Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (4 page)

“But underneath, your loyalty was weak. What part of you did she reach and exploit? Your need for acceptance? Kindness?” He shook his head. “You had so much potential. You could have had everything.”

“Everything save for what I truly needed.”

He snorted. “Need? Childish want, more like, and you threw a spectacular fit to get it.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.” My words sounded confident, but his had shaken me. Here with him, my actions seemed so foolish. So weak.

“You’ve had your little rebellion, Aren. It has cost us both so much. But I still wonder whether our business is not finished.”

I was certain that it wasn’t, but suspected his ideas of how it would end didn’t line up with mine. I took a sip of the tart wine. “I’m listening.”

Severn’s eyes narrowed. “Are you? Truly?”

I sat back. “Of course. This is unexpected, but I’m interested to hear what you have to say.”

“Why?”

Careful.
One wrong word would be the end of me. I lowered my gaze and tried to feel the truth of my words. “Things have not worked out as I’d hoped.”

Severn chuckled. “Poor Aren. Do you miss your old life? Your home? Your freedom?”

I wouldn’t have called working for Severn freedom, but I nodded.

“Are you tired of her already?”

“Truthfully?”

He waved that off. “Never mind. What’s important here is that you’ve seen the error of your ways. I want you to come back.”

My meal suddenly sat heavy in my stomach. Severn was many things, but forgiving was not one of them. There was something he wasn’t telling me. “That is most generous.”

“Isn’t it?” He rolled the stem of his glass between his thumb and forefinger, sending beams of reflected light over the table. “I’m not willing to forget what you did. There will be consequences. But I find myself in need of someone with your skills and training.”

“Is that so?”

“I should have told you more, sooner. Perhaps if you’d understood the gravity of our situation, you would not have abandoned the cause.” He set the glass down. It tipped over, and he didn’t bother to set it right even as the last few drops of wine dripped onto the table. “I was right, you know. About the magic. About ours being choked off by Darmid.”

“How do you know that?”

He ignored my question. “If we can diplomatically convince young king Haleth of Darmid to keep his magic hunters in check, leave wild space in the North and cease their magic-killing near the mountains, it would allow magic to flow freely from our land across the isthmus, through their land, and connect to the Western wild-lands. It will increase our magic.”

“You never seemed to be suffering for any lack of it. At least, before your accident.”

His power pulsed, and a sharp prickling sensation covered my skin. “I could be stronger.
You
could be stronger, with more ambient magic to draw from. The fact is that we have fewer Sorcerers now than they had in our grandmother’s time. There’s even been a drop in the number of lower-level magic users. I’m unable to find as many as I’d hoped.”

“Are you sure they’re not simply hiding from you?”

He scraped his knife over the surface of his plate, producing a screeching noise that set my teeth on edge. “No, Dan is making sure they can’t hide. The fact is that the Darmish are killing magic. Surely you noticed how weak we become in the desolate hole they’ve created beyond the mountains.”

I had. Severn and I, like our father, carried more magic in us than any Sorcerers who had come before, and when that ran out, we were able to channel magic from the land around us. In Darmid, where I’d found Rowan, we had to rely on what we carried within us. Though some remained near the border and in wild places, they’d killed the magic in their cities. Tyrea would never become like that. As long as we used it, as long as we allowed the magical plants and creatures to thrive, magic would remain in our land.
Still...

“It’s an interesting theory,” I said. “What happens if the king of Darmid refuses?”

“Then we resort to non-diplomatic means.”

“And that’s why you’re forcing every powerful magic-user in the country to Luid? To prepare for war?”

Severn glared at me as he cut and chewed a thin piece of meat. “Don’t tell me you care.”

“My concern is for our people, not theirs. It’s folly. The lack of magic in their land would make it impossible for a magical army to operate there. They know how to fight without magic. They’d slaughter us if we invaded.”

“I’ve already considered that, thank you. Still, you’re thinking.” He pointed his knife at me and smiled humorlessly. “I miss this. You’re the only person I had who wasn’t afraid to second-guess me, even when you knew it would hurt you.”

He spoke as though he’d forgotten how he relished my fear. Either he was hoping I’d forgotten, or his mind was failing as much as his body appeared to be.

He righted his cup and poured another serving of wine. “We’ll figure out the obstacles before we move. The first step is to consolidate our power, see what weapons we have available to us. I have some things in the works in Darmid already. Do you see what I’m doing, Aren?”

“Tell me.”

“I am doing what our father refused to for too long. He knew what they were doing in Darmid, and was content to let them have their way in their own land, not considering the potential costs to us. He was proud of the peace he maintained between Darmid and Tyrea, never understanding the value of keeping them afraid of his strength. And now I’m paying for it. We all are.”

“I’m still not sure why I’m here. It sounds as if you have your plans made.”

Severn glanced down at the table and tapped a finger against the dark wood, frowning. “You were once a member of my family. You’re still a Tyrean, and the second most powerful Sorcerer we have.”

“Assuming our father is dead, of course.”

Severn’s lip lifted in an ugly sneer. “Dead or gone, it makes little difference.”

I’d long suspected that Severn had something to do with our father’s disappearance, but he’d never seen fit to share that information with me. In truth, I hadn’t cared. One tyrant or another made little difference to me personally. But the rest of the country wouldn’t fare as well under Severn as it had under Ulric. My father had made my life hell, but he’d cared for his people. Severn cared only for himself and his own power.

“I could use you back in my council chambers,” he continued. “Not as my Second. That’s Dan’s job now, and I hardly think it would be prudent to give you that much power after you’ve proved your disloyalty. Still, I had high hopes for you once. With a little redirection and supervision, you could be a great benefit to our cause. I’ve had problems with some small groups of people, particularly in the outer provinces, who aren’t willing to contribute to our interests. Some who are actively resisting. I need you back at your old job. Make things right. Convince them to join me, or end them. Break their minds, if it pleases you. I just want them out of my way.”

My mouth went dry and nearly refused to form the words I had to speak. “I’m not coming back.”

He seemed more interested than angry, a reaction I immediately mistrusted. “No? You’re not happy here. Do they appreciate your gifts as I do? Are they helping you become the great Sorcerer you’re destined to be?” He smirked. “They must understand you so well. Your abilities. Your needs that go deeper than whatever they can offer you. Deeper than whatever it is you think you want.” He chuckled. “I know you, Aren. I
made
you.”

My silence was answer enough on that count. Much as I’d hated acting as Severn’s killer puppet, I did miss the thrill of stretching my abilities to their limits, taking pride in my accomplishments no matter what they cost anyone else. The idea of being appreciated again, even feared, filled me with longing.
Perhaps if I went back, it could be different…I could change things
.

But the life that Severn offered hadn’t been enough for me.

He cleared his throat. “You can bring the girl. The Sorceress.”

My mind snapped back to itself, all thoughts of accepting his offer gone. “She may not be as useful as you think. Her power is uncertain.”

“Is it?” Severn picked up the knife again, and with a flick of his wrist flung it toward me. I ducked out of the way, and it stuck into the wall behind my head, vibrating. “Don’t be coy with me. She’s Darmish, but their magic is the same as ours, barring individual differences. I know intimately the power she had in her a few months ago. My researchers could learn much from a true Sorceress bred and born there. More about the nature of magic, where it comes from, what effects their meddling has had. We’ve only found pathetic, lower-level specimens so far.”

“I see.” I ignored his actions and my own racing heart. With every word he spoke, I became more convinced that my brother’s sanity was slipping. I needed to keep him talking until I saw a way out. “And she’d be well cared-for while they were researching, I’m sure.”

“Naturally. You know, I think I feel like some fresh air after all. Walk with me.”

“Are you so energized by my presence?”

He gave me a thin smile and turned away. “That must be it.”

I pulled the knife from the wall and concealed it under one of the shirt’s long sleeves, then followed him back onto the deck.

I adjusted my stride to the rolling surface beneath me. Many of the sailors had disappeared. I made eye contact with the others as they looked up, testing them, sensing their thoughts. I found it difficult after so many months of letting my talent stagnate, and sensed vague impressions rather than sharp images and emotions. Still, I managed to pick up a few things. Fear or uncertainty, mostly. Some of them despised me and wished me harm, but at least they didn’t seem to have planned a coordinated attack. It would be impossible to watch all of them, but I maintained my awareness of their movements.

“What of the island folk?” I asked.

Severn looked toward land, where the great Sorcerer Ernis Albion and our horses still waited, dark specks on the bluff. “He caused your mother’s death, did you know that?”

I tensed, as I always had when he spoke of her. “No. You did that. Their communication was harmless.”

He chuckled. “You assume so much. In any case, I’m surprised to see you allied with him. Even if he is your grandfather.”

“How long have you known?”

“Far longer than you.” He tipped his head back and let the hood fall to his shoulders. The wind lifted his hair, blowing it in a bright halo that he smoothed down and tucked into his collar. “Information is power. I want to know what you know about this place, these people. I want to know their weaknesses. How to bring them over to our side, by whatever means necessary.”

“No.”

His jaw muscles clenched. “No you don’t know? Or no you won’t tell me?”

“You said it yourself. Information is power.”

“Power is also power.” Pain cut into the scar on the back of my right shoulder, the one he’d given me when I was a child. It washed over my body and left me sweating in spite of the chill in the air. “Join me, and perhaps I won’t need to involve them. We can do it on our own. We’ll take Darmid back, free the land. If you can prove your loyalty to me, we’ll call this incident with the girl a foolish misstep, a learning experience. I’ll let you rule Darmid as my governor.”

“And if I decline and leave now?”

“You won’t.” He nodded over my shoulder, and heavy boot steps approached. I slipped my hand free of the sleeve and spun, plunging the knife into the throat of the burly sailor before his hands could close over my arms. He stumbled away, taking my weapon with him.

The pain in my shoulder left me, replaced by a chill that froze my muscles in place. I tried to transform and fly, but nothing happened. Cold panic gripped me as a sailor with ragged scars on both cheeks above a bushy, black beard stepped into view.

Severn grinned. “What do you think? I found him in Cressia, fighting dragons. This is his only talent so far. It’s limited, but useful.”

The magic’s owner paced between me and Severn without looking away from me.

“Fantastic,” I replied through gritted teeth.

The Sorcerer smirked and crossed his arms over his narrow chest as he raised his gaze to meet mine, unafraid.

His pride was his undoing, as mine had been for me so many times. His attempt to project confidence left him open. As soon as his eyes locked onto mine, I pushed into his mind. My skills hadn’t dulled after all, but had simply needed dusting off. They were back and restless after a long season of disuse. A thrill coursed through my body in spite of the danger. This was my element, my gift, and using it felt so right. My enemy shrieked and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t protect himself. I gripped and twisted his thoughts. He released me, and turned on my brother.

He believed Severn was his enemy now. I would leave them to fight it out. I didn’t like the stranger’s chances against Severn’s magic, or my own chances if I stayed to find out how things went. I transformed and took off, narrowly avoiding a kick from another sailor as I pushed off from the deck.

I left the turmoil behind me and flew hard for the shore.

I will fight, Severn,
I thought.
But not for you.

T
he school buzzed with whispers
. Not one of the seventy students seemed to know what was happening. All our instructors told us was that they needed to meet about something, and that we should take our work to the library for the afternoon.

No one was to leave without an instructor. We were to focus on our work, and they would explain later.

We gathered, and brought our work. No one left. That was all we could promise, though. Speculation was the order of the hour, not work. Though I kept my ears open, most of it floated past me in little wisps that I could barely hear. The large room filled with tiny conversations muffled by rows of bookshelves and soft leather chairs, interrupted by the occasional thud of a dropped book hitting the floor.

No one directed their words at me. Though I had a few friends at the school, I was still an outsider. Too old to be a proper student, too ignorant to be worth talking to, and too involved with someone they weren’t supposed to trust for me to be anything other than the subject of gossip. I did my schoolwork, my chores, and the tasks assigned to me as part of my job in my library, and kept mostly to myself.

Celean was a friend, as was Bernard, Albion and Emalda’s son. He sat in the corner now, occasionally shushing students who got too loud, but mostly letting the whispers flow. Shutting us up now would be a losing fight, especially since most students didn’t listen to him any more than they would to me. As the son of a Sorcerer and a Potioner, Bernard had no magic. Even here, where the students were encouraged to accept their gifts with grace and never lord them over those with lesser talents, those of us with less skill felt the distain of those who had more. Bernard and I had bonded over that, and it was nice to have a friend who was interested in talking about things other than magic.

I tried to focus on my work. I seemed to fall further behind every day, and couldn’t afford to slack off even now. Not only did I have the seemingly insurmountable problem of my magic to deal with, there was also the ignorance that seemed bred into my bones. Magic theory was fascinating, but completely foreign to me. I had thousands of years of history to learn, covering multiple countries, languages, cultures, even species. Everyone said that magic was supposed to help me pick up information and skills more quickly than I would have otherwise, but I’d seen no evidence of it.

I hadn’t mentioned that little problem to Aren. He didn’t need another reason to be disappointed.

I pulled a map from my history book, a piece I’d been working on for months. Drawing things out helped cement them in my mind in a way that reading or listening couldn’t. The outline of the map looked much like one that Aren had once drawn, but with more detail. I’d labelled cities in Darmid, Tyrea, and Bellisle, as well as the names of great forests, mountain ranges, lakes and seas. At the top I’d written in flowing script the word
Serat
.

I hadn’t known this land as a whole had a name. My people had never acknowledged that our country was a part of something larger than itself.

Someone whispered Aren’s name, and I gave up on trying to focus on anything else as I strained to listen. Something about a ship. My stomach clenched. At the mention of Severn’s name, a chill came over me.

Who the hell am I supposed to pray to here?
I wondered, and sent out a silent apology to anyone I might have offended. My people’s God, who was said to hate magic and who I’d never felt a particular attachment to? Aren’s gods or the great unnamed Goddess of Tyrea, who I hardly knew anything about? The spirits of Belleisle, who the students and staff spent time with in silent contemplation each Seventh-day?

I tapped an un-inked quill against the map. Aren could take care of himself, if he were involved in whatever the trouble was. He always did.

The thought didn’t ease my worry in the slightest.

The door to the corridor opened without a sound, and all eyes turned toward it. My breath caught in my chest as Aren slipped in, apparently unharmed.
Thank you, whoever.

Conversation ceased. As far as I could tell, the students’ attitudes toward Aren ranged from opposition to romantic speculation from a few silly girls who thought him a tragically misunderstood figure, though possibly dangerous. Few showed the unattached acceptance that Celean did.

Bernard walked toward Aren, who ignored him and stood beside the table where I sat alone.

“Do you need something?” Bernard asked.

I tensed. I liked Bernard, and loved Aren, but the two of them together were impossible. Always wary, always on the verge of fighting. Blood might have connected them under other circumstances, but their differences made them rivals.

They certainly didn’t look related, though Bernard was technically Aren’s uncle. Bernard was deeply tanned and kept his hair short, whereas Aren’s skin remained pale even after months of regular outdoor work, and his dark hair hung to his shoulders in the Tyrean style he refused to change. Both had inherited Albion’s height and slim build, but the physical similarities ended there.

The only other thing they had in common was the fact that they hated each other with a passion born of envy—Bernard’s for Aren’s power and the attention he received from Albion, and Aren’s for the way Bernard was welcomed in the school and community, and his friendship with me.

Aren slowly turned his attention to Bernard. “I only need to speak to Rowan. Thank you.”

The
thank you
took me by surprise, as it seemed to catch Bernard. He opened his mouth to speak, and closed it.

“It’s important,” Aren added.

“Please, Bernard,” I whispered.

He frowned, but nodded. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and left the library.

I watched him go, then turned to Aren. “You didn’t just…”

“No. He made that decision on his own.” He ran a hand through his hair and sank into the chair next to me. “How’s the work coming?”

He took my quill and dipped it into the ink pot, then scrawled,
Everyone’s listening
across a fresh piece of creamy paper.

I took the quill back. “Fine. Having some trouble with geography.”

What’s going on?
I wrote.

“Anything I can help with? I was good at that subject.” He took the quill back.
Severn came. I spoke with him. He wanted me back in Tyrea, but I left.

The students continued to watch us, but the whispering picked up again.

I forced a smile, and pulled out a charcoal pencil. “I get the feeling you were good at every subject.”
We can’t talk here. Let’s go before Bernard comes back.

The corners of his lips twitched as he wrote,
Your rooms or mine?

Not funny.

Much as I appreciated his attempt, I couldn’t joke with him. Not when he looked so weary, disheveled, defeated and uncertain. I packed my papers and books into my shoulder bag and led the way toward the door.

The whispers turned to murmurs. I ignored them, and took Aren’s hand to pull him down the corridor.

“Albion went—” he began, and I shook my head.

“Not yet. We need to get away.”

We rushed through the empty corridors of the school, a beautiful old building that had been Albion’s family home until he’d returned from some adventure and founded the school. On any other day I’d have taken deep breaths of lamp-oil-scented air, or examined one of the complex paintings on the walls. Today it was all a blur, and my focus was on avoiding the staff as we escaped.

Aren pulled me into a dark classroom. A moment later Derrian Surgess and Qurwin Black, two of the regular instructors, passed by.

“Thanks,” I whispered. I hadn’t heard them, but Aren had sensed their presence. It seemed he’d opened up whatever cupboard his skills had been locked in for so long.

Minutes later, we’d left the building. “Where to?” Aren asked.

I took in a deep breath of fresh air. “Beach.”

We walked in silence through the woods. Though we’d made it away, my heart refused to stop racing. Whatever he wanted to tell me, it was bad news—perhaps news I’d been dreading since our arrival, since he made the agreement with Emalda that he would leave as soon as his presence on the island became a threat.

My eyes stung.
You will not cry
, I told myself
.
Whatever happened, I wouldn’t make him comfort me. This had to be far harder for him.

“Albion and Emalda went to town,” Aren said at last, “to tell the governor what happened.”

“And what did happen?”

He explained as we walked, told me about Severn’s ship and his wretched appearance, his plans for Darmid and the offer he’d made. I suspected Aren left out a few details about his escape, but what he told was harrowing enough. I stopped and wrapped my arms around him.

“Were you afraid?”

“Yes. It didn’t really catch up with me until I was back on the island, though, and safe.”

We continued down the riding path until we reached the edge of the woods, which opened onto a grassy field and cliffs that sloped down to a rocky beach. It was a favorite place for students who wished to get away from the school to relax with friends. Or so I’d heard. I came alone, myself. The water calmed me, even as it reminded me of my seaside town in Darmid and the troubles I’d left there—troubles my family would still be dealing with, many of them my fault.

Fog had rolled in, dressing the grassy hills and the beach at the bottom of the cliff in a cloak of cloud. An abandoned watchtower stood high on one of the arms of land that encircled the harbor, a dark shadow in the bright haze. On the tip of the other arm sat a tall lighthouse. As I understood it, this had once been the island’s main harbor. The people had since built a new one closer to the city, leaving this one for the students and nature to take over.

We climbed down the cliffs.

“You weren’t invited to the meeting?” I asked.

Aren snorted. “Have I ever been?”

He’d been as good as imprisoned at the school. If most of the students mistrusted him, the people in the city were worse. Aren had been allowed to attend one town meeting, where he assured them he meant the people of the island no harm. They’d thanked him politely and ordered him to stay out of their town and their business.

He didn’t seem to blame them for their attitude, but I knew he found his situation nearly unbearable.

I stepped onto the pebbled beach and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths of the salty air. The breeze picked up and tossed my hair into a wild tangle, and I pulled a ribbon from my pocket to tie it back. The ceaseless rhythm of the waves filled me, slowing my breath and my heart.

When I opened my eyes again, Aren was watching me. “It’s good to see you relaxed,” he said.

A smile I hadn’t realized I was wearing faded from my lips. “Celean keeps telling me that worry brings pain and accomplishes nothing good, that we should accept what comes with grace. I’m trying to let go.”

“Is it working?”

My chest tightened again as I looked into his eyes. “Not completely. Walk with me?”

The only thing left to talk about was the future, and I wasn’t ready for that yet. Aren seemed to be in no hurry, but clearly had something he wanted to say.

“Have you heard about the shipwrecks?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say I have.”

“Just a few around here, a long time ago. Sometimes I look for treasure here on the beach. You never know, right?”

His faint smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I guess not.”

Such a different response from what he’d have given when we first met.

“I’ve found treasure here before.”

“Rowan—”

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

He looked away. “I don’t think I have a choice. I leave at sunrise.”

An unexpected calm came over me once the words were out. He’d be safe for one more night, at least. I sank to my knees and dragged my fingers gently through the pebbles. Searching.

“I knew you couldn’t stay forever,” I said. “I didn’t want it to be like this, though. I thought you’d leave and go somewhere safe. I—” I paused. “I didn’t think you’d be leaping from the island straight into Severn’s path.”

He sat beside me and watched as my hands moved through the rocks. “Not straight into it. He’s sailed for Luid. He’ll be back, but not right away.” He shook his head. “I waited too long.”

“Because of me?”

He didn’t answer.

“Where will you go? Are you…” I bit my lip. “I don’t know how to ask without insulting you.”

“I’m not going to challenge Severn for the throne, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I reached for his hand. “You understand that it’s not that I don’t have faith in your abilities.”

That faint smile again, though less amused this time. “No, you’d be right to worry. Severn is hurting physically, but his magic is as strong as it’s ever been, and that’s the only legitimate way to challenge a king. I’m not sure my skills are suited for that type of combat. Not yet, anyway.”

“What, then?”

He looked out over the water. “I’m going to bring my father back.”

My jaw dropped. “He’s alive? I thought…” My words trailed off as I realized I didn’t know what I thought. Aren hated to speak about his family, and his father’s disappearance had seemed so final.

“After speaking to Severn, I feel certain that he is.” Aren rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I’ll visit my uncle Xaven. He’s not fond of Severn, and might help me if he has any idea where my father was traveling before he disappeared. If my father is still alive somewhere, if I can find him, he has every right to take the throne back. We have until early summer before he’s declared dead and loses his claim.”

I shivered, though not from the cold. “Are you certain he’s the lesser of the evils your family has to offer? The way you’ve spoken of him, he sounds horrid.”

Aren frowned. “He was a terrible father, no question. But he kept Tyrea safe for over a century when he ruled, and it’s taken Severn less than three years to begin to destroy everything. Ulric might not be the ideal ruler, but he’s better for the people than Severn is. Wiser. More just. More fair.”