by Jenna Glass
* * *
—
Kailee pressed herself tightly against the wall as she skimmed past the small contingent of honor guards stationed in the Well’s antechamber. The Trapper spell kept her hidden from sight, but the guards were moving about restlessly, and she held her breath lest one of them brush against her and discover her presence.
Of course, she was supposed to be sheltering with the rest of the women and children. Tynthanal had gently reassured her that she had done more than her fair share to protect her adopted home when she’d spent all those hours at Aaltah’s Abbey helping the novice abigails create healing potions. He understood her desire to feel useful—he himself was struggling against his instincts, which insisted his place was on the battlefield—but he could not get over his deeply ingrained belief that it was his duty to protect his wife.
She’d won his permission to keep working on healing potions for as long as possible by promising him she’d rush to the shelter as soon as he told her it was necessary, and at the time she’d made the promise, she’d fully intended to keep it. However, when he had reached out to her via talker and told her what was happening on the battlefield, she’d known almost at once that she had to make a liar of herself.
Tynthanal had described the horror of the enemy’s ascent—of Delnamal’s continual use of Kai spells, and of Draios’s army of doubles—and an idea had immediately sprung into her mind. One she knew Tynthanal would reject out of hand, so she had kept it to herself and promised him she would drop everything and hurry to the shelter as agreed.
Stopping Delnamal was, of course, of paramount importance. According to Tynthanal’s report, it seemed unlikely any of their people had gotten close enough to even try Alys’s purgative potion yet. But to protect Aaltah, they also had to stop Draios, and his defenses had so far proven just as effective, thanks to the spell that made one man become many. Draios was Khalpar’s king, and his army would continue to fight for him even if Delnamal was killed.
Unless she was very much mistaken, Draios’s doubles were nothing more than illusions, which meant that they would have no aura of Rho surrounding them. Unlike the warriors who relied on their eyesight to move and to fight, Kailee had for her whole life relied entirely on her Mindsight. The army of doubles would be invisible to her Mindsight, and therefore unable to distract her. With this Trapper spell hiding her, she should be able to walk right up to Draios and remove some crucial elements from his spell, thus deactivating it. And making him an easy target.
Of course, it would be possible for anyone to try such a tactic, which was why Kailee had almost mentioned the idea to Tynthanal. She had stopped herself at the last moment when she realized that anyone who’d spent their whole life relying on eyesight would find it almost impossibly difficult to pull off such a maneuver. It was considered suicide for a warrior to open his Mindseye in the heat of battle, and even if Tynthanal could have found—and reached—a volunteer who was already in Draios’s path, the tactic was unlikely to succeed. Besides which, she knew if she even mentioned the possibility to Tynthanal, he would suspect she might try it herself and would not trust her promise to go hide.
A frisson of fear shivered down her spine as she slipped past the last of the guards and realized that the door to the Well chamber was closed and likely barred. No doubt Alys was concealed by a Trapper spell of her own somewhere behind that door, but even if Kailee could have gotten through the door without the guards noticing, she needed to remain out here so that she might take down Draios’s shield spell while there were still men left alive to deal with him.
The thought of experiencing a battle filled her with knee-weakening dread. She did not want to see anyone die, but she could hardly hope to avoid it. Not only that, but she knew she could easily be hurt or killed herself. The corridor was broad, but it was still a corridor, and now that she’d put herself behind the guards, there would be nowhere to run to. In such close quarters, she could be accidentally struck by men from either side. If she believed there were any chance someone else was as likely to succeed at taking down Draios’s spell as she, she would have gladly fled the scene.
Trembling slightly with nerves, Kailee fed some more Rho into her Trapper spell to ensure she would remain unseen, then settled in to wait.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“He’s heading your way,” Tynthanal said, and even in the miniature image projected by the talker, Alys could see the strain—and fear—in his face. “For all our intelligence reports, we never truly understood how devastating Delnamal’s powers would be on the battlefield. He has what seems to be an inexhaustible supply of Kai to fuel his spells. And the spells kill too fast and terribly for our men—or your women—to cast the purgative spell. We are throwing everything we can spare at them, but…”
Alys nodded, feeling very little surprise. She ought to be afraid of the death that was inching ever closer to her, but there was one concern that blocked out all others.
“Corlin?” she asked in a ghost of a whisper. She had been holding the talker in her hand to speak with Tynthanal, but she quickly moved to one of the benches that lined the outsides of the Well chamber and set it down. She had left the soldiers who were to be her last line of defense in the antechamber outside, and she was now glad for that decision. She could not put on the stoic face required of Sovereign Princess Alysoon at the moment; she could only be a terrified mother who knew her baby boy was in harm’s way.
Tynthanal scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I haven’t heard anything, Alys,” he said gently. “He was posted at the road on the opposite side of the city, but of course his company has now left its position to join the fight. My scouts from above say there is significant fighting happening to the rear of Delnamal’s party, but that is all I know.”
Alys nodded mutely, her throat far too tight and thick to allow for words.
“Try to take heart,” Tynthanal implored her. “We know he is not in Delnamal’s path, and he won’t be hit by that horrific Kai spell.”
“No,” Alys choked out. “He’ll only be hacked at with swords or shot at with arrows or crossbows or—” She stopped herself, closing her eyes with a shudder.
Someone she couldn’t see said something to Tynthanal, and he nodded. “Alys, I have to go. If I hear any news about Corlin, I swear I will contact you immediately. And please, don’t…” He let his voice drift off.
She would have liked to try to comfort him, as he had tried to comfort her, but she didn’t have it in her to utter the false words. It was her destiny to die here, and Tynthanal would just have to accept the reality.
“Go,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand, for there was so much more at stake than the life of one teenage boy, no matter that she felt her whole world rested in him.
Tynthanal nodded, then his eyes went white. She saw him reaching for the talker, then the image faded away and she was left alone in the vast, empty Well chamber.
The chamber still showed considerable signs of damage, although the rubble had all been cleared ages ago. Several of the benches were cracked, and two were missing entirely. The intricately inlaid floor that surrounded the Well’s opening was patched in places with plain gray flagstones, and even the parts that were intact were marked by chips and scratches.
Alys rose on shaky legs, tucking the talker into a pocket of her skirt and walking nearer to the Well itself, trying to take comfort from the low humming sound it emitted along with its gentle vibration. As a little girl, she had often come to the Well chamber to find peace in the midst of the turmoil of her life at court, but there was no peace to be had now. Not when Corlin was out there fighting for his life. Not when Delnamal possessed even more power than they had realized and was heading straight for this precious Well.
Although it was far too soon—even with Delnamal cutting through their forces so easily, he could not possibly reach the Well chamber in less than
an hour—Alys drew the knife that would end her life. She caressed the blade lightly, and wondered if she would know Corlin’s fate before she died.
It would be a good end, she told herself. A noble one. She would avenge Jinnell, save the land of her birth, and escape the troubles and turmoil of her life. Corlin would be devastated when he found out—she refused to think of it as if—and for that she felt yet another surge of guilt. But some wounds were unavoidable, and if her death meant Delnamal’s defeat, then Corlin stood a much better chance of surviving this war. She would eagerly trade her life for his, and that knowledge helped her pack that little surge of guilt back down into her core, where it could fester with all the rest of it. Until all of it was gone for good.
* * *
—
Leethan held her chin high as she met Waldmir’s fierce gaze and found herself unable to look away.
“Everyone out,” he said, and even having known him for decades, she could not interpret the tone of his voice. “Get those chains off her first.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the soldier who had hauled her into Waldmir’s tent open his mouth to protest, but only a fool would argue with Sovereign Prince Waldmir when he gave an order.
Leethan stood still and passive as the heavy chains and manacles were removed, though she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The chains had not fully immobilized her, but it would have been somewhere between hard and impossible to withdraw the knife from her bodice with them on. And the weight and awkwardness might have slowed her down so much that she’d be taken down before she managed to make the first cut.
She rubbed her aching wrists while the tent emptied out. It looked like Waldmir and some of his top commanders had been partaking of a cold and hurried meal when she’d been brought in. Plates of meat and cheese and bread were scattered on a large, utilitarian table on which maps were spread.
“Have you eaten?” Waldmir asked with false solicitousness, moving over to the table and putting together a plate.
Leethan urged herself not to speak. Now was the perfect time to perform her sacrifice—while she was alone with him and his attention was divided. She was not so foolish as to think him completely distracted by gathering a plate of food, but he would not expect anything resembling violence from her.
To her embarrassment, Leethan’s stomach gave a loud gurgle, causing her to blush and Waldmir to grin. She had been far too nervous to eat anything since breaking her fast this morning.
It was Waldmir’s unguarded grin that undid her. In all her time knowing him, she had never seen him unguarded with anyone but her, and a stab of premature grief preemptively pierced her heart. No matter what he’d done, no matter how well she knew that he was not a good man, no matter that she’d convinced herself years ago that any love she’d ever had for him had shriveled and died, she did not want him to die.
“I know you must be frightened,” Waldmir said gently, the grin fading as he approached her and held out the plate, “but you must know that if I can find even the feeblest excuse to spare your life, I will do it. And you would not have delivered yourself into my hands if you did not plan to present me with such an excuse.”
The flash of hunger had disappeared as fast as it had come, but Leethan took the plate by reflex. A whiff of the meat—mutton, by the smell of it—made her stomach roll over, and she had to swallow hard to fight the nausea.
Waldmir shook his head, and the expression on his face was unquestionably one of hurt. “Why, Leethan? Why did you steal my daughter from me?”
Leethan let out a shuddering breath. “You sent a five-year-old to the Abbey, and you wonder why I might want to take her away from you?”
Waldmir scoffed and waved his hand as if to dismiss her argument by royal decree. “I had no intention of leaving her there, and a visit would have done her no harm.” His voice picked up some heat. “Why would you risk your own life and hers by fleeing through the mountains in winter? If she had died in your care, there would have been nothing you could have done to persuade me to spare you.”
It was Leethan’s turn to scoff. “Don’t pretend to be the loving father with me, Waldmir. Your daughters have never been more than disappointments and inconveniences to you. Just as your wives have been.” Emboldened by indignation, she strode over to the table and put down her untouched plate.
“That is not true!” he protested with some heat, then had the grace to look abashed. “It is not true of our daughters or of you. My other wives and their daughters were poor substitutes, and I am well aware that I did not give them the love or the kindness they deserved. But that does not mean I would wish harm upon them. I freely admit that I cannot look at Elwynne without remembering the sins of her mother and my nephew, which have now become public knowledge. But she is still my daughter, and I would have grieved had she died. You owe me an explanation.”
Leethan shivered and stepped closer to the glowing brazier that warmed the tent, holding out her hands. She should perform the sacrifice now and have done with it. All this talking was merely delaying the inevitable and making things harder for her.
Still and all, she had kidnapped and endangered his daughter, and as cold and unloving as he might be, he spoke the truth when he said he deserved an explanation.
You’re stalling, an acid voice whispered in her mind, but she shoved it away.
“You won’t like or even believe my explanation,” she warned, watching him out of the corner of her eye as she warmed her hands by the fire.
“Ah,” he said with a nod. “It’s one of those vision things.”
There was only the faintest hint of disdain in his voice, but she heard it anyway and gritted her teeth.
Waldmir once again scoped out the table of food and maps, popping a hunk of cheese into his mouth before grabbing a wineskin from which he poured two goblets of ruby red wine.
“Yes,” she grated. “One of those vision things.”
He held out one of the goblets to her, and once again, she took it by reflex.
“What did you see?” he asked, showing no sign that he had noticed her indignation.
Because she saw no harm in it, she told him about her vision of crossing the mountains with Elwynne in tow. He listened attentively, his head cocked to one side.
“I see,” he said when she had finished.
She snorted. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”
His eyebrows rose. “Who says I don’t believe you? I believed you when you told me I would have no sons, didn’t I?”
She didn’t know what to say to that and found herself taking a swallow of wine to cover her discomfiture. Her stomach wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden intrusion, but after a moment it settled, and she decided to drink more. Perhaps the gentle buzz of alcohol in her veins would make it easier to do what she must.
“So you took her because you believed your goddess wanted you to,” Waldmir said. “I can…respect that.” He sighed. “I can even forgive it, because I’ve seen enough evidence to put stock in your visions. Perhaps your Mother of All—if She exists—intended me to join forces with Draios and knew Elwynne was the goad that would make it happen.”
Leethan’s lip curled in disgust. “Is that how you justify selling your daughter to a monster?”
Waldmir blinked at her as if completely baffled by her objection. “If my plans come to fruition, she’ll one day be the Queen of Khalpar. What greater future could a man envision for his daughter?”
“And if that marriage is as disastrous as Shelvon’s and she gets as little joy from it, that’s her fault, right?”
“This is pointless,” Waldmir said with a dismissive wave. “I have made my bargain with Draios, and I will have many years in which to decide if fulfilling it is advantageous or not. It is your future that is in question here, not Elwynne’s. I’m sure you’re not expecting my royal council to agre
e to spare you on the strength of your vision, so whatever information you have brought me from Rhozinolm must be something you believe will ensure Nandel’s victory in the battle to come.” He frowned. “Though I might be just a little offended that you believe we need information from a spy to lead us to victory.”
Her hands trembling, Leethan turned her back to Waldmir and put down the wine goblet. She was out of time. If he started pressing her for the information she claimed to be bringing, the situation could deteriorate so fast she would be back in chains before she even thought to draw the knife.
If she was going to do this, it had to be now. No matter how badly she might want to put it off.
Tears stinging her eyes, Leethan drew the dagger.
* * *
—
Kailee’s heartbeat was growing increasingly frantic, and she swallowed hard as she pressed herself more tightly into the corner behind the defenders who stood between the enemy and Aaltah’s Well. News had trickled in via talker as they all waited for the confrontation they were hoping would not occur. Listening to the reports had very much made Kailee doubt her decision to put herself in the path of the enemy.
Delnamal and Draios had by all accounts sliced through what should have been a nearly impenetrable defense, climbing inexorably up the cliffside road and leaving a devastating trail of bodies behind. Whenever it seemed that the defenders might be gaining a little traction, Delnamal would let loose a Kai spell from his apparently inexhaustible supply, and the hapless soldiers died in droves.
Kailee trembled, her mouth dry with nerves as Alys’s retinue gathered in front of the door to the Well chamber, poised and grimly prepared for a battle they did not expect to win. She longed to take down her Trapper spell and let the men know of her presence, for she felt exceedingly vulnerable standing there in the corridor unarmed and unseen. However, she knew without doubt that if the men knew she was there, they would force her to leave.