Emergence (Book 2) (4 page)

"I know the feeling," she said before her brain caught up with her mouth. Surprisingly, Bolin looked amused by that, if the slight softening of his expression and the light in his eyes were any indication. Ciara started walking again, angling back toward the fountain to give her something to do besides stand there like an addle-pated girl. Bolin fell into step beside her, and for a while they walked in silence.

Almost to the square, Bolin asked, "Are you comfortable here?"

Ciara cocked her head at him. "I suppose so. Why?"

"It wouldn't be the worst place for you to stay. At least for now."

"As opposed to being whisked away to Dryw Hrine?"

"Aye."

"I see."

"You don't consider it a better option?"

"I hadn't really considered it at all," Ciara said. "What about your promise to my aunt."

"My oath was to keep you safe." They had reached the fountain and Bolin watched her as Ciara sat on the edge to trail her fingers through the water. "I believe Donovan is still alive."

Her hand stilled. "And the old woman?"

"I don't know."

Ciara studied the rippled reflection of the clouds in the water. She shivered, and turned her face to him, trying to keep the fear from overtaking her. "He'll come for me, won't he?"

"He can't touch you here."

"But he'll try?"

Bolin drew in a deep breath. His gaze wandered to the dancing fountain, eyes unfocused as though seeing something else. His mouth compressed into a hard line when he looked back at her. "I don't intend to give him the opportunity."

A spark of irrational anger ignited as the meaning of his words sank in. Ciara stood and started toward the gardens and the private entrance to her room in the back wing of Nialyne's manor. It shouldn't matter to her what became of Donovan. She knew that. He had no love for her as a father should for a daughter, and she had none for him. He'd tried to use her for his own purposes, pushed her to kill, tried to kill Bolin. Goddess above, he'd kill them all if given the chance. It made no sense to Ciara that she felt a need to protect him. Perhaps their blood-bond
ran stronger than she knew.

She stopped when Bolin called to her, but didn't turn.

"Look at me," he said, as he came up beside her.

Ciara refused to meet his eyes. "You mean to kill him."

He spread his arms. "Do you have a different suggestion, then? Or would you prefer to put yourself back in his hands? Was he that grand a host?"

Ciara's fingernails bit into her palms as she curled her hands into fists at her side. "There has to be another way."

"As long as Donovan is alive, he'll be a threat. Do you think he's just going to go lick his wounds and forget about you?" His anger matched hers. "He has a much better idea what he's up against now, but he's not a fool. He knows what power there is in the Greensward so he won't move against it until such time as he decides he's strong enough. And what do you think will happen then? Do you think the elders will just roll over and let him invade their lands? They'll fight him, and innocent people will die."

"Then I'll leave."

"Are you not listening? As long as he lives, there's no place you'll be safe. None. At least here we have some time."

"Time for you to hunt him down." And now she did turn on him because another thought occurred to her, and fear mingled with the anger. "If he gets the chance again, he'll kill you. You're not invincible."

Bolin opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head instead. Ciara could see the anger drain out of him. "All the more reason." He cupped the side of her face. "I can't keep you safe while he lives."

"Who's going to keep you safe?"

"I can take care of myself."

Ciara made a face. "I saw how well that worked."

"I had you to worry about," he said, and dropped his hand. "That's why this time you'll stay here, out of harm's way."

"What if you don't come back?"

He didn't give her the reassurance she hoped for. In fact, for a long time he said nothing at all. "Then you will need to trust to Nialyne for guidance."

"That's not very comforting."

"Would you prefer I lie to you, then?"

"I'd prefer none of this to have happened," Ciara said. "I would have been perfectly content living out my life as a simple healer, as all the women of my family before me. Perhaps some day having a daughter of my own to follow my path."

She walked away, only as far as the nearest flowering bush. She caressed the silken petals between her fingertips, wishing she could curl in on herself the way flowers did, shutting tightly for the night, closing herself off to the darkness.

"I can't ever have a simple life, can I?"

She thought maybe Bolin had left, but then she felt him come up behind her. He stood quietly for a moment before sliding an arm around her shoulders and turning her, drawing her into his arms. Ciara buried her face against his chest. She loved the smell of leather and horse that seemed to always cling to him, the warmth that flowed off him, and the strength in him that made her feel safe. She had forgotten how much until just this moment.

"I don't have an answer for you," he said, his voice rippling up softly against her cheek. "And if I could find a way to give you back all you've lost, I would. But life is not always as simple as we'd like."

"It can be."

"Not in my experience." He held her for a moment longer, a moment Ciara would have rather lasted a lifetime, then pushed her gently away. "You need rest."

Ciara groaned. "That's all I've been doing."

"I dare you to argue with Konly," he said, a rare, mischievous glint in his light eyes.

"Oh, no." It hadn't taken Ciara very long to learn how obstinate the master healer could be with her charges. It had taken a wealth of promises that she'd follow each of Konly's instructions to the letter before she'd been allowed to move from the healer's hut to more private quarters. Ciara had no desire to jeopardize the small amount of freedom that had given her. "Will you be leaving soon?"

"Not for a few days.

"Then I'll see you before you go?"

Bolin placed a gentle kiss on top of her head. "Aye."

"And when you come back? Then what?"

"We'll talk."

"About?"

"Many things
," he said. "Go on. I've no desire to be on the master healer's bad side if she finds you out and about."

Ciara opened her mouth to argue
, but the look on Bolin's face told her she'd get no further with him so she nodded and went to her room, leaving him standing in the garden.

CHAPTER FOUR

Donovan rested his elbows on the table, steepled his fingers
, and leaned his head against them, pinching the bridge of his nose. The priestess had carried out his orders. The crone no longer lived. Not in the corporeal form. Her presence, however, twisted within his skull, and the sharp tines of her power bit into his. They clung to it like the thorny vines that crept up any tree having the audacity to try and sink roots within the Nethers, eventually strangling the life from it.

This vine, however, would not strangle him.

In his joining with the crone, Donovan had learned the words to control her power. The fact they resisted his efforts at manipulating them to his needs proved an inconvenience. When he regained more of his strength, perhaps, they would more easily bend to his will.

The familiar scent of cool, dark earth preceded the priestess into his study. Donovan did not look up. "You are late."

"I have much to prepare."

"You have been testing the limits of my tolerance." He pinned her with a look. "An unwise practice."

"Her magic is hard to appease, isn't it?" Teeva walked around behind him and guided his head back to rest against her breasts. Her fingers pressed into his temples, a circular massage infused with her own blend of darkness. "It fights for supremacy with your own. You will overcome it, in time."

Donovan relaxed into her ministration. The binding ceremony needed the blessing of the dark moon, still days away. Their joining would be both spiritual and physical. The latter had begun to grow in appeal. He could have taken her at any time, even now, and relieved the tension her touch elicited, but the union would be little more than the basest rutting. Pleasure, infused with power? That held much more appeal.

"Enough." He rolled his body forward, and her hands slipped away. "Where have you been?"

She circled the room, her fingers trailing above whatever she passed, but touching nothing. "Walking with the shades. I am not accustomed to fortress walls."

"You will learn to be."

She stopped at the furthest point opposite him, and leaned her head back as she followed the intricately carved edge of the bookcase that rose unbroken to the ceiling. "I found someone in the fen. He searched for you and the Lady."

Donovan pushed out of his chair.

"I have never met h
is kind before. He tastes..." She closed her eyes as though savoring something on her tongue. "Strong. He stands on the edge between the Goddess and the unholies, and neither has fully claimed him. I find that strange."

"Did you speak to him?"

"Yes." She turned to face him and a smile curved her mouth. "I marked him as well."

"Meaning?"

Teeva let her hand drop to her side and extended her fingers toward the floor. A tar-like glob rose from nothing, and she held it out to Donovan, cradling it in the palm of her hand. He crossed to where she stood and looked down at the offering. He had not seen her magic manifested until now. Black and thick, radiating heat he could feel from an arm's distance, it churned in her outstretched hand.

"He could not avoid my touch, and now my shades can find him across the veil."

Donovan lifted the mass from her hand and rolled it between his fingers. His power quenched the fire in it that would have otherwise burned his skin. Born of emotion, infused with hatred, tempered with malice, Dominion magic could be nothing but evil. Those who possessed it could never walk in the light. Donovan wondered if even the great Sciath na Duinne could force it to a non-malevolent purpose.

He smiled with the thought it would be at his disposal.

He held the glob to eye level. Watching the priestess, he squeezed his fingers together. The bit of Dominion magic exploded like a ripe berry. Teeva gasped. The sound died on her lips as Donovan closed his hand around her throat, and slammed her back against the bookshelf. She clawed at his fingers, her eyes bulging.

"You will not approach him again," he said, his jaw tight, face close to hers. "You will not send the shades to find him unless I order you to do so. Then, and only then, will you be allowed contact with him. Do you understand me? He is far more dan
gerous than you can ever guess."

She nodded against his grip. As soon as he released her, she dropped into a crouch, balanced lightly on the balls of her feet and the knuckles of her left hand. Her right hand reached back as though for a weapon.

Donovan sneered and walked away. "Your only opportunity to move against me passed you by as I lay helpless in your hovel." He settled into a chair in front of the fire, purposefully putting his back to her. "You chose not to kill me because you saw in me something you are lacking. You desire your birthright: your power and the freedom to use it. I will give you both. Within limits. You will accept that, or you will become of little use to me."

She moved behind him. Donovan could feel her hat
red as she lingered, indecision freezing her actions.

"You will not leave the fortress without my approval. Be assured, if you attempt it, even in the ethereal, I will know of it. There is nothing you do or think within these walls that I am not aware of."

He held his hand out to the side, beckoning her. She came slowly, and when she was near enough he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her knees.

"Tell me exactly what happened in that fetid stink hole," he said. "And spare no detail."

***

Bolin stood in the center of the room, feet apart, hands clasped loosely behind his back, watching Nialyne pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. The last time he'd had to endure what amounted to a dressing down would have been, coincidentally enough, the last time he and the
Emperor had been face to face. Or toe to toe, in that particular instance. It hadn't been any more pleasant than this one. In that case, however, tempers had flared, and the men would have come to blows if not for the intervention of the Emperor's sister. Ariadne had proven herself quite adept at mediating between them. Goddess knew they gave her enough practice.

Nialyne, on the other hand, seldom exercised her right to lecture Bolin. On the rare occasions she did, he took it with far more grace than he showed the Emperor. This time, it centered on the crystal that still sat in the center of the table, untouched. The dark magic in its center had not ceased roiling about. Bolin gave it a wide berth. Although, between the crystal and the irate Galysian elder, Bolin couldn't be sure he wouldn't choose the magic.

"Never would I have thought you could do something so utterly careless. You, of all people. You have dealt with more magic than anyone can name, and yet you took that--" she paused long enough to throw a gesture at the crystal "--into yourself? Brought it into the Greensward? Did you even consider the consequences?"

"As a matter of fact, no."

Nialyne glared at him. "What possessed you?"

"I did what needed doing at the time. As always."

"And explain to me why you felt it needed doing?"

Bolin drew in a long, calming breath, and forced himself to remember that, not only did Nialyne hold the title of elder of the Greensward, she had raised him as her own son. That gave her certain liberties he would never accept from others. "I prefer to know everything I can about my enemies."

"The elders are not pleased. Danya Maurar is beside himself."

"Danya Maurar is a narrow minded fool."

Nialyne's eyes hardened. The look demanded Bolin either correct himself, or apologize. Neither of which he felt inclined to do.

"He is of the opinion Galys Auld exists outside the empire
," Bolin said. "His lack of concern for situations beyond these borders is intolerable."

Nialyne sighed, and appeared to concede him that point. "Even still, he deserves your respect."

"His position deserves my respect. As a man he's yet to earn it."

He rocked back as Nialyne came to stand directly in front of him. He met her gaze, nearly on level with his own, unflinching.

"You forget yourself, Danya Sciath," she said, in the quiet way that would have put Bolin's hand on his sword had it been anyone else. "Because of your position within the empire, and by nature of what you are, you are awarded certain courtesies within the Greensward not normally afforded those not born here. Disrespect is not one of them."

She turned her back on him and went to the table, and Bolin let out the breath he had been holding. Nialyne circled the table but didn't touch the crystal. When she turned her attention back to Bolin most of the hardness had gone.

"We have not seen this type of magic for a very long time," she said. "I wasn't sure it still existed in the world."

Bolin moved to stand across from her, his fingers resting on the table's edge, well away from the crystal. Even encased in its prison, the black magic made him twitch. He rubbed his arm where it had seared his skin. The burn had faded to nearly nothing as soon as he no longer held the magic, but it still ached, and the closer he got to the crystal the worse it became.

"I don't think I've ever come across anything like it before," he said. "It burned when I held it. Tried to claw its way out. I think, had I tried to keep it much longer, it may have killed me."

"I'm not surprised you don't recognize it. It is Dominion magic." Nialyne looked as though she had a mouthful of something bad and no place to spit. "Priests of the Dominion were long feared in the time before the empire. They were all but destroyed in the Empirical Wars. Those who survived were driven into the high mountains where it was thought they had perished."

"It's a violent, malevolent thing. I get the sense it has always been such."

"So it has. No one is sure of its origins. It is the only magic I'm aware of that cannot be turned to any purpose other than evil, and it's not entirely natural." Nialyne studied him across the table. "I'm not sure even you could alter it. Which now leaves us with a bit of a problem. It cannot remain here. The wards haven't stopped complaining since you arrived. Even encased in the crystal it reeks of evil. Yet, we can't release it into the world, and I know of no way to destroy it."

"I'll have to try."

"No," she snapped. "I won't allow it."

"You just said yourself it can't remain here."

"And it nearly killed you once."

"I hadn't made to channel it," Bolin pointed out.

"Weren't you listening? I'm not sure you could alter its form even if you tried. Dominion priests are born with the predilection for evil. They pass through many rituals to somehow manipulate the magic they are born with, to add to it by unnatural means. And before you ask, no, I don't know what means. We never studied their ways."

Bolin cocked his head. "That was a mistake."

"We had no need. We managed to defeat them--"

"Obviously not."

Nialyne bristled, and Bolin held up a hand to stop her reprimand.

"My guess is this witch is now in league with either Donovan, or the crone," he said. "That makes them even more dangerous than they were. Especially Donovan. Do you honestly think he won't try to get Ciara again?"

Nialyne came around the table and laid her hand on his arm, and just as quickly jerked it away. Her wince of pain mirrored Bolin's. Her brow furrowed, and she reached out a second time to gingerly pull back his torn sleeve, exposing the angry welt across his bicep.

"What is that from?"

"The witch."

"She would be a priestess," she corrected absently. "Has Konly tended this?"

Bolin shook his head. "I saw no need. As soon as I released her magic into the crystal it began to heal on its own." Something about the way Nialyne studied the wound sent his nerves jumping. "Nialyne?"

She raised her eyes to his. "And you feel fine?"

"Well enough."

"I wonder..."

She laid her hand across the injury, and they hissed in unison. Bolin pulled back violently, but Nialyne tightened her grip
, and though her face pinched in pain she held on. The wound burned like wild fire that spread quickly up his arm, Nialyne's magic chasing after it in a cool wave. She paled and Bolin tried to pry her fingers from around his arm, but before he could the burning subsided and Nialyne let out a sigh. Bolin caught her before she hit the ground and carried her to the settee, settling her gently on the cushions. He laid his fingers against her throat, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse beating there, slow and steady.