The Exile's Curse

by M. J. Scott

  He scooted back over to the fire, fed it a small branch, and eased down next to Chloe, taking the side closer to the entrance to block more of the wind from her. She was still shivering. Too soon to coax her into taking off her shoes or any other layers. The hem of her trousers and her jacket were soaked. Thank the goddess the Andalyssians had the sense to realize that riding sidesaddle in the mountains was too dangerous. If Chloe had been hooked into a sidesaddle, she could well be at the bottom of the cliff with her horse. Though the extra layers of petticoats and things women wore under their habits might have been useful to either keep them warm or keep the fire going longer.

  "Say something or I'm going to fall asleep," Chloe said. "Ginevra would tell me it's a bad idea to sleep much after hitting one's head."

  "Ginevra?" he said.

  "She owned the store in Anglion before me. Good earth witch. Taught me a lot." She stretched her good hand toward the fire.

  "She'd be useful about now."

  "Yes. If she was still alive."

  He winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  "Why would you? We haven't exactly spoken much about my time there."

  "Do you want to talk about it now?"

  "Not particularly." She slanted a glance at him that he couldn't entirely interpret.

  "You're the one who wanted to make conversation," he countered. "But I won’t pry. Anglion aside, did this Ginevra teach you anything that might be helpful in this situation?"

  "I'm thinking about that," she said. "Food isn't an immediate problem. Water more so. There’s plenty of rain but nothing to catch it in."

  He shifted, then remembered the kafiet flask. Sure enough, it was still tucked in his inner pocket. He pulled it free. "I have this." He regarded the flask. "It's not big, but it will do, I guess."

  "It’s not the best shape to catch rain.”

  "There was snow in places. It should be clean enough. And easier to scoop up."

  “What's in there now?" she asked, nodding at the flask.

  "Kafiet." He frowned. "In basic training, they said alcohol and cold don't mix. Or alcohol and head wounds."

  She snorted. "Maybe not. But one mouthful each before you pour it out might warm us up a little. I'll risk it if you will."

  "One mouthful only," he said and passed her the flask.

  She unscrewed the cap, took a careful swig, and handed it back.

  He took one swig, then poured the rest carefully into the fire. The alcohol flared fiercely, and the air filled with the scent of burning mint for a minute. Which was an improvement over long-dead animal. "Stay here. I'll fill it."

  It didn't take long, which was good, because the air beyond the cave chilled him immediately. The flask held maybe two cups of liquid and only a handful or so of snow. He set it at the edge of the fire and tried to thaw out without taking up too much of the heat as he calculated how long the snow might take to melt. Chloe needed water to counteract the blood loss.

  She shifted beside him, moving stiffly and supporting her injured arm.

  Right. That was the next priority. See what could be done for her injuries. "You're an earth witch. Can you stop the bleeding?" he asked.

  Her mouth flattened. "It's complicated. It takes a lot of energy to work on yourself. With the right herbs and things to use, it would be easier. Right now, I'm not sure I wouldn't just pass out."

  He swore under his breath. "Well, let's keep thinking. We have an hour or so before it gets dark and the fire goes out. I'd prefer not to die on the side of an Andalyssian mountain."

  That earned him a flash of a smile. "Me, too."

  "Maybe the Andalyssians are right after all," he said glumly, staring into the sparking fire. "We should be more balanced in our magic. That way I could help you."

  "Power," she muttered. Then frowned. Then went still, eyes widening.

  "Chloe? What is it?"

  "I'm having what might be a very bad idea," she muttered.

  "Let's assume in this situation there are no bad ideas. Well, no ideas too bad to suggest. We can figure out whether or not they're useful after you tell me."

  "You have power," she said. "I can do the magic we need, but right now, I don't have the power."

  "Well, I'd share if I could...." He trailed off as he realized what she was suggesting. "An augmentier? Is that what you're thinking of?" A bond between mages. Not something illusioners bothered much with, but water mages did it with their sanctii, and some of the other magics used them, too. In Anglion they used marriage bonds to lock away some of their women's power, siphoning it to their husbands. "Aren't those kind of complicated?"

  "They can't be that hard. Sophie and Cameron did it by accident." She blushed, and he wondered if perhaps the rumors about exactly how the Queen of Anglion and her consort came to be bonded were true. "I know the theory. They teach it to water mages. And earth witches for bonding petty fams."

  He suspected bonding another human's magic might be more complicated than binding a raven. Though, admittedly, not as difficult as binding an infinitely powerful sanctii. Pity she'd never done that. If she had a sanctii, they’d be far safer. It couldn’t transport them back to the palace, but it could let the others know where they were and fetch more wood and water. "Have you ever had to form a bond?" he asked.

  "No. But it doesn't have to be perfect. Just last through the night. If I can access your power, I can stop the bleeding and, I'm guessing, keep a warming charm going well enough to stop us freezing to death." She squinted at him. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

  It said something about how bad their situation was that she was suggesting it. She'd had sex with him, but he didn't think she'd particularly changed her mind about him. She certainly hadn't yet sought out a repeat encounter. "What if something goes wrong? How do we know we can undo it?"

  "Sophie once told me Elarus offered to break the bond between her and Cameron. I know quite a few sanctii. I'm sure one of them will help if we can't work it out ourselves."

  He didn't particularly like the idea, but she was right. It was better than dying. "What do we need to do?"

  "The basic version takes blood." She lifted her injured arm. "I have plenty of that right now. Do you have a knife?"

  "Yes." He never hunted without a spare tucked into a sheath in his boot. Knives were handy things. He pulled his free. "Should have kept some of that kafiet to pour over it. Isn't that what you do?"

  "Shove the blade into the fire for a bit, then wipe it off in the snow," Chloe suggested. "That should be clean enough. I don't have any virulent diseases that I'm aware of, and I assume you don't either."

  "No," he agreed. Unless extreme idiocy was one. "All right." He followed her suggestion, and by the time he'd cooled the knife outside, he was shivering again. Chloe, on the other hand, had a tiny bit more color in her cheeks after the kafiet.

  "So, what do we need to do?"

  "Share blood and touch the ley line. And then I will try to hook my power into yours. There are words for the ritual, but Madame Simsa used to say they were more for show and focus when a mage is bonding with another mage. It's not like a sanctii, where you're warding yourself as well." She straightened her shoulders and held out her injured arm. "Unwrap the bandage, then cut your hand and put it over the gash. That should work."

  "That's going to hurt you," he objected.

  "Dying will hurt more. Or frostbite. I'm fond of my fingers and toes, Lucien. And Irina will be very upset if I let your ruin your looks by losing half your nose." She smiled, but the expression was shaky. If she was willing to put up with the pain, then he had to try. Share his power with her. Keep them both alive and deal with the consequences when they were safely back in Deephilm.

  He passed the knife to Chloe. "Hold this while I deal with the bandage."

  She nodded and looked away as he unwound the cravat, hissing a breath out as he got to the final layer. The cravat was unpleasantly damp with blood, but he couldn't throw it on the fire, despite his instinct to do just th
at. He could assess if they could spare something else to wrap it after they tried the bond.

  At least there was still blood in the wound. It glistened in the firelight, and he swallowed hard. "Give me the knife."

  He sliced across the meaty part of his palm under his thumb before he could stop and think. Blood welled, and he clamped his hand as gently as possible around Chloe's arm.

  "Ow. Goddess damn it," she muttered. "All right, Truth Seeker. Grab that damn ley line fast. This hurts." She stared at him, focused but shivering. She was watching, he realized, for his magic.

  He sent his power down, through the rock. The ley lines here were deep. He found one and pulled magic as hard as he dared, watching Chloe.

  There was a sudden flare of color around her, brilliant sparks of gold that nearly blinded him. She reached for his other hand and wound her fingers through his.

  "Now," she said. "Let me in."

  Her eyes were wide, the pupils dark as they had been above him and beneath him and beside him in her bed. Her magic engulfed him, and something within him leaped toward it, willing to take whatever part of her she might offer him. He was dimly aware that she was saying something as magic spiraled around him and through him, unlike anything he'd felt before, surging like a forest blaze for a moment, like the rush of sex, before it quieted to another shower of sparks and then settled to a glow that surrounded both of them.

  A sound like a faint chime of bells sang through the air. "Do you hear something?" he said.

  Chloe was staring at him, eyes even wider, but her cheeks were flushed, and she looked far more alert than she had a few minutes ago.

  "The magic," she said absently. Then her mouth dropped open. "You hear that? But you don't hear magic, do you?"

  "No." He shook his head, the song distracting him. "I see sparks."

  She laughed then, a gurgle of pleased satisfaction. "I think it worked."

  Relief swept through him. They were going to survive. She would be safe.

  "Good," he managed. "Then we should get to work getting you patched up."

  Chapter 23

  Chloe watched Lucien in the firelight as he reached for the bloodied bandage. The surge of shared power had left her giddy and somewhat breathless. Enough to make her forget for a moment how much her arm hurt. But now that the initial rush was fading, the ache was pushing back.

  Lucien glowed, brighter than usual. If she kept using her mage sight to watch him, she wouldn't need the firelight. He'd always been loud to her, the song of his magic insistent if she let it steal her focus. Not quite this bright though.

  Dazzling. Not just the glow around him but the sense of his power rolling through her. Tangible, even if she closed her eyes. With them open, a cord of light linked the two of them and offered that power to her. She tugged at it gently, just to experiment, and was rewarded with a rush of magic. Not quite the same as tapping a ley line, though more focused. Regardless, it was enough to strengthen her, a buzz of energy she sorely needed filling her veins.

  But she couldn't drain him. No. She needed his strength to keep them warm through the night. So she would use his power to do the minimum to heal her arm, the slash marring one of his cheeks that he hadn’t even acknowledged, and save the rest for the warming charm. The other aches and bruises making themselves known would have to wait. The healers at the palace could take care of those.

  She shifted in place, wincing. A sharp pain in her side made her suspect she had cracked a rib. But it could just be bruising. There was no reason for her to be doing anything in the next twelve hours before daylight that should stress a minor crack further. It would be uncomfortable, but she could manage. At least she was no longer cold. The rush of magic had chased away the chill that the fire had barely lifted.

  She turned her attention to her arm. The cut was jagged and deeper near her elbow. A thin trickle of blood still welled to the surface. Hopefully she could stop that and boost her body's will to heal now that she had power to burn. A distracting amount. If Lucien walked around with as much power as she was sensing through the bond all the time, she had no idea how he focused minute to minute.

  But she would focus now. Closing her eyes, she tugged on the bond, drawing a thread of power, trying to feel the injury. Feel the path of the blood in her veins and where that path was broken. A true healer would perhaps be able to heal the wound entirely, but she lacked the training. Even if she had the necessary skill, performing that level of magic on herself would be risky.

  So, stop the bleeding, send the suggestion of healing through her flesh, and that would hold her until morning.

  It didn't take long.

  Opening her eyes, she flexed her hand gingerly. The ache was still there, but dull and distant. As long as she didn't do anything too vigorous, it would be bearable until they could get back to the palace. Where, between the Andalyssian healers and the earth witches on the mission, the job could be finished. Hopefully without a scar. Otherwise, she might have to cover it with a tattoo.

  The thought drew a soft giggle to her lips. The rush of power had left her giddy again. Almost as though she'd downed the rest of the kafiet Lucien had poured away.

  "How does it feel?" Lucien asked.

  "Well enough," she said. "You can bandage it again."

  "Good." He set to work doing just that, mouth turned down in concentration. Did that mean he didn’t feel as power-addled as she did? Maybe not, if he was used to having so much magic at his command all the time. But she was no slouch at magic either. Or at least she hadn't been. Maybe it was because she was still out of practice that it felt so strong. Or maybe the added weight of his illusion talent had thrown her off-kilter. Still, she didn't need to use much magic to close the cut on his face or start a warming charm. "Your cheek. Let me deal with that."

  Lucien touched his face but shook his head. “No. It’s fine. Don’t waste your power."

  She doubted it would do any good to argue. "Then I should start on the warming charm."

  That earned her another headshake. "We have enough wood to last a little longer. Rest a little."

  "I feel fine," she protested. Stretching the truth somewhat, but he didn't need to know that. "I don't need to exert much effort to dry the cloaks. You can bring them over to me. Better to do it now, in case the bond doesn't hold." It seemed unlikely, but she was swimming out of her depth with the augmentier. A small miracle it had worked at all.

  She thought he would argue, but after a moment, he merely shrugged. "All right. You know more about such things than I do. Sit still," he said and hauled himself to his feet.

  It didn't take long to dry the cloaks. When she was done, her stomach rumbled as Lucien moved them away again so she could work the charm on their clothes next. It had been a long time since luncheon. It felt like a lifetime. And longer still until breakfast, she expected.

  "I don't suppose you can illusion up dinner?" she asked with a wry smile.

  "No. Water is going to have to—" He stopped, then shook his head. "No, wait. I have these." He pulled out a small waxed paper bag from another inner pocket. She was going to need to make sure her clothes had more pockets from now on. And carry matches and whatever else she could think of to stash within them in case of disaster. "Mints," he said triumphantly. "They gave them to me for the horse. Not much, but it's a bit of sugar, at least."

  She'd forgotten the mints. "I have some, too.” She reached into her own pocket and felt for the bag. And the napkin she'd shoved in there at lunch with the nut confection. She pulled that out. It was sadly squashed and broken into small pieces, but it would be edible. Barely a few mouthfuls shared between the two of them, but as Lucien had said, something was better than nothing. She offered it to him. "Let's have this now. Save the mints for morning. Though I think I fed half of mine to the hor—" She broke off suddenly, remembering Spetya was dead. That he'd run over the edge of cliff. And she could have gone with him. Embarrassingly, she broke into sobs.

  Lucien was back at he
r side in an instant and wrapped his arms gently around her. "Shhh. It's just the shock of it all. You're safe here. It’s all going to be well." He let her cry on him, rubbing her back gently and whispering nonsense into her ear until she regained control of herself and pushed back, scrubbing at her eyes.

  "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

  "It's perfectly normal after a scare," he said. "Today has been enough to test anyone."

  "I'm not the crying sort." Crying was a luxury she'd learned not to indulge in very often.

  "I know," he said. "But I think you can make allowances for yourself. It’s bad enough to fall off a horse at the best of times, let alone in the middle of a storm. Though I’m glad you did."

  She frowned, trying to remember the moment. It was foggy. But she remembered the sensation of sliding. "I’m not sure I fell, exactly. The saddle slipped, I think."

  His gaze sharpened. "That shouldn’t happen."

  "No. But maybe I’m confused. It happened fast."

  "There was no sign of your saddle, so it didn’t come off entirely."

  She shrugged, then shivered. "Maybe I did fall. There was lightning. The horse shied. And then...that’s all I remember."

  He reached around her and picked up the napkin he'd abandoned. "Don’t worry about it. Eat. That will make you feel better. Then maybe you can try to teach me the warming charm. You made my shirt soggy again."

  He smiled as he spoke, but it wasn't a bad idea. If they were sharing power through the bond, he should be able to use some of her earth magic to work a charm. She took a few of the smaller pieces and nibbled. Lucien watched her, then ate, too.

  He tried to make her take more, but she insisted that he have the larger share. He was bigger than her. Once they'd made sure they'd eaten all the crumbs—which, sadly, didn't take long—she climbed off his lap and tried to teach him the warming charm.

  He got the hang of it fast, and his delight in mastering such a small magic made her smile. They practiced while the fire continued to burn, drying out their boots a little and her stockings. When Lucien put the last branch on the fire, the sliver of sky visible through the cave’s entrance was black.