Maybe, Kurt thought, he should have. But he wasn’t sure he’d have left with all parts intact. Besides, while he was distracting the queen, Syl had been able to rescue the cadets and raid the treasury.
‘Just as well I don’t want you for your body, Syl.’ He nodded towards the metal chamber. ‘This was necessary. And it worked, thank all the divinities.’ That didn’t make him feel any better. Nothing did.
Syl swallowed hard and closed his eyes. ‘I know. I’ll get back to work.’ He slid away, up the stairs. Whether it was Atelier work or his preferred profession, Kurt didn’t have the heart to ask.
‘Her family are still here,’ said Melia. ‘I’ve had Halyk pouring them ale and Scarlett’s making some food, but they won’t touch any of it. They need to talk to you, boss.’
‘I know that too.’ Kurt groaned and then made himself straighten up. He hadn’t meant that to come out so peevishly. ‘I know. Thank you, Melia. I’m coming up now.’
They needed to talk to him. They needed explanations he couldn’t give, platitudes he didn’t feel like saying, and comfort he just didn’t have in him. This wasn’t his job. None of it. But he went anyway.
Melia stood behind him the whole time. He didn’t know how he would have endured it otherwise. The mother wept. The father sat there, his hands wringing together the whole time, and never looked up.
‘Her magic did this to her?’ the sister asked. She was mid-twenties, a Loam who made sure that Eastferry got fresh food even though the city was starving. They kept her safe, and secret. Her sister had jeopardised that as well. The mageborn succumbing to the darkness put them all at risk from Aurelie’s guards as well as their own powers.
She looked very pale, dark shadows under her eyes. The stress of it was getting to her too.
‘Mr Parry, Elsie wasn’t the first. We’ve all seen it. We’ve all felt it. It’s getting worse.’
Kurt felt the unfamiliar need to explain, to make some sort of amends, even if no amends were really possible. ‘I’m doing everything I can.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Her mother stood up, stopped and choked on a sob. ‘Thank you for trying. She was a good girl. Really. Such a good girl. So careful. It’s not… not fair.’ She trembled then, shook from head to foot. The sister – Bella, he reminded himself, her name was Bella – wrapped her arms around her mother. She pulled her away from Kurt.
‘You have to stop it, Mr Parry. We can’t trust the Royal Guards. They just lock people up and kill them. And that queen is useless—’
Kurt raised a finger to his lips, and the girl stopped. ‘Those aren’t safe words, love. Not safe at all.’
She glared at him. ‘There are far more dangerous ones. Thorns, for instance. Isn’t that what you call yourselves?’
Melia hissed and Bella flinched but didn’t back down. ‘We can’t go on like this. It’s imprisonment and divinities know what, or… or become like that… Where is the Lord of Thorns? The mageborn need him. You have to get him back.’
Melia started forward, ready to intervene, to throw them out if necessary. Kurt signalled her to stop. She glared. He didn’t need to look around to see it. He saw the fear infect the girl’s belligerent face, the knowledge that she had gone too far.
‘What makes you think I have any way of doing that?’
‘You know him. You know where he is. Your brother is with him. That’s the word out there.’ Bella nodded towards the door.
‘So what?’
‘Get him back here. Or there are going to be more. It’s a plague. The nightborn, like in the old stories. Maybe they are nightborn come again, I don’t know. Bastien Larelwynn is the only person with a hope of stopping it. Ask anyone. The mageborn – we know. We need him. Come on, Ma, Da. We have to go. There’s nothing else for us now.’
‘I’m doing everything I can,’ Kurt told her and instantly felt pathetic. It wasn’t a sensation he was used to. It didn’t help that Bella was right. It didn’t help that she was voicing his own fears. There was nothing he could do about the nightborn. Nothing but kill them. Or make them kill themselves.
She gave him a defiant look. Tears welled up, matting her lashes together like smudges. ‘It’s not enough. And if you can’t get him back, what good are you?’
Melia showed them out and the moment the door shut Kurt sank onto the nearest chair. It wasn’t the world out there he was worried about, at least he hadn’t been until now. He was fending off attacks on every front. He didn’t need his own people looking for the impossible. He couldn’t ask Bastien Larelwynn to come back here, even if he wanted to. Even if he thought for a moment he would. The queen would kill him on sight, if he was lucky. And that was nothing to what she’d do to Grace Marchant, Danny and Ellyn de Bruyn – she’d made that more than clear in his dungeon audience with her.
Although it hadn’t exactly been an audience. They’d snatched him off the street at dawn just as he had planned. A hood went over his head and the next thing he knew he was chained up on his knees on a rough stone floor. Exactly as planned. Kind of.
When they pulled the hood off him and he saw Aurelie standing there, surrounded by guards, he had thought this was it. He had miscalculated, gone too far this time. He was dead. Instead of execution, however, there were threats, and questions which he wouldn’t answer. He’d talked his way out of it, played with her, and delayed her while Syl left her bedchambers and made his way down to the dungeons. They’d slipped out through the narrow secret passages and made their escape, all of them.
The jailbreak had been the stuff of legend, not that anyone would actually believe it. He’d emptied the treasury and her cells, all while a prisoner himself. A man in two places at once. And all he had to show for it were some bruises.
Well, Syl didn’t want the credit.
Being roughed up by the palace guards was something Kurt could handle. It wouldn’t be the last time. And it didn’t compare to a good old dockside punch-up anyway. Melia had picked him up, patched him back together, even found him a Curer to sort out the worst of the damage, and Eastferry had rallied around him. Especially when Syl had brought those kids home.
The mageborn cadets he’d rescued hadn’t been who he was looking for, but he broke them out anyway. Syl had been looking for his mentor, the Master Atelier, but he couldn’t leave his former comrades behind. Not there. Kurt didn’t blame him, the state some of them were in. They wouldn’t have lasted much longer. After taking out the guards, they made their way to the treasury and rendezvoused there. Then they had loaded up everything they could.
Syl was a looker with a talent for fucking he put to excellent use. But he also had an eye for magical things, and a sense for what was worth nicking. It had made them a fortune in the past.
And Kurt had discovered the most useful bit of information of all. It turned out that Aurelie didn’t know what was going on any more than he did.
The mageborn were out of control. The ancient pact between the Hollow King and Lucien Larelwynn was broken. They were changing, they were killing and they were dying. Their own powers were tearing them apart from inside. Their eyes went black as night and they lost their minds. Not like going hollow. This was calculating, malevolent, evil. Nightborn. Just like the stories.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
Melia came back in and shut the door. ‘She didn’t mean it, boss. They know you’re trying.’
‘All I’m doing is getting them killed. She’s grieving. And she’s scared she’ll be next.’
They all were. Melia sat down beside him, stretched out her long legs. Another time he’d compliment her on them and she’d tell him to push off. Light-hearted, like.
‘What are you going to do?’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t bring him back here. Aurelie with his power at her beck and call? No, thank you.’
Melia sighed, rolling her head from one side to the other to stretch out the tense muscles.
‘What about the other one? In the Temple?’
‘Crazy, Danny told me. Crazy and dangerous to boot. I think the words psycho-bitch from the deepest pits of the seventh hell were used. Besides, she doesn’t have her power any more.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘That’s what Danny said.’
‘Has anyone… you know… checked?’
‘Melia? Are you suggesting we break into the Temple now?’
‘We’ve been everywhere else, boss. And if she doesn’t have powers, maybe she has information. We could do with that at least.’
And damn it all, she was right.
The Temple was even more secure than the palace, for very good reason. Aurelie couldn’t afford anyone getting near Celeste, or Celeste getting out. They opened the place only when the queen deigned to visit Bastien’s crazy sister.
It was the most secure place in the city. Much more secure than the palace.
And that was when it hit him. ‘Divinities… I know where the Master Atelier is… He’s in the bloody Temple with Celeste.’
Chapter 18
They were far out to sea when the noise started. An argument, quickly escalating, a lot of shouting. Grace roused, disentangling herself from Bastien’s long limbs. As he woke he tried to pull her into his embrace but reluctantly she wriggled free.
‘Something’s happening,’ she told him. ‘Need to see what.’
He struggled up after her, his hair falling over his face, his eyes very bright beneath it.
Outside, the argument was louder, heading their way. She heard Ellyn challenge someone. This wasn’t good.
Quickly they pulled on their clothes and then Grace opened the door.
‘There you are!’ Rynn shouted, her beautiful face determined. Ellyn blocked the approach to the cabin, and the princess, Lara and Jehane crowded the narrow passageway. ‘I need to talk to you right away. This is unacceptable.’
She wasn’t looking at Grace though. Her gaze was fixed on Bastien and she looked desperate. Ellyn had a knife in her hand and every nerve in her body was taut. But she didn’t move.
‘I told you not to come down here,’ Lara said. ‘I’ll sort this out. I promised you.’ Her voice came from behind the princess and Jehane was with her, lurking by the access to the deck. Grace couldn’t see him clearly, but she could sense him, read the traces of his magic on the air. He was gathering shadows, ready to attack if needs be. In a very short period of time, in this very confined space, everything was about to go to hell if she didn’t intervene.
Grace moved slowly, carefully, starting with the biggest threat to safety in the corridor. She stepped up to Ellyn and slowly mimicked her stance, bringing her arm in line with Ellyn’s, reaching for the knife. She closed her hand over her friend’s.
‘Let go, Ell,’ she whispered.
Ellyn shivered and then let her take the weapon. Grace breathed again.
‘What the hell is she doing here?’ Ellyn hissed.
But Rynn was oblivious to the danger Ellyn posed. Perhaps she wasn’t even aware of what she represented, what her family had done to Ellyn and all her line. Rynn had to know. Her family had killed every de Bruyn they could find. ‘I have every right to be here. I’m his wife. They’re all gossiping about it up on deck, the sailors. About you, down here, together.’
‘Enough, Rynn!’ Lara snapped. ‘Bastien, we need to discuss this. This could be an international incident of gigantic proportions if mishandled. It’s bad enough what happened back there. I need you to think with the brain in your head.’
He was still half-naked. His shirt hung open over his sculpted form and he was barefoot. His dishevelled appearance made it clear how they had spent the night. Bastien glanced over at Grace, who was not wearing much more than he was. He actually had the nerve to grin, just for a moment.
When he looked at Lara, however, his expression might have been carved from stone, like one of those statues in Rathlynn.
‘Perhaps we should speak in private,’ the marshal said in firm tones, her glare terrifying.
But Bastien wasn’t intimidated by Lara Kellen. Possibly not by anyone, Grace knew that. He’d been cast as a villain for most of his life and he knew how to use that.
‘You can speak in front of my people.’
Ellyn looked over at him, eyes blazing as he said it. Then she nodded slowly and stepped back. His people. No one had ever claimed Ellyn other than Grace, Daniel and the Academy. Bastien signalling that Ellyn was his was a promise to always protect her.
‘Very well,’ Lara said, although it was clear that she did not consider it well at all. ‘You have asked us to get you safely to Thorndale. Asher Kane will come after us, as will half of the Valenti.’ She drew in a breath, clearly steeling herself before she could continue. ‘It isn’t far to Thorndale but the way is hard. Two nights at most, three days on the road. If we are to make it there safely you need to leave it to me to organise. There is no way we can avoid scrutiny. You are far too recognisable. Word will travel on swift wings that the rightful heir has returned to Larelwynn soil and we can do nothing to stop that. You need to play your part, your majesty.’
‘And what is my part?’ Bastien asked, so quietly. It was always dangerous when he went quiet. Grace knew it was a warning sign.
‘A royal king, not a lovesick fool. A man ready to wear a crown and ride into battle if necessary. And it may well be necessary. Asher Kane may have thought to use you and Rynn, but we can use his own plan against him. We can—’
‘Enough!’ Bastien said. ‘Why is Rynn here?’
The princess interrupted before Lara could reply. She all but stamped her foot. ‘Because I don’t have anywhere else to go. Thanks to you.’
A dozen emotions passed over his face, a man who masked his feelings more completely than anyone Grace had ever known. Disgust, horror, guilt and more. A ripple of all that had happened since he met the Rose of the Valenti. It wasn’t Rynn’s fault, Grace knew that, but she was a catalyst. And she still wasn’t prepared to let him go. Even if her interest was political rather than romantic. She was playing with fire.
‘Thanks to me?’ Bastien snarled at her. Even Grace flinched at the sound, but no one was looking at her. Rynn shied back, eyes wide, and she suddenly seemed to realise that the greatest danger didn’t lie in being left behind somewhere. ‘What did I do to you? I was drugged,’ Bastien went on in the coolest voice imaginable. ‘You had a hand in that, I believe.’
But Rynn was not easily intimidated. She visibly pulled herself together, smoothing down the front of the gown and drawing in a deep breath.
‘And I have apologised for that, and I tried to make amends… the goddess knows I tried… I cured you. But it doesn’t change the fact you said the words in the presence of representatives of the aristocracy of your kingdom and all of mine. As far as anyone is concerned, I am your wife. No matter who you sleep with. Kings and queen have dealt with less and kept their marriages. But they keep it to themselves. Appearances are what matters and if anyone sees you with a mistress—’
‘I’m no one’s mistress,’ Grace cut in. If her voice was harsh she didn’t care. Anger was surging through her now. Anger and disgust. She shouldn’t care what people thought of her, least of all Rynn. But being spoken to – and dismissed – like this made the rage inside her swell to fill the dark and empty places. She wanted to lash out. But she couldn’t. She clenched her hands into fists and folded them behind her. Striking the princess now would solve nothing.
Rynn gave her a pitying look. It was the image of her grandmother’s.
‘I don’t know what you are right now. But I need protection and he is the only shield I have. So I intend to use it.’
In that instant Grace completely believed her, and suddenly saw in her the queen she could become. Aurelie was an amateur in comparison. Rynn was royalty and it showed. Steel in her veins, determination in her eyes, and the utter inability to believe that anything would go contrary to her will. Divinities help whoever crossed Rynn Elenore Layna de Valens of Ge
llen. Bastien was raised the same way.
This wasn’t fair. This couldn’t be happening. Because Rynn was not wrong. Grace felt her anger turn white-hot and insurmountable.
The ship lurched beneath them. Grace barely kept her footing but Rynn wasn’t so lucky. She lost her balance, falling forward, and all Grace could do was catch her. She was trembling all over and her eyes had gone wide, grey and helpless. Terrified. Suddenly politics, marriage and mistresses seemed like the least of their problems.
‘Lara, get Rynn to the cabin and keep her there,’ Bastien barked.
Cries of ‘All hands on deck’ went ringing out and, even though they were probably going to be of no help whatsoever, Grace and Jehane scrambled up through the narrow hatch to the deck first, followed by Bastien and Ellyn.
The wind had got up, tearing through the sails, and the waves crashed over the sides, drenching the deck. The ship pitched back and forth, the timbers groaning under the strain.
‘A sudden storm, came up out of nowhere,’ Captain Pardue yelled. She stood at the wheel, wind tearing at her long black hair as she wrestled with it. ‘Out of clear skies too. You best get down below, out of the way.’
‘This isn’t natural,’ Jehane shouted. ‘Can’t you feel it?’
Grace could. The air was tainted, trembling. No, not the air, because all the air was wind, a blinding gale. But something else. The energy around her felt different.
‘Definitely not natural,’ she agreed.
‘It’s mage-sent,’ Bastien told them, as Daniel and Misha struggled across the deck to join them. ‘There’s a Zephyr somewhere. Powerful and out of control. This isn’t good, Grace.’
‘There’s a Zephyr on board,’ Daniel said. ‘But he’s just a kid.’
‘Bastien, can you locate him? Stop him?’
‘Perhaps. If I can—’
A terrible cracking sound shook the world around them, followed by a crash which sent them all to the deck. It hit Grace hard, wood splinters driving their way into her hands. Dirty white material wrapped itself around her, wet and smothering as a shroud, pinning her down. She struggled to tear her way free and heard more shouts of alarm, of warning.
Nightborn: Totally addictive fantasy fiction (The Hollow King Book 2) Page 15
