Malice, page 32
My head throbs. What he says makes sense, but I still do not fully believe it.
Kal runs the pad of his thumb over the crust of tears on my cheekbone. “Please. Think.” He pauses, waits until my eyes lock with his. “Think of everything she has to lose by choosing you. How much simpler it will be for her to abide her father’s wishes. Are you certain she will not take that path?”
“Yes.” There are so many variables in our plan, but of that I am sure. “Invading the Etherian lands is madness. She will not let her father do it. She will not lose her crown that way.”
“But will she keep you by her side? Or will she use you and discard you? As everyone else has done.”
A taste like bile slides over my tongue and down my throat. Thunder rumbles in the distance, raising the hair on my arms.
“You are making a mistake,” Kal continues. “I do not wish to lose you.”
“Stay with me, then.” I reach for him as white flashes through the gaping hole in the stones. “I will plead your case to Aurora. You’ve more than paid for your crimes, especially if you agree to help us. She’s reasonable. She won’t do what her ancestors did.”
“You are determined, then.” His jet eyes harden, shadows curling away from me like they’ve been burned. “I will not dissuade you.”
It isn’t a question. And I don’t answer. My chest aches, but I don’t try to explain myself anymore, beg his forgiveness, or win his favor back. I have made my choice.
“I will free you first,” I vow. “I won’t let you rot here if things go badly. But I hope you’ll change your mind. I don’t want to choose between you.”
His next words, laced with misery, hurt worse than any torture the king could have devised. “Oh, Alyce. You already have.”
* * *
—
In the upper floors of the tower, there is a small chamber where the ceiling is mostly intact. Its narrow window looks out over the black, restless sea, the moon like a silver coin hidden behind the clouds. I do what I can to make it habitable. The bed is in decent shape, although the bedclothes are moldy and reek of brine and dampness. But it’s better than the disease-riddled straw of the prison cells. Rubble and broken furniture litter the floor, including the remains of an ancient spinning wheel.
Though I know I need rest for my magic to regenerate, sleep refuses to come. Each new fear crashes against my skull like the breaking waves below. My ears stay tuned for the tinny clang of the alarm bells. For the rumble of hooves on the ground, searching for the king’s escaped prisoner. But Briar is quiet.
Once dawn begins to gild the whitecaps, the promised storm of the last night having done little more than grumble as it passed over Briar, I give up the bed and focus my energy on fixing the spinning wheel. It’s a lost cause. A large chunk of the flywheel is missing. There’s no belt. The footman is warped. And the maidens are crooked. But the impossible task gives my hands an outlet. By midmorning, I have the pieces mostly in the right places. I give the wheel a good spin, finding a strange sort of comfort in the way the spokes blur together. In the creaky, clacking sound it makes. Almost hypnotizing.
“Have you given any more thought to what I said?”
Kal’s voice from the shadows pulls me back into the present.
I still the wheel. “Have you?”
His silence is answer enough. There will be no convincing him to stay—no more than I can be convinced to leave.
Letting out a sigh, I knead the shooting tension at the crook of my shoulder. I have no idea when Laurel will arrive with the king’s item. When she does, things will move very quickly. Kal needs to get away while he can.
“It’s time to free you, then.”
One of his shadows slithers away from me, as if it knows what I’m going to do. “You do not have to try now. You are tired.”
I push past him and down the stairs, inhaling deep breaths of the salty air and trying to center my focus. There’s another storm coming. I can see the charcoal line on the horizon, heavy-bellied clouds trudging their way inland. A twinge starts behind my eyes, the pressure building.
“I’m well enough for this.” Even I hear the fatigue in my voice. But I made Kal a promise. And my Vila magic has only grown in the past months. “We don’t have time to wait.”
Kal watches me with his arms crossed, the shadows wending and billowing around him like the beating wings of one of Leythana’s dragons. As if they remember what happened last time and are daring me to try again. I cling to what little confidence I can gather and send my magic out, feeling for the protections of Kal’s prison. The cord of my power connects in half a heartbeat, bumping against the stone buttress that encases the enchantment.
This time, I do not start swinging blindly as I did before. Brute force only alerts the binding magic to an attack. Instead, I skim the edges of the protections, feeling for weaknesses.
There.
A chink. A thin spot. It’s all I need. I pull my power back before the shadows realize what I’m doing. Build my magic until it is a thick rope of darkness. And then, with every fiber of my soul, I let it loose.
Like a whip, my power cracks against the protections of the enchantment. The floor of the tower rattles. Kal groans and doubles over. The shadows hiss and scatter, leaving his body for the first time since I’ve known him. But his prison is not broken. It’s angry.
The walls of magic build themselves back up, healing the wounds caused by my attack. But I am faster. My own power zips around the protections, puncturing their surface. The shadows howl, shriveling up like scorched parchment. The magic of the enchantment pushes against mine, iron meeting iron. I grit my teeth, sweat beading along my collarbone and drenching my back.
“Keep going,” Kal gasps. He’s on all fours, sides heaving.
My muscles stretch and tremble. My very bones shudder with the growl of my power. The smell of woodsmoke and charred earth and flint floods my lungs. The pain is nearly too much. Spots bleed and dance across my vision. But I ignore the agony. Dig deeper than I ever have into the core of my power and funnel the remaining vestiges of my strength.
And then I find it.
The heart of Kal’s enchantment. It screams of otherness. My own metallic scent mingles with that of spring roses and dewed grass. The taste of loamy earth lands on my tongue. It’s familiar somehow, but I can’t place it. I push harder, my Vila power eclipsing the tiny pulse of Kal’s cage, wrapping and winding and clamping until the shadows around Kal go perfectly, unnaturally still. Like ink frozen in the air.
And then, with a last shove of my magic, there is an explosion of light. The black tower goes white, the same way it did the first time I tried to break these bindings. Only a thousand times brighter. Like the sun itself is captured within these walls. I’m thrown to my knees in the blinding glare, hands skidding on the stones. My power recedes, limping and bruised. But victorious.
The room comes back into focus.
Kal is standing near the gap. For the first time since I’ve known him, sunlight spills over his shoulders. Lends an aura around his form.
“You did it.” He turns his hands over, gazing in wonder.
I wobble to my feet. He rushes to me, scoops me up, and spins me around. “You did it!” Kisses rain across my forehead and down my cheeks. His body is unbelievably warm, the shadows taking the icy cold with them when they fled. And his skin is brighter. Pale pink touches his eyelids and lips. His once raven hair is an unfamiliar shade of rust.
He sets me down and all I can do is gape. “You’re—different.”
“Yes.” He adjusts his waistcoat, now garnet with ebony filigree, still grinning. “I rather am.” He tips his head back and inhales. Then grabs my hand and pulls me toward the entrance. “Come, I wish to feel the daylight after so much darkness.”
But I pry myself loose. “I have to wait for Laurel. It won’t be long now.”
Kal’s smile wilts. “Of course.” An awkward silence settles between us. “Alyce,” he attempts, and I know what he’s going to say. “Will you not reconsider? Come away with me. Leave the humans to their messes. You owe them nothing.”
I know he’s trying to protect me, but I won’t be swayed. “I love Aurora. I will help her.”
“Her life is so short. Will you rescue her so that she can grow old while you remain young? Are you content to watch the years whittle her away?”
The thought makes me itch. I know he’s right. But I cannot abandon Aurora simply because she is mortal. “I want all the time I can have with her—even if it’s not much.”
A current of wind slices through the gap in the wall, carrying the salt-stained promise of the storm. His onyx gaze gleams. “This is a fool’s game.”
“Kal.” I go to him, wishing that I could make him understand. “I am utterly grateful for what you’ve done. I would never have discovered the depth of my power without you. But—”
“Then come with me.” He grasps my elbows, and I swear I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his palms. After the frost I’ve grown accustomed to, it’s unsettling. “Together we can go anywhere. Be anything.”
He wants this so much. I can almost smell his desire, like crushed nightshade berries—bittersweet and smoky. Part of me wants to give in. Kal deserves my loyalty. But so does Aurora. “No, Kal. I am staying.”
“In a realm that despises you? What do you think they will do, even if your precious princess survives?” His grip turns harsh. “Do you think they will welcome you with open arms? Put a crown on your head?” He bends close. “They will burn you. Tear you limb from limb. You will always be a monster. A mongrel.”
Instinct taking over, I grind my heel into his toe and shove him back. He stumbles. Anger builds in my chest, its hot coals stoked with each breath.
“It is no business of yours.” I rub the sore spots on my arms. “I trust Aurora. And I choose her. If you will not stand with us, then leave. But you will not speak to me that way. You will not hurt me.”
A slow, languid smile stretches over Kal’s face. A wave smashes into the base of the cliff, its spray like chips of ice. Warning bells clang through my mind.
“I had hoped you would come to me willingly. But I see you will not listen to reason.”
The roots of my hair stand on end. I know this feeling well.
Run.
Obeying that primal impulse, I bolt for the entrance of the tower. But I don’t manage two bounding leaps before a wall of shadow slams into me. I back away, dizzy and stunned. Are those the same shadows I’d just cleaved from Kal’s body? But they can’t be. Panic beats out a frenzied rhythm at my breastbone, sending me tripping over my feet.
“I just want you to listen.” Kal’s voice is too calm. “To hear me.”
Darkness undulates in every corner, writhing like snakes. Kal snaps his fingers and strips of shadow peel themselves free and cut through the air. My mind spins. Kal is controlling the shadows. But how?
I don’t stay to guess. Adrenaline thundering through me, I sprint up the stairs, scrambling for a plan. Kal’s even, measured footsteps thud behind me. There’s nowhere to go where he can’t follow. Dragon’s teeth, I don’t understand. Kal is my ally. My friend.
You don’t have friends, that awful voice seethes.
“I will not hurt you,” Kal calls.
The blood searing through my veins says otherwise. I throw myself into my room and bolt the door, but the wood is rotten and I know it won’t hold up beyond a few good kicks. Kal’s steps are nearing. I scan the chamber, terror sinking its claws deep into me.
A gull cries, jerking my attention to the window, where the spinning wheel waits. The spindle. Weapon, my mind registers.
But I don’t want to hurt Kal. He’s confused, as I had been. He needs time.
The sleeping curse.
The thought lands in my brain like a drop of water on parched earth.
Yes. I could curse him. Just for a little while. Long enough for me to settle things in Briar. When he wakes, he’ll see that Aurora isn’t like other humans. He’ll understand.
Wood pummels against wood and the hinges rattle. “Let me in, Alyce. I want to talk.”
As the next blow lands, I pry the spindle free of its moorings.
Sleep, I push through my mind, harnessing my intent. Not death. Only sleep.
Guilt churns through me. I don’t want to do this. But there’s a crunch and the door buckles. Another kick splits the paneling in two. I hardly feel the stab of pain as the tip of the spindle pierces my skin.
Kal stoops through the wreckage, shadows at his heels like loyal dogs. I hide the spindle in the folds of my skirts.
“That isn’t Shifter magic.” I nod to the darkness, struggling to keep my voice level.
“A funny thing about magic.” He knocks aside a section of the door with his boot. “Sometimes, when you live with an enchantment long enough, you absorb its power.” A tendril of soot curls around his ankle. “And we have been so long acquainted.”
The hand holding the spindle begins to shake. This is not the Kal I know. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Nor I you.” He steps closer. “Which is why I cannot let you return to Briar. We leave now. Let the mortals tear their realm to bits. Then the land will be ours for the taking. A new Malterre.”
I blink in confusion. “You want to…to turn Briar into Malterre?”
“Should I not?” He sneers, betraying an ugliness I don’t recognize. My instinct thrums, urging me to act before it’s too late. “The humans razed my lands while I watched. Seizing theirs is only fair. And after that”—greed flashes bright in his eyes—“Etheria itself.”
Dragon’s teeth, he’s lost his senses. I grip the spindle harder, searching for the best place to strike. “That’s exactly the kind of logic that will get the Briar King killed.”
“Ah, but we are not the Briar King.” He laughs and it mingles with a roll of thunder. “We are Shifter and Vila. And we will seek revenge for those who have fallen.” He extends a hand to me. “You must know this is right, Alyce. Avenge your mother’s death. Take justice for all the wrong this realm has dealt you. I know you want to bathe in their blood.”
I release an unsteady breath. When I first came to this tower, that’s precisely what I wanted. Vengeance as a balm for the hundred thousand tiny wounds Briar had inflicted. But the sweetness of that future is bland in comparison to what I have with Aurora.
Kal doesn’t understand. He’s too lost in bitterness.
“You will see,” he says. “Together we will—”
Before I lose my nerve, I lunge forward and slam the spindle into his side. Kal curses, jumping backward and flailing. His lips form the shape of my name.
And then he crumples.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
For a long time, I sit and watch Kal sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the flutter of his eyelids. Relief soothes my guilt with each small movement, proof that my curse didn’t kill him as I worried it might. This abysmal morning replays through my mind on an endless loop. I should have known better. Kal lost everyone in the war. And then my mother centuries later. I can’t blame him for desiring vengeance. But I won’t let him take Aurora’s throne to get it.
The sleeping curse I enacted on the spindle should last about as long as one of my elixirs, since it was crafted out of need and not desire. I’ll decide what to do with Kal when he wakes.
Throwing a tattered blanket over him, I go downstairs and wait for Laurel. It’s evening now. Thunder rumbles, rattling loose stones in the upper floors. The storm has made slow progress. I hope Laurel arrives before it hits. If it’s another blizzard, she could be locked inside for days—we can’t spare that kind of time.
The skies are tinged navy, but quickly darkening to lead as I watch the clumps of trees hiding Briar’s main gates. With the shriek of each passing gull, I wish that I could spot Callow coming to find me. It’s a futile hope. My kestrel can’t fly. But pain throbs in my chest when I imagine her lying sprawled in some alley, her neck twisted and wings splayed out. I fear I will never outlive the guilt that plagues me for her fate.
Lightning forks in the distance, Briar lit up in a blaze of white. If everything goes well, this time tomorrow, the king will be asleep. Mariel will call in the Etherians and—
A frigid wind sweeps underneath me and I’m knocked to my stomach, chin slamming against stone. Blood bursts in my mouth. I choke on the taste of wet, bitter earth. That same invisible grip flips me over onto my back. My arms and legs strain, but they are caught, bound in shadows.
“What in Briar?” I struggle and squirm, but the darkness only clamps tighter.
A ripple of movement catches my attention.
“No.” It’s all I can say. All I can think, as I watch Kal descend the stairs. “I cursed you.”
The shadows bite into my wrists, the cold like a blade.
“You did.” He grins. “But you forgot the key element to your power, as you have done since the day you set foot in this tower: intent.”
Thunder rolls again, a sickening, haunting laugh.
“No, I—”
“You said it yourself—you did not want to hurt me. And so your little sleeping curse caused nothing more than a nap.”
Dragon’s teeth. I wriggle harder against the bonds, but it’s useless.
“Really, Alyce. By now, I expect more from you. It seems I still have much to teach you.” With a grunt he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. Pain spikes through my jaw and teeth with each of his jarring steps. “And I do not wish to be interrupted by a pesky Grace. Laurel, was it? Well. We shall deal with her later.”
Terror drums beneath my skin. Now I do hope there’s a blizzard on the way. Anything to keep Laurel from danger. We’ve reached my room. Kal drops me unceremoniously onto the floor in a corner.
