03 - Sworn (72 page)

Severn stepped away and pointed the dagger at me. “Don’t go anywhere. We’re not done.”

I couldn’t answer. A new pain gripped my stomach. The beginning of the poison’s effects.

He went to the door. “Who is it?”

“Sara.” Her voice cracked and quavered. “Please. I didn’t know where else to go. Severn, let me in.”

He hesitated, though it was obviously her voice. He opened the door as far as the chain would allow. “Sara,” he breathed as one terrified eye and a lock of gold hair appeared in the opening. “Are you alone?”

She nodded.

“Get in here. I need you.” He closed the door tight and unhooked the chain, then stepped back, dagger ready, unable to trust even her.

The door swung open, and Sara stepped in. She looked wrong, pale and bleary-eyed. She looked around the room as though she’d never seen it before.

“Close the door behind you,” Severn ordered.

“I—” Her eyes brightened. “I can’t. Severn, you have to—” Her own sharp intake of breath cut her off, and her eyes glazed over again.

Severn leaped forward and grabbed Sara’s arm. He pulled her forward and tried to close the door, but he was too late. Aren met him on the other side and pushed back.

Fresh tears filled my eyes, this time from relief. Severn wouldn’t win. Not now.

Sara’s eyes cleared again, and she moved away from the door. In a quick glance she took in the sight of me on the bed, burned and bleeding, then darted to a corner of the room on the far side of the bed.

Another push from the other side of the door sent Severn stumbling back.

Aren strode into the room, looking half-dead but ready for a fight.

The air pulsed with magic, and Aren dropped to the floor.

48

ROWAN

F
inding Sara in her room had been a stroke of brilliance on Aren’s part, but I wished he’d waited for his father before grabbing hold of her mind and forcing her to join us. Ulric had wanted his guards, who his faithful man at the gate promised would be his as soon as they learned he was still alive. They’d gone off together, and I wanted to wait.

Aren had no patience for that. I’d followed him to Sara’s room and watched as he blasted through the door lock. Her expression had gone slack as he grabbed hold of her mind, then cleared and composed itself into a calm mask. Tension showed around her eyes as she fought back, but she was powerless. She’d moved quickly and with certainty through the hallway toward the king’s chambers.

I tried not to feel sorry for her, but it was impossible. This was the Aren who not so long ago had earned the fear of two nations through his blind use of his power, who I had been so terrified of when we met. His purpose had changed, but that didn’t make his actions more palatable.

And yet I couldn’t say it wasn’t necessary.

Ulric still had not caught up with us when we passed through a dark sitting room. I was about to mention the fact to Aren, to suggest that we should wait, when Sara raised her fist and knocked.

“Aren, what about—”

“Shh.”

He stood aside and waited. Nothing happened, and she knocked again. Aren stayed out of sight as Sara spoke to Severn, focused entirely on controlling her. It seemed she fought back harder than most. Severn had probably trained her well.

Aren glanced quickly at me as the door opened and Severn pulled Sara in. He shoved at the door, and met resistance. When I moved closer to help, he held up a hand, indicating that I should stay back.

I stepped toward a pair of chairs set next to a cold fireplace as he rammed the door again with his shoulder. He stepped into the room.

Ulric, where are you?
He wouldn’t be much help with his magic, not with what he’d just been through. But his sword would help, and perhaps his men.

I tried to hang back, but my feet carried me forward. Though my magic felt like it was finally recovering, I couldn’t afford to use any more—not if I wanted to have any left at all when the dust settled. But I couldn’t let Aren fight alone.

The first thing I saw when I entered the room was Nox, lying on the bed, hands clutched to her side, covered in bright blood that had soaked into her white apron.

The second was Aren, face contorted with pain, struggling to his feet, sword gripped tight. His jaw clenched hard as he continued toward Severn in slow, halting steps.

The air grew heavy with magic as Severn continued his attack and Aren fought against him. He was doing it, keeping the pain at bay, but it wasn’t enough.

Gods help me.

I drew on my diminished magic stores and threw an illusion out, one straight from my imagination. A copy of Sara ran at Severn, arms outstretched and hands hooked into claws. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. Severn’s focus broke, and Aren recovered. He sent a blast of flame at Severn.

An empty ache deeper than I’d felt earlier spread through me. I calmed myself, and felt my power replenish the slightest bit. Not enough by far, but some.

“Rowan,” Nox called weakly. I ran to her and grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed to press against her side. I couldn’t see much of the wound, but the blood flowing from it told me it was deep. Maybe fatal.

“Hold on,” I whispered, and applied as much pressure as I could. “We’ll get you out of here. Help is coming.”

She grunted. “Not fast enough. Listen. Severn will burn out. Keep him fighting.”

I turned back to the fight. Severn had shot back with flames, hot and hard enough that Aren backed away. The carpet next to the door burst into flames and the door swung shut, apparently of its own accord. Severn grinned, then froze. His expression turned sour as his shoulders stiffened and he raised his hands. He glared at Nox.

“You.”

One word, carrying with it a heavier threat than a thousand more could have conveyed.

The air filled with smoke and the thick scent of burning wool as the fire in the carpet spread, and Nox groaned between the coughs that racked her body.

Someone hit the door from the other side. It flew open, but Severn wasn’t finished. The flames at the door blasted higher as it swung open, and whoever was on the other side of the bright blaze shouted over the crackling of the flames and retreated.

Ulric.

Aren turned to the fire and held his free hand up, fighting back. The flames flickered and wavered, but continued their approach. The curtains at the window ignited as Severn picked up his sword. Aren spun to face him, abandoning his attempt at magical control. He swung and Severn defended, firelight flashing off their blades.

My magic gathered within me. A smaller amount than I’d had the last time I had to use it this way, to be sure, but one I now felt certain I could control.

I closed my eyes against the smoke that burned them and tried to focus my attention elsewhere. There was water nearby, but aside from what was in the pitcher on the table beside the bed, none of it was easily accessible. It flowed through a system of pipes in the walls that led to an underground cistern, it rested in wells outside, and bubbled in the great fountain we’d passed in the square and several large ponds in the gardens. Though I’d never explored the palace or its grounds, I sensed every place I could draw from.

The water lifted out of the pitcher and hurtled toward the flames, making no impact.

More.

I tried to draw from Severn, and found I no longer hesitated over using my magic against my enemy. It would be the closest source, would kill him if he didn’t have enough magic to fight back. I reached, and felt the absolute blackness of what remained of his magic pushing against me, protecting him. It was costing him, but not enough.

The flames continued to spread, a greater threat to any of us than Severn himself.

I abandoned the attempt and turned my attention back to the water around me, behind the thick stone walls and far outside the palace.

This is it. This will cost everything.

My breath caught in my throat.

So be it.

I called the water. My teeth ground together as every muscle in my body tensed as though lifting the water with their own strength. A moment passed, and nothing happened.

Harder. More.

The walls rumbled, and cracked. Water spurted from shattered pipes overhead as shards of stone crashed to the floor. I threw myself over Nox to shield her as I drew harder, calling to the element of my gift, sending out every bit of my magic I had fought so hard to gain control over.

The big window shattered as a wave crashed through, drawn from the fountain outside and carried in by magic and its own momentum. It combined with the water from the pipes to wash over the room, dousing flames and drenching everything, crushing and pummeling like the punishing pressure of a waterfall. Though my body trembled, I didn’t let myself collapse. When familiar white spots crowded my vision, I shook them off.

Not again. We’re not done.
I held myself steady over Nox as the deluge from above tapered to a trickle, and tried to ignore the hollow feeling blossoming within me.

Someone coughed as the water receded. I pushed myself onto my knees and looked around.

The water had washed Aren and Severn’s feet from beneath them and torn their weapons from their hands. Aren stood first, and Severn raised a hand as though to throw a blast of magic.

Nothing happened.

Aren looked from Severn to Nox, who nodded. An expression of terrifying delight came over his his face. “Severn. What’s happened to your magic?”

Severn screamed. It was a sound I imagined a dragon might make as it died. The sound of a heart breaking. He climbed to his feet in jerky, puppet-like motions, trembling as he fought Aren’s control.

Ulric dashed into the room, and I called him over. “Take this,” I told him, and handed him the blanket that held back the flow of Nox’s blood. “It’s bad. But I can’t—”

Chills gripped me, and I stumbled back from the bed. I hit the wall shoulder-first, and sank to the floor. I searched within me for the spark of my magic.

There was nothing. Not a candle-flame, not a pinprick of light. My stomach clenched.

No. Please.

Ulric watched me, but Aren’s attention was still fixed on Severn. The fire and flood had been minor distractions, and now he was back to the hunt.

Severn stooped, slow and stiff, fighting every movement, to pick up his knife from where it lay on the floor, then darted to the corner and hauled Sara up by one arm. She cried out as he spun her around and pushed her against the wall next to the bookshelves, trapping her with his arm. A moment later his knife, dripping with blood and water, was at her throat.

Severn laughed hysterically, then snarled. “Are you enjoying this, brother?”

Aren moved closer. “I think I owe you far more than this.”

Severn was aware of what he was doing. Aren had left him in control of his thoughts, but not his actions.

I looked to Sara. She was under no one’s control now. Not Aren’s, and not whatever influence Severn might have had when his magic was strong. Her hands clawed at his, drawing blood, but he held her tight. Tears coursed over her cheeks.

“Aren,” I croaked.

He shot me a sharp look that stopped me from saying more. He looked insane, wild-eyed and savoring every moment of this.

“Don’t tell me to stop,” he said in a low, calm voice. “I told you not to expect to witness mercy here. My brother taught me better than that.” He turned back to Severn. “I can never repay the physical pain he’s caused me, or the mental anguish. But this… this I can share. How does it feel, Severn, to hold a loved one’s life in your hands and know you have no choice about what comes next?”

The knife twitched, and a thin stream of blood flowed down Sara’s throat.

Severn laughed again, but his eyes shone as though he held back tears. “Do it.” He pressed his quivering lips together. “Make me kill her. Show me how well you’ve learned your lessons.”

“Please, no,” Sara whimpered.

No one moved for several seconds. Aren looked to the bed where Nox lay, holding back silent sobs. Not, I thought, tears of physical pain, but the agony of the realization of what had to have happened to bring Aren to that point.

She whispered a question to Ulric. He looked away, and nodded.

Aren turned to me.

I could have told him to stop, to be the better person and to not let another life be lost. But I didn’t. I was done trying to control him, to change him to better fit what I wanted or needed.

“Do what you think is right,” I said.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Aren snarled, and Seven’s arm that held Sara pinned to the wall dropped. She raced back to her corner and crouched beneath a dripping tapestry, quaking.

“May I move now?” Severn asked. “If I promise to be a good little boy and not attack? I don’t have magic to fight you with.” He seemed to be listening for something. “Gods, how do people live like this?”

A wave of terror hit me as I wondered the same, myself. Even with my magic bound, I’d always had it in me. With it gone, I felt truly alone. Empty. Hopeless. The Despair was nothing compared to this.

“You may find out yet what it means to live without it,” Ulric said.

Aren turned to his father, eyes wide. “You would let him live?”

Ulric frowned. “You would kill him now? This is still a challenge, Aren. Severn made sure from the beginning that it wouldn’t be cleanly fought, but you might still finish it properly. You’ve disarmed him. He’s lost. It’s over.”

“I didn’t disarm him,” Aren said. “I think Nox did that.”

“Not for long,” Nox said, though the words came out breathy and faint. “The potion won’t last forever. He’ll need a cell like at the prison in Ardare. And more potion. Much more.” She coughed, and Ulric pressed harder against her wound. “You can’t let him live.”

“There will have to be a trial,” Ulric said. “According to the law.”

Severn snorted. “At last, your playing by the rules works in my favor. Gods, you’re a pathetic excuse for—” His jaw snapped shut, and Aren smiled.