Malice, page 33
“Kal, this is madness. We cannot take Briar by ourselves,” I reason, trying in vain to keep my voice steady. “Whatever was done to you, it’s not worth dying in some reckless act of vengeance.”
“What do you know of it?” He snarls. “Your life was a garden party compared to the last several centuries locked in this rotting cesspool. Do you know who put me here? Have you managed to puzzle it out? The same creatures who tormented you for years—Etherian filth.”
The admission snatches the breath from my lungs. Now that the enchantment is broken, Kal can speak of his captors. The smell when I reached the heart of Kal’s enchantment. Dewed grass and spring flowers. I knew I recognized it. It’s the same that lingered in my Lair after Endlewild threatened me. The same power that pulses in the Fae lord’s staff. Dragon’s teeth, I should have known. The scar on my torso aches. “But how? Etherians can only wield light magic. They couldn’t have bound you in shadow.”
Kal laughs, low in his throat. “Oh yes, the Vila have a terrible reputation for lies and trickery, but the Etherians are just as wicked. They only mask it better beneath the perfume of blessings and charms.” He moves to the window and sets the spinning wheel turning, wood clacking on wood. “They managed to imprison me in this tower because they were caging a dangerous beast. A beast. You know something about that, I think.”
Thunder growls and I shudder. I do know.
“But I was not alone here,” Kal continues.
That doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never seen anyone else in the tower.
His hand goes to his neck, fishing out the medallion I discovered what feels like a lifetime ago. The raw skin of his chest has healed now that the bindings are severed. But why is the medallion intact? It should have shattered along with the enchantment.
“I was in love with a Vila once,” Kal says. “In the court of Targen, to which I served as a spy both before and during the war. But the Vila council forbade the match, insisting on keeping bloodlines pure. I wanted to leave them—start our own court, perhaps. But she wanted revenge. And she took it as ruthlessly as she could.” He fingers the thick chain and watches the sea. “Her magic bled into the Etherian lands. It was the first time in decades that the Vila had encroached on Etherian territory, and so the light Fae saw it as an act of war and struck back.”
War? But there was only one war in Briar’s history. “You mean the War of the Fae? Your lover started the War of the Fae? That’s impossible. I would have read about her.” Dragon knows I’d scoured every book I could find on the subject.
He wheels to me. A quick streak of lightning illuminates the crimson threads in his hair, like fine streaks of blood. “After the war, her name was scrubbed from all records.”
“No. There was only one Vila who—” The next clap of thunder shakes me to my core. “The Vila who cast the curse on Aurora’s family. She was…”
“Very good, Alyce.” Kal leers at me. “Yes. I helped her. Disguised myself as a servant to enter the palace and plant the Vila’s curse on the heirs. The royals deserved it. The humans poisoned our lands. Killed our kin. And so we did the same to Briar. Leythana’s daughters would live to the age of twenty-one, one year for each year of the War of the Fae. Just long enough to make the pathetic humans think they could do something to save their children. And then the poor princesses would succumb to the Vila magic. Eventually, the curse would end the royal line. Briar would be thrown into civil war, allowing the borderlands to be sieged and the mountains to be breached.”
A few pieces of the ceiling clatter to the floor as the wind howls into the chamber. Shame claws up my throat. All this time I’ve been trusting the very creature who branded Aurora’s family with the curse. Someone who just wanted to use me to tear Briar apart. My jaw clenches and I embrace the pain. I deserve far worse.
“But the princesses lived,” I grit out. “The Vila’s curse didn’t work.”
“Not as intended, no. After the Etherians managed to soften it so that it could be broken by true love’s kiss.” Kal waggles his fingers. “But it did damage enough. Quite amusing, actually, the way events unfolded. By forbidding younger daughters to produce children, the royals picked off potential heirs all on their own.”
He’s right. Aurora’s aunts have all died—childless, in order to prevent the spreading of the curse. There’s only one heir keeping the Vila’s work from being completed.
“And now it is our turn.”
“No!” I wrestle with the bonds. The shadows only wrap tighter. “You’ll have to kill me before I—”
“Oh, not you and I.” Kal laughs. “Someone far more powerful. Someone who deserves to witness the fruits of her labor.”
Storm-charged air punches through the narrow window.
“Do you mean…the Vila? You told me she was dead.”
“I lied.”
Kal unlatches the medallion’s chain and dangles it before me. Even against the pitch-dark of the storm, the gem shimmers, deep emerald and sapphire darting and whirling within.
And suddenly I understand. “That medallion had nothing to do with the binding enchantment.”
“Clever, as always, Alyce. And correct. The Etherians thought it entertaining to imprison us here together.” He taps the medallion. “This contains her spirit.” He takes a breath. Releases it and closes his eyes. “Mortania.”
Each syllable spears down my spine like a lightning rod, setting every nerve aflame. My Vila magic shivers, that strange connection between us thrumming.
“I nearly forgot the taste of her name. Like dark wine and rich blood.” Kal licks his lips. “I waited centuries for just the right vessel.” Gently, he places the necklace on the floor. “I was close once. But I am glad she did not suffice. You—so perfect. A Shifter as well as Vila.” He looks at me like a starving man regards a feast. “Perhaps I might even see her face again.”
“I was close once.” There’s only one other Vila I know of who had ever entered this tower—my mother. Kal claimed that Lynnore had been almost strong enough to free him, but not quite. That she was thrown into the sea on the day they were meant to escape Briar together—with me. He let me believe that her killers were the same people who trapped him here. That he couldn’t tell me who they were because of the enchantment. But the horrible truth spreads through me like winter frost crackling over a windowpane.
“You murdered her.” The words scrape against my throat. “You tossed her out of this tower and let her drown.”
“Lynnore was weak.” Kal looms over me. The walls groan against the anger of the storm. “She did not appreciate the power I laid at her disposal. Once it became clear that she would not be able to break my bonds, she decided to leave without me. It was not safe in Briar for her child.” His jaw sets. “I did what needed to be done. You were Vila and Shifter. A powerful mix. And that mix needed to stay here, where I could mold and shape you. True, it was a gamble as to whether the people of Briar would execute you. Whether you would ever find me. But I won in the end. And Lynnore would never have trained you the way I could.”
The sea hurls itself against the rock.
“We’ll never know,” I fire back. My magic is too weakened by the shadow chains to be of use, but it wants to go. It practically broils beneath my skin, aching to wrap itself around Kal’s neck. “I could have had a mother. My entire life could have been different. You took that from me.”
“You are just as shortsighted as she was. I give you the greatest power in centuries—”
“It’s my power!” I shout, thrashing harder.
Kal throws his head back and laughs. “No, pet. Not the feeble abilities I coaxed out of you these past months. Like pulling pig’s teeth, I might add. Those are nothing compared to what is to come.”
A fresh lash of shame scores my heart. Kal was never proud of me, then. Never believed my gift was something of value. He’d only used me. Found those sore spots on my soul and exploited them. And I let him.
“So long I waited. Hoped. Dreamed. And today it happens.” His hungry look returns.
My mouth goes dry, heart skidding to a stop as everything Kal has told me clicks into place. The Etherians imprisoned him here with the Vila, her spirit locked inside the medallion. He’s been waiting for another of her kind. Someone strong enough to—
“Kal, don’t—”
But it’s too late. With a manic grin, Kal picks up his boot and brings it down hard on the gem. There is the sound of glass crunching. An unholy wail. And then everything goes dark.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I don’t know how long I’m unconscious. Everything hurts, my muscles throbbing in time to the pounding in my head. There’s a high, tinny ringing in my ears, and a low, rumbling noise like a growl. A hazy shape floats over me. I manage to blink once, twice. But even that small movement is rusty and stiff.
“Mortania.” A voice croons. A soft touch brushes my forehead. My cheeks. “My love. Is that you?”
Mortania. The name is familiar. Is it mine? Heat surges behind my sternum and webs outward. I squeeze my eyes shut. Open them again. The hazy shape sharpens into focus.
Kal.
I am not Mortania. I am Alyce. The growl I heard when I woke is the storm breaking land. Sleet and hail ping against the stones of the chamber. Shards of the medallion’s strange glass remain on the floor, tendrils of hemlock smoke curling between them.
Kal frowns. “Mortania?”
Once again, a charge shoots through me. And I think I hear the echo of a voice, the same one that I’d heard in my Lair when Aurora and I had attempted to summon the Vila. It is screaming, but I can’t make out the words.
Kal rises abruptly, angrily from his place beside me.
“This is impossible.” He grinds his teeth, pacing. “I saw the magic enter your body. She should be here. She should be you.”
So I’d been right. He wanted to release the Vila’s soul into my body in order to resurrect her. I smile, the corners of my dry lips cracking. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. She’s not here.”
It’s a lie. Something is changed inside me. I can feel it in the humming of my bones. In the thickness of my blood and the molten, foreign current rushing like a second heartbeat through my limbs. But I take great satisfaction in the way Kal tenses, nostrils flaring. Centuries of plotting and waiting come to nothing.
His anger pours out of him. He picks up a cobweb-covered stool and hurls it across the room. It connects with the wall and bursts into pieces. A scrap of jagged wood lands dangerously close to my face. He does the same to a chair. Smashes a table as well.
“Alyce?”
Every fiber stills at the sound of that voice, half-smothered beneath the throes of the storm, but clear as day to my ears. What is she doing here? Laurel was supposed to come. Terror wraps its fingers around my belly and wrenches. Kal freezes, his head listing toward the door. He smiles at me, putting a finger to his lips.
“Aurora, ru—” But the shadows are in my mouth before I can finish, tasting of ash. Sliding down my throat, heavy and tarlike. I want to retch, but I can’t. My lips move, but no sound comes out.
“This is better than I hoped,” Kal says.
I reach for my magic, desperate to save Aurora from whatever he’s planning, but it’s buried too deeply beneath the darkness—as Kal’s had been when he was bound here.
“All I need is a little of her magic.” He roots around the chamber, tossing bits of debris right and left before settling on something. Not just something. It’s the spindle I cursed—the one that forced him to sleep.
Kal comes to me and I try to kick him away, but my legs are still shadow-bound. I can only knock my knees together. Huddle my body as far into the corner as it will go. But he grabs me by the elbow and hauls me forward. Pries my hands out of my skirts, spindle ready.
I sink my teeth into his shoulder.
He howls, scrambling backward and dropping the spindle. Kal examines the wound with two fingers. I’d bitten through the fabric of his shirt. The taste of his Shifter blood is in my mouth, iron and silt. I spit it into his face.
Kal wipes away the inky flecks with his sleeve. And then, so fast I don’t even see the movement, the back of his hand pummels into my cheek. Something snaps, a pain like I’ve never felt exploding through the fragile bones of my face. I cannot breathe. Cannot think. Stars trip and dance across my vision, and then there’s another pain—a sharp, swift puncture on the pad of my first finger.
“There.” Kal huffs.
My own green blood beads on my fingertip, and I realize that Kal stabbed me with the spindle. The wound feels deep. The ancient spindle’s tip is wet and glittering.
What is he doing? The spindle can’t curse me—not when it’s coated in my own magic.
There are footsteps on the stairs—Aurora draws closer. Kal winks at me and waves his hands. A thick shroud of shadows engulfs me, and I whisper a silent hope that Aurora can outrun the Shifter. That she’ll sense the trap.
But she won’t get the chance.
A muffled cry manages to wriggle past the shadows in my mouth, too faint to be heard over the wind buffeting the tower, as Kal begins to shrink. His body whittles down, becoming thinner and narrower. His doublet and breeches morph into a black, worn dress. His hair lengthens and thins, and green veins expose themselves beneath paper-thin, scaly skin. And then it is myself staring back at me, a malevolent smirk fixed on my own lips.
“Aurora.” The voice is so much like mine that I cringe. “I’m in here.”
No. No no no no no no no.
Aurora enters the room, letting her hood fall down around her shoulders. I buck against the shadows. Against the darkness in my nose and mouth, the weight pressing down on me like iron. It’s enough to crush me. I cannot feel my magic. Cannot do anything but stare in horror as she rushes to Kal and throws her arms around my body.
But she pulls back, a crease between her brows. She looks at the broken tables and chairs. “Are you all right?”
Hope flutters. She is suspicious. Yes, Aurora. Flee. Go now.
Kal nods, kisses her cheek, and then rubs at my temples. “Just tired. What are you doing here? I told Laurel to come.”
Bastard. I strain harder, but the shadows don’t budge.
“It was too risky to send word.” She extracts a pouch from the pocket of her cloak. “I saw an opportunity and had to take it. If Father knows you’re gone, he’s keeping quiet about it.”
“But he won’t for long.” Kal passes the spinning wheel and bumps it. The flywheel turns. “What did you bring me?”
“A ring.” Aurora tugs it free, a gold band with a fat lapis stone set in the center, but her gaze doubles back to the wheel. “I’ll have to return it before morning. I’ve made certain he intends to wear it.”
The spindle gleams in the next flare of lightning. Kal smiles. Spins the flywheel again. A faint green aura limns the wood.
“Do you like it?” Kal asks, goading the wheel faster. Aurora inches closer, entranced.
“It’s beautiful.” Her lips hardly move. Her grip on the ring goes slack and it pings against the stone floor, far louder than any boom of thunder.
“Yes. Quite an old thing. But still useful, I think. Would you like to try it?”
Aurora nods. Reaches one hand toward the wheel. I scream, but it is only the crash of a violent wave.
There must be a way out of these bonds. Desperate, I dive beneath the shadows, searching once again for my magic.
Kal is saying something to Aurora. Telling her how to use the wheel. She is so close now. Just another inch.
You found me, pet. At last.
I nearly faint at the sound of someone else’s voice in my head. A voice I know from the flames of the summoning ritual.
Mortania?
A laugh flutters against my eardrums.
Well met, my dear. Well met.
I am losing my mind. Can she read my thoughts? I wonder, verging on hysteria. Can she kill me? But the presence I feel is not ominous. It is strong as it pumps from the place where my magic lives. Comforting. Almost motherly. I swallow back the ache in my throat.
You and I will do wonderful things together. Wait and see.
And it’s then that I notice something else tangled with my power. Something that is not entirely my own.
Yes, Alyce. Yes.
It’s Mortania’s magic. That’s what had happened when Kal released her from the medallion. Why he needed a Vila—someone with a breed of magic hers would recognize. The ancient Vila’s presence undulates within me, her power twining with the cord of my own and strengthening it until it is like that beastly vine I summoned in the royal gardens. At first, all I can feel is fear. Mortania’s magic is foreign. I do not trust it. But then a warm sense of certainty spreads through every limb. Like the way I feel with Aurora. Like coming home.
Go. I tell it.
The magic—Mortania’s and mine—responds in half a heartbeat. Surges out through my body and shreds the shadows like cobwebs. I retch as the darkness expels from my body.
“Aurora!”
She turns, startled, but Kal is faster. He lunges, slams her hand onto the waiting spindle. Aurora yelps, jerking back and staring at the trail of ruby blood welling on her palm.
A wound that has a thin green plume of smoke curling from its center.
I rush to her, catching her as she falls, both of us crashing to the floor in a heap.
“Aurora!” I scramble out from underneath her, pushing her hair from her face, batting at her cheeks. They’re already going cold. Her eyes are closed. A deathly tinge creeps over her face. “What have you done?”
Kal Shifts back to himself with a cold current of air. “Finished what we started. She is dying, Alyce. The last Briar heir. All that is left is to watch the realm collapse.”
