03 - Sworn (66 page)

The rest of that night, I planned and experimented until I had my method of attack. Based on what Rowan had told me about her binding, and what she and Ulric had said about whatever they’d been given in Darmid to temporarily quell their magic, I knew I could do something to harm Severn. The problem was that it seemed any permanent solution—either binding or whatever they had offered to Rowan in Darmid—had required submission. A subject had to consent, or be too young to object.

Still, I had my idea. If I couldn’t bind his magic, I could keep him from gaining more. And that, I had learned from Aren’s experiences in Darmid, could be dangerous indeed.

I very much liked the idea of Severn being vulnerable, whether it be to poison or a blade to the heart. I’d take whatever chance I got. I would have no way to test the potion even to see how it tasted, as several of its components would make it poisonous to anyone without magic to combat those effects. But my deepest instincts told me it would work.

It had to.

Focusing on that made things easier. It kept me from thinking about Kel, or worrying about what might be happening out in the forest. When I was wrapped up in my work, I couldn’t think about any of that. There was only the feeling of the plants’ powers, my instincts drawing me into the magic as I hummed over my work, the certainty that I was fulfilling my purpose.

The other Potioners filed into the room early in the morning. Still no sign of Sara. I nodded to them, and kept working. No breakfast for me, no conversation. The room and the people in it might as well not have existed. I was so wrapped up in my work that they could have vanished for all I cared.

When I finished, I found that the room had grown brighter. Midday. My stomach groaned and my eyelids drooped.

“Got something good there?” my table-mate asked. “Something for his highness? You look like shit.”

“It is for him,” I told her, and held back an exhausted chuckle. “This could change everything.”

I’d only managed a small dose of the rich blue potion, and lacked ingredients for another. I tucked the tiny bottle into the pocket of my apron, yawned, then moved to the big windows to look out toward where my friends—those who remained—waited. I couldn’t see anything of them from the workroom. Just the plain, the bridge, the forest on the hills beyond. I wondered whether they were still waiting for me to return. I hoped Aren would act without me, now that Ulric was dead and no longer in need of my help. I supposed that when I did hear news of them, it likely wouldn’t be good, and once again I’d have to hide my feelings, to pretend I was on Severn’s side. It had been too close the night he was injured. I’d let my feelings catch me by surprise, and he had almost seen—

“Nox, you’re needed in the king’s chambers.”

I hadn’t heard the guard come in, and his voice startled me. “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Now. You’ll come with me now.” He spoke calmly. Perhaps I wasn’t in trouble.
Yet.

“Of course.”

I took a gulp of the dragon’s egg potion to protect my mind. The guard snorted. “Need a little liquid courage before you face him?”

I smiled bashfully. “You won’t tell?”

“Nah. Can’t say I blame you. Mind if I have a nip?”

I offered him the bottle. The potion tasted sharp, not entirely unlike something one might buy from a back-alley distillery, and he wouldn’t feel ill-effects from it unless it was a little fuzziness in his mind.

“Doesn’t pack much punch, does it?” he commented as he handed it back. “You might want another sip. He seemed to be in quite a mood when he passed by me earlier.”

I was too tired to think of a reason to refuse that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. I took another quick swig.

Might help.
A wave of lightheadedness came over me, and a dulling of my perceptions. I no longer felt Severn’s potion in my pocket, or the supply pantry’s power calling to me.

I followed the guard through the now-familiar passageways to Severn’s chambers. The new king didn’t seem to care to do business with me anywhere more formal.

The guard left me and closed the door, leaving me in empty and silent rooms. I waited, but Severn didn’t come. Perhaps he’d had other, more urgent business come up. He might be back any minute, or I might have had hours to do as I pleased. I had no way of knowing, but I wasn’t going to get a better opportunity. I hurried to the table, where the ever-present bottle of wine and glasses sat.

I hesitated. This would certainly poison the tester, who had no magic of his own. I tried to feel the potion and guess its effects, but got nothing from it. I thought it might take some time for the poisons to work, but when they did it would be painful and quite obvious.
I should have tried cutting it with—

The door opened behind me. I gasped and spun around to face Severn, hands behind my back. I dropped into a quick curtsy. “Sire.”

He glared at me. “My mother’s dead.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Severn wasn’t taking his eyes off of me. I held my hands at my sides, bottle hidden behind my fingers, trying to look like nothing was amiss. “Terrible loss.”

“She was a horrible old harpy,” he said. “No one will miss her, least of all me. I’m just telling you why I’m late.” He poured a glass of wine that he drank down without testing.

That would have been perfect.
I hid my disappointment, and slipped the bottle into my pocket while he wasn’t looking.

Someone knocked at the door, Severn went to it and spoke quietly to them. When he returned, he narrowed his eyes at me. “Enemies are attacking the city.”

“Who?”

“Rebels. Not the enemies I’ve been expecting. I’ve ordered Wardrel out.” He leaned his head to one side, stretching his neck muscles. “He doesn’t seem to think these people will be much of a challenge, but it’s so hard to tell with fanatics.”

“Oh?” My heart pounded, but I kept my voice calm. “Should you go?”

Severn watched my reaction, and a slow smile turned the corners of his mouth. “No concern for my dear brother’s safety, Nox? No relief that your tormenter may soon suffer or die? No fear that our attackers may harm you if they breach the safe walls of our keep?” He motioned for me to come closer, and I forced my feet to obey. My head still felt like it was floating too high above my shoulders, but thanks to my blocking potion I felt little of his usual influence. “You’re a puzzle, Nox. I see how you hide your emotions, how every reaction you give comes only after you’ve paused to think about it.”

My heart fluttered. “I had a hard upbringing, your highness. I’m not accustomed to openly expressing my—”

“But not always,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken. He narrowed his eyes. “There was one time.”

His hand shot toward me, and he grabbed my throat. Stars appeared before my eyes as he stepped forward and my head slammed back into the wall. “When I mentioned the mer and said I thought I might have killed him, you reacted. You put your mask on quickly, but even in my pain, I saw it. Shock. Devastation. What was he to you?” I didn’t answer, and he squeezed harder. “Answer me!”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

My head connected with the edge of the fireplace mantel, and he let me crumple to the floor.
If I had my knives, if I wasn’t so damned frightened and muddled…

The hem of my dress burst into flames. I gasped and slapped at the fire, but it continued to burn, searing my skin, creeping higher. “Stop!” I cried. The flames disappeared, but the pain didn’t. It washed over me in waves, as though the flames still licked at my skin.

“I can do that again, for as long as you want.” He took another drink. “I’m not as skilled in this as Wardrel is, but we can make it work. Did Aren warn you about that?”

Again it took me too long to choose my response. Severn threw his wine glass, and it shattered on the hearth next to my hand. “I knew it. You came to the gate around the same time my scouts reported seeing them in the woods. I was willing to give you a chance because of your immense talent, but something told me you weren’t what you claimed. Your story added up, your behavior has been impeccable, but something was off. I felt it, and never trusted you. Yet you passed every test.”

“It’s just—“

“And then your reaction to the mer dying told me you knew him.” He sneered. “You’re not worried about these people attacking the city because you know them too. And just now, when I mentioned Aren, you weren’t sure how to react.” He smiled, and the expression carried something like pity with it. “Just so you know, ignorance would have been a good option. Surprise would have been better. No one but my inner circle knows he’s up in those woods.”

“I... I passed through a village on my way here, they said they’d seen him.” The explanation sounded thin even to me. I didn’t know why I bothered.

Severn sighed. “I had hoped I was wrong about you, that we could work together. You have an unusual gift, and your potion has been so helpful. Tell me, who are you really?”

“I told you, I come from Cressia. My mother was a widow. I never knew my father.”

He grabbed a handful of my hair and forced me to my feet. His breath smelled of the wine that would never incapacitate him no matter how much he drank, thanks to his magic and my potion that strengthened it. I knew that if I resisted, if I tried to hurt him, the flames would consume me. I couldn’t control the way my muscles quaked when he pulled me closer to whisper in my ear, “I don’t believe you.”

I panicked. My arms pushed out without any conscious order from me, and my hands beat against his chest. He was too close for the blows to have any effect. Before I could raise a knee, he spun me around and twisted my arm behind my back, increasing the pressure until I cried out in pain.

He laughed. “Magic is fun, but we can do this any way you like. Do you want to fight me?”

“No,” I sobbed. “Please, just let me go.”

He pushed me, and I landed in one of the chairs.

“By all means, let’s be civilized about this. Sit and have a nice chat about my challengers. My father’s dead now. He was weak even before that. I had wondered what a few years of Darmish hospitality would do to him. I imagine my magic scholars would have had a fine time experimenting on him had he lived long enough. Not that they aren’t busy enough as it is.” He looked down, presumably toward the prisons, or wherever they held experimental subjects. “It turns out we can learn as much from Tyrean magic-users as we can from the Darmish.” He laughed again, but it came out as a mad bark. “Isn’t it hilarious? I didn’t have to send Aren to Darmid in the first place. None of this would have happened if I’d been willing to experiment on lesser magic users from Tyrea. But no, the laws protected them. And as it turns out, I needn’t have rushed so. My father may have been wrong to let it go, but he was right about...” He trailed off again.

He wasn’t making any kind of sense.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he continued. “I will have my answers, and I will still have my victory. Aren made his choice, and he will pay for it.”

I pushed myself up in the chair to take my weight off the burned leg that was pinned under me.

The movement caught Severn’s eye, and he looked me over. “What were you doing with them? Why did they send you?” His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer. “You’re more than a Potioner, aren’t you? Someone trusts you.”

There was no answer I could give that would save me. “Obviously I’m not someone they care much for, or they wouldn’t have sent me here to be beaten, burned, and nearly killed by your brothers.”

“I wonder about that. I’ll have the truth from you, Nox. Wardrel’s not available, but I think Sara might have ideas on how to open you up. On your feet.”

“No.” Stupid that I should feel safe in that chair, but all I understood in that moment was that wherever we went next would be worse.

A knock echoed through the room.

“Not one movement,” Severn ordered.

He spoke to someone, spat out a string of curses, and returned with a guard. “Take her to the dungeon.”

“There’s no room, sir.”

He swore again and looked to me. “Care to share a cell with someone? I’m sure we could make you comfortable among the criminals and desperate men we’re keeping there now.”

I forced myself not to reach for the comforting weight of the bottle in my pocket. Instead I kept my gaze locked on his, though it chilled me to my bones.

He leaned in close to whisper to me again. “On second thought, I don’t want anyone else to hurt you. Not yet, anyway. I almost like you, and that’s always made it more enjoyable. Think as long as you wish about what I might do to you when I get back. I promise that the reality will be worse. You might want to consider giving up your secrets while I’m still giving you a chance.”

He hauled me up and pushed me ahead of him into his bedroom, then opened the desk drawer and pulled out a knife and several other sharp implements, a rolled-up leather case like a locksmith’s kit, a set of quills, and a letter-opener. “Don’t try to arm yourself,” he added, and handed the items to the guard. “I’m not foolish enough to leave any other potential weapons lying around in here. Have a pleasant afternoon, Nox. I’ll see you soon.”

He left, and the lock on the bedroom door turned with a heavy thud. I ran to try the door, though the burned skin on my legs screamed in protest. It didn’t move. I moved to the window beside the bookcase, which stretched from the floor to well above my head, the only one large enough for me to fit through. It led to a steep drop-off and a cobblestone courtyard below. Nothing above to reach for, even if I were capable of climbing. The deadly fall might be a way out if it came to that, but I wasn’t ready to take the hard way yet.

I looked over the shelves. A full bottle of wine sat on one, next to a stack of scribbled-on papers.

For someone who isn’t much affected by it, he sure likes this stuff.
I wouldn’t complain. Anything to help ease the pain. I took a sip and grimaced at the strong taste. The effect on me was immediate, and my thoughts grew cloudier than my potion had made them.

Not too much. There might still be a chance. Keep looking for answers.