Reign the Earth (The Elementae #1)(51)

The man bowed again, and then turned, leading us into the palace as his coat flapped out behind him. He led us through a long room paneled with ornate wood, and into a room that must have been, at one point, a grand reception chamber. It shone, panels of metal and mirrors lining the walls to make the whole place glitter. There were two chairs set in the center and, in front of them, a table with liquids and glass containers upon it.

Calix’s arms left me the moment we neared the table. “Is this it?” he asked, picking up a glass bowl with a liquid so dark red it looked black until the liquid moved.

It looked like blood.

“No,” the quaesitor said, going to a stoppered glass bottle. “This is.”

This liquid was dark green, and Calix frowned. “It didn’t look like this the first time.”

“In my experience, we can never replicate nature’s exact formula,” he said. “Something is always different, even in a small measure, but the result is the same.”

Calix nodded sharply. “Show me.” He took my hand, kissing it and drawing me over to the chairs. I sat beside him, holding on to his hand, nervous as the quaesitor walked out of the room.

When he returned, it was with three guards, two women, and a young man, and my eyes jumped to Calix, but he was impassive. They looked tortured—there were bruises and cuts on their skin, and their eyes were sunken and smudged with darkness. The smaller woman was limping hard—her leg looked like it had been broken and never healed properly.

“Calix?” I breathed, but he held up a hand and didn’t look at me.

“What is the risk?” he asked the quaesitor.

“Minimal, my king. We have done frequent studies about how weak they need to be to prevent being a threat, while still being strong enough to make their powers present in some small way. It is quite an exact balance.”

Calix nodded sharply.

The man was first. Barely older than Kairos, he let himself be led, and the quaesitor directed him to a spot in the room. The young man stopped there, and the quaesitor took up another bowl.

“Water, my king,” he said, and poured it out in front of the man. To the young man, he said, “Do it.”

I held my breath as the young man raised his hand, and slowly the water lifted, trembling a little, betraying the weakness of either the man or his ability. I gasped, looking to my husband.

But instead of anger, there was a hungry greed on Calix’s face.

“And now,” the quaesitor said, reaching for the bottle. He unstoppered it, holding it out toward the young man expectantly.

The water stayed aloft, and the young man looked at the quaesitor, unsure of himself.

The quaesitor tilted his head and splashed some of the green liquid on the young man. He gasped, recoiling, and the water fell.

Calix pushed forward in his seat. “Raise the water again,” he ordered the young man.

The green liquid seemed to have only scared him; he was unharmed, but he shook his head. “I can’t,” I heard him whisper.

“Can’t or won’t?” Calix asked, standing from his chair. “Motivate him, Quaesitor.”

The Elementa man hurriedly held up his hand, and it shook visibly, but nothing happened.

“You see?” the quaesitor crowed.

The young man looked at me, and I felt the threads push up at my hands and skin, choking my throat, demanding I do something.

I shoved them away, trembling. I would not be exposed, not here, not now, not ever. Not if this was the result.

Not unless I knew that elixir worked, and I could get some for myself.

“Again!” Calix shouted, clasping his hands behind his back.

A girl was brought forward, the one with the bad leg, and her lip curled in fury as they pushed her. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled, but her eyes were locked on my husband.

“Stay back, my king,” the quaesitor said. “She was part of the Resistance.”

“I am part of the Resistance,” she corrected. “And you just put me in a room with the king.”

She raised her hand, and Calix made a choked noise.

“Calix?” I cried, jumping from my chair. I ran to his side as his face flushed darker and his hand clawed at his throat.

The quaesitor threw the liquid on her, and nothing happened.

She laughed. “You will die by an Elementa hand,” she snarled. “Isn’t that your fa—”

Calix dropped, and so did she. The guard behind her withdrew his sword from her chest with a disgusting crack. I stared at her in shock—she had landed on her knees, and she held there for a moment as blood bloomed on her chest, and she looked at me.

But then she fell, crumpling to the floor, and the spell was broken.

Shaking hard, I reached for Calix, who was gasping and coughing. I touched his face, but he sat up and pushed me. I fell back onto my hands as he stood, wiping spittle from his face as he went to the guard who had killed her and yanked a knife out of his belt.

The girl was dead, unmoving and quiet, and still Calix launched on her, stabbing her over and over and over again.

“Calix!” I sobbed, covering my mouth and trying to push away as her blood caught on my skirt and her body was mangled beyond recognition.

Calix threw down the blood-drenched blade and strode over to the quaesitor, grabbing the front of his black coat and dragging his face close. “Your elixir couldn’t stop an insect! You think this is a game?” he snarled. “You think I am joking about this? Next time you come to me with imperfect results I will take your head—do you understand me?”