Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (3 page)

Perhaps some day I’d get a chance to make things right with all of them.

R
owan dashed out the door
, hair the color of cherries flying behind her. The strange shade, a side-effect of the release of her magic, had deepened and darkened over the winter, leaving lighter streaks around her face. She’d never indicated whether she cared for it. I thought it suited her well, accidental though it had been. It also made her easier to spot at a distance—a place I was becoming far too accustomed to seeing her from.

It was my own fault. I’d done things in the past that harmed people. I hadn’t cared who I hurt at the time, not as long as Severn rewarded me for it. The consequences hadn’t mattered then, but they’d finally caught up with me. Because of a death I hadn’t intended to cause, my grandfather’s wife Emalda allowed me to stay at the school only if I obeyed strict rules that strangled me like a noose, growing tighter every day.

Whether the rules were intended to hurt me or only to protect Rowan and the other students, I couldn’t say. Either way, Emalda had created the perfect torture for me. I was allowed to see Rowan, to speak with her, to hear her laugh and catch her warm glances and frustrated glares. But I was not to touch her, to whisper the things I longed to say, to help her forget her troubles. It broke me in a way that the other rules didn’t, making me a prisoner even while I knew I was free to leave.

No matter how hard I worked or how trustworthy I made myself, there were some debts that could not be repaid. Nearly four months after my arrival at the island, Emalda kept as close a watch over us as she ever had.

If not for Celean’s kindness, Rowan and I would never steal even the few moments we had—and that was for Rowan’s sake. Not mine.

I leaned out the door as Rowan and Celean made their way toward the school. Better to let Rowan go without me. I’d sneak into the kitchen later and scrounge something to eat. I picked up a pitchfork and stabbed at the hay bale, from which wisps of smoke still rose. Magic and hard work kept the school safe, but a fire might still hurt someone—and the clean-up would certainly be my responsibility. I spread the hay out until it no longer smoldered, and the acrid stink of burned grass filled the air.

The end of a lesson and Rowan’s return to the world of the school always left an empty ache in me, a space that uncomfortable thoughts rushed to fill. There was a time when I wouldn’t have let anyone stop me from being with whomever I wanted, whenever I wished. I wouldn’t have let Emalda talk down to me or give me orders. True, I’d been Severn’s puppet then, but I’d had power. Position. Potential. Yet I’d just spent a winter mucking out the stable and doing odd jobs around a school in a land where I was no one, where I had no future.

I barely had a present. I had Rowan, but infrequently. We had our lessons, with their accompanying frustrations and everything that had to be left unsaid when our caretakers were less indulgent than Celean. We’d managed through luck or recklessness to have a few nights together. The last of those had resulted in Emalda cutting down the tree branch that Rowan had used to escape from her room, and a stern talking-to for me from my grandfather. Emalda’s rules would hold, or I would be sent away. Rowan, too.

Time with my dear Sorceress was worth almost any trouble, but I wasn’t willing to risk our banishment for it. I had nowhere else to go, and Rowan’s prospects were no better. We were safe on the island, at least for the time being.

“
Nyaah?
” The cat Celean had been petting had a voice like a dying crow. It flopped onto its back and waved its white-gloved paws in the air. I ignored it.

I sat and rested my face in my hands. I’d already overstayed my welcome, and I wasn’t helping Rowan with anything except getting in trouble. It was past time for me to leave, but every day we spent together made it harder to go. Though she and I were completely different people on the surface, it seemed that our roots grew more entwined with each day I stayed.

In truth, I needed Rowan. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but she had wakened a part of me I’d thought destroyed, something that had been resting far below the surface during the years I served my brother, Severn. What I felt for her went deeper than the frustrations and the disagreements, linking us even when more reasonable people would have given up and moved on.

Even on my worst days she made me smile, and even on hers, I couldn’t help admiring her. Loving her. Wishing to be more like her.

The cat rubbed on my leg, and I shoved it gently away with the toe of my boot.

“Still having troubles, eh?” Ernis Albion stomped the snow from his boots as he came through the door at the far end of the barn, then wiped the snowflakes off his spectacles. He stood with one hand on his hip and scratched at his short, white hair as he watched the cat roll around in the hay. “It’s sad. We have no respectable barn cats. Emalda babies them.” He scooped the purring beast into his arms and cradled it there, scratching under its chin.

“How much of that conversation did you hear?”

He sat down beside me and set the cat on the floor. “Just enough to know that you’re both getting discouraged. Certainly nothing I shouldn’t have heard.”

My grandfather walked a careful line between making his wife happy and trying to keep me around for reasons I still didn’t quite understand. I liked the man. I’d come to appreciate the strength he managed to radiate while being what I’d once thought disparagingly of as “a good person.” I’d always thought strength came through solitude, through cruelty and not caring, through creating fear in those who didn’t show respect. Albion was different. He earned the respect of his students through his competence, his love for them, and his unwavering dedication to making the world better. I admired the man, but kept him at a distance. I wasn’t like him, and didn’t know how to be—or whether becoming like him would mean sacrificing everything I had been before.

“I’m running out of ideas,” I told him. “Rowan's right. Magic always came so easily to me. Even when I couldn’t do something, I pushed myself to learn. I suppose I never thought to appreciate the years when my magic was still small and I had a chance to learn control.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed a hand under his chin. “She knows how you pressure yourself. Even now, you’re learning new skills. She sees that. Why do you think she’s pushing herself so hard?” He didn’t ask accusingly, but the words stung. I was a bad influence on so many levels.

“I think I’m holding her back. I try not to let her see how frustrated I get when I try to teach her, but I think she knows. I don’t want her to see that.”

“I assume your teachers pushed you mercilessly when you were young,” he said softly. “Rowan knows that, and I think she understands why your expectations are so high. She wants to live up to your standard. She doesn’t want to disappoint you, and that frustrates her.”

“I know. None of this is easy for me, either,” I said. It wasn’t just the isolation. Emalda had strictly forbidden me using my powers to so much as look into anyone’s thoughts, and I was forbidden to practice controlling minds. I considered myself fortunate that she didn’t threaten to banish me every time I took my eagle form to fly over the island. I felt my skills atrophying, and could do nothing about it. “I feel trapped here, though I don’t want to leave.”

Albion smiled in his peaceful, quiet way. “I think Emalda is warming to you.”

“She had me clean out the old cistern yesterday. Without magic.”

He let the cat drop to the floor. “No one said love or heroism were easy. Or rewarding, for that matter. Walk with me?”

We stepped out into the early-spring sunlight and started toward the stables and the house beyond them. I snapped my fingers and produced a tiny flame. It had taken a good deal of practice over the winter, but I’d picked up the skill while my power hadn’t been occupied with more familiar things.

So many people thought that a powerful Sorcerer should be able to do anything, not understanding the study and practice required, having no understanding of the risks we took every time we tried to use our magic for something new. I tried to tell myself that learning to create a flame was impressive, but when I thought of Severn’s skills in it, my own seemed a pale imitation.

I missed being allowed to use my strongest gifts, missed the power filling me and pouring out, the sense of purpose and strength it gave me.

“I didn’t come to speak to you about Rowan,” Albion said, interrupting my thoughts. He handed me a letter. “I received this from Tyrea.”

“Not from Severn?”

“No, nothing from him yet. This is from one of my ‘eyes and ears’ folks.”

A dangerous position, as they were reporting to him against my brother’s wishes. I scanned the neatly penned note. “He’s conscripting Sorcerers?”

“And Potioners, yes. Forcibly consolidating magical talent in Luid. Do you know why?”

“Nothing that he ever mentioned to me.” But then, my brother had never trusted me like I’d wanted him to. “Our father did something similar, bringing talent to the city, but he made them generous offers to enter his service. He didn’t force anyone to leave their homes or work for him. He kept a close eye on those who refused, though.”

“I suspect that your brother’s hunger for power exceeds even your father’s, and he seems to lack the temperance that made Ulric a good king.”

“Hmm.” A good king, perhaps. In his personal life, he’d been cold and cruel. I hadn’t mourned when he disappeared three years before. Severn may have been ruthless, but at least he valued my talents while I let him use them. He’d offered me a position in his councils. I’d have had a bright future in his court if I hadn’t thrown it all away for Rowan.

“Do you regret leaving?” Albion asked.

“Your wife doesn’t approve of mind-reading, you know.”

He waved that off. “Not a gift that I’ve tried to develop. Your thoughts are written on your face.”

I’d have to watch that. A few months ago Rowan had been calling me a closed book, and I preferred to remain that way. The relative safety of the island had made me soft.

The lines on Albion’s forehead deepened.

“You’re not concerned he’ll try to do the same here, are you?” I asked. “Steal your magic-users?”

He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. “The island has its defenses, and our magic is strong. I don’t think he’d dare. He could certainly make life miserable for us, could harm us, but I think he knows he would never take us.” His words were confident, but his voice less so. Belleisle had kept an uneasy peace with Tyrea when my father ruled there, but there was no telling what Severn would do to get what he wanted. “You know him better than I. Will he try anything?”

I watched the last of the students filing into the kitchen after riding lessons, and my stomach growled at the thought of the potato soup the cook had been preparing that morning when I went in. “You’re probably safe for now. He has other concerns.”
Rowan and I among them
, I added to myself. “You’d all be safer without me here.”

Before he could answer, Emalda slipped outside and closed the door against the laughter that drifted out. She strode toward us, pulling a bright red cap over her silver hair. I adjusted my posture, standing straight and square, ready to hear about whatever I’d done wrong this time. Much as I hated her snide comments and complaints, I had become used to them. Her words could irritate me, but they’d lost their bite.

There was no anger in her expression, only a tightness that I didn’t have to use my skills to know concealed panic. Albion stepped toward her. “My dear?”

“Tyrean ship approaching off Krota Head,” she said, and shivered. She pulled her wool coat tighter around her thin frame. “Flying Severn’s flag.”

My stomach turned, and I dismissed the thought that we had summoned a demon with our words.

“A lone ship?” Albion asked, and Emalda nodded. “Messages? Emissaries?”

“No,” she said. “Not yet, at least.”

One ship, approaching boldly enough that we’d received word long before it reached shore, in daylight no less. This was no sneak attack. Severn felt I owed him a debt, and he’d come to collect. He wasn’t going to leave until he had what he wanted. If I didn’t go to him, he would come to me and deliver every bit of misery to the island that Albion seemed to think him capable of.

“Where are the students?” I asked. “Safe?”

“In the house,” Emalda said.

“Good. Please keep them there.”

I waited for her to order my immediate departure, to note that my indecisiveness over leaving may have placed everyone on the island in harm’s way. She’d have been within her rights to be angry, and for once I wouldn’t have blamed her for harsh words. Instead, she hesitantly laid a hand on my arm.

“What will you do?” she asked.

A mantle of calm settled over my mind even as my heart pounded. I’d hoped for more time, and expected less. The moment had come.

I offered a smile that I hoped looked more reassuring than it felt. “I suppose I’d better saddle up a horse and go see what Severn wants.”

A
fter a short ride
I reached Krota Head—a wide, grassy bluff overlooking the ocean to the east of the school. Probably a lovely spot in the summer, but on that day the cold, salty wind swept up from the ocean and cut to my bones, rattling through the dead grasses as it came. My horse shuffled and tried to turn his backside into the wind, and I pulled him back around to face the sleek ship that rocked on the waves below us, a black speck against dark water and blue sky.

Severn’s personal ship, the
Nightfire
. It had never sailed without him on board. I’d had no doubt he would come, but seeing his vessel sent a shock through me, and I fought the urge to ride away. I’d neither seen nor heard from my brother since the night Rowan broke the binding that had held her magic within her, the night that its release almost killed Severn. In fact, I’d heard little
of
him, even through my grandfather’s news-gatherers in Luid. All I knew was that he was alive, and undoubtedly angry.

Another set of hooves thudded over the grass behind us, and Albion brought his black horse up next to mine.

“Severn?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“If you go to him, he’ll—”

“I know. I don’t see what choice I have.”

When Rowan and I arrived at Belleisle and Emalda agreed to let me stay, I hadn’t expected to be there for more than a few weeks before I left. I couldn’t have defeated Severn on my own, but I should have gone back to Tyrea as soon as Rowan was settled. Then Severn would have tracked and followed me there, and he wouldn’t be here now. The others would be safe.

It was one ship, not an army. Still, its presence in these waters meant nothing good.

The waves crashed against the rocks below the bluff, sending mist spraying into the wind, but the ship appeared to rest in a spot of calm. Someone on board was controlling the waves in a powerful way. This was not one of Severn’s skills. He had at least one other Sorcerer with him. I regretted my decision to follow Emalda’s rules and not practice my less pleasant gifts, which I would soon need.

A trio of dark specks floated up from the ship’s deck, rising in the wind, spiraling up until they cleared the masts, then turned toward the shore.

Albion squinted. “Are those birds?”

I didn’t answer, but handed him my horse’s reins and slipped to the ground. A moment later my clothes fell to the grass as I changed into my eagle’s body and flapped my wings hard until the wind lifted me. I flew into it, toward the intruders.

They might only have been messengers, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.

The large hawks seemed desperate to reach land, but all hesitated when they caught sight of me. The one in the lead cut low to get around me. I dropped with talons outstretched. The hawk, from which I sensed strong magic, darted away at the last second. I stretched, turned, and managed to grip its thin neck with one set of talons. The bird twisted in my grip, nearly slipping free, but it was too small to fight me. I grabbed on, broke its neck, and released its body into the waves, nearly dunking myself in the process.

While I’d been occupied, the second bird had darted around us. I turned hard and let the wind push me toward land. The bird screamed as my talons gripped the sleek feathers of its back, sending several whipping away as we rolled through the air. The wind ripped its shrieks from its throat as I tore into its flesh, and it met the same fate as its companion, lost among the waves.

I had no way of knowing whether the magic was an enchantment placed on the animals, or whether they were Sorcerers and shape-shifters. I didn’t have time to question them, or to care.

The third bird rushed past as I dropped the second body. I wheeled and climbed high, never losing sight of its rusty-red tail in spite of the sun’s glare off of the water. When it flew in my shadow, I folded my wings and dropped. The hawk darted to one side and I clipped the edge of one wing as I passed, glancing off without grabbing so much as a flight feather. The hawk dropped on top of me, and we fell together toward the crashing waves with the smaller bird latched onto my back.

This is no regular hawk,
I realized. It thought, planned, strategized. A Sorcerer for certain, but the thought changed nothing for me. He wasn’t going to get to the island.

I twisted my neck and slashed out with my beak, and tasted hot blood. The little talons released my feathers. I picked up an air current before I hit the water and spiraled up. The hawk was still airborne, but hurt and struggling. I cut in front of him before he reached the cliffs, and he turned back toward the sea, toward the ship and safety.

I was trying to decide whether to let him make it when he turned back and shot toward me, darting around at the last moment. My own flight skills were no match for his. An older Sorcerer, then, more experienced. I screamed a warning toward shore, but when I looked back at the top of the bluff, Albion showed no sign of concern. He stood holding the horses’ reins, watching.

The Sorcerer would make land.

I’d nearly caught up when bright light flashed around him. The hawk screeched and shot backward. At nearly the same moment, I felt it—perhaps not as fully as he had, but a shock like lightning went through me, leaving me gasping for air but still aloft. The hawk didn’t fare so well, and his body spun toward the water.

Words Albion said to me the first time we spoke of the island’s defenses came to mind.
If you’d come with ill-will, you wouldn’t have made it.

No further threats had appeared, but still the ship rocked on the waves. Waiting, and I thought I knew for what.

Or whom.

I forced my stunned wings to push me higher and flew toward the black ship. The island could defend itself for a time, but the threat would remain until I faced it. Terror passed over me, chilling me from beak to tail feathers. I forced it away, leaving only the echo of fear and a feeling of cold, blind determination.

Albion yelled something, but the wind mangled his words. I wasn’t about to stop, no matter what he said. If Severn wanted me, it was best that I go alone. I’d made mistakes in dealing with him before, but I would be the one to pay for them. Not the old man on the cliff.

Not Rowan.

I circled the ship, giving it a wide berth, and sized up the situation. I didn’t recognize any of the men who stood at the railing. I approached cautiously, trying to feel for harmful magic. I couldn’t see anyone’s thoughts when I was in this body, and it left me at a disadvantage. My wings would give out soon if I didn’t rest. I could normally soar for hours, but the shock of Belleisle’s magic defenses had left my muscles trembling.

A cloaked and hooded figure emerged from the shadows, taking slow steps over the gently-rocking deck. The others stepped away from the railing as the black-clad form approached. Not one of them looked at him. He rested one gloved hand on the smooth, dark wood rail and beckoned me with the other.

I kept my distance, riding the air currents, moving along the side of the ship, waiting to flee at the first sign of aggression.

Pale hands reached up to grasp the edges of the deep, heavy hood, and pulled it back.

My flight wavered. If not for the familiar magic radiating from him, I wouldn’t have recognized my oldest half-brother. Where there had once been strength, health, and a face that had charmed the finest ladies in Luid, there stood a shadow. Gaunt, with skin as pale as mist. His white hair lay flat and lifeless. His blue eyes still glowed with power, though, as he once again motioned for me to come closer.

When the other men stepped back I landed on the railing, just outside of Severn’s physical reach. He hadn’t burned me out of the sky when he had the chance. I would trust him this much further. My only other option was to fly away and wait for him to attack later, perhaps when I was less prepared to meet him.

Unease made my feathers prickle.

“Well.” He flashed the cruel, heartless smile I knew so well. “We meet again. Where’s your whore?”

I couldn’t answer, and I offered no reaction to his baiting.

He raised his hood again and turned away. “We’ll talk inside,” he called back over his shoulder. “The wind cuts through my cloak.”

The other men on the deck watched him warily. Those who looked at me showed no indication that they would attack. I wished I could see what they had planned.

Severn turned back. “I didn’t come here to hurt you. Merely to talk, and to make an offer that I think you’ll find tempting.”

And if I refused, I didn’t like my odds of getting off the ship alive. Several of the sailors stepped closer. My survival instincts screamed for me to fly. Instead, I jumped onto the smooth deck and shuffled after Severn, as awkward on my feet as I was graceful in the air. Information first. If he wanted to talk, I would listen, and settle the rest later.

He held a thick wooden door open and stepped aside to let me by. The feathers on my hackles stood on end as I passed, and my muscles tensed, ready to spring into an attack at the slightest provocation. Severn kept his boots well clear of me, and I moved inside the ship.

We entered a large and well-lit room, with sunlight streaming in through large windows that framed a distorted view of the sea. A table had been set with a modest yet hearty meal of meats and bread, and two heavy-looking wooden chairs waited with wine glasses placed before them, ready to be filled from any of the three bottles on the table. A large bed filled an alcove to one side, with velvet curtains tied open to reveal silk blankets and plush pillows.

A room for a king.

Severn closed the door behind us and turned with a sweeping gesture that took in the entire room. “What do you think? I had it improved especially for this journey. I do find it hard to get comfortable since my encounter with your little Sorceress friend, but this bed is not unpleasant.”

Had I been in my own body, I might have found it difficult not to smile at that. She’d hurt him that night, and worse than I had known. I hoped it shamed him to have been defeated by someone like her, a novice, untrained and unaware of her own power.

His eyes never left me. “Will you sit with me while we talk?”

I shifted from one foot to the other, unable to answer.

“Aah. Let’s see what we can do about that.” Severn went to an ornate wardrobe and pulled out a few items of clothing, which he laid on the bed. His movements were smoother now, but a stiffness remained. Still, I couldn’t rely on his physical weakness to protect me. I’d need to be on my guard.

“I’ll give you a bit of privacy.” He went to the window and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the waves.

I transformed and slipped into loose pants and a shirt made from the richest fabric I’d felt against my skin since I left Luid. Though I’d never been as interested as Severn in what he called “the finer things,” I couldn’t help running my fingers over the blue flames embroidered in silk on the sleeve cuffs. I could do without luxury. That didn’t mean I wasn’t capable of missing it.

Severn turned. “That’s better. Wine?”

“Will you be offended if I say no?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have some.”

“Excellent choice." He poured slowly, and green wine flowed into bright, clear glasses. "Sit.”

He placed a thick cushion on one chair and settled onto it.

“You’re looking well,” I said, and took my own seat.

“I look like shit, and I know it.” His voice was stronger than his body looked, and the words cut through the still air of the room. “I’m regaining my strength more quickly than any of the physicians or my Potioner expected. They say I’m lucky to be alive.” He snorted, and sipped his wine. “Lucky? I hardly think so. Skilled. Powerful. Able to act quickly. That is what I am.” He placed his glass on the table and reached for a knife, which he plunged into the roast. “I don’t believe in luck. Are you hungry?”

“No,” I lied. Everything looked and smelled delicious, and my stomach growled. “Why are you here?”

Thin slices of beef peeled away from the roast, arcing toward the plate in waves as he cut. Severn served the meat onto two plates.

“Eat. It’s not poisoned.” He took a bite of his own meal.

I did as he instructed. My head would be clearer if I had something in my stomach.

“Feeling at home yet?” he asked.

“No. Again, why are you here?”

“Your manners have suffered since you left us, brother.”

Severn’s power filled the space like a thunderstorm about to break. I held mine in check and looked out the window, careful not to let my unease show. “What were you doing with the hawks?”

“Testing. You made it past the island’s defenses as an eagle, didn’t you? It seemed worth exploring.”

I didn’t ask how he knew what I’d done. He’d never tell. “Neither you nor any of your men will ever land on Belleisle in any form. I think you knew that. So what brought you this far from home in your current state?” I probed gently, testing his magic with my own, reaching toward his mind. If his magic was weak, there was a chance he couldn’t block me. His mind immediately resisted, and I pulled back before my actions angered him.

That would have been too easy.
I only hoped it was his magic and not my own lack of practice that held me back.

“Much has happened since the night of my encounter with your dear friend,” he remarked, and gestured toward his emaciated body. “We’ll talk about that situation first. Clear things up between us. I want to understand.”

“I thought you wanted me dead.”

His lips curled upward in amusement. “I did. My temper has cooled, though, and there are other factors to consider now. Tell me, why did you do it? Why did you defy me?”

I didn’t answer.

He leaned back in his chair. “Let me tell you what I think. I think you wanted an excuse to run, and she provided it. You tried so hard to be strong, but there’s always been this weakness in you, Aren. Our father saw it. I saw it. I thought I could help you overcome it, but it ruined you in the end. Did you even fight it?”

“I tried to.” I met his gaze, unwavering. “I kept my loyalty to you at the forefront of my mind until the moment I stepped off the ship with her.”