by H. L. Burke
A burst of light blinded her. She fell to her knees, dazzled. Muffled shouts and bangs somehow made it through her wobbling consciousness.
“Stop! Let him go!” she whimpered.
Hands grasped her shoulders—too small and feminine to be the ones she wanted.
“You’ll hurt the princess! Stop it!” Sigid’s voice came from right beside Arynne’s ear.
“In spite of what I’d heard, she seems fine to me.”
Arynne blinked away the orbs of light still dancing before her eyes. Evyd stood, his fingertips glowing with pent-up magic, his glower fixed on Kay. Two wardens held the prince by the arms, but from the defeated expression on Kay’s face, he had no intention of fighting. Not that he could’ve gotten far if he’d tried. He couldn’t travel, his father was a stronger starcaster, and Friya, also a starcaster, and her daughter, Valka, stood in the doorway, blocking the only exit.
“Well, well, well.” Evyd threw a bolt of light onto the floor in front of his son. It burst in a shower of sparks that sprayed in Kay’s face. The young man winced and angled his head away. “I was told the princess was still ill after several moonnotches under your supposedly miraculous care.” He strode closer. “Figured it obviously wasn’t working, and if we were going to lose her anyway, might as well get killing you over with so at least the whole thing wasn’t a loss.” He grabbed Kay by the beard and yanked his head up, forcing Kay to look him in the eye.
“Stop!” Arynne growled.
“And what do I find?” Evyd’s words escaped him like venom from a spitting hood-snake. “The princess, seemingly recovered, and you lazing about her bedchambers.” He sneered. “It appears your ‘miracle cure’ involved putting something more than your magic inside her.”
Arynne’s face heated, and her magic flared. Wrenching herself from Sigid’s hold, she threw her hands forward, letting out a stream of fire in Evyd’s direction. It broke against a shimmering wall of light.
“No you don’t!” Friya stepped further into the room, her fingertips still sparking from the expended magic. “Stay put, little one. There’s nothing you can do to stop this, and you must’ve known it was coming.”
Panic jolted through Arynne. The barrier of light stretched from wall to wall, keeping her from Kay. She couldn’t get to him, couldn’t attack those who would harm him, couldn’t save him.
“You can’t do this!” She smacked at the light with her open hand. It sent a jolt of static through her. “He only returned to save my life. I would’ve died if he hadn’t. You can’t ... hurt him!” Her voice cracked.
“He broke his life vow.” Evyd drew a dagger from his belt. Kay stiffened, and Arynne’s heart dropped into her stomach. “I can do whatever I want with him.” He lunged forward and grabbed Kay’s hair this time, jerking his head back to expose his throat.
Arynne screamed, fire escaping her palms in spite of the futility of it. Kay’s pulse pounded in her brain.
“Stop!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please! You can’t do this! Please!”
“Finally, after starcycles of your existence tainting my household, defiling my line, I can be rid of you.” Evyd pressed the knife over Kay’s jugular. Kay flinched. The wardens holding him pulled his arms behind his back, forcing him to his knees.
“No!” Arynne wailed
“Not here!” Kay rasped. “Please, sir, Father, not here.”
Releasing Kay so that his head lolled forward over his chest, Evyd paused. He narrowed his gaze at Arynne’s beloved. “And why not?”
Kay’s shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath, and the connection from the heartbond weakened from a constant shout to a distant murmur. Arynne chest tightened. He was trying to shut her out ... not wanting her to feel whatever it was he felt, or was about to feel. He met her gaze, blue eyes pinched with pain and grief. She shook her head, and he looked away.
“Not in front of her,” Kay’s voice calmed but still held a pleading edge. “Please, don’t make her watch. Don’t ... If you have any mercy left in you, not here.”
Arynne’s heart shattered. Ever, please, stop this. Save him. Don’t let him die.
Evyd’s lip curled in disgust. He kicked Kay in the gut. Kay crumpled forward with a muffled groan.
“You’re still pathetic. Begging like a child afraid of the dark. I never expected you to live like a man, but I held out hope that you’d at least have the dignity to die like one.”
“Brother.” Friya frowned. “This isn’t the plan.”
Ignoring her, Evyd stepped down on the back of Kay’s neck, pushing him out of the arms of the guards and onto the floor.
“Stop it!” Arynne cried out, even knowing it would do no good. “Kay! Fight back. Please!” If only to die fighting. If only so she didn’t have to watch him humiliated. If only to die with a faint hope of salvation.
Before Kay could respond, his father’s magic crackled about him, binding him in ropes of light.
“You were always a waste, an error in birth, a boil in my flesh in life.” Evyd’s fist clenched about the dagger’s hilt. “Finally I can undo the mistake I made twenty-two starcycles ago when you were sired!” He raised the knife. Arynne’s knees gave out, and Sigid caught her as she fell.
“Brother!” Friya grabbed Evyd’s wrist. “This is not the plan. Not yet. Remember!” Perhaps because of Friya’s distraction, the barrier dropped from before Arynne. Before she could pick herself up, however, someone shouted from the other room.
“What’s going on in here?”
Hope kindled in Arynne’s breast as Olyn pushed his way past his cousin, Valka, into the bed chamber. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. He rushed at his father and grabbed him by his other arm. “Stop! What are you doing?”
“What should’ve been done ages ago!” Evyd spat at both his sister and his heir. “He broke his vow. His life is mine!”
“Yes, but not here and now. Not in this way.” Friya’s voice dropped to a hiss. “Remember. We still have a use for him.”
Olyn’s brow furrowed. “What is she talking about, Father?”
Evyd grunted and jerked away. “None of your concern.”
The light-bindings on Kay faded. No longer under his father’s boot, Kay rose to a seated position, though he kept his head down, holding his stomach as if it still hurt badly.
“Kay.” Arynne crawled forward, ignoring all else.
She managed to get her arms around him. He collapsed into her, his fingers grasping the cloth of her dress, his face hidden against her shoulder.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Please, don’t give up.”
“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so ... so sorry, Arynne.”
“You can’t do this.” Olyn stood over his brother, angling himself between Evyd and Kay. “Yes, he broke the vow, but he did it to save her. How can you kill him for that?”
“The motive doesn’t matter, only the legality.” Evyd scowled. “As far as I’m concerned, his crime was being born, and that alone is enough to condemn him.” He turned to Friya. “But you’re right. We have a plan, and we’re not deviating from that. Do you have the collar? I won’t risk him escaping.”
Friya reached into the pouch hanging from her sash and withdrew a chain of dark metal links. “I have it. Wardens, keep him still so I can put this around his neck.” Arynne’s hold on Kay tightened, but she wasn’t strong enough to prevent the guards from pulling him away. They jerked him to his feet where his aunt fastened the chain close about his neck, like a collar for a dog. Immediately their already weakened heartbond faded to a mere whisper.
Arynne cried out in horror and sprang to her feet. “What is that?”
“It’s warded to block magic, all magic. As long as he is wearing it he won’t be able to starcast or travel, making him much easier to contain.” Friya tilted her head. “And it also muffles your heartbond, which you should be grateful for. I don’t know what it would feel like, being on the receiving end of his emotions and sensations dur
ing what’s to come, but I can’t imagine it would be pleasant.”
Arynne’s heart rose to her throat, choking her words. Kay hung his head, shoulders slumped, eyes pinched shut. She reached for him, but Friya blocked her way. One of the wardens bound Kay’s hands behind his back.
“Take him to the dungeon and make sure he’s under careful watch,” Evyd barked at the wardens.
Olyn grabbed Kay’s arm. “This isn’t over. Stay strong. I’m not giving up yet and neither should you.”
Arynne shoved Friya as hard as she could. The woman wobbled, and Arynne pushed past, throwing herself against Kay’s chest. She nestled against him, savoring the rise and fall of his chest and the beat of his heart, calmer now. It reminded her of waking up in his arms. She would’ve given anything to return to that moment, safely swaddled in her blankets with the man she loved. “We’ll find a way to get you free. I swear.”
“I hope so.” He kissed the top of her head. “Arynne, Olyn, please. Whatever happens to me, you need to look out for each other.”
“We will,” they said as one.
The wardens led Kay away. Arynne felt hot and cold at the same time. As the room emptied of everyone but her, Olyn, and Sigid, her legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees.
“Princess!” Sigid knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine!” Arynne snapped though the floor rocked beneath her. A chill crept through her core. “We need to help Kay.”
“You don’t look fine.” Olyn’s arms surrounded her. Leaning on him, she managed to walk from the bedroom to the sitting room. She sank onto the couch, shivering.
Someone rapped on the door. “Arynne? Are you all right?”
“Lord Clindt!” Sigid clasped her hand. “Maybe he can help her.”
“I’m fine!” Arynne said through clenched jaws, afraid that if she unclenched them her chattering teeth would give her away.
Sigid opened the door, and Clindt rushed in, his face drawn. “I saw them taking Kajik away. Is Arynne all right?”
Olyn poked at the fire. “I thought she was, but after they took Kay, she collapsed, and her skin feels cold to the touch. Do you think she’s relapsing?”
Clindt sat beside her and waved his hand over her face. “No. Your color is good, and there’s no trace of dark magic.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “That collar they had on Kajik. I’ve never seen one, but I’ve read about them. Anti-magic ward?”
“That’s what they said.” Olyn nodded. “Does it have something to do with Arynne’s symptoms?”
“It might. From what I can tell she’s still on the mend, the dark magic gone, but she lost a lot of strength during the sickness. My guess? Kajik’s presence, with the heartbond and his magic, masked how weakened she actually was. With him gone and their connection severed—”
“Not severed.” Arynne concentrated with all her might. A trace of Kay remained in her heart, like a flicker of a candle flame instead of the usual crackle of a fire. “I can still feel him. Barely.”
“That’s good.” Clindt’s frown as he continued to examine her belied his words. “Your body has regained enough strength that you should be able to heal on your own from here even if—if the worst happens.”
“If Kay dies?” She glared at him. “That’s what you mean, so say it!”
Clindt hung his head.
“Well, he’s not going to!” Arynne leaped to her feet only to topple against Olyn. Tears welled from her eyes. How could she help Kay if she couldn’t even stand? “I won’t let him. I will figure out a way to stop this. I can’t—”
“None of us want anything to happen to him.” Olyn gripped her arm. “But Arynne, you need to rest.”
“I can’t rest!” Her voice rose in pitch. Sweat broke out across her brow in spite of the cold, and her chest hurt. She couldn’t draw a full breath. “Evyd was going to kill him right there in front of me. How long do you think he’ll wait now that I’m not there? Now that Kay’s alone? He’s alone, and he’s scared, and Olyn, we need to be with him. We can’t leave him like that.” Words poured from her mouth like water from a broken jug. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t think. She needed to think. If she could think, she could plan, and if she could plan she could act, but everything was happening too fast but at the same time nothing was happening.
“She’s going into hysterics.” Clindt stood and placed a hand on her forehead. Soothing magical energy trickled like water from the crown of her head down her neck, spine, and limbs. The world grew softer about the edges, and she slumped against Olyn’s chest. He lowered her onto the couch again.
Her heart continued to pound for a few moments as the room spun about her. With a worried meow, Sol landed on the back of the couch and cocked his head at her. In spite of everything, something in her pet’s expression made her laugh. Seemingly encouraged, he hopped onto her chest and nudged at her face.
“Easy.” Clindt brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Your body is still recovering and what just happened—well, I wasn’t there, but I imagine it was awful.”
“The worst.” She choked. Tears streamed down her face. “But I can’t just lie here and be useless. Kay—”
“I know. I have a thought, something that might work, but I need to do it alone.” The older prince knelt beside her and kissed her forehead. “I want him free and safe as much as you do, Arynne. You know that.”
“I do.” She clutched Sol to her chest. The cat-owl didn’t protest the squeezing and started to purr.
Worry gripped Arynne. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Olyn. He was unarguably reliable and well-meaning, after all. However, he tended to think he could use diplomacy to solve problems. A man like Evyd wouldn’t change his mind because of diplomacy. No, the only thing Arynne would trust to change Evyd’s mind was an axe between the eyebrows.
She needed to clear her head. Getting emotional wouldn’t help Kay. Still, the idea of him being alone and scared—
“Someone needs to be with him. What if Evyd tries something?”
Clindt stood. “I’ll see if I can find out where he’s being held.”
“We can take shifts, so there’s always someone in shouting distance.” Olyn agreed.
“I can help too!” Sigid volunteered.
“I’d feel better if you stayed with Arynne for now.” Olyn rubbed the back of his neck. “Clindt and I will head down to the dungeon and make sure he’s safe, all right?”
Arynne nodded. It was a start. Knowing as much as possible about where he was being held would help her engineer an escape ... though maybe killing Evyd was the answer. She’d considered it once for less cause. If it was what it would take to save Kay, she’d end that beast’s life in an eyeblink.
Chapter Eighteen
As the wardens, his former brothers-in-arms, led him bound through the palace, Kay sank into himself, only keeping enough awareness of his surroundings to follow his keepers down staircases and through halls, winding deeper and deeper into the belly of the palace. He didn’t want to be aware of the stares from every servant or courtier he passed, the awkwardness of the men tasked with keeping him from escaping his doom who had once fought and served with him, the glares from his father—though thankfully Friya, Valka, and Evyd left them about halfway through their walk.
Instead, he thought about Arynne.
The dimming before had given him much to contemplate. Not that finally having her physically had changed how he felt about her. He still loved her the same, still felt the same admiration for her spirit and wit, still longed to keep her safe above all else ... but it had somehow made it feel real and undeniable.
He could no longer convince himself that their bond was a fluke, an accident, and that she’d turn from him, affections fading, if given time and distance. No, his soul had twined itself about her, and hers about him. He’d experienced her at her most unguarded, her most vulnerable, and had given her equally of himself. From the smallest moments, the brush of his hand across her cheek or t
he meeting of their lips, to the intense throes of lovemaking, it all spoke to love, and he’d never forget that she’d granted him that. No matter what his father did to him, no matter what lay before them, he’d known love with Arynne, and that knowledge, that memory, was his forever.
Their heartbond still pulsed faintly at the back of his mind. The weakening of their connection, as well as the dampening of his own magic, irked him. He could sense his abilities, but they seemed hazy, ungraspable. The energy of magic felt like sound through ears clogged with water. Well, if this ended the way he thought it would, he’d probably be glad that Arynne wouldn’t be able to feel his every twinge of fear and pain. She didn’t need to experience that.
After descending three staircases through starshard-lit halls, open and clean, one of the wardens opened a metal door near the wardens’ quarters. A single starshard lantern hung on a hook at the top of the narrow stairs. Beyond this lay only darkness. The lead warden took the lantern, and they descended down the dark, twisting staircase, the air growing colder and damper around them. Kay shivered. Instinctively he sought his connection to Arynne, but the weakness of it only made him feel hollow. His breath fogged before him.
“I’ll see if I can get you a cloak.” His head jerked to the unexpected voice.
“Thank you.” Kay furrowed his brow. “Why, though?”
The older of the two wardens gave him a sad smile. “We’ve never fought together, sir, but I know your reputation among the other wardens. Whatever you did to merit this, you’ve served your country well in the past, and you deserve some comfort.”
At the bottom of the stairs lay a rounded room with a series of doors opening up onto it. Only five in total. A small kingdom, Frorheim never had much reason to hold many prisoners for any length of time. A lump formed in Kay’s throat as he wondered how long this would be his home.
The wardens opened one of the cells and nudged Kay in.
“Any chance of untying my hands?” Kay managed a weak smile.
“Sorry, sir, orders.” The warden who had suggested he could have a cloak shook his head.