Court of Shadows
Page 46
Grinning, he only held her closer. He loved that playful tone of hers.
"Well, breathe me in all you can now, because in five minutes I’m getting up."
Only five minutes? That was a shame. "How about twenty?”
She laughed again, slowly rolled over to face him, and lightly brushed his lips with hers. "I could be convinced."
And… his mouth had made a promise the rest of him wouldn't deliver. At least not today.
"Rielle," he began, gravely, and the laughter on her lips slowly faded. "I didn't get a chance to tell you the night of the second trial, but I could've gotten into the Archives."
Her eyebrows knitted together, and she squinted at him. "You could've?"
He nodded. "I had the chance, but then they mentioned documents that could implicate my father and our family in treason. If I had broken into the Archives that night, I would have missed the chance that I have today… to get those documents and kill that mage and anyone else who'd want to extort our family."
She looked away, and for a minute just stared. There was no expression on her face, no flash or shadow in her eyes, just that blank stare for a moment. She sat up in bed and raked her fingers through her waves of golden hair. "You chose to hide treason… over exposing the mass murder of my family?"
If the truth of all Father’s dealings came to light, it might only end in more deaths. He couldn't save her family from the fate they’d suffered, but he could still save theirs. Their lives had to come before the truth, right?
"I'm not choosing one over the other, Rielle," he said. “But if my father’s treason is exposed, Jon will have him executed, and anyone else in our family if they’re involved—”
“Your father, maybe, but he would never—” she shot back.
“—and our family will be branded traitors. Do you think anyone wants to associate with traitors? Do business? Fight alongside them?”
She clenched her teeth, but didn’t reply.
“I won’t take the chance. And my father may be a traitor, but he’s still my father.”
She glared at him. “A father who knowingly endangered your family with treason.”
That was true, but… what was the alternative? Let Father die? Let their family face the consequences of all this? He would never let that happen, and even Rielle had to agree. “I’m going to get those documents first, today before the trial. I still know the way into the Archives. After I get the documents, I'll go to the Archives and I'll get you what you need."
Closing her eyes, she dropped her head into her hand and rubbed her forehead. "It's too risky, Brennan."
She gathered a sheet around herself, stood from the bed, and moved to the wash basin.
"I'll decide if it's too risky.” He sat up.
Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, and then she turned to face him. "I don't want you risking your life on my account. Especially not for this. If you could've gotten in and out unnoticed, then maybe. But if you take these documents, if you kill someone, then you will be noticed. It's too dangerous."
“I’ll decide what’s too dangerous for me.”
She shook her head vehemently. “Brennan, you’ve missed both of my trials so far. What if that hasn’t gone unnoticed? What if this is a trap, and they’re waiting for you?”
Not possible. “There was no lie in the mages’ voices when they discussed the meeting.”
“To their knowledge,” she emphasized, “the information they were given was genuine, but whoever gave it to them might not have been.”
He scoffed. “Would anyone really go so far, not knowing what I am?”
“Who says no one knows?” She held his gaze. “You almost died the first time,” she said, a slight tremble in her voice. “I refuse to lose you.”
With a snort, he drew up his knees, rested his arms on them, and looked away. What she suggested would require a level of knowledge and scheming he’d never before encountered. Someone would have had to know he was a werewolf, know his abilities, and plan accordingly.
But he’d been very careful with his identity, and few, if any beyond his circle, humans knew what a werewolf could do.
And he’d had no indication that anyone knew what he was—no bodily reaction, no looks, nothing. The Grand Divinus hated Immortals so much that, if she’d known him for what he was, she would have looked at him with pulse-pounding revulsion, revulsion he would perceive as easily as breathing, and she probably would have had him thrown into the arena for one of the trials.
It was too farfetched.
The real risk lay in successfully handling anyone who’d notice him today, if that were to happen.
He wasn't so easy to kill, and Rielle knew that. Indestructible, he’d told her. When it came to risk, he could make his own decisions in the moment. “Don't worry about me, Rielle.”
Soft footsteps padded across the rug, and her shadow blotted out the dim glow coming through the curtains. She leaned in and kissed his head. "I love you. Worrying about you is unavoidable."
That was only an obstacle, and yet the grin stealing onto his face was undeniable. He wrapped an arm around her and threw her onto the bed next to him.
"I have to go," he said. "Will you be all right? Is there anything you need?"
Holding his gaze lovingly, she gave a slow shake of her head. "I still don't really know what I’ll face today”—she heaved a sigh—“but I've been researching conjury and light magic ever since the second trial. I've been practicing dueling, and Daturian helped me come up with a strategy for Mac Carra. And—don't be mad—but I got the resonance I needed at Staff & Stein."
He grimaced… but as a mage, she needed resonance, and he would never deny her what she needed.
She took his hand. "I'm ready, Brennan. As ready as I can be."
The woman he loved would be walking directly into danger, willingly, and the only thing that made it even remotely acceptable was that he was always just a pull of the bond away.
“Don’t let them cuff you in arcanir again. And remember," he said, "if you need me—”
"I know," she insisted. "I'll pull on the bond."
He kissed her, and then with one last look, he rose from the bed and prepared to sneak into Divinity Castle’s inner courtyard to clean up Father’s mess. Yet again.
Chapter 53
In the bedchamber, Rielle buttoned her white mage coat in the mirror and tossed her braid over her shoulder. The mermaid locket was tucked under it, and although she didn't need it, somehow it made her feel better, just it being there.
It was almost noon, and soon the final trial would begin. Today, she, Ariana Orsa, or Riordan Mac Carra would become a magister. Today, she would join the Magisterium, or not, but she would continue fighting for families like her own, against pirates or Immortals or whatever would threaten them, even the Divinity, in any way she could.
I'll do my all. With a confident nod in the mirror to herself, she headed for the door.
She opened it, and Marfa was on the other side in her forest-green overcoat, hands clasped behind her back.
"Are you ready to leave Magehold?” Rielle asked, but Marfa only tilted her head. "Leave… Magehold," she repeated, making a departing gesture with her hand. When Marfa's eyebrows only knitted together, Rielle headed back into Brennan's quarters and then shifted through the books and papers for their maps.
She unrolled one, then pointed to Magehold. Marfa approached and leaned over the table, eyeing the point on the map.
Rielle tapped Magehold and drew her finger across the Shining Sea all the way to Laurentine, and then tapped to the point there. She held up three fingers. "In three days," she said.
Face sullen, Marfa nodded slowly. “Erardo," she said.
Erardo… Is that a person? "Who is that?"
Marfa clenched the edge of the table, her fingernails digging into the wood, spiking to claws, her face contorted in a snarl. "Erardo… Bad. Hurt me," she said in broken Emaurrian, a low growl edging her voice.
"Who is he?" If this Erardo had hurt Marfa, they'd find him together, and show him exactly what happened when someone hurt either of them.
Marfa shook her head. "Kill him," she seethed, laying her palm to her chest. "I kill him."
So Marfa wanted to deal with this Erardo herself.
That was a goal she could understand well… All too well. And she wouldn’t deny Marfa the closure she desired.
"All right,” she said with a nod that Marfa watched carefully. “Do what you have to do, but please be careful.” She met Marfa's deadly gaze with her own, and Marfa nodded. “Come to me if you need help”—she slowly reached for Marfa’s hand and then gestured between them—“and we can deal with Erardo together.”
Marfa squinted, then lowered her gaze contemplatively.
She let her go. “Just make sure you return in two days," she said, holding up two fingers. She then tapped Magehold on the map again and lightly dragged her finger toward the sea.
Marfa nodded. "Two… Days."
Good. Then they understood each other.
Rielle cocked her head toward the door. "Go. Do what you need to do. Find this Erardo, and then find me." She rested her hand on her own chest, and Marfa touched it lightly.
With a nod, Marfa said, “Two days." And with that, she headed out the door and down the stairs in a staccato of booted steps.
Sighing, Rielle rolled up the map and straightened the papers on the desk. She and Brennan weren't the only ones who had business to wrap up in Magehold. Marfa would have only just awoken with the Rift, and already someone had hurt her. Already the Divinity had imprisoned her, tortured her, used her like some weapon. When she found this Erardo, Divinity mage or not, they would deal with him. Marfa had just as much right as anyone to right the wrongs that had been dealt her.
And in an hour, she’d have her own demons to deal with. Mac Carra and whatever other traps and surprises the Grand Divinus had laid for her.
But she’d succeed, overcome Mac Carra and any traps the Grand Divinus had prepared, even if she had to duel Ariana. She’d make Ariana withdraw. She’d win.
And then, as a magister, she’d make sure Eleftheria II’s days were numbered as Grand Divinus. She’d prove her unworthy, if it was the last thing she did, and do her all to turn the Divinity into what it should always have been: a force of good to protect the world when needed. And one way or another, Jon would have the help he needed to deal with the Immortals and keep their people safe.
But first, the final trial.
After straightening up, she took a deep breath, checked for Thorn on her hip and the Sodalis ring on her thumb, and headed for the stairs herself.
Downstairs, no one was about. Even the household seemed to be occupied elsewhere. Would all of Brennan’s family be at the trial? Una had been very supportive, and maybe she would come with Samara; they’d been spending a lot of time together of late, and that was good for both of them—even if they did have to run from roaring Immortals from time to time.
With a deep breath, she stepped outside. The carriage already awaited in the drive, harnessed to the same two black Bellanzanos as always. Pulling on her gloves, she exited, her boots clicking on the cobblestones.
"Good afternoon, Your Ladyship," the coachman said as he pulled open the doors for her, his head bowed.
"Good afternoon," she replied, hitching Thorn on her hip as she entered. She sat in the comfortable darkness of the closed curtains and rested her head.
One hour. Just one hour, and then the trials would be sorted, one way or another.
* * *
In wolf form, Brennan crouched in the concealment of the hazel bush in the inner courtyard of Divinity Castle. He'd been here for hours, and even in wolf form, he hated lying in wait anywhere for so long in the daylight. Too risky, like asking to get caught.
But nothing trapped him here. If he wanted to escape, all he would have to do is run. He was immune to magic, and there wasn't a human alive who could catch him when he ran in wolf form.
Mostly the wait had been uneventful. Occasionally, sparrows would chitter, squabbling over something in the carefully manicured flowering trees, or some mice would rustle through the grass, or occasionally, even something so exciting as a cat would pass through.
Although there was a pavilion, no mages had come.
But they would. Of that, he was certain. He listened, pushing the boundaries of his senses' perception, and after the long wait, at last he heard several sets of footsteps. Someone was settling into the pavilion.
He didn't look, but he didn't have to. One set of footsteps stopped, and there was a soft swish as someone came to rest on a stone bench.
The other sets of footsteps shuffled about, purposefully, and then abruptly stopped, too. Guards getting into position.
He inhaled deeply.
It was the Grand Divinus and her Divine Guard.
If she was here, then it was only a matter of time before the mage who'd spoken about the documents in the Archives would come, too.
The rustling of distant steps through the grass sounded in his periphery, and he breathed in. He recognized this sent, a man’s, mingled with arcanir, and dust, and damp, and blood, and a woman’s—the mage from the other night. From the entrance to the Archives.
The mage was coming this way.
If he attacked the mage, if he killed him here, it would look like a strange wolf attack. A wild animal had gone into the inner courtyard, and the mage had been killed.
But the documents—
Another scent. A woman’s—Marfa’s—in her human form.
What was she doing here? Had Rielle sent her?
He chanced a look in her direction and then froze. The mage, with a black beard and a placid smile, carried a set of scrolls toward the pavilion, right past him.
Soft footsteps—Marfa’s—edged closer. What was she doing? She would ruin everything.
He risked a low growl to her.
Her soft footsteps stopped.
He listened for the pavilion, where the mage’s strides echoed off flagstones and then stopped.
"Most High," the mage’s honeyed tone greeted, "the documents you requested."
Silence, and then the quiet crumple of papers accepted in a hand’s grasp. "Well done, Erardo. I have been most pleased with your work of late."
"You are too generous, Most High," the honeyed tone said again.
A snarl came from Marfa's direction—
What was her problem? Did she plan to—
“Come join us, Brennan Karandis Marcel," the Grand Divinus’s confident voice called out.
His paws inched out of the bush, raking him against stray twigs and branches, and he didn't want to move—
He didn't want to, and yet he emerged from the hazel bush, moved out into the open, still in wolf form.
Completely in sight of all the people at the pavilion.
The Grand Divinus raised her eyebrows, and even from here, he could hear her pulse race.
"Well, you're not what I expected. Not at all." She regarded him with an appraising once-over.
The Divine Guard clustered around her, but she held up her hand. Next to her, Erardo grinned, a rictus grin, an excited grin.
"Change into human form,” the Grand Divinus commanded, crossing her legs casually on the stone bench, and clasping her hands in her lap.
His fur gave way to skin, his paws to hands and feet, and the Change abandoned him through no intention of his own.
He remained crouched, in the grass, unable to move.
What was this? What had she done to him? He was immune to magic, all magic, and the only thing that could affect him was—
“You lost quite a bit of your blood skulking about my castle, Brennan Karandis Marcel,” she said, with an amused twist of her
thin lips. “We do have an official stance against sangremancy, but surely no son of Faolan Auvray Marcel would be so naive."
Sangremancy—like the bond? The bond between him and Rielle?
The Grand Divinus had done something with his blood?
No, not like the bond. Blood-control. A sangremancy spell.
A low growl came from Marfa's position. Hate. Unadulterated hate, as strong as any he’d ever heard.
Great Wolf, if he wasn't in control of himself, would the Grand Divinus ask him to kill Marfa? Command him to?
"Is there someone there, Brennan Karandis Marcel?" the Grand Divinus asked.
Yes.
He didn't answer her, but he wanted to, needed to, with every fiber of his being, a need as strong as the moon’s call to his Wolf when Rielle didn’t give him her blood.
Rielle—
Find her, Marfa. Tell her. Tell her everything.
The longer his silence continued, the more likely the Grand Divinus would ask him to tell her the answer.
He turned his head in Marfa's direction, and roared, deafening and fierce, clearing every animal in the inner courtyard, echoing off the stone walls, willing through his voice that she run.
A racing heart.
A retreating footstep.
And another.
And another.
Then she ran.
"Stop that this instant," the Grand Divinus commanded, while Marfa's footsteps quickened and retreated, superhumanly fast, into the distance. "Now tell me—is someone there, Brennan Karandis Marcel?"
"No," he said. Someone had been there.
"You will never harm me or anyone loyal to me, Brennan Karandis Marcel," the Grand Divinus said. "And the next time you see Favrielle Amadour Lothaire, you will kill her."
* * *
As fast as her feet could take her, Marfa ran from the inner courtyard.
Erardo had been there, and so had her chance to kill him, but Brennan—
Brennan had been there, too, lying in wait, hunting Erardo. For a moment, she’d thought he’d wanted to steal the kill, her kill, and meant to threaten him, fend him off, but then…