“Trouble sleeping, Headmaster?” she asked, infusing her tone and the air around them with disgust.
Serivar started when she allowed him to see her and stood, moving a few steps back.
“Going somewhere?”
“They allowed you down here?” His voice trembled.
She offered him a cruel smile. She hated this game, hated acting this way, but the man before her evoked such loathing that the performance was almost tolerable. “Do you really think they’d allow me in here? I’m still considered a traitor to the crown.”
She felt a cold fear sweep out from him and he took another step back.
She took a quick moment to examine the barriers that kept Serivar from projecting his power out of the cell. As she suspected, the barrier was tuned to his inner aspect, which meant it would have no effect on her. Drawing on ascard, she used the trick she had learned from Sine, swapping herself with the ascard in the air next to him. She’d never tried moving beyond something solid like the prison bars between them, but it worked as intended and he backed into the rear wall, his eyes popping wide. Fear pounded off him now and she was almost ashamed at the satisfaction it brought her, but only almost. Images of Adran as she last saw him flickered through her mind, fueling her anger and strengthening her purpose.
“What do you want?”
She gave a sharp laugh. “As if you don’t know. I want you to confess. Confess everything.”
Serivar stood a little straighter, pulling on a cloak of confidence that her ability betrayed as false. “You can still come back to the academy and the King’s Order, Indigo. Let Emperor Yiloch take the fall for this. I will stand behind you. Prince Caplin will stand behind you.”
Perhaps he still hoped to intimidate her with his authority as headmaster and council member. Apparently, he didn’t realize that the academy and the order were no longer the core of her life. Caithin was no longer the core of her life. She brushed back her hair, making the gesture seem casual, but it revealed her tattoo. Serivar narrowed his eyes, squinting at it in the dim light. Then his eyes widened again and she felt his nervousness grow to the verge of panic.
“I don’t need you behind me anymore, Serivar. In fact, I’d prefer to keep you where I can see you,” she added with a sour smirk. “I think you know what Myac did to Ian. I think you may have even played a part in that. Do you know what he did to Lord Adran? While you sat complacently in your little office, pretending innocence, telling yourself how righteous you are, Myac was in that room mutilating Adran. He tortured him until his heart gave out from shock and loss of blood.”
Serivar shook his head. Fresh fear blossomed in his eyes. “No. I didn’t know Adran was there. I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“But you didn’t care, did you? Whatever Myac was doing in that room didn’t matter to you, not then, but it does now.”
Serivar shrank away, pressing back into the wall again. His eyes darted around the small cell, looking for some escape route to open up to him.
She drew on more ascard, pinning him in place and forcing him to meet her eyes. “You will confess everything. If you don’t, I will hold you in place while Yiloch unleashes his pain on you. I’ll make sure you suffer at least as much as Adran did. I promise. Myac’s cruelty will seem kind by comparison.”
Serivar whimpered and she decided that was as much of an agreement as she could expect. She released him and turned away, transporting herself back to the other side of the bars. “Remember, Serivar, you cannot hide from me and no one can keep me from you. With Myac gone, my power has no rival.”
As she started to walk away, Serivar stepped up to the bars, emboldened by the distance between them. “I’m proud of you, Indigo. You’ve finally become the weapon I wanted you to be.”
She had to catch herself, fighting the desire to strike out at him. Letting him get to her now, letting him see any flaw in her armor, would undermine everything she had done this night. Turning, she smiled, adding a subtle, unnatural shimmer to the copper in her eyes in the hopes of unnerving him further. His quick step back confirmed her success.
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not working for you anymore.”
She turned her back on him again, gratified by the intense fear she felt blossoming within him. The gratification quickly dissolved into a sense of revulsion. Had she truly become the weapon he wanted to make her? His words, unwelcome as they were, rang true.
Was it too late to change that?
•
Back in the common area outside their rooms, she could feel that Yiloch was awake again. The thought of going back to her room to sit alone with her confused emotions appealed less than that of facing his misery. He needed an outlet, an explosion of rage that would break down the wall he’d built around his sorrow. Perhaps she could give him that. She couldn’t stand leaving him the way he was and he wouldn’t be any good to her before the king in his current state.
She tried the door, but it was still locked. She knocked. There was no response, but a surge of irritation from within the room confirmed that he had heard her.
“Yiloch, open the door.”
She waited a few minutes before knocking softly again. When there was still no answer, she closed her eyes and scanned the room with ascard, making sure nothing had been moved since the Wakening Festival feast, when she had spent the night there in Yiloch’s arms while Jayce lay in a drugged slumber in another room of the palace. It might be easier to manipulate the lock, but that was insufficient in its impact. He needed to be reminded who he was dealing with and the intrusion would force him to focus his attention on something outside himself.
Selecting a spot past the couch so that he would be looking at her when she appeared, she swapped herself with the ascard there.
When she appeared in front of him, he flinched ever so slightly, eyes widening a fraction in surprise. “You don’t take a hint well,” he snarled, quick to adjust.
“No. Not really.” She met the hostility in his tone with flippancy.
“Then perhaps I should be blunt. I don’t want you here.”
She let out a sharp exhale with the pain of his curt rejection and focused past it. She wasn’t about to give in that easily, not after all she had done for him.
“You really think you can chase me off so easily? I thought you a better judge of character.”
Yiloch scowled at her, a dark fury rising in his pale eyes. “Don’t provoke me right now.”
“Why not? You’re too busy bathing in your misery to be much of a threat,” she hissed. His temper flared, black and dangerous, unpredictably strong. It wouldn’t take much to drive him past his limits. She checked all of her protections, strengthening them as necessary and slipped a few tendrils of ascard into him, needling his rage closer to the breaking point with tiny manipulations.
“Do I disappoint you?” he growled. His pale eyes shimmered like daggers of ice as he glared at her. One hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. The muscles in his body tensed, prepared to move, and he started to draw on ascard.
Her nerves danced and she checked her many protections again, continuing her subtle ascard manipulation of him while she spoke. If she pushed him to the breaking point, they could pick up the pieces from there, but the wall he’d put up had to break first. The sooner it broke, the sooner he could face his grief and begin the healing process. “Frankly, yes. I had mistaken you for a stronger man. Maybe all the strength you ever had died in that room.” The deliberate cruelty stung almost as much as the flash of anguish from him, but it worked.
Though she expected the retaliation, the speed with which he moved shocked her. It took all her will to stand steady when his blade swung at her. With her barriers protecting her from injury, she stopped the blade in the air and took hold of it with one hand. His eyes widened, staring at her hand. Maybe she should hate him for the attack, but she didn’t. She had deliberately driven him to it and she loved him. She was probably the only one with the strength to love him the way
he needed to be loved in that moment.
“You can’t drive me away.”
“Why are you doing this?” His voice trembled with pent up emotion, rage breaking before the weight of sorrow.
“Because I love you,” she answered, making her voice gentle now, encouraging the fracturing of his defensive anger.
He released the hilt and turned away from her. “Haven’t you noticed the trail of death I leave in my wake.”
She dropped the weapon and he flinched when it hit the floor.
“I don’t care,” she whispered into the ensuing silence. When he said nothing she took a step closer. Her heart ached for the pain that radiated off him, leaching away his anger at speed now. She had helped force that pain to the surface. She wouldn’t regret it, no matter how much it hurt. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save him.”
Yiloch sank to his knees, bowing over as if someone had dropped a great weight on his shoulders. She felt the pressure building within him and placed a sound barrier around them seconds before he threw his head back and a roar of fury and anguish burst from him. The torment encompassed in the sound sent a shudder through her and tears began to stream down her cheeks.
She walked up behind him then moved cautiously around to stand before him. His head hung so that his hair hid his face from her, but his body trembled. She touched his head, sliding her fingers into his silvery hair. He reached out then and pulled her against him, his face pressing against her chest, his tears dampening her dress. She wrapped her arms around him. His muscles were iron under her fingertips, taut and trembling with the force of the misery that filled him. She held him and waited.
“No empire is worth all of this,” he murmured a while later. “So many have died because of me, because of my ambition.”
Indigo closed her eyes and took a deep breath. To tell him that wasn’t true would be lying to a degree. Still, she couldn’t let it go at that.
“How many more would have suffered and died if you hadn’t removed your father from the throne?” She gave the question a moment to sink in, not expecting an answer, then drove ahead. “You are a man of great status. Many will admire and adore you. Some will hate you and try to hurt you any way they can. A rare few will stand behind you regardless of what you do. One of those few is still here with you and she needs you.” Her voice cracked and she fell silent, fighting back tears.
He moved her arms away and got to his feet. Gentle fingers brushed her hair back from her face and he stood staring at her for a minute as though seeing her for the first time in years.
“I know you tried,” he murmured. “I know Ian and Adran weren’t the only ones Myac made suffer in that room.”
She drew back her power, blocking his emotions for fear that they would become something other than what she wanted them to be.
“I’m tired, Yiloch, and I am not the person I expected to be. I’m not sure how I feel about the person I am. I need to know that I haven’t changed myself, my whole world, for nothing. Right now, I’m not so sure.” Tears ran faster down her cheeks and he brushed a few away, but more followed.
“You’re strong and beautiful and free to choose your future. If those things bring you no comfort in this moment, then as long as my love is something to you,” he whispered, “you can be sure it wasn’t for nothing.”
She exhaled a mountain of tension, overcome by relief and the pleasure his words gave her. He leaned down and kissed her. Then he pulled her close and held her tight. She melted against him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Several hours later, they sat together on the couch, Indigo leaning against him. He had his arms around her. Her warmth against him was comforting. If only they could stay in this spot and forget everything else. He couldn’t forget, though. Adran was gone and even though Myac was gone as well, his final blow left Yiloch feeling crippled. Even with Indigo there to ease the pain, he felt as though someone had cut away the core of his being, leaving him a shell of what he had been.
He breathed her in, seeking comfort in the scent of her. She shifted in his arms. A slender arm reached out, her fingertips touching the hilt of his sword where he had placed it on the table next to them. He watched as she traced the fine metalwork of the pommel.
“My mother had that made for me when I turned fourteen. It’s created. It will never bear a scratch. The blade will never lose its edge.”
Her hand stopped for a moment, and then moved down the hilt, caressing over the crossguard. He felt her shoulders and chest lift with a small sigh.
“It’s beautiful, for a weapon.”
Yiloch chuckled and kissed her head. She drew her arm back and turned slightly, looking toward the door. Her expression became distant, the look of an adept engaging their power in some way, then she nodded to herself and leaned back into him again. The power she had shown him in the time he had known her was unnerving. It was something he was going to have to get used to if he meant to keep her around. At this point, he would rather die than let her go.
“Ian’s coming.”
“I should unlock the door,” Yiloch said, accepting her words as fact.
“I’ll get it.”
Before Yiloch could move to release her, the lock clicked and the door cracked open. She was finding practical applications for her powers. It showed that she was accepting what she was instead of denying the extent of her ability in fear of the possible darker applications. He continued to hold her for as long as she stayed there, her slight weight warm and welcome against him. When she moved to sit up, he released her reluctantly.
A soft knock sounded in the room and the door opened a touch more under the gentle pressure. She stood suddenly, gesturing for him to stay where he was. He moved enough to sit up then waited, trusting her. She was privy to much more information than he was.
She opened the door. Ian stepped into the room, his dragging feet attesting to a still weakened state. His eyes and nose were red. He had been crying. Indigo held her arms out to him and the young creator all but fell into her embrace. His shoulders shook as he wept in her arms. The door clicked shut, untouched, behind him.
“I saw Adran,” he choked out.
Yiloch grimaced. To be fair, the healers wouldn’t have known Adran was Ian’s cousin, but there was no need to let anyone see such a thing. He got to his feet, but kept his distance, watching as Indigo soothed the young creator. He couldn’t help wondering if she would use her power to help pacify him. Ultimately, it didn’t matter, as long as her attentions eased his pain. It was a double standard, he knew, since he resented the fact that she had used it to manipulate him at least once, probably more than that, but that was simply the way he felt. He had a somewhat obsessive need to always be in control. Maybe she could help him with that too.
Several minutes passed and Ian finally stepped back from her. He wiped his face rather gracelessly with one sleeve then threw a wary glance at Yiloch.
He watched with a growing sense of unease as Ian took a deep, shaking breath and walked up to him. The creator stopped a few feet in front of him and dropped to his knees, bowing his head.
“My lord, I beg your forgiveness. I didn’t expect…” his voice broke before he could finish and he knelt there trembling.
Yiloch clamped down on a sudden flare of anger in that part of him that still longed for someone to blame. If there was anyone to lay blame on, he was probably the most deserving, not the creator. Indigo placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder and the youth steadied. Yiloch gave her a glance he hoped showed his gratitude then looked down at Ian.
“Ian, none of us expected what happened. We can see everything as clearly as we want to, looking back, but the future is still as much of a mystery now as it was then. You tried. We all tried.” He stopped there, finding it hard to say anything more without his own sorrow getting the better of him.
Ian got unsteadily to his feet and looked at him, his eyes glistening pools of misery. Yiloch cursed inwardly and took hold of Ian’s shoulders, pulling him
in to a strong embrace. The young creator was the closest link he had left to his lost friend. Ian returned the embrace. Glancing past the youth in his arms, he saw Indigo nod, a faint smile of approval touching her lips.
Yiloch pushed him away after a few minutes. “You ought to rest. You look dreadful.”
Ian smiled weakly, giving him a look that conveyed similar sentiments, then he nodded. Yiloch guided him to the bed with a hand on one shoulder. Ian shucked off his jacket and boots, falling onto the bed like a tossed sack of grain. His shoulders shook as he curled in on himself and Yiloch glanced at Indigo. She nodded, understanding the request behind his look. In seconds, Ian was asleep.
“You’ve done that to me a few times,” he commented, watching Ian’s steady breathing.
“Yes.” She made no effort to deny it. “Only when you truly needed it.”
He gave her a questioning look. “Like when you snuck out of Lyra this last time.”
She shrugged, unwilling to argue with him about it now.
Are you coming back with me?
The words hung on the tip of his tongue, but he wouldn’t ask. It was her decision where she went from here. It had always been her decision. She knew the offer was open. He could think of nothing better than to take her back to Lyra with him. She had so many skills that would be of great help to him and his country, not the least of which was that of keeping him sane. She could train healers, help Ian with the other adepts, even attend public audiences to alert him when someone lied or had ill intentions. With her apparent language skills, she might also be of help in dealing with the Grey Army. There were endless possibilities. All he cared about was that she would be close to him.
Apostate: Forbidden Things Page 26
