Ted Dekker - Mortal

He slapped her face. “Hold!”

She stared with wide, dark eyes, seeing him for the first time.

“Hold,” he said, with tenderness this time. “The pain will pass.”

She whimpered once and settled.

“Better.”

He leaned forward, kissed her lightly on her forward, and whispered his will into her very soul. “My love, my Sovereign… Rule for me.”

Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, toward the table beneath her.

Saric snapped to Corban: “See to her.”

And then he turned to address the senate chamber, now roaring with fear and dissonant confusion. Many were out of their seats, some crowding the aisle, some close to the doors. All in horrified shock.

He held up his hands.

“Esteemed members of the senate, leaders of Order, I have but one question to put to your leader before your witness, here, in these hallowed halls. He will speak truth for all to hear on pain of death.”

They expected him to turn to Rowan, the Regent. Instead, he faced Dominic, who immediately glanced at Rowan with questioning eyes.

“Feyn is alive,” Saric said, done with mincing words. “Chosen at birth by the laws of succession as our rightful Sovereign. Does she or does she not retain full claim to the Sovereign office?”

His mouth opened but he didn’t seem capable of speaking. His eyes darted to the stone table where Corban and one of his children were easing Feyn up by the shoulders.

He blinked. “If she-”

“She breathes. She bleeds. The same as you. No. Better than you, now. Was she not designated by birth rightful Seventh in line for Office?”

“Yes.”

“Louder. Speak the truth for all to hear!”

“She was-she is.”

“I will permit you to live.”

He walked over to Rowan, who was now only a frail mirror image of his former self. “Forgive me, old friend, but there can only be one Sovereign,” he said quietly.

His hand flashed with a speed they would soon come to know all too well. The knife beneath his vest filled his fist. Before any could see, much less react, the blade slashed through the Regent’s neck, four inches deep.

Blood spurted from the man’s jugular onto the dais floor. Rowan grabbed at his head in an attempt to keep it, eyes already fading. He toppled with a loud crash as Saric turned his back.

Corban and one of the Dark Bloods had eased Feyn’s feet to the ground. They stood her upright, facing the Senate Hall. She trembled, leaning to one side, weak as a fawn staring out at the world for the first time. Such terrible beauty. Heart of his heart. Blood of his blood.

“Now,” he said to those on the chamber floor. “I present your Sovereign. You may kneel before her.”

The senators looked from one to another, only the barest rustle of turning heads and bodies shifting in seats filling in the oppressive silence of the chamber.

And then one man moved.

Dominic.

He stepped slowly forward. A motion born of obedience-not to the man on the dais, but of a lifetime of Order. The Sovereign stood, alive. And so he knelt.

The rest of the chamber followed.

THE CORPSE SPY might as well have walked into the council chamber and told Rom that the Citadel had fallen into the ground. No. That news would have been far better received.

Rom felt the blood drain from his face. Surely, he hadn’t heard the words correctly.

“Feyn? What do you mean missing ?”

“I mean her body is gone.”

“Gone? It can’t just be gone.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was there just three days ago.”

“That’s not possible!” His voice rang through the stone sanctum. “She’s been in stasis. She can’t just disappear!”

“Everything in her chamber is as it should be, but her lines have been cut and her body is gone.”

Rom felt the hot prickle of panic against his nape. Lines cut. Feyn gone. There had to be a mistake.

“You went to the wrong crypt, then. Did you see her body being taken?”

Alban’s fear-filled eyes darted to Roland, searching for help.

None would be forthcoming.

“There are no other crypts like it below the Citadel. I’ve been checking the same room for five years now, sir. It’s no mistake. She was taken in the last two days. I came as soon as I could.”

“Then Rowan took her.” Rom spun to the Book, who’d ensured and monitored all of the arrangements for her stasis. “You knew of this?”

His eyes were locked on the spy. “No. Did you go to Rowan with this?”

The spy shook his head. “You yourself instructed me not to. In the case of any tampering with her no one but you was to know. But I spoke to him about some other matters and am certain he knows nothing of her disappearance. He would have said something.”

“If not Rowan, then who?” Rom demanded.

“Saric,” Roland said.

Rom stared at the prince. Just behind him, Saric’s Dark Blood slumped in the interrogation chair, dead from Jonathan’s blood.

“Who else knows?” he demanded of the spy. “How long has she been missing?”

“As I said, two days at most. I swear to you, I came as soon as I discovered the empty chamber.”

There was no deceit in his scent.

“You know nothing else?”

“Nothing.” His voice wavered. His eyes were on the Dark Blood.

“There are no other changes in the Citadel?”

“None that I know of.”

Rom raked at his hair. “Leave us. Wait at the edge of our camp for orders. Speak to no one and be sure to stay downwind.”

The Corpse dipped his head and hurried out. For several long seconds, no one spoke.

Feyn, the once Sovereign to-be.

The sudden swell of emotion coursing through his body surprised him.

“Book?” His voice was raw.

Behind him, the Keeper remained silent.

Rom turned and faced him. “Tell me something, man!”

“We may have a problem,” the old man said softly.

“If what Roland says is true…”

“How would Saric know to look for her?” Triphon asked, rising. “No one but Rowan knew!”

“And that Corpse,” Michael snapped. “We’re fools to trust any of them.”

“ We knew,” Seriph said.

They looked at her. “You’re suggesting one of us told Saric?” Triphon demanded.

Seriph shook his head. “I’m only saying what needs to be said. That we were foolish for allowing a dead Sovereign to be kept in stasis to begin with.”

“ We ?” Rom said, glaring at the Nomad. “Say what you mean. Accuse me. Accuse Book.” He flung his arm out to Jonathan, who stood in the grip of his own distress over the dead Dark Blood. “She gave her life for Jonathan under the express agreement that we would keep her in stasis for nine years until Jonathan took his seat. Once he became Sovereign we were to bring her back to serve under him. But we were the ones saving the woman who died for Jonathan while you were still a desert Corpse! ”

“She died to see him to power, not to come back and undo it all!”

“Silence!” the Book snapped, stepping out onto the floor. His eyes were fired, his face cut with an urgency Rom hadn’t seen in many years. “ I made the promise with Jonathan’s full agreement.” He stared Seriph down. “Only a fool would question what was done long after it was done. No more of this!”

Rom nodded once. “Roland’s right. We have to assume that this was Saric’s doing.”

Triphon wasn’t ready to assume anything. “But how could he have known-”

“That’s not important now!” Rom said. “No one else in Order would have the same incentive as Saric to take her body. Even if they did, they’d present no threat to Jonathan. But if Feyn is resurrected before Jonathan comes into power, she , not he, will be rightful Sovereign.”