“Of course it’s not your fault!” Matheus said firmly.
There was no time to argue about it, because at that moment the door to the study opened again. Rasad emerged, carrying a small tray with several objects, which he placed carefully on the writing desk.
“Now,” he said briskly. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Luciana, I would like you to write a letter for me, please. There are some things I would like to communicate to your prince.”
“I’m not doing anything for you,” Lucy hissed. “And Eamon has nothing to do with any of this.”
“He may not have any place in your plans, my dear, but he has quite a significant place in mine. And the first step is your letter.” Rasad took in the look on Lucy’s face. “Oh, it won’t require too much effort on your part,” he reassured her. “None at all, really. I can do the actual writing.”
“Eamon knows my handwriting,” said Lucy belligerently. “And he’ll know it’s not from me.”
Rasad chuckled. “I’m counting on him knowing your handwriting.” He smiled genially at his captives. “I think you’ll appreciate this little trick. It’s quite a clever one, if I say so myself. Have you heard of the Balenan chameleon?” Lucy and Matheus remained silent, glaring at him. “No?” Rasad went on, unperturbed. “It’s a species of lizard that lives in the jungle. It has the peculiar property of being able to change its coloring depending on its environment. For camouflage, you know.”
“You’re into studying the local wildlife, are you?” Lucy asked sarcastically.
“I’m interested in anything that can further my research,” said Rasad calmly. “And I discovered, after a great deal of experimentation, that there are many uses for combining chameleon scales with dragon matter. When applied correctly, it can allow one person to take on the properties of another, so to speak.”
“What does that mean?” Matheus demanded.
“Many things,” said Rasad. “But in this case, it means that I can save your sister the effort of writing anything herself.” He smiled at Lucy. “It would be challenging with your hands tied, after all. But knowing your skills as I do, I’m not eager to release you. So this is a neat solution, don’t you think?”
Lucy said nothing, trying not to show her apprehension.
“Now,” said Rasad, his tone turning businesslike. “I think your hair will be enough.”
Lucy pulled away as he leaned forward, but she was unable to prevent him from plucking a hair from her head. He turned his back on them, blocking his activities with his body as he did something with the items on his tray. The silence stretched out, and Lucy could feel her brother’s eyes on her. She tried to keep her own expression impassive, not wanting to add to his panic.
A strange smell filled the air as Rasad turned back around. “I’m not being a very entertaining host,” he said apologetically. “Alchemy is a delicate business, you know. It requires my full focus. But I think we’re ready now.”
He reached into the writing desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. “How shall we begin?” He stared into the distance for a moment, then nodded as he drew a quill from an ink pot sitting on the desk. “Dear Eamon,” he said, writing fluidly. “I know you may not want to hear from me, but I don’t know who else to turn to.”
He grinned provocatively at Lucy as he held up the parchment. “That opening should be enough to bring him running no matter what else I write, don’t you think? But I’m confident I can do still better.”
Lucy opened her mouth, a furious protest on her lips, but her gaze fell on the words scratched onto the parchment, and she froze. The words might be Rasad’s, but the writing was undeniably her own, as familiar as her face in a mirror.
“That’s not possible,” she whispered.
“It’s not, is it?” Rasad agreed, enthusiasm in his voice. “And yet, it’s happening right in front of your eyes!” He turned back to the writing desk. “But this is no time to get distracted. How’s this? ‘Rasad has asked me to marry him, and I’m not sure what I want. He’s coming back to Thirl, but I don’t want to be seen in the city with him until I’ve made up my mind. Will you meet me at—’” Rasad stopped reading aloud for a moment, although he continued to scratch something out onto the parchment, presumably directions for where Lucy supposedly wanted Eamon to meet her.
“I don’t want anyone else to know,” Rasad added after a moment’s thought, again dictating as he wrote. “So please come alone.” He made a great show of underlining the last sentence before signing off and looking up at Lucy and Matheus. “I didn’t think there was any need to bore you with the details of the rendezvous, but you get the idea.”
Lucy felt heat and ice rushing over her body in quick succession. She could imagine Eamon’s reaction to receiving such a letter from her, and the thought was terrifying. Rasad clearly believed he had found a foolproof way to lure Eamon out to whatever location he had chosen. And the most horrifying part was that he was right.
“Leave Eamon out of this,” she said, her voice trembling. “There’s no need to involve him.”
“I hate to contradict you, Luciana,” said Rasad briskly, sealing up the envelope. “But there’s every need. I assure you, it’s not personal. I have nothing against him,” he inclined his head toward her in mock deference, “other than our rivalry for your affections, of course. But he’s rather in the way.”
“What are you going to do to him?” Lucy demanded.
Rasad continued as if she hadn’t spoken, packing the letter into a leather satchel as he did. “If he was a child, like King Giles’s heir, perhaps he could be allowed to live. The Balenan crown prince is only twelve, and I can’t imagine his presence will do much to counteract how deeply Balenol will be weakened once the new king tragically dies.”
The sharp intake of breath from both listeners was audible, but Rasad kept speaking, his tone dispassionate.
“But Kyona is stronger than Balenol, and sadly King Calinnae is not currently in my reach. However, I think disposing of his heir will be enough of a blow to the kingdom to serve my purposes well enough.”
“You won’t get away with this!” shouted Lucy, struggling furiously. Her wrists were rubbed raw by the ferocity of her attempt to escape, but she barely noticed it. Her mind was clear, but her vision swam, as if she was blinded by her rage over her own powerlessness.
“Actually,” said Rasad, again ignoring Lucy’s words, “speaking of King Giles’s approaching death reminds me of another count against Prince Eamon. His irritating intervention set my plans back most unhelpfully.”
Lucy gasped. “You were behind the attack on King Giles.” For a moment she felt a hint of confusion among the fear and fury, as she pictured the face of Eamon’s guard as the Kyonan threw the knife at King Giles. He had certainly seemed to be acting of his own will. “You used magic on him somehow,” she said slowly. “On the guard.”
Rasad sighed. “I did, and I very much resent Prince Eamon causing me to waste one of my precious crystals. It takes powerful magic to have that kind of impact on someone’s mind and intentions. It would have helped me out if the guard had been weaker minded, of course. But the crystal was strong enough—and it worked so perfectly on him, it was maddening for it all to come to nothing. Even a failed attempt by a Kyonan guard to kill the Balenan king should have at least succeeded in destroying any idea of an alliance between the two kingdoms.” He frowned. “But thanks to Prince Eamon being the one to save the day, it didn’t even achieve that.”
“How devastating for you,” said Lucy, her voice trembling with suppressed anger.
Rasad shrugged. “Oh, I wouldn’t say devastating. The idea of having Kyona be behind the assassination was only one of many possible courses. If I remove the Kyonan heir, it should be enough. It’s not like any alliance has been formalized. I’ll just have to act quickly enough that there’s no time for Balenol to go running to the North Lands for help.”
“Eamon won’t let himself be killed by a pathetic weasel like you,”
Matheus spat. His voice dripped with scorn, but it wasn’t enough to hide his fear.
“Oh, I won’t personally touch a hair on his head,” said Rasad calmly. “I’ll leave that part in more capable hands.”
Lucy stopped struggling for a moment, hanging her head. Matheus might think Eamon was unbeatable, the valiant fighter seen by girls like Sonia and Vanessa, back in the Kyonan court. But she knew him better. He was strong, and he was a good fighter, but he wasn’t invincible. He could be overpowered by superior numbers just like anyone else.
He was human, with failings and vulnerabilities, the same as the next man. He was as overconfident as he was kind hearted. As impatient as he was good humored. He saw so much more than she had given him credit for, but he frequently missed things that should have been obvious to him. Generally even tempered, he was hot headed to the point of stupidity on the rare occasions when he let himself be provoked. He was charming, and handsome, and infuriating, and wonderful. He was both much less and so much more than the perfect image of him that Lucy had carried as a girl.
And the worst thing was, Rasad knew all this. He had taken the time to learn how best to manipulate Eamon, just as he had done with Lucy. The advisor was going to ensure that Eamon wasn’t at his best, because he was going to draw the prince out by pressing on his greatest vulnerability—her.
Lucy barely held back a sob. She had no doubt that if Rasad succeeded in luring Eamon into a trap, the prince would fall, and fall hard. And the knowledge that she herself was being used to do it was more bitter than anything that had come before. She had given Eamon little reason to want to humor her in her supposed request for his help, but she didn’t doubt for a moment that he would drop everything to come to her. He would move the moon in the sky for her if he could, despite the way she had treated him the last few months.
And what would he think when he realized he had been tricked? Would he die believing she had willingly played a part in Rasad’s treachery? The thought was unbearable.
“Don’t do this,” she said, her voice strangled and quiet. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
She could see Matheus’s shock out of the corner of her eye. She knew that hearing her beg would scare her brother more than the rest, but for the moment she had no strength left to fight.
“Anything?” Rasad repeated, studying her thoughtfully as he paused in his preparations. “Even marry me?”
Lucy recoiled, unable to hide her horror, but a moment later the advisor was chuckling.
“That’s not a flattering reaction, but I won’t take offense, since it has become very clear that you don’t share my capacity for vision. There’s no need to look so disgusted, my dear. I was only joking. I wanted you as a willing partner in my endeavors—I’m not interested in a wife who had to be coerced into the role. If you have no interest in my plans, it’s really much simpler for me to make use of you in more direct ways.”
Lucy glared at him, trying to steady her breathing. She wanted to do whatever it took to save Eamon, but selfishly she was glad she wasn’t being asked to make such a choice. There must be another way.
“You can’t win, you know,” said Matheus. His words were furious, but unless Lucy was mistaken, there was a hint of relief in his voice as well. “Even if you could kill Eamon, Jocelyn would just become heir.”
“Don’t let it worry you,” said Rasad calmly. “My plans for Princess Jocelyn are already underway.”
Lucy hadn’t thought it was possible, but her horror increased. The idea of something happening to Eamon was awful enough, but the thought of her best friend in danger as well made her feel like she was being suffocated. It had seemed over the top before, but she was suddenly grateful that Jocelyn’s new husband was rattled enough by the attack in Balenol that he didn’t like to let his wife out of his sight.
“Kincaid won’t let you hurt her,” she said without thinking.
Rasad just smiled as he strode for the door. He seemed to have finished with his immediate preparations, and a moment later he had called his guards back in.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said to Lucy, his expression alarmingly smug.
Lucy’s fear mounted. Kincaid was besotted. Rasad couldn’t use his magic to turn the Valorian against his own wife. Could he?
“Escort our guests to their new sleeping quarters,” Rasad was telling his guards coolly. “I will leave for Thirl first thing in the morning, and they will accompany me.”
He watched dispassionately as the guards immediately seized the two Kyonans. Seeing Lucy glaring at him, he gave her a charming smile. “I look forward to your company on the journey, my dear.”
Lucy turned her face away, unwilling to play his game. Had it really been only that morning that she had gone riding with him by the ocean, and a small, guilty part of her had been tempted by the luxurious life he could offer her? How could she ever have doubted he was a deceitful, murderous villain?
The guards obviously had no difficulty understanding Rasad’s vague instructions, because they dragged Lucy and Matheus straight to the Bastion’s more official dungeons. It was surreal to be hauled like criminals through the corridors they had been wandering as honored guests for the past week. Servants shot curious looks at them, but no one showed any inclination to intervene or ask questions. In fact, no one even looked especially surprised. It all just added to Lucy’s fury with herself for ever doubting the nature of Rasad’s intentions.
The siblings were thrown into adjoining cells, and mercifully their bindings were removed once they were secured inside. Any hope of escape quickly died. The guards knew what they were doing, and they gave their prisoners no opening. The dungeons were solid, the bars unyielding. The only benefit was that Rasad apparently felt no need to set someone to watch the cells. Once they had deposited their captives, the guards withdrew, leaving Lucy and Matheus free to talk.
“What are we going to do?” Matheus asked at once.
“I don’t know,” Lucy admitted.
“We have to stop him!” Matheus insisted.
“I know,” said Lucy, rubbing her eyes wearily. “We can’t let him kill Eamon and Jocelyn. Or King Giles.”
“Or let him invade Balenol, then move on to Kyona,” added Matheus dryly.
Lucy groaned. “Valoria too, I’m pretty sure. He wants Thorania to be an empire, remember? He wants control of both continents.”
Matheus shuddered. “But he basically admitted that King Abner has no interest in expanding Thorania’s borders. Do you really think he can use magic to persuade the king to give the order? It’s a pretty big thing to change his mind about.”
“I really do,” said Lucy grimly. “Rasad has been planning this for a long time. You can be sure he wouldn’t move unless everything was in place. And if he can bring King Abner on board, the rest will be easy. You saw how many troops are camped outside the capital for this military muster! They’re provisioned, and trained, and their presence so close to the border won’t even make the Balenans suspicious, since the muster happens every year. The army will obey the king’s orders, and it will be too late to stop it.”
Matheus groaned. “Lady Yasmin was right—it’s no coincidence that the military muster is happening right now, while the royals are in Thirl.” He was silent for a moment, thinking. “But first Rasad has to kill King Giles. He won’t move against Balenol unless he’s sure the kingdom is weak. We have to warn King Giles somehow.”
“Yes,” Lucy agreed. “But first we have to make sure that letter never makes it to Eamon.” When she remembered what the letter said, all the fight suddenly went out of her. “Listen to us,” she groaned. “Full of great plans about stopping this disaster.” She gestured around hopelessly. “We’re locked in a dungeon, completely in his power. We can’t do anything.”
She felt uselessly for her weapon, knowing perfectly well that she had surrendered it in Rasad’s suite. “You don’t have an extra blade hidden on you, do you?” she asked hopefully.
Matheus s
hook his head. “They took it from me when they seized me. I should have fought harder, but I’d just seen Cody go over the edge, and I was…” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard. “I can’t believe he’s gone, Lucy,” he whispered. “I know it’s a long way down, but I can’t help hoping he survived.”
“We can’t dwell on it,” said Lucy firmly, blinking back the tears that stung her own eyes. Cody had always been strong, and she couldn’t help the sliver of hope inside her either. But she didn’t say so, not wanting to give her brother false hope. “We can’t think about it now. Not yet. Cody would tell us to stay focused on the bigger problem.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Regardless of what she said, she couldn’t keep her eyes on the bigger problem when she thought about the way Rasad intended to lure Eamon out.
“This is all my fault,” she whispered. “I’m as bad as Isidore.”
“Of course it’s not your fault,” said Matheus, sounding irritated.
“It is.” Lucy’s voice was hollow. “Cody told me that I knew who to trust if I would just listen to my instincts, but I let myself be blinded by my bitterness, and I let Rasad manipulate me.” She ground her teeth. “He played on my insecurities, and I did everything he wanted me to do.”
“Not everything,” said Matheus meaningfully.
Lucy shuddered at the reference to Rasad’s twisted marriage proposal, but brushed the thought aside. “Even you warned me. You said I was wrong not to tell Eamon everything, about Lady Yasmin’s warnings, and our reasons for accepting Rasad’s invitation. But I was too stubborn. If I’d been honest with Eamon and told him my suspicions about Rasad, he wouldn’t be fooled into thinking I was considering a marriage proposal from him. If I’d told Eamon that Lady Yasmin had reason to think that Rasad was behind the attack on King Giles, and that we were coming to the Bastion to investigate, Eamon would know better than to obey a cryptic letter telling him to come alone to an obscure meeting place.”
“When you put it like that,” said Matheus fairly, “he should know better without being told all that.”
Downfall of the Curse Page 34
