The sorcerer crossed to the next window. His features were sharp, and his skin was pale. His short hair was nearly black, his frame tall and lean. Cass did not remember the man from his youth, and the man clearly did not remember Cass.
Cass pressed his booted feet to the floor but was unable to gain purchase. His gaze darted to the open windows, the spiral stair, and the single closed door. “Take me first,” Cass demanded. “By the laws of mercy, burn me now.”
The sorcerer did not so much as turn.
“Take me first, or I will fight and scream to the very end.”
The man gave Cass a flat look. Any number of potions would silence Cass, but he was betting on the sorcerer not wanting to waste stock when his captives would be burned within minutes, regardless. Cass did not let his gaze waver. It was a vow to make the task as unpleasant as possible and drive the meticulous man to vexation by the only means he had. The man gave Cass a measured look, likely deciding whether it was worth the trouble to knock him out or stuff his mouth with a rag, but the sorcerer only sighed and positioned the sharp tool on the table in its neat row.
Cass’s chest squeezed, hope thrashing beneath his bonds. When the Storm Queen had taken rule, she’d set a protection to prevent the sorcerers from coming back into power. It was a bond that had helped keep the throne secure. Cass was no mere queensguard. He was bloodsworn.
Inky smoke crawled across the stone floor, spreading from the sorcerer’s feet. His thin, scarred hands curled into claws as he reached out. His eyes had gone milky white, and his mouth was hard. The power did not come easily, but it had become their nature to reach for it when other means might be just as quick. The darkness wanted sacrifice, paid in blood. Those who practiced continued to use it, because once they started, they couldn’t stop. Magic demanded a price.
The smoke swelled over Cass’s body, rising with the sickly-sweet stench of decay. The sorcerer flicked his wrists, releasing the dark energy to do its work with a snap of angry heat, and turned back to his tools.
He had no notion the magic was useless on Cass, less a threat than the tiny blade he held. As the sorcerer’s flame erupted, searing and unnatural on the dais, it burned instantly through Cass’s clothes and the ropes.
Cass felt the pull of his grim smile. Dark magic was a thing of unmatched power but one that could never reach those bound to the queen by blood. Fire raged over him, but he rose, bare and unsteady. Cassius of Stormskeep could not be burned.
Cass burst from the dais the moment his ropes burned free, launching himself at the sorcerer while flames still licked at the shreds of material that had been his clothes. He was bare but for the pants that had been spattered with blood from a shallow wound over his abdomen. The sorcerer turned just as Cass slammed into him, eyes wide at the realization that Cass had not been burned and that the boy he’d tied to a rack was no mere peasant.
It was too late for the knowledge to be of help. The table crashed to the floor beside them, thin metal tools clattering over stone. The narrow blade he’d held glanced off of Cass’s bare shoulder, but Cass snapped the man’s neck before he managed another blow. The tool rolled to the floor among the others. Cass’s blood dripped from a cut he hadn’t felt. He glanced down at himself and the shards of metal beneath his bare feet then cursed, leaving the mess to go to Miri.
He lifted her head gently and slowly, flinching at the sight of her face. She must have fought the kingsmen who’d carried her to the tower, because the coal black she’d painted below her brow was smeared over her features. Her eyes were wide and distant, lost to the call of the dark magic the sorcerers held. Cass didn’t need to check the body behind him. The man was dead—which meant the other sorcerer was close, near enough to put Miri into a state of trance.
He carefully unbound her ropes, his fingers slick with sweat. “Miri,” he whispered, laying her on the floor beside her would-be pyre. She did not react. Cass checked her for wounds, but she still wore her gown. Her skin was covered aside from her hands and face. He scanned the work table’s contents and found a pitcher that seemed to contain only water beside a folded rag. He splashed it over his blood on the floor, cleaned his feet, then, with a steadying breath, stole the dead man’s shoes. He grabbed the black cloak from the rack, found his discarded scabbard and sword, and shoved two knives from the table beneath a stolen belt.
Cass knelt before Miri, taking her face in his hand so that she might see him. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I will get us free.”
One way or the other, Cass would keep her from another sorcerer’s hands. He hoped it would be safely. By the gods, he hoped he could do it. He lifted her body into his arms and ran for the stairs.
Chapter 28
Miri was trapped within her body, unable to even scream. A familiar fear threatened to drown her, a feeling she could not separate from the very real danger they were in. She’d felt it before, as a child, when she’d been drenched in her mother’s blood.
Cass apologized each time he shifted her and each time he stumbled. Her throat was thick, her chest was heavy, and she had the taste of ash in her mouth. When they’d been caught, the kingsmen had knocked out Cass and thrown him over a shoulder to toss his body into a lift to reach the tower. Miri had tried for her dagger then, but she had lost her faculties and was suddenly being dragged between two men. They’d thought she had fainted. They had laughed. The panic that had seized her had only grown as they’d climbed the tower. Miri was unable to move at all by the time she reached the sorcerer’s room. She had wondered if she would soon lose the capacity to breathe, but it had not come to that, even when the man had touched her.
She could still feel the pinch of his icy fingers as they jerked her into place and bound her to the rack. Her mask had fallen off somewhere along the way, but Miri could feel the oily colors that smeared her face. It was maybe all that had saved her. The man no more than glanced at her as she was shoved face down over a basin.
“Leave her,” the sorcerer had said, and the kingsmen had done so without argument.
Miri counted the steps, the way she had done on the kingsman’s ascent, willing the ability to move into her limbs. But she could not. She was frozen and could do nothing, even as Cass shifted her over his shoulder and ran. She heard the clink of metal, the shouts, and the sound of running boots. Cass spun beneath her, sword in hand, and lunged at two men. One fell where she could see him. The other she only heard. Cass set her down on a step to drag the bodies into an alcove then issued another apology before he lifted her again.
Sorry for what? she wanted to scream. She didn’t know whether he was sorry for saving her, for doing the one thing she could never do, or if he was sorry that she was trapped in a hell, helpless to break free. It didn’t matter. It only mattered that they got away from there, even if the only answer was jumping from the side of the tower and plunging to their deaths.
Miri would not let them have her blood. It would be the only thing worse than letting them live, the only thing worse than breaking her vow.
“Seven hells,” Cass grumbled, spinning to face two more men.
He handled them quickly, even with her body draped over his shoulder, but she could tell the running was wearing him down. He slipped into a darkened corridor, and Miri felt a cool breeze cross her skin as he settled her to the ground. Somehow, beneath the layers of ash and bitter smoke, she tasted fresh air. They were getting away, gaining distance enough that she was not so drowned in fear. But it was not far enough. She heard Cass’s breath in the darkness and felt him shifting beside her before he went still. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, nearer then farther away. Cass’s dagger slid into a sheath, and he slumped down beside her. His breathing grew steadier before he rose again, taking her in his arms.
She felt as if the high collar of her gown was choking her but could do nothing to rip it free. Her thoughts were clearing, though, and her breath was coming more easily. When they broke through the last doorway and into a moonlit sky, a sigh escape
d from her.
Cass’s arm was firm across her legs as he strode from the tower dressed in a sorcerer’s robe. She could hear the river beneath the bridge and hoped that if they were caught, he would be strong enough to toss her in. If they were lucky, the fall would kill them before their bodies could be fished from the water. If they were lucky, they would be drowned without spilling a drop of blood.
Miri felt the pain in her side once more and felt the movement of her eyelids in a scratchy, horrible blink. She was returning to herself, and her fingers curled into Cass’s stolen robe. He jolted, then his head swiveled as he searched their surroundings. He stopped to settle Miri onto the ground and knelt before her to peer into her face. She only nodded. She didn’t think she could speak. He shoved aside layers of her dress to check her shoes then slid his hands beneath her arms to raise her to standing. When she didn’t wobble, he let her test her steps, and the gratitude was bare on his face.
She could walk. They could run. Cass did not say a word and only shoved a dagger into her hand. He took hold of the other, his palm hot against hers, and turned her toward the path.
Then the bells atop the tower sounded, and a castle full of kingsmen went on alert.
Miri ran with Cass toward the cliff’s edge, the drop that led to the landing where boats were loaded to haul cargo down the Maidensgrace. They would never escape. Cass had to know that, and she opened her mouth to tell him so and demand that they should jump. But Cass need not go with her, she realized. He was only a guard. Miri’s blood was the true danger, and his vow could not stop him from keeping her out of the sorcerers’ hands.
“Cass,” she managed, her voice broken and dry, but before another word spilled from her throat, it contracted with unstoppable fear.
He took hold of her, evidently seeing the look cross her face and knowing the second sorcerer must be near. He yanked her from the side of the cliff. Her skirts were a wall of fabric around her, the blood magic a painful seizing of her chest, then they splashed into cool water. Miri’s limbs were unable to fight the current, though distance had brought her the capacity to at least not breathe the water into her lungs. She was pushed and thrown in the darkness, cold blackness surrounding her to pull her down, and she was drowning beneath the weight of it for the second time in her life.
Water. Ash. Blood.
Then Cass’s arm came around her, and he towed her with him as he swam backward toward the rock wall. She sucked in a breath but didn’t struggle, and soon he held on to a mooring as the current tugged at her skirts. Her fingers rose to her neck over his arm, fumbling helplessly over the buttons at her collar. She felt as if she still could not breathe.
Cass’s mouth came to her ear, and over the muffled shouts above and sounds of faraway ship work, he said, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
She let out an incredulous laugh, and her eyes ran with tears as she raised her face to the night sky beyond a cliff wall. Cass held her tighter. She gulped in air, wrapping her arms around his. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest behind her and his legs beneath the current in a stolen ceremonial robe. Miri forced her breathing to calm, pacing it with his, but she could not stop the tears that ran freely.
“You’re safe,” he said against her neck. “You’re safe, and I’m going to get you onto a boat. We’re going home, Myrina. We’re going to Stormskeep.”
Chapter 29
Miri spent days in the dark hold of a narrow river boat with Cass, tucked between crates and barrels as ropes and pulleys swayed overhead. Her guard had known men on the river and knew who and how to approach. He’d called in favors, made threats, and handed over the last of his coins and jewels. The first night, they had curled together, soaked in river water and weak from their flight. Cass had loosened the buttons at her neck, which had felt as if they were choking her, wiped the last of the black from her eyes, then returned his arm to its place around her as they listened to the men above and waited for sounds of their discovery.
But the kingsmen had never come. The following day, still exhausted, they sat quietly in the darkness. Miri had relived their escape a dozen times, but that count was nothing compared to the nightmare of being tied beneath the sorcerer’s hands, helpless and so close to losing her blood. She was no longer paralyzed by the darkness, but it had become clear exactly how much hold the blood magic had over her.
Queen’s blood was the most powerful and dangerous. It was why they hadn’t yet killed Lettie. Changing fate always had a cost. The cost of their mother dying had been paid by the people of the realm, thousands slaughtered at the hands of the sorcerers on the kings’ commands. They had kept Lettie alive thus far, but it would not last. On her name day, the moment she was a true queen and able to ascend, her sister would be gone.
The magic’s hold over Miri was the same as the paralyzing fear she’d felt the day her mother had died. They had stolen her mother’s blood, and somehow, it was affecting Miri too.
“I didn’t know,” Cass said. Dim light shone through overhead, but it barely reached them where they huddled among the cargo. At her look, he said, “I didn’t know you were afraid of the water. I should have.”
He must have seen the remembered terror in her face, and though Miri could not say she relished once again being trapped in the darkness with the fear, it was not the same. Cass was with her, and she was not alone. She ran her hands over her bare arms. She’d stripped off the dress and draped it in layers so that the material could fully dry, and she sat with him in nothing but a thin shift and her underthings, her mother’s pendant safely sewn into the hem. Cass had not done the same, though he’d loosened the neck of the sorcerer’s robe enough to reveal that he was bare underneath.
“I’m not,” she said quietly. “It’s not the water. I thought it was, but all this time...” Her eyes met his again. “It wasn’t the water.”
It was the magic that had wrapped her in dread and had made her feel as if she would be swallowed by darkness and drowned.
“Do you wonder,” he asked, “what would have happened if we’d left on the ship in Smithsport?”
She did not wonder. Miri might have lived, but only at the cost of breaking her vow. Lettie would have died.
“I’ve thought of a thousand ways in which we might help you,” Cass admitted. “Gathering the last of us, storming the castle in the night.” He shook his head. “None of it would work. We all knew it. There was no way to reach her inside those castle walls.”
No way to bypass the sorcerers, he meant, and no way to change their fate.
“I didn’t know I would react that way,” she told him. “I should have. Gods, how could I not have known, but I didn’t, Cass. I didn’t understand what it would do to me. I never felt tied to it at all.”
If Cass had not been bloodsworn, both he and Miri would be dead. And with the blood the sorcerers drained from her—once they realized what they had—they would likely have moved on the kings, taken rule themselves, and destroyed what was left of order in the realm. As it was, only one thing was stopping them.
“We can’t let them use Lettie,” Miri whispered. “They can never take her blood.”
Cass didn’t answer, because they both knew the kings would wait. Queen’s blood was the only thing capable of dismantling the protections the Storm Queen put in place, and until Lettie’s name day, she would not be a true queen. The sorcerers would attempt to take her then. But the kings were no fools. They understood that a queen was the only one who could prevent the sorcerers from overtaking the realm. They would have a plan in place to prevent such a thing, probably to drain her in a public display and let her blood spill over the square. They would be safe from the sorcerers’ grasp.
Both sides played a dangerous game. No matter who won, it was the realm who paid the price.
“They’ll be watching the ports.” Cass sighed, returning to the more pressing issue of their continued escape. “We’ll have to swim ashore north of Stormskeep and continue on foot until we can
find a safe route in.” He did not have to say the rest—that sorcerers would be everywhere and that Miri’s face could be recalled by anyone old enough to remember. Stormskeep was her home, its citizens her family. They would not forget. “I’ll sneak into the shelter deck and find us some clothes.” His gaze raked over her hair. “Maybe see if you can sort that out.”
Miri hiccuped a laugh, but it made her chest hurt. “Daring words for a man who’s nearly bare beneath a stolen robe.”
Cass’s expression was solemn, and she had the feeling he was grateful he had any clothes at all. He rose to his feet, muttering, and Miri’s smile melted into something more genuine.
Cass had returned with hard bread and two sets of dusty clothes, and Miri was dressed as a crewman, baggy pants tucked into her boots and braided hair stuffed beneath a worn cap. Cass had tied a block to the monstrosity that was her costume dress and drowned it in the river, in case the ship was searched at dock. They were safe from being reported since the crew had given them passage, because the kings wouldn’t care whether they’d intended to help or not. In the days that had followed Miri and Cass’s escape, the other sorcerers would have discovered the footprints out of the ash and that Cass had not been burned. The kingsmen would have been questioned and would have admitted that the captive girl had fainted and that she’d had to be carried as they approached the tower.
Traces of their presence and details of the previous assassinations would be tallied. Miri and Cass would be found out.
They leapt from the boat without warning to the captain or crew. Cass had waited for an opportune moment when the crew was distracted so that he could tow Miri with him as he swam toward shore. The fewer who witnessed their departure, the better, and Miri saw none appear to take notice, if they’d seen them at all.
Seven Ways to Kill a King Page 19
