A Trial of Sorcerers: Book One

by Kova, Elise

  When the door opened again, every head turned except for Eira’s. She was far too exhausted to even raise her eyes. Her magic was as brittle as her sanity felt.

  Two familiar hands covered her trembling fist. Eira followed them up to a pair of sad, hazel eyes.

  “You can let go,” Cullen said softly. “We have him.”

  27

  “You captured him?” Eira repeated. “Ferro?”

  “Yes. Deneya has him now. They’re with the emperor and empress.” Cullen’s gaze shifted to her family as Eira’s roved the room. She didn’t remember Vhalla leaving. “The empress has instructed me to inform you all that she is working on sorting out Eira’s situation. The plan is there will be an announcement to the city, after a brief period, of a mystery attacker. Eira’s involvement will be cleared following an ‘investigation’ and the next random murderer taken into palace custody from the city will be convicted of the crimes.”

  “But…” Eira whispered. No one heard her, or no one listened. Eira continued to hold her hand in a fist; the truth hadn’t sunk in yet.

  “It should go without saying that you three should never mention to anyone beyond this room that Ferro was behind these heinous acts.”

  “Understood.” Gwen dipped her chin, accustomed to royal orders being funneled through others.

  “What will happen to him?” Grahm asked, clearly uncertain about being sworn to secrecy.

  “That has yet to be decided. Given his position, and the upcoming Tournament of Five Kingdoms, this matter is being handled with the utmost discretion.”

  Discretion was far better than Ferro deserved.

  “The Tournament is still going to happen?” Fritz stole the shock Eira was missing the energy to feel.

  “It must. A landmark treaty between five nations cannot be stalled because of the actions of one clearly insane man.”

  “I’m not going to allow apprentices to be sent after this.” Fritz stood, sliding into the mantle of Minister of Sorcery. “We don’t even know his motives. What if they were directed by the Queen of Meru herself?”

  Cullen remained calm. “Those are all questions for you to take up with the empress.”

  “I will be certain to.”

  “In the meantime, Her Majesty asked me to send you back to the Tower,” Cullen continued to Fritz. A young man, an apprentice of the Tower, was ordering around the Minister of Sorcery as though it were nothing. Even if he was just a vessel for the empress’s wishes, Eira found herself envious of the skillful wielding of power. Though, she was more envious of his ability to remain composed. “There will be questions, understandably, following the deaths of candidates. You need to be there for the Tower to keep calm and try and quell any rumors.”

  “How many died?” Eira made herself heard this time. Though as soon as she asked the question, she regretted it.

  “Seven.” Cullen’s expression was void of emotion. It wasn’t that he was composed, Eira realized. He was functioning like she was—numb and detached. “All Waterrunners.”

  “And I’m the only one who survived,” Eira breathed. No wonder Yemir was ready to pin her with the crimes and everyone was ready to believe him. All her conversations with Ferro from those long nights floated through her head. She’d told him so much about Waterrunners and their powers. She’d helped him every step of the way without realizing it.

  She’d been the one to give him the information he needed about the terrain, about what Waterrunners could and couldn’t do, about her own past. Numb shock finally eased her cramping fingers and her fist uncurled. She had no fight left in her. She’d been used and maneuvered.

  “It’s not your fault,” Cullen said, soft and firm, while looking her right in the eye. “But…clearly…the fact that Waterrunners were targeted is going to work against you.”

  “Work against her?” Gwen glanced between them.

  “They think I have a motive.” Eira spelled it out for her aunt.

  “You’d never kill anyone. I still can’t believe people even suggest it,” Gwen said with disgust.

  She would never escape three years ago.

  “I agree.” Cullen’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “But people will look for any reason to explain these horrific acts. In their grief, they won’t care if the real killer is brought to justice or not, so long as they have someone to blame.”

  “I can’t believe this is really happening.” Gwen shook her head.

  Cullen continued to wear his cold, unfeeling stare. “We’re working with bad cards, Eira especially.” Before anyone could say anything else, Cullen shifted his attention back to her family. “Fritz and Grahm, please return to the Tower. The empress said she would meet you there as soon as she’s able to discuss things further. Gwen, the empress would like to ask you to keep the palace guard in order—help prevent rumors there as well and, most importantly, make sure that no one realizes Eira is missing from her cell. The imperial plan is to keep her comfortable here instead of in the depths.”

  “That I will gladly do.” Gwen sighed, resigned, and gave Eira a kiss on the cheek before starting for the door.

  “And what will I be doing?” Eira asked, dejected. Fritz and Grahm squeezed her tightly before leaving, a movement that hardly registered.

  “You”—Cullen’s hands rested on her shoulders as the door clicked shut—“are going to rest and recover your strength.”

  “I’m fine.” Eira pulled away. Her magic snapped and her hand spasmed. Eira stared down at it. The muscles were so cramped and exhausted she could hardly move her fingers. “I don’t have him captive anymore. Marcus is dead and I…I need to be doing something.”

  “The best thing you can do is rest. You need to stay here in hiding and wait until your name is cleared. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you’re still in that cell and it’ll spell trouble if the truth becomes known.”

  “But Marcus’s Rite of Sunset, it’ll be…”

  “Tonight.” He said the most horrible word she’d ever heard.

  “I can go, right?” Eira stood and the world swayed treacherously. She went from hating Cullen and all his cold, calculating, trained pragmatism one moment, to needing him for it the next. He said nothing and Eira’s good hand balled in his shirt over his chest. “Cullen, tell me, I can—”

  “I don’t know.” His hands covered hers gently.

  “He’s my brother,” she choked. “I have to be there for his send-off into the Father’s realms.” It was the last moment his mortal soul and hers would exist together on the same plane of existence until she met her final rest.

  “I’ll try. But you must understand, Eira, everyone is just trying to protect you.”

  “I must go!”

  “Not at the expense of your safety.” The kindness in his eyes was withering into frustration.

  “Forget my safety!”

  “Your safety is all that matters!” His hands lifted off hers and flew to her shoulders. Cullen gripped her tightly, shaking her. His eyes were wide with emotion. “Marcus is gone! Nothing you can risk now will bring him back.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Her voice rose to meet his.

  “Then stop trying to throw your life away!” Cullen was breathless, his soft panting washing over her wet cheeks. She was crying again. When did that happen? Eira didn’t know. She felt like she would be a tangle of tears and hate for the rest of her days. His voice broke into something tender, heartbroken. “Eira, I…” His hand lifted off her shoulder. Before she even registered the movement it was on her cheek, his thumb stroking away her tears. A futile effort. “I mourn for him, too. But he would want you to stay safe. I’m trying to honor his memory by helping you.”

  She had been a burden to Marcus, and now that burden had transferred to Cullen. Eira pressed her eyes closed. But her cheek, with no command from her, tipped slightly into his palm, seeking out whatever tenderness he could offer.

  After only a second, Cullen pulled her close. One arm slipped
around her shoulders, the other buried in her hair. She’d thought about his nails brushing lightly against her scalp again once in a while, but she hadn’t imagined it’d be like this.

  “Tell me you’ll stay here and stay safe,” he murmured. “I don’t want to ever endure the sight of you in chains again.”

  “I will.” She didn’t have the first idea of how she would escape even if she wanted to.

  “Good.” Cullen slowly pulled away. “Try and get some sleep.”

  “I will,” she repeated, sitting back on the sofa.

  Cullen dutifully adjusted the pillows around her. When he was finished, she lay back and he draped the blanket over her. Eira studied every movement, looking for a hint of betrayal. She’d missed those clues with Ferro. She’d never miss them again.

  “I’ll see you when I can.”

  It sounded like a promise she hadn’t asked for. Yet her treacherous heart was glad to hear it. She stamped out the emotion as quickly as it appeared.

  “But it might not be for some time. I’m going to try and curb my father.”

  “He hates me, doesn’t he?” She sought confirmation of her earlier theory.

  Cullen hesitated, then nodded. “At first, he merely disliked that I was associating with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s been hounding me to begin courting for a politically beneficial marriage for years.” Cullen gave her a weak smile. Eira swallowed thickly, ignoring whatever implication might be behind his words. She wasn’t ready to face it. “But, then, when he saw your magic… Now he sees you as a threat to us.”

  Eira studied his face as Cullen lightly brushed his fingertips over her forehead. The movement was so tender, so gentle, it nearly ended her. I’m not worthy, she wanted to say, Don’t touch me; I’m death to everyone who dares draw near.

  “You know, I never wanted anything to do with you,” Eira murmured.

  “I never wanted anything to do with you, either,” he whispered. “But here we are…and now I will fight for you.” His knuckles stroked her cheek one last time and, without another word, Cullen left.

  * * *

  She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must’ve. The last time her eyes were open, it had been early dawn. Now, the room was cast in inky night.

  A fire still crackled in the hearth and Eira’s eyes, crusted with sleep, struggled to adjust to the light. Someone had been in to keep the fire burning. Cullen? The empress herself? Trusted staff? The thought of anyone sneaking in and out while she slept coated her in a nearly palpable feeling of discomfort. Eira tried to rub that thick, slimy sensation off her arms, but only succeeded in throwing off the blanket.

  “Good, you’re awake.”

  Someone sitting on the couch across from her did nothing to ease the uncomfortable sensations. Eira was upright in an instant, calming when the individual came into focus. Deneya stared at her, eyes bright, outlined in orange flame.

  “What time is it?”

  “An ungodly hour when most of the world is resting after a very long day,” Deneya answered vaguely.

  Eira settled back into her pillow, staring at the dancing shadows on the ceiling. She’d missed Marcus’s Rite of Sunset. No one had even woken her so she could pray alone to the Mother and the Father for his safe passage. She wanted to weep for what she’d lost, but all the tears had vanished.

  “Are you here to kill me?” Eira asked, finally. “Finish the job your master started?”

  “Ferro was more mark than master.” The words held an echo of offense. “I came to apologize.” Eira looked to Deneya once more. “If I had done my job correctly, I would’ve known sooner. I could have prevented the misfortune that befell you.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Yes. I was sent here to keep an eye on him. He was suspect back on Meru.”

  “Then I feel like I should hate you,” Eira said softly. If Deneya was telling the truth, she could’ve put an end to all of Eira’s suffering before it began.

  “Go ahead.” Deneya shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first, or last, person to hate me.”

  “It’s too much effort to feel anything right now… Besides, it was just as much my fault as it was yours.”

  “Because of your meetings with him?”

  “Yes. How did you find out about those?” Eira asked. Deneya hadn’t known about the meetings mere days ago.

  “I have my ways.”

  “It must have been Alyss.” Eira had only told Alyss and Marcus. Ferro had burned the notes he’d used to summon her—fastidious in covering his tracks.

  Deneya nodded, approval glimmering in her eyes. “She told Fritz, who told the empress, who told me. Now, I need to know what you discussed in those meetings.”

  “I already told you when I said it was all my fault. I told him about Waterrunner magic, about the Tower, about Solaris, about the forests and everything else he needed to—” Eira stopped herself with a hand over her mouth. She gasped, holding in her sobs. She would not cry again. She wouldn’t allow Ferro to have power over her once more.

  “I need every last detail,” Deneya said once Eira composed herself. “There’s more depth to this than you realize.”

  “Such as?”

  “The less you know the better.”

  “My brother is dead, my peers are dead, I’m implicated in their murders and I nearly died. I think have a right to know.” Eira straightened, sitting taller than she had before. She ached, but it was the deep pains of grief that had made their home in her chest. The pains of her body and magic were nothing in comparison.

  Deneya assessed her for a long minute. Whatever measure she was performing, Eira met the mark. “We suspect Ferro might be part of an organization that seeks to sabotage the Treaty of Five Kingdoms. I suspect this attack is proof of that—as he was trying to capitalize on the seeds of suspicion Solaris already holds for Meru.”

  “That’s why they’re not bringing him to trial here,” Eira realized. No matter what, Ferro had thought he would win. Either he would escape after murdering her and all the other Waterrunners—his disappearance would cast blame on him but he lived to fight another day—or he would be tried in Solaris and every citizen would see an elfin as a murderer, an enemy. He hadn’t accounted for being captured, or the emperor and empress to stay one step ahead of him by not bringing him to trial.

  “I will bring him back to Meru and bring him before the queen for a private verdict. I will see him brought to justice, I promise you this. But I want as much proof as I can find of what he was doing. Not just for his trial, but to find any conspirators he was working with.”

  “He’s not acting alone—you said he’s part of an organization.”

  “Just so.” Deneya wore a grim expression.

  “Who’s at the top of the organization? Who would sabotage a treaty?”

  “We have some suspects, but nothing concrete. I thought Adela could have been when I first suspected you might be an agent for her. Investigating you distracted me from Ferro…thus, anything you can tell me might help make up for lost time.” Deneya leaned back on the sofa, resting her arm along the back. “We’re unable to interrogate him. As you might suspect, he’s gagged so he can’t use Lightspinning. That means you’re the best we have.”

  Eira stared out the dark windows for several minutes. She had been a suspect because of her perceived connection with Adela. Even after Deneya had said she’d written off Eira working for the pirate queen, the suspicions had no doubt remained. Their nights together were cast in a new light. That light also shone on Fritz’s—and her family’s—fears about the truth of her possible parentage ever coming out.

  Her possible connection with Adela had contributed to Marcus’s death. She was culpable in so many ways.

  “I’ll tell you everything I remember,” Eira resolved and shifted to the edge of the sofa. As painful as every word was, she forced them out. She recalled every last interaction with such brutal precision that her heart stung and
her hands trembled. She had replayed these meetings in her mind, time and again, but they were now smothered in the stink of betrayal. Whatever she had to endure now wouldn’t be enough; it would never pay back all she had taken from the Charem family. “…and that’s it,” she finished.

  Deneya sighed. Eira had been able to tell from her expression while she spoke that her information wasn’t terribly helpful. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll do what I can.” Deneya stood.

  “Wait.” Eira stared into the fire, an idea suddenly illuminated. “I think I can help you further.”

  “Oh?”

  “Take me to his room.”

  “What—oh.” Deneya’s eyes were alight with wicked amusement. A smile curled her lips. “You are a useful one, aren’t you?”

  “I will be whatever I have to be to avenge my brother,” Eira swore.

  Deneya didn’t seem shocked or put off in the slightest. She no doubt heard the murderous tone in Eira’s voice and remained unfazed. The woman wasn’t made of ice, but shadow—equally as unfeeling as Eira strove to be.

  “Very well,” Deneya said, starting for the door. “Follow me.”

  28

  Deneya had a frightening knowledge of the palace. She moved between the shadows, confident with every step. She knew just how to open secret doors with rust-covered hinges so they didn’t squeal and alert everyone still slumbering. She knew the rounds of the guards and what passageways weren’t lit by flame bulbs but with long, dark candles.

  Eira did her best to keep up, but her feet were clumsy by comparison. More than once she tripped, falling hard to narrowly avoid taking down an expensive vase or suit of armor with her. The exits of the passages were awkward at best.

  But Deneya didn’t slow. Not once did she look back to make sure Eira was keeping up. Nor did she ever verbally instruct the next turn. It felt like its own trial to Eira. As if every step whispered, Keep up. Prove to me that you can.