by Natalie Grey
“Apparently, you weren’t being helpful enough.” I couldn’t quite keep the laugh out of my voice. “So now we come to it, Delaney: do you know where he is and what he’s up to? Because they seemed to think you genuinely don’t know, and I can’t decide if that makes them total idiots or not.”
To my surprise, Fordwin laughed. It looked like it surprised him, too, and the sound was a bit wild.
I didn’t think he laughed much anymore.
“They were right,” he said. “I’m not sure I would have told them, even if I’d known … but I did tell them the truth. I don’t know where he is.” A shadow passed over his face. “He didn’t come to me when he left the Acadamh. Whatever he’s doing, he doesn’t want me involved.”
I stared at him for a long moment. I really couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth. What he’d just said … well, it was the sort of thing I’d say if I wanted to trick someone into believing that I was telling the truth.
“I’ve been looking for him,” Fordwin told me. “But I can’t see him anywhere.”
“Well, that’s hardly surprising.” I rolled my eyes. “You spent what, 600 odd years looking for me up here? Clearly, you suck at this.”
Fordwin gave another snort of laughter.
Lawrence was staring between us, wide-eyed. I sympathized with the man a bit. This wasn’t what I’d expected from this meeting, either.
Fordwin, meanwhile, started down the hill, weaving his way between the boulders. If he was worried about leaving his back exposed, he didn’t show it.
“You were a special case,” he called back to us. “You didn’t know who you were. You didn’t have your magic. You were just another human. I had to spend most of my time trying to figure out where the hell you even might be so I could narrow my search down.”
“Wait.” I started after him. “You knew I was mindwiped?”
Fordwin looked at me at last. He had quite an impressive sardonic look when he tried. “Of course I knew,” he said, condescension in every line of his body. “Contrary to your belief, I am actually one of the best scryers there has even been. If I couldn’t find you, there were only a few reasons why that might be.” He shrugged. “I hoped it was that you were dead, but I knew, somehow, that I wasn’t going to get that lucky.”
It was my turn to laugh now.
Fordwin hated my guts. And somehow, I liked him better than most of the people I’d met in the past few weeks who claimed to be my followers.
Lawrence caught up with me as I started down the hill again.
“Are you sure we should trust him?”
“No,” I said cheerfully. “But he’s open about the fact that he wants me dead. So he’s already more honest than most people I’ve met lately.”
Lawrence squared his shoulders.
“Well, just give me a signal if you need me to … you know.”
I considered how best to respond to that, and settled for nodding. I didn’t see this coming to a fight, truth be told—at least not the way Lawrence clearly expected.
If Fordwin killed me, he wasn’t going to make the same mistakes Terric did. There would be no speech. There would be no frantic justification for his murder. When Fordwin killed, even if he used magic, it was done like a stiletto between the ribs in a dark alley, like poison in wine, served with a smile.
I was beginning to realize why Terric had been the one to lead the Separatists. It hadn’t just been that Terric was the one who killed me.
No, Fordwin was better suited to the shadows. He came at things sideways.
If he were going to have killed me today, he’d have done it when I started following him down the hill.
Still, I was on my guard as we followed him into a cave in the side of the hill and as passed under the threshold, I stopped, frowning. The nausea had fallen away immediately at the cave entrance.
Had Fordwin found some way to shield himself from the effects of the ley lines?
Fordwin gave a grim smile and pointed to the runes carved into the roof of the cave. “I had no desire to spend centuries feeling ill. As soon as it became clear that I would be here for some time … I carved those wards.”
Every sense trilled with danger. Fordwin was powerful, yes—but, like Eshe, he no longer relied solely on mastery of his own magic. He’d learned some of the druidic arts over the years.
Clearly, I was going to have to catch up.
If I lived long enough.
The lights came on and Fordwin gestured mockingly to the tiny abode. A bed, a table, a chair. A flicker near one wall that looked vaguely like books—he wasn’t going to trust me enough yet to show me his library—and a kitchen that looked like it didn’t get much use.
I wasn’t surprised by that. Sorcerers, after all, don’t really need to eat. It’s one of the few accuracies in all those vampire stories people tell, even if they screw it up by thinking we need blood. Blood is just a shortcut to life force, and we get enough from our own magic.
Blood magic—not the kind I did, but perhaps the kind most people would call real blood magic—is just a hack, a messy way to get extra power for spells. And anyway, you don’t need to eat the blood.
Not to mention, there are other ways to amplify power. The people who use sacrifices in their blood magic just like killing. They like to make up fancy excuses for the ‘magical’ reasons to get someone tied down on a table and then cut their heart out. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, though, it’s someone they hated to start with.
Funny how that works out.
I settled myself down on the bed, leaning my back up against the wall, and gave Fordwin a too-sweet smile.
“So what’s the deal, then? Where’s your protégé?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Fordwin went to the stove and started a teakettle going. He might not like me, but the rules of hospitality were clearly still ingrained in him.
That, or he was planning to poison me.
I waited. Whether Fordwin was lying or not, silence tended to make people uncomfortable—and Fordwin undoubtedly knew more than I did about where Terric might go.
It worked.
“Why wouldn’t he come to me?” Fordwin said finally. He looked over at me. “He should have. Why didn’t he?”
I regarded him silently until I realized that he was actually asking.
He genuinely didn’t understand it. And he, like the Coimeail, wondered what ideas I might have planted in Terric’s head during our time together.
It was a good question, but unfortunately, I didn’t have an answer for it.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t remember much of our … time together.” I forced those words out, and then decided to prime the pump with some honesty, however little I felt like sharing secrets. “I didn’t even remember we’d had a time together until the Coimeail reminded me.”
The memory of the streets, of cobblestones under my body, of my own betrayal, was so visceral that for a moment, the cave faded around me. When I came to, Fordwin was watching me quietly. Some of the hatred had faded from his face.
“So you haven’t recovered all of your memories,” he guessed.
I said nothing. I might offer up some truths, but I wasn’t just going to give him free access to everything.
“And yet you agreed to hunt Terric,” he said.
That was the key to Fordwin. I knew it in a flash, my eyes flying to his face.
I always recognized the key to someone when I saw it.
But what to do with it? That was the real question. How to lean on this pressure point?
I needed more information.
“Let’s say I have questions I also want answered,” I said, as noncommittally as I could. “And he can answer them.”
I watched Fordwin carefully as he considered this. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes roaming over my face as if he could peer into my mind.
“Questions you want answered badly enough to ally yourself with the Coimeail?” he asked fi
nally.
“I’m not allied with them,” I said instantly. “And I’m not their assassin.”
“If you’re not their assassin, what are you going to do when you find Terric?” The question was sudden and sharp.
I ran out of patience.
“Frankly, I don’t have a goddamned clue!” I stared him down. “Okay? I don’t know. I figure it’s even odds they’re throwing him under the bus, but it’s also even odds he’s actually gone off the deep end. I don’t know. I just want answers, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s the one who has them.”
Fordwin’s tension seemed to dissipate. He nodded.
“Then I will tell you what I know,” he said quietly.
“Eh?” Of all the things I had expected, this wasn’t one of them.
He hesitated.
“Send your guard away,” he said finally.
“I’m not leaving,” Lawrence said instantly. His hand was on the hilt of his knife again.
Fordwin only looked at me.
I considered. If it came to a fight, I’d prefer it to be two against one. I was never the sort of person who bothered with fighting fair.
But I needed Fordwin, and I was fairly sure he was genuinely worried about what Terric might do, given half a chance.
Impulsivity being inarguably one of my strong suits, I decided to give this a chance.
“It’s all right,” I told Lawrence. I held up a hand to forestall his protest. “I’ll call for you if I need you.”
He wavered, and then left. There was frustration practically radiating from him.
Fordwin, thankfully, wasn’t one to waste time. He spoke as soon as Lawrence was outside the mouth of the cave.
“I would have said Terric was going to do a purge of dark magic,” he said simply. “I still think it’s what he’s doing. The only question….”
“Is why he didn’t involve you, when you agree with him that it has to be done?”
“Yes.” Fordwin gave a pained smile. “That.”
“Couldn’t answer you that,” I told him bluntly.
His bluntness matched my own: “You had best come up with that answer, then. Because you’re the one who’s going to find him, and the answer to that question may be that he has considerably more backup than you do. After all … it seems you’ve lost your Hunter.”
I felt my lip curl.
He raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t you?”
“If I couldn’t trust him, I’m glad I found out now.” It was the only thing I could think of to say.
There was a squeak nearby, a mouse scurrying across the stone, and I watched its passage, trying to focus on the stone and the gleam of its fur rather than the way my chest ached.
“You can’t trust any of them,” Fordwin said softly. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, not specifically—but he couldn’t keep the pleasure out of his voice, either. “You’ve never been able to. Don’t get me wrong, you have a knack for collecting adherents. …But you have a talent for losing them, too. The Hunter is only the latest in a long line.”
“Yes, well.” I gave him a tight smile.
“And that puppy you have following you around will only be so much use, you know.”
“He might be useful. You don’t know.”
“Oh, please. You think he’s safe because he’s besotted with you?” Fordwin shook his head. “No one is a safe ally for a woman like you. Even Eshe turned on you in the end, didn’t she?” There was a laugh building there.
“No.” I took pleasure in shattering that bubble. “In the end, Eshe undid the blocks on my magic and helped me recover my memories.” I lifted a single eyebrow. “Guess you don’t know everything.”
He did look surprised, and honestly so.
“That’s very interesting,” he said quietly. “After everything, then…. But that wasn’t what I meant. I meant when she trained Terric.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. I looked over at him, shaking. He couldn’t mean….
“Trained Terric to do what?” I forced the words out.
“To infiltrate the Monarchists, of course.” Fordwin pulled out the single chair and dropped into it to lounge elegantly. He looked sleekly satisfied. “Didn’t you ever wonder how he seemed to know all the right things to say? He’d been trained to get under your defenses, by one of the people who knew you best.”
I looked away, desperate not to hear what he was going to say next, but there was no blocking out the sound of the words.
“Eshe betrayed you.”
Chapter 15
I dreamt of Terric that night. I should have seen it coming, I supposed—but my subconscious had a way of surprising me.
For one thing, I’d expected Eshe.
Fordwin had offered to let the two of us to camp out on his floor, which told me more about his state of mind than he probably wanted to admit.
It meant, for one thing, that he thought he needed me.
Which meant he knew Terric needed to be taken down, whatever he said about the man’s motives.
Normally, this sort of revelation would have put me on the hunt. It would be so easy to crack Fordwin right now, force him to say the words he didn’t want to say—that Terric was clearly dangerous—and leave him a broken shell of a man.
I wanted to do that for any number of reasons, really.
But instead, I spent most of the night staring silently off into landscape beyond the mouth of the cave. I took myself into the domhan fior more than once, searching for….
I wasn’t sure what I was searching for. Whatever it was, the strange, stony landscape did not offer it to me. I wanted Daiman’s forest.
I wanted to know what Daiman thought of all of this, too.
And I wasn’t going to get either of those things, which I told myself was just as well. Everyone turned on me in the end. At least Daiman had just left. That was easier to deal with than being stabbed in the back, right?
…Right?
When I went to sleep, Lawrence and Fordwin were in a prickly, silent standoff that would otherwise have been funny. Fordwin, ever polite, had made tea. Lawrence, apparently equally polite, was drinking it. Neither was happy about the situation. I tried to smile about it and failed, settling for curling up on a sleeping mat on the floor with my face to the wall.
I didn’t want to talk to either of them.
I lay there for a long time. My body was exhausted, but my mind was racing. I didn’t think I would ever fall asleep, but I must have, because what came next was more a dream than a memory.
I had begun to learn the difference between those two. Dreams were too easy, stripped of the not-quite-perfect moments real life had in abundance. Dreams had only the emotion, slipping under my guard, too perfect and compelling to be denied.
It started as a memory, at least.
There were candles in abundance, and music and laughter. I was dressed in rich velvet, tipping my head back to laugh at my companions’ words. They were tossing insults and wordplay back and forth over the remains of a feast, their eyes fixed on one another and their attention fixed on me.
I drank it in, savoring it as my due. The chair to my right stood empty; Philip was not there.
When a servant came to whisper in my ear, I was far enough from the memory that I did not remember exactly what was said. I could only feel my interest, a sudden diversion that ended the conversation nearby. I looked at the far doors of the great hall as the servant hurried off, hardly noticing the silence.
It wasn’t long before they slammed open, and guards hauled in a man with a sack over his head.
“This is him, m’lady,” one of the guards said respectfully.
“Well, let me see him.” My voice was delighted.
“M’lady, I’m not sure it’s wise—”
I tutted, bringing my goblet of wine with me as I moved around the table to pluck the burlap off the man’s head.
In the present, my mind reeled, for there, staring up at me, was Terric Delaney—and with the b
enefit of hindsight, I could see that he was terrified at suddenly coming face to face with his nemesis.
At the time, I thought he was only terrified to be held by two brawny guards, suddenly blinking in the candlelight.
“You’re the newest member of the cause, I hear.” My voice was rich and welcoming.
“So he says,” one of the guards said repressively.
“I am.” Terric’s eyes locked on mine. “I swear. My lady.”
“Mmm.” I tapped at my mouth as I considered him. They’d roughed him up before bringing him to me, and the bruises stood out vividly on his pale skin. “They’re afraid you’re a spy. Can you convince us you’re not?”
“I have only my words,” Terric said. “What else can I offer? How can one prove loyalty?”
There were some mutters from the rest of them, but I laughed. “A fine point. Perhaps you come and sit by me, and I’ll see if I like the look of you.” I waved my goblet at the guards. “Go on, untie him.”
“But, my lady—”
“I assure you … I can deal with any problems that might arise.”
They fell silent, swallowing nervously. My past self was pleased; she liked it when people remembered to be afraid of what she was.
Terric followed me, stumbling sometimes, and I beckoned a servant to bring him wine. He gazed at the gold and gems on the goblet, as if afraid to taste it. “My lady—”
“Drink. Eat.” I settled back in my chair to study him. “And tell me of yourself.”
He looked down with a bemused smile as a servant placed cuts of meat, egg pie, and jellies on his plate.
“Well, I was … you should hear it from me.” He looked up at me. “I was an avowed Separatist until some months ago.”
All conversation stopped, and Terric froze, but my past self only sipped at her wine. “Oh?”
“And then I was imprisoned.” His voice trembled. “I was doing nothing wrong. I hurt no one with my magic, but they took me away and locked me in iron.”
A few of the dinner party were still glaring suspiciously, but others were staring at him with pity.
One of the few things the myths get right is that iron tends to impair magic. Not always, of course, but often enough. There were few at my table who did not fear being chained—and I, at least, had experienced it myself.
