"Somewhere in there you can see me, I know it." They began the slow, predatory circle of combat, ignoring the others in the room.
Her father's face twisted with struggle, wrinkling the pitted features into an expression that looked vaguely human. For one breathless moment she gave in to hope, her feet continuing the defensive circle while the creature battled the man. It hurt to look at him, to know what might have been if their lives had not been interrupted by the power hungry. The knowledge of what should have been swirled between them, containing a power all its own that seemed to break through to the man. His face cleared of the struggle and he looked down at something on the floor.
"Elsie," he whispered. It was an effort for him to life his gaze to hers. He gave a brief, remorseful smile. "You should run."
"No, father," she felt resignation hit her in the pit of the stomach. "No more running."
There was no further struggle, no outward appearance of the change but she knew when her father had left and the creature returned. It lurched at her an instant later, crossing the space between them with jerky, blurred movement. It took every ounce of her concentration to block the three strikes it made, two high, one low and then it slid closer.
She recognized the trap a moment too late.
It had one leg positioned between her feet, one arm had swung at her head and she'd blocked it. She'd been retaliating with her free hand, aiming straight for her father's nose, when she saw the blur of movement in her peripheral vision. Talons thrust hard and fast into her left side, accompanied by sudden, breathless pain. Euphoria rushed over the Dellidus' features as it began to draw Talent from her core. It felt as though she was being ripped from the inside out, that invisible force that was her magic took on a solid, physical pain so intense she couldn't even scream.
***
Dorian staggered and grabbed for the wall. Only he was in the cramped, circular stairwell leading up to his rooms and the curve of the wall threw him off. His knee bashed into the next step as he toppled over. Elsie was in pain. Violent pain. Nauseous and shaken by the sudden onslaught Dorian had to pause long enough to catch his breath. He'd been skirting guards, picking his way upward to rally his father for the fight, but now he charged up the stairwell, leaving caution aside.
He reached the top of the stairs, took three steps into the corridor, and stopped, body rigid with recognition before his mind could process what he saw. Three guards laid sprawled on the floor, creating a long, crooked trail of contorted limbs that led to where Artimus stood. His hand was on the door to Rorant's room, but he seemed to stop himself, smiled full and malicious, and turned to face Dorian instead.
"I'm almost insulted," Artimus said. "Either you completely forgot about me or you figured I was less of a threat than the Vicaress."
"There is more at play here than just you and the Vicaress."
He couldn't tell whether or not Artimus had already paid his father a visit, and he was afraid to dwell on it. Keeping himself from glancing at the door, he faced Artimus and did a mental tally of his weapons. Because he'd known battle was eminent he'd gathered everything he could. Pistol, powder, bullets, the knives bound at his chest, his sword. He'd even snagged a handful of caltrops from Elsie's arsenal. They'd been effective in stopping him, after all, it seemed only natural to try them out for himself.
"You must be thinking of that Dellidus creature," Artimus took a step away from the door. "Do you know, I didn't believe her at first? I thought she was falling prey to one of Reonne's more clever tricks."
"I can only imagine your surprise when you discovered it was real."
"Utter shock I tell you. And then when I watched it eat its way through the Bedim Sanctuary. Well," he smiled, self-depreciating, "I became ever-grateful for the alliance I made."
"You can't make an alliance with a Dellidus. It will only betray you in the end."
"I would be touched at your concern if I didn't know better," Artimus said, smirking. "For a while I really did think you would mourn Lorelei forever. I should have known Elsie would change that. She's quite the specimen, wouldn't you say? Dangerous, beautiful, partially psychotic."
"Which would be why you forced her into a promise of marriage."
The corridor was only large enough for two to walk side by side, which would restrict movement when the fighting began. And Dorian knew fighting was about to begin. Artimus was finished with waiting. Truth be told, so was he. His Talent had lost track of Elsie when he'd spotted Artimus, which was disconcerting, but it was obvious that his former friend wasn't going to stand aside.
Artimus' smile turned dark. "Forced her? No, Sal. I tortured it out of her. Tortured. And she didn't give in right away, either. Would you like to hear about it?"
Dorian felt his magic fume. He became acutely aware of the proximity between his hand and his pistol. The sound of the shot would alert his father - if he was still alive. Artimus chuckled, sending the hair on his neck on end. There was no time for this, and yet he hesitated, remembering a boy who had once been closer than a brother; a young man who had laughed with him and bled with him.
There was no trace of that boy in the Bedim before him.
"Lorelei died to keep me from fighting you," Dorian said, so quiet that the words seemed to whisper through the hall. "Because she loved us both." He took the pistol from his belt and drew back the firing mechanism. "What love Elsie had for you was lost the moment that contract was signed. There's nothing standing between us, Artimus Berkuska. Charge me now or step aside, either way this is over."
With a snarl and a streak of movement Artimus charged. Dorian reacted with a mild amount of surprise. After all the goading the man had been doing he'd almost expected Artimus to argue. Lifting his pistol he fired, grazing Artimus's left shoulder. A half a breath later their bodies collided with a crack that rent through the corridor. In the time it had taken for Artimus to reach him, Dorian had dropped the pistol and yanked out his sword.
Three guardsmen barreled in from the curve of the hallway and stopped, opting to let them fight it out. A wise decision on their part, though Dorian had little time to congratulate them. Artimus thrust something sleek and metallic at his stomach and he was forced to turn aside. The object sliced through the air, missing his body but catching on his jacket. Dorian grabbed Artimus' wrist before he could redirect the attack and slammed his forehead directly into the man's nose.
It hurt a good deal more than he'd been expecting. Dorian staggered backward at the same moment that Artimus released him. He had to shake his head twice to focus around the initial throb. Artimus was in worse condition, blinking off the swell of tears and smearing blood away from his nose.
Just as he launched at Artimus again, the door to his father's room swung open. Artimus countered, unsheathing his sword and bent time in order to block the assault. The impact of their swords rung through the air, jarred his shoulder, and made him grit his teeth. Dorian had to ignore the door and the sounds of the guardsmen moving in. They had decided to keep the odds where they were and stop whoever might be emerging from Rorant's room.
Artimus must have sensed the conflict in Dorian. With his free hand he pulled another blade from his belt and slashed upward with it. Dorian stopped the dagger with his forearm, growling at is pierced through sleeve and skin and grazed past bone. Something struck him in the groin and all breath left him. Bent over, lights rimming his vision, Dorian registered the pain when Artimus pulled the knife from his forearm.
He pulled his Talent into healing - groin first, Fates help him, or he wouldn't be able to think - and ducked as Artimus swung a horizontal strike at his head. Feeling his left heel graze the wall, Dorian knew he had to move. Diving for the left, he rolled over his shoulder and came up in a crouch. Artimus spun and drove forward again.
Abandoning finesse, Dorian called his magic to order. The hallway curved and distorted as time bent, speeding Artimus' arrival. He swiveled his body to avoid the thrust of Artimus' blade and shoved himself to his feet, propelling his sw
ord upward with a furious shout. His sword met Artimus' solar plexus with a horrible tearing sound, impaling the man as time settled around them.
There was a pause as Artimus slowly realized what had happened. Their eyes met. Love, hatred, friendship, loss, memories raked between them until finally, almost out of pity, Dorian pulled his blade from his friend's body. Artimus choked and fell, his head striking the wall and tilting off at an odd angle.
Lowering his sword Dorian stared down at the dying man, void of thought. This seemed strange since it was Artimus he was watching, the instigator of thirteen years of hell. Lorelei's murderer. There should have been some thought, some emotion.
A scuffing sound brought him back to the moment and he looked up to see his father stepping over the body of a dead guard. The loose shirt hanging around his father's torso told him that Rorant had been sleeping when the attack began. Dorian was impressed that he was wearing pants, even more impressed by the tint of blood on his sword as he made his way to Dorian's position.
"Winslow and Bart should be at the gate," Dorian knelt down to retrieve his pistol and began to reload.
"Elsie?"
He gave his father a look that explained everything. Turning together they rushed for the stairs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The creature was frighteningly efficient. Within moments it had drained the Heir, who hung in its grasp. Reonne felt a bit queasy at the sight, but kept her good breeding about her. The shattered window showed the early morning light battling against the dark, casting the peaks of Delgora into deeper shadow.
Day was coming.
Ascension Day, she thought. Her heart quickened, and she smiled.
"Mirias," she waited for the petrified servant to peel herself away from the wall. "Summon Leona to the hall."
For the first time since she'd met the woman, Mirias forgot to curtsy, fleeing the room in a snap of skirts. Reonne smirked and moved for the doorway, correcting her gown and her hair as though she were preparing for court. Not even the reek of the Dellidus could pull her from her mindset.
"Bring her," she commanded. "And remember to stay out of sight until Leona has Ascended."
It made a derisive sound but began to follow, half dragging Elsie behind him. Reonne couldn't name the number of times she had entered the hall, breathing deep and reminding herself that it would soon be hers. With Leona as House Witch the great manor house would legally belong to her family. The Council might attempt to take it, but in the end all they could really do was assign her daughter a husband. Reonne herself might have to hide for a time, but she was confident she could handle that part. As long as Leona held the House Seat she would have a place to retire.
"Put her in the center," she said to the Dellidus.
It obeyed and promptly made for the shadows in the western corner. Reonne settled into the House Seat to wait for Leona. Light cut into the room from the many arched windows, patch-working the floor with an almost gated pattern. Elsie body lay sprawled in one shaft of light, her dark hair and jumble of limbs making a very dramatic sight. It would no doubt be affective in her negotiations with Magic.
Leona gasped from the private door just beside the raised dais.
"Mother, what have you done?"
She dropped a hand to her stomach, holding there as though to ward off nausea. Reonne pitied her daughter's weak constitution. Leona never had been very strong.
"I've secured our interests, child," she said and turned in the seat. "Now come here so that I can explain some things to you."
Leona ignored her and rushed into the room, dropping to her knees beside Elsie. Reonne frowned at the real concern and affection written on her daughters face. She watched as Leona brushed Elsie's hair behind her ear and gingerly turned her head. Slumping back in her chair, Reonne discovered that her insipid little daughter had known of Elsie's real identity. There was no denying it as Leona tried to rouse the woman, it was all but spelled out in her voice.
"How long have you known?" Reonne gripped the side of her chair.
When Elsie didn't respond Leona glared up at her, "What have you done?"
Anger was a foreign emotion for the girl so Reonne didn't recognize it at first. "Leona. We do not have time for this. I've secured the House Seat for you."
"For me?"
Reonne waved a hand of dismissal and continued; "When Magic comes he will put you through a test or two. I don't want you to be worried. I know that you will pass."
"I don't want to pass!" Leona shouted. "I don't want any of this."
"Quiet now!" Reonne stood up. She'd known her daughter would fight it and she'd planned a gentler way to tell the girl, but Elsie had botched that. "You will do this, Leona, or everyone in Delgora will die. The Warding Pillars will fail without a House Witch to keep them and the Wild will consume everything."
"How could you do this?" Leona sat back, stunned. "Fates preserve me. Why would you risk all of their lives?"
Reonne could sense that time was running short. With sharp, quick strides she left the dais and moved to Leona. Glancing once at Elsie's pale, bruised face, she took her daughters elbow and dragged the girl to her feet. Leona didn't struggle, but she didn't help either as Reonne ushered her to the House Seat. She tried once again at reason, hoping distance between the girl and Elsie would help matters.
"Be sensible, Leona. You are about to earn more prestige than any Untalented could ever hope for. All of Delgora will be yours."
"I don't want Delgora, mother."
Reonne felt her irritation boil over into full blown anger. Shoving Leona into the seat she shouted down at her, punctuating every word as the girl squirmed in the chair. "You ungrateful, vapid little twit! After everything I have done for you. After years of careful planning, of building and working, you think you can just say no?"
"In point of fact, Varalessa-Reonne, she can."
The voice was soothing and rich and froze her in place. A knot of slowly coiling fear settled in the pit of her stomach. Below her, cowering in the House Seat with saucer-wide eyes, Leona's gaze fixed on a point somewhere in the center of the room. Reonne straightened, corrected her hair with the push of one hand and composed herself. She knew what she would see when she turned around. She knew it, but she wasn't prepared for it.
Magic stood just beside Elsie's prone form, his fine features passive, patient as he waited for her response. She was struck by his charm, her heart fluttering just at the sight of him. As often as she had dreamt of this moment, rehearsed it in her mind, reveled in the victory she deserved, words failed her.
And then she caught the faint scent of rot, remembered the Dellidus and her purpose and found her voice. "There is no other choice," she said with a defiant smile. "Either you make her the Witch or you doom Delgora to the Wild. It doesn't matter what she says on the matter."
One eyebrow hiked upward at her announcement. Morning light hit the golden tattoos on his face, glaring sharp, powerful color into the hall. Reonne almost looked away.
"Your arrogance seems boundless, Vicaress." Magic finally looked down at Elsie. "Did you ever once factor into your plans that I, god of the Witch-Born and lover of Fate, might already know of your deceit?"
"If you'd known you would have acted sooner."
Magic heaved a sigh and crouched down. He reached out with one finger and brushed Elsie's cheek. "Just because the moment was Fated, Varalessa, doesn't mean you couldn't have changed it," he said. "I had to give you the chance, you understand. No matter your lack of Talent, you still had the power to move the course of things to come." He stood up again. Looking straight at Reonne, almost as though he were looking into her core and not just her face, he shook his head. "I took measures against you the day Elsie Varene Delgora was born."
Elsie pulled in a long, gasping breath and arched against the floor.
"No," Reonne whispered.
A jerky blurred movement streaked from the western wall. The Dellidus caught Magic in the back with both sets of talo
ns. Reonne blinked, belatedly realizing what was happening as Leona's terrified scream filled the hall. Magic's beautiful face scrunched, first with shock and next with pain. His body bowed backward, leaning toward the creature as it began to feed.
She moved without knowing what she intended to do, rushing forward with a shout of denial. "No, no, no!" Reaching the Dellidus she grabbed at his arm and tried to yank the creature away. "Leona isn't House Witch yet!"
It was a futile argument, and she knew it. Somewhere in the hollow recesses of her mind she knew she had already lost. It had been Fated. She had fought for nothing.
The creature wrenched one hand out of Magic, moving with an alacrity that defied even the most Talented Witch-Born, and neatly took hold of her neck. Its talons constricted as the Dellidus lifted her off the floor, pinching her airway closed.
Fated, she thought again, kicking at the air in the struggle to live. But that too was futile and Reonne knew it.
***
Rorant veered for the gates of the manor, shooting his way past a lone guard that had come to investigate the sounds of combat. Dorian saw him rush forward with his magic and turned away, making a quick prayer that they weren't too late. He'd tried to focus on Elsie, to locate her somehow with their Talents, but it had been a battle almost every step from the upper hallway. Reonne had built her Untalented army well, overcompensating with numbers to make up for her lack of magic.
Dorian slid up to the last corner and peeked around. The wide foyer just before the great hall was as impressive as it was archaic, full of elaborate tapestries and marble pillars. Four guardsmen stood outside of the double doors leading into the hall, exchanging equal looks of startlement at the sudden, muffled scream. It was followed by a roar that rattled the doors in their hinges and caused one of the guards to jerk away and draw his pistol.
With practiced movements Dorian reloaded and holstered his pistol. The roar sounded again, and he decided to make his move. Rorant and the others would be along shortly, and he needed to know what was going on behind those doors. It was possible that Elsie had Ascended and was battling the Dellidus, which meant she needed his help. And Fates help any man who tried to stop him from reaching her.
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