“I could. Or you could get one for him.”
“Why would I do that?”
The low voice chuckles. “I know where Evelyn sleeps too.”
Caius’ blood ignites at once. He pulls his legs out from beneath the blankets. “And?”
“Would you like me to describe what I would do to her if you refused?”
Caius moves across the room as silently as possible, but the rat might hear the hard beating in his chest. He seizes the man quite easily, lodging his dagger beneath his jawline.
“What makes you think you’ll walk out of here alive?” Caius hisses in his ear.
“I’m not the only one who knows where she sleeps,” says the guard, quite unperturbed.
“You can’t touch her,” Caius says. He struggles to keep himself together. “Ilvara has the heart of Lord Krassis in her hand. If you touched Evelyn, Ilvara would snuff you out so fast it would be as if you never existed.”
“Maybe, but Evelyn would still suffer. There’s a guard outside her room as we speak. I die, and he acts.”
“I’ll get to him first.”
“You might. But not the next one. Or the next.”
“Ilvara wouldn’t allow that.”
“Wouldn’t she? She hasn’t seemed to notice the times the guards have studied her. How she takes a moment to pray before she breaks her fast in the kitchen. How the cook’s assistant hates her. How she writes about her day almost every night. What time the guard switch is. What time she lays out her clothes for washing.”
Caius tightens his grip, shaking with bloodlust. “Enough.”
The man’s victorious laugh makes Caius press the dagger closer. The blade scrapes the edge of his beard. The guard that took him to the meeting with Lucius…did he have a beard?
“So, the crystal…”
Slowly, Caius releases him. “In the wizard’s laboratory.”
“The very same.”
“Is it locked?”
“Yes, but I’m sure you can take care of that.”
“How? I don’t have any picks.”
The guard fidgets with something on his armour, then pushes a few cold, metal rods into Caius’ hands. “There,” he says.
Caius brushes a thumb over the curved ends of the rods. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Steal the crystal? Because it’s easier to do it this way. Evelyn is such a sensitive point for you.”
“Leave Evelyn alone,” Caius says firmly. “You’ve made your point.”
“I’ll let my superiors know.”
“When do you need it?”
“As soon as you can get it. Tonight, even.”
Caius thinks of their trip to Tarreth tomorrow morning, but chooses not to bring that up. “I’ll have it done.”
“Good. We will be in touch as soon as we can.”
He shuts the door quietly as he goes. Caius drops back onto his bed. He inhales slowly through his nose and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Lucius’ plan to kill the dragons could not be more wrongly directed. The bandits need to die. And Esterden. The whole stinking lot of them.
Once his breathing has returned somewhat to normal, he rises to dress himself. There will be many guards on the trip tomorrow. It’ll be far easier to negotiate Evelyn’s safety with the crystal in hand. If it’s possible to negotiate with them at all.
There are few guards around in the middle of the night. One paces the hallway outside the workers’ quarters. Two by the front door hardly notice him. Another patrols upstairs. Another stands in the doorway of the hall leading to Evelyn’s bed chambers, watching Caius closely. Caius stomach turns at the sight of him.
He ducks into the shadows when he reaches the staircase leading to the third floor. The guard at the opposite stairwell turns at the top, then heads back into the second level hall. Caius tiptoes up the stairs as carefully as he can, though he wonders how much the guard would care, if they’re all corrupt anyway. At the end of the hallway, he stops at the door. The lock takes only a few seconds to pick. It would have been faster, but Caius hasn’t picked a lock in years.
Inside, he stops to listen for any sound. The room is still, but feels uneasy. Unsettled. He senses someone there with him. Moonlight fills the space at once from the open balcony, revealing vials, jars, parchment, and a room devoid of other human beings.
Caius tries to swallow. He steps quietly across the floor toward the display case. Silvery moonlight glistens off the gem’s dark faces. He slides a pick into the lock and tests it gently. It’s a bit more difficult than the door was. He kneels at the lock as he works it, listening carefully to the pins popping into place. Then, a satisfying click and creak as the lid opens up.
“Stop.”
Caius does not move. He does not breathe. The voice from the door was low and commanding. Lucius Trent’s voice.
“Don’t stand up,” he says. “I know enough magic to cut you right in half if you attack me.”
“I don’t want to attack you,” Caius says quietly.
“Callus.” He hears a frustrated sigh. “So, this was your plan all along. To see the gem yourself. To find out where it is.”
“It’s Caius, and I don’t want it,” says Caius. “It’s the bandits.”
“I don’t see them pawing through my laboratory.”
Caius raises his hands, turning slowly on his knees. “I am telling you: I don’t want it. They threatened me.”
“I thought you were made of stronger stuff than this,” Lucius says with great indignance. “I suppose that shows how accurate my intuition is. You’re a lying thief!”
“I am no thief.”
“I’m going to talk to the guards about patrolling here.”
“A guard threatened me to do this.”
Lucius jerks his hand upward. “Get up. We’re going to pay the dungeons a little visit.”
Caius thinks of the trip tomorrow. Evelyn going without him. The danger that could put her in with so many amoral guards. Spending the night and possibly many days to come locked in a cell alone. Waiting. Hoping she was all right.
Ever so carefully, Caius rises to his feet. “I’m not going to the dungeons.”
The moonlight casts sharp shadows across Lucius’ already hard glare. “What did you say?”
Caius stands in front of the case and reaches back until he feels the smooth gem under his hand. Lucius’ hands ignite with red fire at once.
“Put it down,” he commands.
“Let me go.”
“Do you think I’m a fool?”
“No.” Caius grips the crystal tightly. “That’s why you’re going to let me go.”
It happens in just a second. Caius makes a dash for the balcony. Lucius shoots a fireball past his head and out the window. Instead of climbing down, Caius holds the crystal over the railing and raises his other palm to Lucius. The furious wizard halts at once, bulging eyes on the crystal held between heaven and earth by Caius’ hand.
“Don’t move,” Caius says. “I don’t care at all about this thing. I just need it. I want to kill the bandits.”
“Drop it, and I’ll kill you. I won’t hesitate,” says the wizard, words clipping. “No one will blame me. I’ll be a hero.”
“Kill me, and it falls.”
Panicked, Lucius stops, staring at the gem and nothing else, as if Caius were holding his only child over the railing.
He thinks of Leo. I wish.
“Lucius,” Caius says, “I want the bandits dead. Why don’t we work together? I am going to Tarreth tomorrow, so I’ll keep the crystal safe. If they want this thing so badly, they can be distracted with it. We can save so many lives by using it.”
Lucius extends his hand. “Give it to me.”
Caius shakes his head, desperate. “Can’t you be made to see reason? We both want the bandits gone. If we can turn them against the dragons, to hunt them for crystals, I can command that the dragons kill them. That rids us of—”
“Give me the crystal.”
His hands glow red again. “Give it to me.”
“Lucius, step back,” Caius says, leaning harder on the railing. “I will drop it, and it will shatter and be gone—”
A blast of fire hits Caius directly in the gut. He instinctively collapses in on himself to extinguish the flames before they reach his skin. Lucius leaps onto him. Wraps around him. Claws for his hand. Caius clutches the gem against his chest. Edges of burnt leather sting his hands. Lucius beats the side of his head with a burning fist. Caius shouts at him to stop. To get off him.
In a blur, Caius knocks against the railing. He feels the weight of Lucius’ body drop from his back. Hears a choking gasp, then a cry of terror. Finally, a distant, cracking impact.
Caius pulls himself upright and peers over the railing. Down at the shadow of Lucius’ body on the ground far below. His limbs are twisted into irregular shapes. A dark pool surrounds his head.
Caius backs away. He rubs the sharp edge of the crystal with his thumb, hard enough to hurt. He shuts the display case, locks the door again, and leaves quickly.
Back in his room, Caius stares at the crystal on his pillow with his elbows on his knees, hands tightly gripped together, until the candle burns very low and the crystal is nothing but a black smudge against the brown of his pillow. It feels like a dark beacon, signalling all the evil forces around to come, converge on him, take him down to the depths of Hades.
Leo’s father is dead at his hand. Caius rubs his temples. The guards will know it was him. They’ll tell Lord Krassis, and he’ll be either imprisoned or executed. Either way, he’ll be away from Evelyn, leaving her open to endless suffering at the hands of the bandits.
He thinks back, far back. Back to that night in her burning cottage. When he hesitated before her mother. When he decided to let them go. Would it have been more merciful to kill them that night? He grips his singed hair in fists. He should have taken the three children away with him, somewhere safe. Given them a home and food and protection. But he decided to let them run out while he burned the cottage down around himself. The mother, whose fault it was that the village burned at all, joined with the bandits. The girls were captured and tortured. The boy died saving Caius’ life. And years of suffering and terror were Evelyn’s only reward for being spared.
The demons of guilt and self-loathing wrap around Caius’ ankles. They pull him deep into the ground where he cannot breathe. They stamp out the warmth in his chest until all he knows is cold darkness. They clamp around his heart. They suffocate him. And amidst his suffering, they mock him.
He scratches at his arms. He wishes he could dig himself out of his own skin. Claw out of his body and feel open and free. His pulse throbs in his throat. In the pit of his stomach. He shifts on the bed, then pushes to his feet and paces the room.
One tiny move. He made one tiny move and messed everything up. One mistake and sent innocent people to the slaughter. One wrong movement and killed a man. One moment, and it all crashed down onto him.
If only he’d have left that day in the meadow, when Evelyn’s blue eyes pleaded with him to stay. If only he hadn’t told her about that night, about who he was. If only he could have put aside his own feelings and let her go off and fight and die bravely. If only his mother hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have become the monster he is now.
Caius collapses next to his bed. His hands shake when he covers his face. He weeps into his arms, feeling weak, useless. He burns with hatred for the bandits, for their wicked hearts. But far above the rest, he burns with hatred for himself. He too often forgets that he chose that life, too. And his heart is the most wicked of all.
Caius reaches for something in his mind. Something to cling to. Some bright future to make his present self bearable. But if he could never do a thing right in his past, how can the future be any better? He thought the darkness would leave completely when Evelyn returned, but it hasn’t. It’s in him. It is him.
He opens his stinging eyes to darkness as the candle burns out. The night wears on.
Chapter 32
The Charm Returns
Ilvara sits up slowly in bed. The night was seemingly endless. What little sleep she got was filled with strange, uncomfortable dreams. It’s been so difficult to sleep since Sylvia has been back. And Ilvara has only heard rumours of her return. She has not yet seen her, and it’s been weeks.
“Where are you going?” Andrew asks from bed.
“I’m getting dressed. We have a big day ahead.”
“Come here. Our day doesn’t start until dawn.”
Ilvara smirks, leaning back. He kisses her cheek.
“You were turning in your sleep,” he says. He brushes the hair from her shoulder. “Sylvia again?”
“I had a dream she was standing over me with a huge sword, just staring at me with these…lifeless eyes. I couldn’t move or scream. It was horrible.”
Worry creases Andrew’s eyes. “I’ve tried to locate her, but my scouts can’t find her. I’m sorry. I will double my scouts.”
“No. I just fear that, when we leave, she will follow us. She must be planning something.”
“Well, Caius seems very capable of protecting us. And Evelyn will be there. And of course,”—he presses his lips to her shoulder gently— “I would never let anything happen to you.”
Ilvara touches his face. “I’m sometimes overwhelmed by you. You have been so good to me.”
“I’ve waited so long to marry you. Remember that first time you came here?”
Ilvara nods. He has told the story many times.
“You had on that grey dress, and I thought, ‘Why is she wearing such a bland dress? A royal colour would bring out her pretty brown eyes.’”
Hadrian had told her the colour was sophisticated. She’d come from the countryside, where clothes were a necessity rather than a decoration, and had always dreamed of having a beautiful dress. When Hadrian handed her that grey one, she’d thought it was the most elegant thing she’d ever owned. But later, she saw the rich greens, reds, and purples on noblewomen from Tarreth, and her grey one suddenly seemed lifeless. But Hadrian never wanted her looking gaudy.
Ilvara nods. “I remember.”
“And you walked up and greeted me. I could tell even then that you weren’t just Hadrian’s new trophy. You had a quick mind and an unbridled spirit. He locked you up there.”
Ilvara kisses his hand. “I loved him, you know.”
Andrew rolls his eyes. “You thought he was handsome and charming. You were infatuated, not in love.” He cups her face. “I’ve tried my best to take care of you in every way possible. Am I doing an adequate job?”
Tears fill Ilvara’s eyes with no warning. “Yes.” She swipes at her face. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve made you cry too many times,” Andrew says, suddenly sitting back. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
Ilvara touches her stomach. She’s noticed a tiny bit of swelling in the last weeks, though small enough to explain away. But she knows now in her heart that the impossible has happened.
“Andrew, you have been very good to me,” Ilvara says. “I’m emotional because I… I think I may be…”
He follows her eyes down to her abdomen, then shoots them back up at her face. “You…”
Ilvara nods slowly.
Andrew reaches forward, laying his hands carefully over her belly. She can see each breath he takes lift his shoulders.
“How long have you known?” he asks her.
“Not long. I wanted to be sure before I told you.”
“Does Evelyn know?”
“No. No one knows but you.”
Andrew blinks rapidly, rising to embrace her. “Gods, this is wonderful.”
“To be true, I thought I was not able to have children.”
Andrew sits back again, furrowing his brow at the pillow. He shakes his head. “I never even thought of it. You and Hadrian never had any.”
Ilvara shrugs. “I thought I was not able, but I suppose it wasn’
t me.”
He touches her face again. “This is such wonderful news. I don’t think I’ve been this happy since our wedding day.”
Ilvara smiles, pleased at his reaction. “Yes. I still have trouble comprehending it.”
“Well, you must not go to Tarreth then. Lie back down. I’ll have the servants bring your meal.”
Ilvara pats his arm. “I will be fine. I travelled to Munsweed just a few days ago. Tarreth isn’t so much farther.”
“It is. And it could be dangerous.”
“I’d rather not stay with Sylvia around.”
Andrew scratches his head. “Right. Right.”
“Besides, I’d rather be with you.” Ilvara rubs his arm. “We should get up.”
As they dress for the trip, Andrew says, “I should have noticed. You were so skinny when you got here.”
Ilvara turns to him. “All those meats have fattened me up.”
“You look magnificent.” Andrew sweeps her up and kisses her.
Ilvara giggles. The sound is strange to her. The swell of joy and adoration is strange, too. She never thought she could feel like this again. Not for Andrew Krassis or anyone at all. It’s a deeper, sweeter wine than she’s ever tasted.
A knock at the door makes Andrew drop her to answer it.
“My lord, I have grave news,” says a voice from the hall.
Ilvara wraps a robe around herself and stands behind the door.
“What news?” Andrew asks.
“Lucius Trent killed himself in the night.”
Ilvara covers her mouth.
“What?” Krassis asks. “What happened?”
“Someone found his body in the street below his balcony.”
“When?”
“Perhaps the fourth watch, my lord. Just a few hours ago. His laboratory door was locked. We had to break into it.”
“That’s awful. Are arrangements being made?”
“My lord?”
“For the burial, for informing his family.”
“He has only one son living.”
“Well, was he informed?”
“I…believe so, my lord.”
“Make certain, please. We’ll return from Tarreth in a few days, I imagine. Have the body buried at the Shrine, and we’ll host a feast of remembrance when we return.”
Of Embers Page 30
