Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (19 page)

T
he horse stumbled
into a dip in the ground hidden by long, matted grasses, nearly tossing me over his head. I cursed and righted myself, and decided once again that my wandering thoughts would be the death of me. I’d never find my father if I couldn’t stop thinking about the past, about the what-ifs and the if-onlys.

I wished Rowan were there. Talking to her would have put my thoughts in order, and her perspective would have been helpful. She saw things differently from me. I longed to hear her laugh again, to feel the warm touch of her hand.

I hoped she was finding the situation at the school improved. Perhaps she was making progress now that she didn’t have the pressure of me watching. Much as I missed her, I couldn’t deny that she was probably better off without me.

At the top of the next hill, the world opened before me. A wide river marked the divide between Durlin and Cressia, the dragon-lands. I saw no immediate difference in the landscape, but knew from a single dragon-hunting trip when I was young that the farther north I went, the rockier the ground would get. Folks from Luid had little to do with the province, save for trade. Cressia was mining and sheep-herding country, a rough and difficult place to live. We wanted their goods, and they needed our food. It was an effective, if mistrustful and perhaps lopsided, arrangement, favoring Luid as all such negotiations did.

Perhaps that was why my father had sent his wife and daughter there. No one would recognize them, or care enough to turn them in even if they did.

The spring melt in the lower reaches of the mountains had raised the waterline, making it impossible for the horse to ford the river. The road led us to an old ferryman sitting in a wooden hut, picking his gnarled fingernails with a knife.

“Heh? Wharra ya warnt?” he inquired, pleasantly enough.

“Crossing, please.”

On another journey I’d have thought nothing of altering his thoughts so I could save the coins my uncle had given me for a true emergency. It had worked before, at least for long enough for me to escape.

For the sake of all the gods, you idiot, do it.
This is your power, and your right as your father’s son. Take it.

Instead, I handed over a silver coin, and the old man limped to the ferry and helped me load my horse. He examined the coin, letting the sunlight bounce off it. “Can givvanuthn back.”

“That’s fine. Just try to remember me in case I need your services again.”

He squinted at my face and snorted, then began the crossing, pushing us along with a pole while a rope spanning the river kept us on-course. Magic could have been helpful there, but the man did well enough without it, as so many people did. He tipped his hat to me as I mounted on the other side, and I set off into Cressia.

There were no dragons in those first days, and no towns or roadside inns. I let the horse forage where he could, and did my hunting as an eagle when I spotted game. I slept in that form, too, finding it more comfortable on every level than trying to sleep as a human. I considered the situation as I transformed and dressed on the morning of our third day in Cressia. There was no danger of that form hurting me as long as I changed back during the day. I’d spent far more time in that body when I first met Rowan and felt no ill effects, unless I could blame that for my decision to turn her in to Severn.

No. That was nothing but me being a stupid ass.
I’d changed since then. Perhaps there was hope for me, after all.

In any case, spending more time as an eagle did wonders for keeping my head clear, at least while I remained in that form. As soon as I changed back, the hurricane of thoughts and unwanted emotions began again.

Late that afternoon, the horse and I reached a large lake of uneven shape, dotted with islands. White clouds reflected on the wind-ruffled surface, creating a peaceful scene. The land sloped toward the water, covered in grasses and low shrubs. I removed my things from the saddle and let the horse loose. We had settled into a comfortable routine, and he no longer tried to wander.

“Perhaps the dragon infestation claims are overblown,” I said to him. He looked up, twitched an ear, and went back to foraging. He moved closer to the water, then in up to his knees, searching for his preferred treat, and I turned to put my things down.

A flash of movement caught my eye, and I spun back to the water in time to see my horse pulled under, his neck caught in the jaws of a massive, black water dragon. The dragon stayed near the surface, watching me from eyes placed high atop its head as the horse thrashed, then stilled. A moment later, both shapes disappeared into the depths of the lake, leaving only reflections to hide what lurked below.

“Well, shit,” I muttered.

We’d been making good time. Now I didn’t know how long it would take for me to reach civilization, if a Cressian town could be so named. I stripped off my clothes and stowed them in my pack, hid the lot next to a rock, transformed, and pulled myself into the sky to get a better look at my surroundings.

The lake was larger than I’d realized, an uneven shape snaking out into the surrounding land at several points.

The flickering light of a campfire appeared on the shore of a deep inlet, and I wheeled toward it.

As I came closer, a woman yelled something I couldn’t quite understand. A lower voice answered, and the woman laughed. Water splashed, more gently than it had when the dragon took my horse. I dropped low over the trees and landed as smoothly and quietly as I could in a sturdy birch tree.

The woman wore green pants with pockets on the legs and a brown sweater that fit close to the curves of her body. Her movements seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Not someone I’d seen in my eagle’s body, then. She turned toward the fire, but thick waves of dark hair covered her face. She prodded the wood with a long stick, sending a spray of sparks into the air that surrounded the spitted fish she was roasting.

A naked man with warm, brown skin emerged from the lake and walked back toward the fire. He shook out his short, black hair and wandered around the campsite, poking around in bags and laying out bedrolls while he dried in the cold air.

I needed to get closer. I couldn’t think of names, but I knew these people. They were friends. I tucked in my wings and fell toward the ground, pulling up at the last second into a reasonably neat landing on the flat rocks.

The woman gasped and reached out to grab the man’s arm, nearly toppling him as he struggled into his trousers. He turned toward me, and his mouth opened into a wide grin.

“Well, I’ll be a great whale’s left stone,” he said, and the woman slapped him. “What? Aren’s heard worse.”

“That kind of language is becoming a habit for you,” she said, and turned back to me.

I remembered then, and would have smiled had I been able to. She was Cassia, and he was Kel, and they were merfolk. They stood there, and I sat on the ground, glancing back and forth between them.

“Kel, get him some clothes.” Cassia shoved her brother back toward their things.

“As if he’s got anything you haven’t seen before.” He removed clothes from a pack and dropped them in a pile beside me.

“He’s only human,” she said. “They care about these things.”

She turned away, and I changed back into my human body and dressed as quickly as I could. With the change came a flood of emotions. Relief dominated, and happiness at finding my oldest friends alive. Kel waited until I dressed before he clasped me in a huge hug, and Cassia followed suit, molding her voluptuous body to mine and inhaling deeply as she buried her face in my neck.

I tried to ignore how good that felt.

“Where have you been?” I asked, and Cassia released me.

“Everywhere?” She smiled. “Feels like it, anyway. I’m so glad to see you. Are you hungry?”

The fish’s skin had burned while we were talking, but it was the most enjoyable meal I’d had in ages.

“Did your mission go as planned?” I asked, and they exchanged a glance before answering.

“It was as we expected,” Cassia said, and muffled a dry cough with the back of her hand. “The merfolk we visited in Darmish waters feel we should be doing more to help them. Humans are making their lives difficult. There’s little we can do, really. We’re not going to war with humans.”

Something Severn had said came back to me—
I have some things in the works in Darmid already
. “Humans go to war with humans, though,” I said. “Did they mention Severn?”

Cassia picked at the fish bones. “They did, actually. They were taken aback when he reached out to them, but I think they’re considering his offer. He gets rid of the Darmish people who are persecuting them, and the mers down there help him do it. Combined naval attacks, that sort of thing. They’d be an asset to his cause if he really is thinking of attacking.”

I frowned. “He is. And they would be.” Perhaps he wasn’t as unprepared as I’d thought.

Kel crossed his arms. “There’s a reason we keep our business separate from humans. We need a neutral king on the Tyrean throne again.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said.

“How’s Rowan?” Cassia asked, apparently ready to change the subject.

“
Where
is Rowan?” Kel added. “What’s happened? We spoke to her parents on our way down. Horrible situation.”

“Why?”

Cassia shrugged, a gesture that was both casual and strangely elegant. “Her family’s not holding up well. The mother invited us in, wanted to hear about Rowan. She couldn’t offer us any help on the binding issue, but obviously felt horrible over what happened. She blames herself. We didn’t see the brother Rowan seemed so fond of. Her father wanted nothing to do with us, told us he had no daughter, and said we had to leave.”

Not news Rowan would be pleased to hear, but I hadn’t hoped for any better.

“Her mother told me privately that she did what she thought necessary to protect Rowan after she was born with…what did she call it?”

“The condition,” Kel offered.

“The condition, right. They don’t even like to say the word ‘magic’ there.”

My jaw tightened. The merfolk didn’t often judge another person’s decisions, but I would. I knew how being abandoned by her parents had hurt Rowan and how much physical pain the binding had caused her.

Cassia placed her hand on mine and squeezed. “She did what she did because she loved Rowan. You can’t fault her for that.”

“Maybe not for trying to protect her. But for giving in to those people? They could have gone somewhere else. Taken Rowan to Tyrea. Someone would have given a gifted baby a home.”

“Easy for you to say now,” Cassia said, though not harshly.

“The binding’s not an issue, anyway,” I said, after an uncomfortable silence. “Rowan broke it herself.”

I told them what had happened since we left the Grotto, up until I’d left Rowan safe on Belleisle, though I was becoming tired of repeating the story.

Cassia grinned. “Good girl. I knew I liked her. I hope you’re not a bad influence on her, Aren.”

I smiled back. “I’m a fantastic influence, believe me.”

“I bet.”

Kel rolled his eyes at us. “So she’s alive, her magic is free, and her headaches are gone, but she can’t actually use her magic?”

“Right. It’s there, but it’s not doing much right now except frustrating her.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that why you’re here now and not there with her?”

My shoulders stiffened. “You mean did I leave her there because I didn’t want her anymore?”

“Ah.” Cassia nodded. “I see. Because she’s not what you thought she was, or what you thought she had the potential to be. Dropped. Just like that.”

“No, that’s not it. Nothing’s changed with that. I still...” I forced myself to relax. They were teasing, trying to get more information than they would have otherwise. “Rowan has been frustrated, and I haven’t been able to help at all. Maybe I’ve been holding her back. That’s not why I left, though. I’m trying to find my father.”

Kel gave a low whistle, and Cassia arched her eyebrows. “No kidding?” she asked. “That’s new. I was under the impression that you didn’t care whether you ever saw him again.”

“He might be the lesser of the evils available to us right now.”

The siblings exchanged another meaning-filled glance. “You want some company for a few days?” Kel asked. “We’re heading back to the sea, but this is important. You have a horse?”

“I did,” I said, and nodded toward the lake, where a pair of eyes had appeared, barely visible above the surface.

Cassia shuddered. “Better your horse than Kel, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Kel asked in mock outrage, and Cassia laughed.

“A horse would at least have been useful.” The smile fell from her face. “There are other dragons around here, though, land and sky. Besides your water dragon, we’ve only seen smaller ones so far. We’ve picked up a few tricks along the way, flares and such, but I think we’ll all be safer together.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

She sighed and looked north, toward the mountains and the ocean beyond. “Much as I want to get home, it’s in our people’s best interests to see Severn removed from the throne. If that’s what you’re doing, our Elders would want us to help.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Cassia flashed me a wicked grin. “Besides, we’ve missed you. It’ll be like old times.”

The thought of those old times sent a pleasant shudder through my body. “Maybe not exactly like old times.”

She shook her head. “You humans, I swear.” But she smiled as she said it. We’d spoken about this before. She might not make it easy for me, but she’d respect my loyalty to Rowan.

I walked back to retrieve my things and hurried to re-join the mer siblings at the fire. Whatever waited over the hills of Cressia, I felt better knowing I would be facing it with them.

W
hite mist surrounded me
, letting through only the shadows of voices and vague awareness of movement. My body rocked from side to side, and I felt myself spinning through space. The frozen sensation in my arm turned to burning, a bright and sharp pain that seemed to move independent of my body. I struggled to wake, to force my eyes to open, but I’d lost the connection.

My surroundings gradually returned, and my thoughts took form again. Dorset Langley had taken me down, had done what Callum couldn’t. My body was rocking. No, the hard, damp surface beneath me was rocking, and my stomach wanted no part of it. My head pounded and churned with a deep ache that echoed the nausea in my stomach.

I wanted nothing but to lie still, but a quick sideways motion made me heave, and I lifted my head to vomit. That caused a fresh dose pain to fill my skull, which sent another convulsion through my stomach. Someone cursed, and a boot moved away from my head. I laid my face back down. At least this floor was cold. I opened my eyes. Darkness. Thank every god for that.

Someone nudged my leg, but I refused to move.

“Stick her again.” Dorset Langley’s voice.

I opened my mouth to beg them not to do it again, to tell them I’d be still and that I was incapable of escaping. A sharp pain sliced into my shoulder, and the fog descended again, closing over me completely this time.

I gradually became aware of dim light, and the fact that the ground was no longer rocking beneath me. My head felt full of bricks that rubbed together in a painful clatter when I tried to move, so I left it resting on the soft surface that my cheek pressed against. The scent of strong cleanser prickled at my nose. It reminded me of spring cleaning at my mother’s house, ages ago and a world away.

I wiggled my toes. They’d left my boots on, and my necklace had slipped beneath the arch of my foot. I moved my fingers, taking in the rough wool blanket that covered me. When I slipped my hand beneath it, I found that I still wore my travel clothes, though they’d taken my cloak. I lay on a straw-stuffed mattress, thin and narrow.

After a few deep breaths, I eased my eyes open. Lamplight reflected off blue stone walls that swayed as I struggled to focus on them. Another long breath, and I rolled onto my side, facing the nearest wall. I touched the stone. No, not stone. Metal, perhaps, and cold. I pressed my chilled fingers to my eyes, and the pain receded a fraction.

No matter how this ends
, I thought,
it was all worth it not to have to live with this every day.

I rolled onto my other side. I lay on a cot that sat on a gray flagstone floor. The rectangular room, a little larger than the classrooms back at the school, was empty save for the lamps set into the walls and a privacy screen set up at the opposite end. The clean space wasn’t exactly what I’d expected from the prisons in Ardare, but I had no doubt about where I was.

I shivered. The dank chill in the air was as I had expected.

“Hello?”

No one answered. I sat up slowly, ignoring the darts of pain behind my eyes. The stabbing sensation had gone from my arm and shoulder, and when I looked them over I saw a pair of holes in my sleeve, smaller than I’d expected.

No windows in the room. There was a door, though, in the wall halfway between my bed and the screen. I pushed myself slowly to my feet and shuffled toward it, keeping my hand braced against the wall.

I felt empty. Ill. Terror flashed through me, overwhelming every other thought.

My magic.

In my panic I pulled into myself and nearly collapsed with relief when I found it, small and compressed though it seemed. I remained aware of its comforting presence as I continued my inspection of the cell.

The door was made of wood, polished smooth, but each board had an inset panel of the same blue substance that the walls were made of. A small metal square in the middle looked like it might slide open from the other side, but there was no response when I knocked.

“Hello?” I called again. The nearly empty room amplified the tremor in my voice. “Is there someone out there?”

I waited and listened, but heard nothing from outside the door. I took my hand off the wall, and the feeling of emptiness eased slightly. When I touched it again, the emptiness returned, as though my magic had retreated.

Strange
.

I continued my circuit of the room. The privacy screen had birds painted on it, herons or cranes, but the pattern was faded and chipped. I found another bed behind it, identical to mine except that it had been made with soft blankets, and a worn, wooden storage chest sat by the foot. A three-legged stool sat in the corner, and a small table beside the bed held a few books, piles of paper, and a round glass pitcher filled with water.

Glass could be a weapon. I reached for it, and my heart sank as I felt its weight. My mother had made similar items in her shop and kept them around when her children were small. The glass was treated to break into harmless pieces if dropped. Nothing that would make a threatening weapon.

The blanket on the bed was rumpled near the top, and one of the books had been set down in a hurry, with a page bent beneath it. I picked up the volume, titled
Evils of Magic
, and shuddered. Why would anyone imprisoned here be reading such a thing?

I flattened the page before I set it face down on top of the stack again.

On my way back to my bed I looked more closely at one of the lamps affixed to the blue stone, set deep in a recess behind metal bars. Oil, encased in glass. More blue wall behind the lamp. The light made my eyes feel swollen and heavy. Painful. I returned to my cot and collapsed onto it, legs shaking.

What did they do to me?

I closed my eyes against the light and went back to cooling my hands on the wall and pressing them to my eyes and forehead. I thought about prison, about mistakes, about never hearing of anyone escaping from this place. I thought about Aren, and found that it calmed me. I knew I shouldn’t feel self-pity, or focus on missing him. Instead I made promises to myself about what I would do when I saw him again, but found that such thoughts only brought black despair when I realized how remote that possibility was.

I had ruined everything. He would succeed in his mission, I was certain. He’d return to Belleisle to find me, and—

A low click echoed through the room, and another. I pushed myself up as the door swung open.

“Stay where you are,” ordered a guard in a brown uniform. Her tightly pulled-back hair amplified the severity of her expression.

When I didn’t move, she stepped back and the door opened further. An older man entered, dressed in black slacks and a featureless, gray shirt. He had a thick mane of silver hair and deep creases around his eyes. A handsome fellow, but with an air of cold disinterest.

He glanced at me, but went straight to the other end of the room and behind the screen without speaking. The guard left us, the door slammed closed, and a pair of locks clicked. Silence followed until the sound of pages turning drifted out from behind the makeshift wall.

At least he’s friendly
, I thought, and gritted my teeth. I was accustomed to having a roommate, but Celean had been somewhat less frightening to share a space with than a man I knew nothing about.

I didn’t know whether it would be better to reach out to him or take a cue from him and ignore his existence. He solved my dilemma when he sighed loudly, came out from behind the screen, and crossed the room, carrying the stool with him. He placed it near my bed, at a respectful distance. Non-threatening, at least.

I sat up, rested my back against the wall, and pulled my skirt down over my feet. He crossed one leg over the other with his ankle resting on his knee and folded his hands. His gaze was unsettling, dark eyes under stern gray brows.

“I thought we should meet,” he said.

“Where are we?”

“They call this the compound.” He plucked at the leg of his pants, straightening a wrinkle. “It functions as government offices and a prison for special people like us. They use it for a few other purposes they don’t want the general populace to know about.” He rattled the words off as though he’d spoken them many times before. “Though he resides elsewhere, the king has chambers here, and offices. He tries to be present for executions and very much enjoys telling me about them after. In great detail, in fact.” A look of distaste crossed his face, erased as quickly as it appeared. “We are underground, in a secure cell reserved for prisoners of a magical nature. These walls are made from a rare substance that inhibits magic. An alloy, actually. They’ve found a method of combining their magic-inhibiting drug with silver and iron, and used it to make these lovely blue walls we’re currently enjoying. It’s effective within a limited range, but there’s only one cell of this sort, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“So there’s no way out?” A strange calm settled over me.

“Not that I’ve found, and I’ve been here for years. When they remove you from this room, you’ll be shackled with the same substance. They’ll inject it into you if you misbehave—the drug, not the alloy. Quite unpleasant. I don’t recommend it.” He leaned forward, taking in the glaze in my eyes. “Or maybe you knew that.”

“Is it like binding?”

His eyebrows crept upward, cutting deep creases into his forehead. “I wonder what you would know about that. But to answer your question, it is and it isn’t. They don’t have the formula for that nor the skill to apply it, but they have found ways to mimic the effects temporarily. Their version, however, does have the advantage of working even on a person who is resisting. With a binding, submission is required, and likewise with the...” He paused, and his lip curled into a sneer. “The experiments they’re doing to remove magic. Cure it, as they say. I don’t think they’ve had many strong volunteers, and it’s stalled their progress somewhat. They can’t take what’s not freely given. At least, not yet.”

“Removing magic? Forever?” So Callum hadn’t been exaggerating.

A corner of his mouth turned up. “Horrifying, isn’t it? They offered to let me go if I would submit to their experiments. If I’d let them cure me.” He shuddered. “I preferred to rot in here.”

We sat in silence for a minute, and I massaged my arm.

He looked off into a corner of the room behind my bed. “I don’t want to get to know you well. I’ve had other people come and go before. Doesn’t do to get attached. But we can’t very well sit in silence. I think that would be unfair to you, and I wish to hear any news you have from outside.”

It seemed preferable to silence, and to being left with my own thoughts. “News from when?”

“Oh, I think my last temporary cellmate left two months ago, if I’m counting correctly. It gets confusing in here. At least meals and relief breaks are regular. You can count by that.”

My mouth went dry. “We never get out for air? Where did you come from just now?”

“They wanted you to have the room to yourself until you woke up. You might get out to see the place soon. You’ll get a trial.”

“I think they held my trial without me. I confessed my magic in letters to people I thought I could trust.”

“I see. Well, we all make mistakes. Some more than others. I don’t know what they’ll do with you, then, but you shouldn’t be here too long. You’ll be called before the king. I’m not sure what happens after that. No one has come back to tell me. So you are Darmish?”

That casual way he mentioned the disappearance of previous cellmates shook me, and it was several moments before I answered. “I am, but I was elsewhere for a while. I shouldn’t have come back.”

He looked around the room. “Evidently.”

“What about you? Who are you?”

“No one. I made the same mistake as you, in a way.”

Pain slashed at my skull, retreated, and returned in a familiar pattern. My cellmate stood. “I should let you rest.”

“No, it’s fine.” I had too many questions. Why hadn’t they executed this man? If he could stay alive when cellmates came and went, I needed to know how.

Bile rose in my throat, and I lay down with my eyes closed against the light. I hadn’t seen any handy buckets, and didn’t wish to embarrass myself.

“It will wear off,” he said. I thought I detected a hint of irritation in his voice, though the words were kind enough. “We’ll speak later, if they don’t take you away first.”

That’s so helpful
, I thought. I opened my eyes, ready to object, but he was already on his way back to his corner.

“What’s your name?” I called.

He didn’t answer.