The Chain of Eternal Union

Gunnar stood a little behind and to the right as Crown Prince Rhys of Drekmar lowered himself onto a cushion set before the marital table. Gunnar eyed the bride critically as she did the same on her side of the table.

Princess Amalthea of Tyris Ordan was attractive enough, though she did not fare well in comparison to the beauty at her right. Or, truthfully, any of her other attendants. But she was the Princess Royal of Tyris Ordan, only surviving child of King Mekias, who was weeks away from dying. She didn't need to be beautiful to be considered a marital prize. Not when her groom would be the next king of Tyris Ordan.

Gunnar's lips twitched in amusement as the princess let out an audible sigh of relief once she was seated.

'Being a princess harder than you expected, Meirys?' he thought at her. 'You haven't even been in that body for a full day.'

Well, it wouldn't be a problem for her for long. Gunnar would rip Meirys out of the princess's body and haul her back to to the Council to answer for her crimes before the day was over.

He'd been hunting her for over a century now. Twice he'd gotten almost close enough to catch her, but the first time he'd revealed himself too soon, and the second time she'd sensed his presence somehow and spooked.

Actually, why hadn't she sensed him now? Frowning inwardly, Gunnar studied the woman again. The frowned deepened, creeping onto the features of the body he'd borrowed as he realized that something wasn't right.

Meirys was a rogue, yes. But unlike most rogues she was clever and careful. She'd managed to hide from Gunnar for over three decades this time. He'd found only a couple hints of her presence in all that time, and well after she'd left. So why had she not hidden her signature when she took this form?

Was this a trap?

But to what end? What could she possibly gain from luring Gunnar to come after her?

As he thought about it, he realized it wasn't enough to merely say she hadn't hidden her signature. She'd all but sent him an engraved invitation complete with directions. Finding her had taken no effort at all, and if she hadn't been in the middle of a heavily guarded palace Gunnar would have captured her hours ago.

For an uneasy moment he wondered if he'd actually found his prey. Then he dismissed the idea. The echo of her magic was fading now, a just a hint of rot compared to the usual foul stench, but it was still there. This was definitely Meirys.

Who was fumbling through the marriage ceremony as if she didn't actually know how it was supposed to go. That was wrong too. The host should know these things, and even if she hadn't willingly surrendered her body to Meirys, the rogue had the ability to take the knowledge she needed. So why hadn't she? Had the host died already, before she could obtain the specifics she needed?

That would be ironic, considering Rhys's plans.

But even if Meirys hadn't been able to get the information she needed from the princess, she was meticulous about research and preparations. She wouldn't have taken Princess Amalthea's body if she didn't know exactly what she was getting into.

What if she hadn't planned to be here?

This world, and this country in particular, was too patriarchal for Meirys's tastes. She sought power, and any power she had here would be through the manipulation of the men she surrounded herself with. And Meirys was vain. If she was going to settle for pulling the strings behind the scenes, why had she chosen a comparatively plain vessel like Amalthea?

If her arrival here was an accident though . . . that would explain the subtle floundering. It was a testament to her skills that no one aside from Gunnar seemed to have noticed that she didn't know what she was doing.

Of course, Gunnar was the only one actually looking directly at the princess. The honor guard for both parties had their backs turned as they stared out over the plain in case the crowd below decided to swarm up the hill. The bride's attendants were too busy pretending not to eye the groom's attendants--and vice-versa--to pay any attention to Meirys.

Even Rhys was more concerned with making eyes at the beauty on Meirys's right than with the bride. Which made sense since Rhys was only here a proxy for his father, the true bridegroom. And was fully intending to murder Princess Amalthea in the immediate future, lest she pop out a son who could displace him as heir.

While Gunnar felt mildly bad for the princess, it would work out nicely for him. Meirys didn't have a soul stone, and without one she wouldn't be able to jump to another body when her host died.

Oh, she wouldn't be helpless. She'd certainly fight. But Gunnar was the superior fighter, of that he was certain. Meirys knew it too or she would have tried to fight him off instead of running each time he got close. She'd killed immortals before — truly killed them, not merely their host bodies. Gunnar's brother had been one of her victims.

'Fight me', Gunnar thought, staring at Meirys's bowed head. 'Give me an excuse to kill you.'

But he doubted she would let it go that far. As soon as it became clear Gunnar would win, her pragmatism would kick in and she'd surrender. What were a few millennia of 'reflection' in the Towers compared to true death?

Gunnar blinked, realizing a good chunk of the ceremony had already passed while his mind was wandering. The attention of the Gods had been invoked with an offering of wine, bread, and incense. The names and titles of the bride and groom had been read out, followed by the pedigree of each going back for dozens of generations. Then the names and pedigrees of all the attendants had been read though only back to the third generation. Each of the priests had pontificated on the sacredness of the marriage and the eternal bond between bride and groom and the duties the couple owed to one another.

Now the bride and groom had clasped hands together, and the priests were winding the Chain of Eternal Union around the joined hands and through the fingers as they chanted prayers asking the Gods' blessing on the couple. Gunnar barely managed not to snort—this was not a happy union for anyone—when a glint of light caught on the strand of beads that made up the Chain of Eternal Union.

They were small. No bigger than a thumbnail. Smooth. Slightly opaque. With a subtle blue shimmer to them.

Oh shit.

Soul Stones.

The Chain of Eternal Union was made up of Soul Stones.

Small ones, yes. No more than a decade or two. But there were dozens of them. Dozens of lives that Meirys could jump to if she chose. That had to be why she was here. Why she hadn't bothered to hide her signature. She wasn't intending to stay. She was going to jump to one of those lives.

Gunnar cursed silently. He had to get Meirys's hands off that string of Soul Stones before it was too late. But if he made a move to interfere with the ceremony, the guards would kill him. This wedding wasn't just the union of two people, it was the union of two countries. Amalthea would be come Queen of Drekmar—and Rhys's mother—with this wedding. When her father died, she and her husband would become the rulers of Tyris Ordan. And Rhys would be heir to both kingdoms, provided Amalthea didn't live long enough to have a child of her own.

With the bride's assassination already in motion, Rhys would brook no interference with this ceremony. If he acted now, Gunnar would have a few seconds at best to capture Meirys before his current body was killed.

'I'm good, but I'm not THAT good,' Gunnar was forced to admit to himself. So he gritted his teeth and waited. The instant the ceremony was done, he would move. Or the second he caught a whiff of Meirys's magic stirring, since it wouldn't matter if he got killed if she escaped.

Strangely, Meirys didn't act.

The priests gave the final blessing and then released a pair of birds, one turquoise and one purple, into the air. The crowd below roared in approval, delighted by this proof of the ceremony's success and apparently unperturbed that the purple bird attacked the turquoise bird. The turquoise bird fought off its enemy successfully and winged away out of sight.

Rhys, meanwhile, had jerked his hand free of the string of Soul Stones, lips curling faintly in disgust as he shot to his feet. Meirys blinked at him in surprise, the strand of stones still threaded through her fingers. Now was the time to act, Gunnar told himself, and shifted his weight. But Rhys was in his way, and batting the prince aside would be almost as immediately fatal as interrupting the wedding would have been.

"Summon the flyer. I want to get back to Drekmar immediately," Rhys commanded. One of his attendants fished a communications device from a pocket and made the call. A sardonic smile twisted Rhys's mouth as he extended his hand—the right hand—to the princes. "Come, Mother. You must be eager to see Father."

The confusion on Meirys's face was genuine, but she accepted the prince's hand and got to her feet with a grimace. The string of Soul Stones slid down her arm towards her wrist. Gunnar held his breath. If she let it fall back onto the table . . . .

Just as it was about to fall back on to the table, one of the princess's handmaidens cried out, "Highness! The chain!"

The horror in the handmaiden's voice prompted Meirys to reflexively clutch the strand of stones and jerk her arm upward, so that the loops of stones slid back along her skinny arm.

"Clumsy cow," the beautiful handmaiden on Meiry's right sneered, even as the freckled handmaiden on her left leaned in to murmur, "It's bad luck to drop the Chain of Eternal Union."

"Oh," said Meirys, sounding as though she truly hadn't known. A frown appeared on her face as the beautiful handmaiden sidled up to Rhys, who was now completely ignoring his father's bride. Meirys eyed the couple for a few heartbeats, then turned a considering look on the freckled handmaiden. She seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and drew breath to ask a question.

In that moment, a pinpoint of red appeared on her forehead and then disappeared. Gunnar lunged, tackling Meirys to the ground as the crack of a rifle rang out. One of the handmaiden cried out in pain and collapsed as a bullet clipped past her head. A guardswoman behind her took the bullet in the face and dropped as well.

"Get off me!" Meirys gasped, pushing ineffectively at Gunnar's much larger body.

"Let go of the Soul Stones, Meirys," Gunnar growled. A second shot sounded and another guardswoman went down, falling across Gunnar and Meirys.

Dammit, if the shooter killed her now, he'd never catch up to her again! Gunnar was actually going to have to save her!