Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (29 page)

Aren paced, taking up where the horse had left off.

“Nox is right,” Cassia said. “We should talk about this before we do anything.”

I nodded. “I understand that you’re all worried about this girl, whoever she is, but we’re in the middle of something important. We can’t drop what we’re doing—which we all agreed we were going to make a priority—to go rescue your damsel in distress.”

“They’ll kill her,” he said.

I took a deep breath. “If she’s with magic hunters, we’re already too late.”

Aren glared at me. “We’re damned well going to try.”

“Are we? It’s decided, then?” I took a step toward him. “What happened to us being in this together?” Pain stabbed at my palms, and when I looked down I realized I’d clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my skin.

Kel looked from Aren to me and back, wary, then motioned to Florizel. “Why don’t we let this poor creature rest? Let our horses rest, too. There’s no point moving tonight if they’re all exhausted and we don’t know exactly what we’re doing. Would you like something to eat, my friend?”

“Thank you,” Florizel said. “I’m nearly starved. I ate a little grass back where the other horses saw you, but not enough. It’s been slow going. I’ve had to walk so much.” Kel took some grain out of the bag, and she lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so tired.”

Aren rubbed his hands over his face, pressing them into his closed eyes. “No, please eat and rest. Kel is right.”

I went to my supplies and assembled a combination of ice grass blades, heartleaf bark, and green lichen in a bowl that Kel handed to me without being asked. It wouldn’t work miracles, but it would stave off infection and ease the horse’s pain a little. I pounded the ingredients to muck and added a splash of water.

“I’m afraid this is going to sting,” I told her. The horse looked up from the grain ration Kel had given her and nodded.

I worked the arrow head free. The horse’s haunches trembled, but she didn’t shy away.

“Well done,” I told her, and ran a hand over her sweaty coat as I dabbed a touch of the ointment onto her wound. She flinched, but didn’t make a sound.

“Nox,” Kel said quietly, “We should talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? I’m sorry his friend is in trouble, but she’s as good as dead. This is a diversion from our mission, and I don’t think we can afford it.”

He frowned. “I understand what you mean. It seems unlikely that we’ll find her, but those hunters didn’t kill her on sight. She might still be alive, and we know where she is. And you should know that Rowan is the only person I know of who’s come close to killing Severn.”

“Really?”

I looked to Aren, who was obviously listening in. He nodded. “Came closer than I ever have.”

“Then why didn’t you mention this wonderful asset before?”

He moved closer and rubbed Florizel’s nose. “I thought Rowan was safe where she was, and I didn’t want to bring her into this. She’s not ready for this fight. But she could be, if we get her back alive and she gets more training. You’re free to leave, if you wish.” He looked to Kel as Cassia joined us. “None of you have to come. This isn’t your fight.”

“It is, though,” Cassia said. “We stay with you.”

They all turned to me, and my stomach went sour. Every time I thought I was getting a step closer to what I wanted, another door slammed in my face. Whenever I found my balance, the ground shifted.

She’d almost killed Severn. Wasn’t that what I wanted?

I finished treating the horse’s wound and sighed. “I stay, too.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
What kind of an idiot goes willingly to Darmid? To magic hunters, no less?

Kel and Cassia accepted my answer, but Aren seemed to have caught my tone. Perhaps even my thoughts, though I hadn’t felt any intrusion. He gave me a cold look and turned away before I could return it.

I gritted my teeth and fought the irrational urge to lash out at him.

It seemed I’d discovered my brother’s blind spot.

T
ime passed slowly
in the cell, and Ulric seemed glad to have the distraction of a student to work with. He didn’t try to frighten me into action again, but I remained wary of him. I couldn’t get a handle on the man. He treated me with respect when he seemed to think I’d earned it, and even kindness, but I couldn’t trust that his offers of information and books to read after supper weren’t just his way of winning me over, of making me useful to him.

I finally understood why Aren didn’t trust anyone.

Over the course of a few days, and with rarely a moment to rest, I learned to create faint illusions. I never made anything as substantial as the dragon, but Ulric encouraged me to keep working at it. I practiced closer to the walls, fighting to strengthen my power against their resistance, using the anger that I found was, indeed, burning a hole deep within me, beneath my shame and fear. My control increased, even with interference. Ulric’s expression glowed at times when his theory about my binding-crippled magic seemed to be proving itself, and turned to a scowl when I still couldn’t manage anything convincing enough to help us.

The guards approached carefully and shackled us every time we left the room, clamping broad rings of the blue metal around our wrists at every bath and toilet break—both of which took place in a much smaller room across the hall with the same walls as the cell. If they so much as sensed a magical threat, they kept needle-like daggers ready, dripping with blue-green fluid that promised pain and suppression of power, either of which would have been an effective deterrent on its own.

“Could we try something else today?” I asked Ulric one morning, cautiously and respectfully.

Ulric closed the book he’d been reading. “Why? You’re making progress.”

“Thank you.”

“It was an observation, not a compliment.”

I took a slow breath before I spoke again.
It’s just his way
. That didn’t mean I liked it, or approved of it, only that I had no choice but to pretend those little barbs didn’t hurt until we got out of that cell. I could act strong and insensitive for a time. After that, Tyrea was welcome to him.

“I thought that giving myself a break from illusions and stretching my abilities in another direction might be helpful. I think I mentioned that a few things have happened with water. It seems worth trying.”

“Very well,” he said, as though he’d only been waiting for me to suggest it. He carried his water pitcher out from his private space—both of them luxuries I’d been denied as a temporary guest—and set the glass container on the floor. “See what you can do.”

“Like what? I’ve never seen many people do things with water before.”

Fire, yes, and to impressive effect. But not water, which seemed a far less useful weapon. Perhaps that was why Ulric hadn’t suggested trying it, even after I mentioned my escape from Callum.

“Do whatever you wish,” he said. “If it’s a natural gift, it should be as simple as breathing. Or it would be, in the outside world.”

“So you think I don’t have a natural gift? Nothing is simple for me, even outside.”

The hint of a smile passed over his lips. “I think in your case we might not pass judgment on that. You’re somewhat unique. But we’ll see what you can do.”

The panel on the door slid open with a grinding noise that had become familiar to me, and my stomach grumbled on cue. “Step away from the door,” a male voice mumbled. “Backs against the far wall. Hands up.”

We followed instructions, and the single eye visible in the shadows of the tiny window blinked at us until its owner was sure we had complied. The door opened far enough for the guard to push in two trays of muddy-looking stew and tin cups of water. His head and shoulders poked in, too, and he squinted at the water pitcher in the middle of the floor. “What’re you up to here?”

“Drinking,” Ulric said. “Talking. Reminiscing about the glories of grass beneath our feet and the sun on our faces. You can’t fault us for that.” He’d cautioned me to not try to attack, to never let on that I could use my magic inside of the cell. I hung my head and watched the guard from beneath lowered eyelashes.

The guard glowered but left us in peace, locking the door behind him. We ate quickly, and Ulric set both cups next to the pitcher. “How’s your magic feel today?” he asked.

I knew what answer he wanted—to hear that I didn’t feel it at all, that it was simply there. But I wouldn’t lie.

“It feels small,” I said, as I had the morning and evening before.

“Where is it?”

“In my chest. My arms. My hands. My mind.”

He just shook his head. “I’ll be reading if you need me. Go play.” He disappeared behind his screen, but sat on his stool and leaned against the wall. I pretended I didn’t see him watching.

I tried to remember what Aren and Griselda had told me.
Don’t think about it, just let it happen. Don’t think about the tool. Focus on the outcome.

I sat cross-legged on the floor next to the pitcher and studied the liquid within. I’d always loved water. I learned to swim in the river near Stone Ridge when I was quite young, playing in the currents, allowing myself to be swept downstream and fighting my way back. I respected it, too. Twice on my journey with Aren I’d been trapped underwater and thought I would drown.

Water was a gift, and it could be a weapon if I learned to use it as one.

No expectations
, I told myself. Nothing had to happen. This was a chance to experience my magic fully. Just for fun.
Might as well have it while I can...

As I watched, the surface of the water bowed up, reflecting the lamplight in interesting new ways. I concentrated on that, not trying to force anything, but enjoying the effect. I felt an urge to check on my magic, to see what it felt like while it made this happen, and resisted.
There’s only the water.

I nudged it with my mind, and a dimple appeared in the dome shape. I released it, and the surface smoothed, then lifted higher. Panic flashed through me as I recalled the other times my magic had come free. The dead magic hunter. The blood on Griselda’s cheek. I closed my eyes.
Not this time. Nothing bad can happen in here. It’s contained.

I realized I didn’t want it to be contained.
To hell with everything. I’m dead anyway, like Ulric said. Go on, magic.

When I opened my eyes, the water rose out of the pitcher, squeezing through the narrow neck and taking on the rounded shape of the vessel again as it lifted into the air. I imagined it becoming a perfect sphere, and the water obeyed.

I laughed, and Ulric stepped out from behind his screen.

I focused again, imagined a storm of water. The sphere exploded into a thousand droplets that scattered through the air, traveling too quickly for my eyes to follow, until they met resistance from the power of the walls. They slowed and hovered, then drew back and pulled together into a ball again. Sudden exhaustion came over me, and I dropped the water back into the pitcher without spilling a drop.

“Well done,” Ulric said softly. He still held his book in one hand, dangling beside him, forgotten. A few pages slipped from the battered spine and rustled to the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, or care.

I scooped up the pitcher in both hands and sipped from the rim. Nothing had changed. It was the same water they always gave us, metallic-tasting and never cool enough to be refreshing. I wiped my mouth on the baggy sleeve of my shirt. “How did I do that? I’ve never...It’s never been like that before.”

Ulric seated himself opposite me and took a drink. “Control. This is a gift, but you had too much of it before, and too much fear of it. It’s exactly as I knew it would be. Your magic needed pressure so you could learn to manage it. Keep that control after we leave this place, and you’ll have the world at your feet.” Something passed over his expression then—uncertainty, or a realization. It was gone before I could make sense of it.

“What else can I do?” I felt stunned, dazed by what I’d done, not fully able to believe I had done it.

“That’s up to you,” he said. “Elemental control is a versatile gift. Keep experimenting. Turn it to mist, heat it, try to cool it. Find it in the ground and call it to—” He cut himself off. We didn’t speak of the outside world. Not yet. “There’s a river nearby. If your power was at its fullest, you might call it.”

“To drown us?” I smiled, and he returned it. Cautiously, but looking for the first time like he had some hope of getting out.

“Or perhaps something else,” he continued. “I still think illusions are worth pursuing as a means of escape, but we’ll add this. Keep up that frightened mouse look around the guards. They’re already becoming careless with you.” He opened his book and took out another loose page. “I’ve worked out a map of the compound. It may not be perfect, but I’ve had enough conversations with folks and read enough to—”

The lock clicked, and Ulric snapped his book shut as the door opened. A guard entered, a woman I only saw when she took me to the toilets and baths. Her stern expression never varied any more than her uniform did, and her demeanor was always cold enough to make me eager to return to Ulric’s company. A male guard followed, bearing a long dagger dripping with their illegal potion. Magic to be used against magic.

The woman nodded to me. “Miss Greenwood, you’re to bathe now.”

“Is it the nineteenth already?” I asked, and Ulric chuckled. It was a bit of a joke that we didn’t get out for bathing nearly often enough.

“No. Now, please. King Haleth is expecting you.”

My heart froze. When I looked at Ulric, he had a blank, stunned look. I remembered what he’d said about the king.

He tries to be present for executions.
My heart raced as though pursued by a fire-breathing dragon. It was too soon. I’d found my magic, but we’d done no training in fighting or defense. Ulric had assumed he’d be with me when we escaped. I was a tool to him, as much as his magic. Honed for his purposes.

No,
I thought.
He meant well. He meant to be there to protect me.

“Please,” Ulric whispered. “Not yet. She’s only a girl.”

The guard sniffed. “Not for me to say. She’s been here long enough. Sentencing don’t usually wait this long, especially for a murderer.”

Ulric’s mouth pulled back in a snarl. I reached over and took one of his clenched fists in my hand. He couldn’t fight his way out. One swipe from that dagger would render him useless. They were ready for his anger. Maybe they even wanted it.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine. If I don’t come back, I know you’ll find a way out.” I reached for the clasp of my necklace. Several hairs had become tangled in the chain, but I hardly felt the pain when I tore them free. “Hold this for me. If you see Aren before I do, please tell him I’m sorry, and…” I couldn’t say more.

Ulric clenched his jaw. “I know. I will.” I released his hand, and he returned to his sleeping area.

I followed the guard to the bathing chamber. She didn’t offer me privacy, but removed my manacles and watched with disinterest as I cleaned myself as well as I could in the lukewarm water. I scrubbed my hair and gasped at the cold as she dumped fresh water over my head to rinse the soap out.

They certainly didn’t encourage us to linger in the baths here.

A clean dress awaited me, a shapeless brown thing with black buttons up the front of the bodice as the only decoration. The guard looked away as I slipped into it and tied the strings behind my waist. I reached for my boots, and the guard shoved them away with her foot.

“Disrespectful for a prisoner to be shod before the king,” she said.

“I didn’t know.”

“This must be your first time. Suppose it’s your last, too.”

I ignored that.

Water dripped from my hair, and dampness spread across my back. I concentrated, and the water pulled back into my hair, then ran in a trail-less stream down my arm to pool into my hand. My hair and the dress were left nearly dry, and I let the water drip between my fingers onto the floor, keeping only a palm-sized sphere in my hand. A useless trick, perhaps, but using my magic comforted me in a way I’d never expected. It felt natural, as Ulric had said.

Perhaps they were going to sentence me to death, but I would face that knowing who I was, without the fear and guilt I’d felt for so long.

The guard thumped the back of my head lightly with a wooden truncheon, and the water bubble burst, soaking my fingers. Apparently, she’d been watching more closely than I realized.

“None of that,” she muttered, and pushed me ahead of her. She reached around to the back of her belt and produced the cuffs, which she clamped around my wrists.
So much for them letting their guard down
.

I tried to call the water to follow me as we left the room, but felt nothing.

I hoped the guard would slip in the puddle later. We made our way through the corridor and up a curved staircase, and after a long walk down another corridor we reached our destination.

Haleth, king of Darmid, waited in a small library, seated behind a desk of carved and polished oak. He glanced up when we entered and motioned for the guard to leave. She bowed and closed the door behind her.

The king didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but kept reading over a document written on a long piece of parchment as my bare toes grew cold on the stone floor. A fire burned in a small hearth near the desk, but the warmth barely reached me. I took the opportunity to inspect the room. Books covered the walls, their dark spines absorbing much of the light from the lamps, leaving a gloomy atmosphere.

A curtain shadowed the corner ahead of me and to the left. I squinted to try to see into the darkness, and jumped when I spotted a pair of eyes glaring back at me. Sir Dorset Langley stepped farther into the light and stood with his arms folded across his chest, his expression blank below his eyes, saying nothing.

I couldn’t look away until the king spoke.

“Dorset, isn’t it customary for a subject to kneel before a king?”

Sir Dorset still didn’t say anything, but unfolded his arms and came toward me. Before I could move, he reached behind me and bent my wrist forward until my middle finger touched the inside of my wrist, sending a surprising bolt of agony up my arm. I gasped and collapsed to the floor.