned the color of blood. In his father’s hand was a shiny black stone, created by the joining of his hand with the hand of his enemy, created when the dripping power from their joint magic changed the floor to the color of blood.

Gift hadn’t seen the magic — he and Arianna had hidden from it, afraid that its effects might kill them as well — but he had been told the story and he had seen the floor. He knew that there was power in this world that he did not understand, power that the Fey, for all their mastery of magic, did not understand either.

He hoped to gain some understanding that day.

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