by Cayla Keenan
“I thought your people didn’t feel fear.”
“My people aren’t suicidal,” the witch shouted.
“Well then you’re welcome to try your chances with the hunters.”
“Kell!”
Maddix whirled to see Hale walking out onto the grounds with a small army of helwyr at his back. Misha stood to his right, swinging her two swords and looking grim. It was nice to know not everyone wanted his head on a pike, but Misha would kill him without a second thought if Hale ordered it. Her loyalty, unlike his own, was unquestioning.
“Your actions betray you, just as surely as you have betrayed us,” Hale said. He didn’t even have the decency to look disappointed. “You could’ve been the very best of us. I had such high hopes for you, but I guess we’ll never know.”
He signaled with one hand and Maddix could hear the distinct sound of a bowstring being drawn. Without pausing to take a breath, Maddix dove. Relief bloomed in his heart when there was no shock of impact, no pain.
The archer missed.
“Oh.”
The word was impossibly loud in the silence, and Maddix turned to see the valyach stagger back a few steps towards the edge of the platform. A crossbow bolt was lodged deep in her chest, and blood soaked into her filthy shirt anew. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused, but somehow, they managed to find him. “Watch the skies,” she said softly, pressing two fingers to her heart and stretching them out to him.
Catch the stars.
The witch’s eyes hardened and she looked away from him. In an instant, the girl disappeared, consumed by column of emerald flame. Maddix ducked wildly before the vision cleared. Half of the helwyr hit the ground and the others followed when a second explosion shook the compound—a real one. Smoke billowed into the sky, blotting out the sun.
Maddix shook his head, fighting through the dizziness as he tried to find the wounded witch.
She was gone, vanished like so much smoke, and she had given him the chance to do the same. Maddix didn’t waste another second. He leaped over the railing, throwing himself into the empty air. His heart jumped into his mouth and time slowed around him. He pulled his arms over his head, bracing himself before he crashed into the sea. There was a single spike of mind numbing pain and then nothing.
Chapter Seventeen:
Maddix
He came to a moment later, spluttering as he breached the surface of the water. Maddix sucked in a single panicked breath, disoriented by the movement of the ocean before the waves pulled him under again. Fighting against the sucking tide, Maddix forced himself to stay above the water. He hadn’t survived a drop like that just to drown now.
The current had floated him away from the helwyr compound, well out of range of their arrows. No doubt they would be sending scouts to scour the beaches, but Maddix had a head start and planned to be well away from them by the time they could organize a search.
All he had to do was get to shore. Thanking the Guard’s insistence that all their recruits learn how to swim, Maddix paddled towards what spit of land he could see. Something bobbed in the waves, catching his eye. The valyach. Without pausing to weigh the alternatives, Maddix dove towards her, grabbing her arm just as the ocean pulled her down. The arrow was still lodged between her ribs and Maddix knew enough to be grateful. If it had come out, she would have bled out into the water and there wouldn’t be hope for either of them. He needed her. “Breathe,” he commanded, as if his words made some kind of difference. “Come on,” he urged, pounding on her chest. “Come on!”
Maddix wedged the crook of his elbow under her body and pressed hard on her chest, as far away from the arrow as he could manage. For a moment there was nothing, then the witch’s eyes opened and she jerked away from him, cursing.
“It hurts.” She winced and Maddix felt an inexplicable flash of guilt. “Help me.” The valyach stilled, allowing Maddix to pull her close. By the stars she was small; Maddix could nearly wrap his arm around her torso.
Together, they managed to half-swim, half-float to shore. Once or twice, she forced them to change course, and Maddix didn’t have the energy to disagree with her.
Somehow, they managed to get to land. Maddix crawled onto the sand on his hands and knees, practically dragging the witch behind him. Skies of the Above, he was tired. Despite the exhaustion weighing down his bones, Maddix knew he had to keep moving. The helwyr wouldn’t be far behind.
“I’d hate—” the valyach sputtered, her voice tinier than she was. “I’d hate to…bother you but—” She inhaled deeply, a rattling, choking wheeze, and all at once Maddix remembered the extent of her injuries. “I think I’m dying.”
She said it matter-of-factly, but there was a tremor of fear there that Maddix knew too well. There were nights in the Pit, endless nights, where he was certain he was going to die without anyone to mourn him. But now was not to the time to feel sentimental. He needed her alive. All of this was pointless if she died on him.
“Stay awake,” Maddix said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. Murmuring an apology, Maddix lifted the witch into his arms and walked into the tiny port town they’d washed up alongside. The streets were all but deserted, but the few onlookers stared when they saw him. Maddix didn’t blame them. He was sopping wet, dressed in training garb from the helwyr, with a dying girl in his arms. They stood out.
“Take a right,” the witch whispered. Maddix obeyed, adjusting his route until he found himself in front of a tiny storefront. Not bothering with politeness, Maddix banged his fist on the door.
“Who under the—” A stooped old woman came to the door holding a lamp.
“We—she—needs your help,” Maddix said.
“Go to a medic,” the old woman said, waving her hand in dismissal. She began to close the door.
“Ayanara Awsley,” the valyach croaked. The old woman stopped short. “I know you’re no friend to the King…or the sahirla. I…” Her voice broke off.
“They’re trying to kill us,” Maddix said, not specifying who in particular. He could let the old woman draw her own conclusions. “Please. She’s dying and if you let her, then they’ve won.”
He had no idea if this woman could even help them—by his estimate, she looked well past her usefulness—but the valyach wouldn’t have brought them here without a reason. The old woman hesitated a moment longer before ushering them inside. Maddix had to duck to fit in the doorway.
“Put her on the table, quickly,” the old woman ordered. As he did so, she lit a few lamps, and he could see that the small space was cluttered with old books, papers, odds and ends, and yellowing bones. Something was bubbling in the corner, belching fumes into the air at odd intervals.
She was a witch. Of course she was. Why would a valyach turn to anyone but one of her own? Maddix’s skin crawled, and he had to force himself not to leave the way he’d came.
“If you’re going to be in my home, you’re going to be useful,” the old woman told him. In the dim lamplight, Maddix could see that her eyes were white and crisscrossed with scar tissue.
“You’re blind,” Maddix blurted. His nerves were too frayed to bother with niceties. “How under the sky can you heal her if you can’t even see?”
“I see more than you. Old Aya knows that only foolish boys think only those with eyes can see.”
“But you can save her,” he insisted.
“Only if silly dayri stop talking and help me instead.”
Maddix bit back his retort, resolving himself to being pushed around by two valyach in one day. Aya didn’t spare another moment with talk. Faster than he would’ve thought possible, she pulled the arrow out of the valyach’s chest. Maddix pressed bandages to the wound to staunch the bleeding, unable to stop himself from staring. Her lower body was a mess, new and old injuries coming together in bloody map on her skin. Whoever she was, whatever she’d done for the Palace, the witch was no stranger to violence. No wonder she’d lasted so long under Hale’s ministrations.
She was l
ucky. Had the arrow struck any lower it would have pierced her heart and there wouldn’t be hope for either of them.
Old Aya was a whirlwind of movement and surprisingly quick for her age. He had no idea what she was doing and didn’t care to ask. All he wanted to know was if it was working, and every time he asked, the old witch whacked him on the back of the head with her bony knuckles. Maddix quickly stopped asking, though he still earned himself a rap to the skull when he took a moment to roll up his damp sleeves and pull his hair into a messy knot.
Finally, after the sky knew how long, the old woman proclaimed she had done all she could do. Maddix’s shirt clung to his skin from the heat inside the hut. He could feel the magic soaking into his every pore as he breathed in the smoke and incense in the air. He felt dirty, like he needed a long, hot bath, but after everything he’d gone through tonight, he wasn’t letting a little magic scare him away.
“It is up to her now whether she lives or dies,” Old Aya announced, settling herself in a chair next to the table. “Your friend is strong. What is her name? I wish to add her to my prayers.”
Maddix didn’t know valyach prayed to anything. He also didn’t know the girl’s name. It hadn’t seemed important while they were escaping certain death. Old Aya murmured something about stupid dayri before handing him a cup of steaming liquid.
“Here,” she said, and as tired as he was, Maddix didn’t think before accepting it and taking a sip. The drink tasted strange and burned like arak going down.
“What did you give me?” he demanded, trying to rise to his feet.
“You need rest,” Old Aya said, nodding her head. “And you need to heal. You will sleep now.” Maddix didn’t have a choice. His eyelids grew heavy as soon as the words were out of the witch’s mouth, and part of him was grateful.
MADDIX WOKE TO a nearly empty room. Sunlight streamed in through the small window, only adding to the heat inside the shop. He rubbed his eyes, trying to locate what had woken him when he saw the figure on the table stir.
“Skies above,” the witch breathed. She turned to look at him and Maddix found himself relieved to see those green eyes. Old Aya’s healing seemed to have worked; the worst of her injuries were healed, though the scars would remain. Even the bruises on her face were little more than shadows and without them the slash on her face was thrown into sharp relief. “Let’s never do that again.”
Maddix didn’t know if she was referring to the escape, the jump, getting shot through the chest, or all three, but he was only too happy to agree. Her eyes closed again, but something told him she would pull through. His hands fiddled with the white stone on his neck Old Aya had given him the night before. The pendant wasn’t an adequate replacement for his amulet, but it was a comfort nonetheless. Besides, Maddix had long suspected his black star had turned on him.
The worst was by no means behind him, but he still had a chance of accomplishing what he had set out to do all those weeks ago when he escaped from the Pit. The witch was alive. She was alive and mostly healed, and she would help him find justice.
“I always hoped they were wrong about you,” the witch said.
Guilt rose in Maddix’s throat like bile and he swallowed it back down. He shouldn’t feel guilty.
Before she could see what he was doing or move to stop him, Maddix fished inside his pocket, thanking the stars that they survived the leap into the ocean. He locked one of the cuffs around his own wrist before clasping its twin around hers.
“What are you doing?”
“I need a witch that can do what you do,” he said, trying to emulate Hale’s haughty arrogance. This is what he needed her for; he shouldn’t feel anything less than triumphant that his scheme worked. She stared at the band encircling her wrist, understanding and anger dawning on her face in equal measure. “You’re going to help me find the witch who made me a murderer.”
Chapter Eighteen:
Jayin
She was a fool. Bleeding, falling stars, she never should have gone with him. She should have gotten out of the sahirla compound on her own like she’d planned. But no, this accursed boy offered her a chance to escape and she’d jumped without thinking of the consequences. Of course he would want something from her. Why else would a baby witchhunter go to such lengths to save one of his sworn enemies?
“Take it off,” Jayin ordered. She felt better than she had since the sahirla ambushed Sinta’s ship at Southport, but she was still far from whole. Even if she was strong enough to force his hand, she had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t do her any good. Not if the metal band was what she thought it was.
“I can’t do that,” Kell said. He almost sounded sorry. Almost wasn’t good enough. “You’re the only one.”
Jayin cursed herself again. She had no reason to expect fair play from the likes of him, even after he’d saved her life. He was a liar and a criminal, someone with the skill and sense to escape the most heavily guarded prison in Aestos. Those things taken together made for a guilty man.
Even if his claims of possession were real, and not just the ramblings of a boy gone mad in the dark, Jayin couldn’t go back to Pavaal. Maerta had tried to have her murdered. Going back there would be suicide—for both of them.
“What you’re asking is impossible,” Jayin shot at him. Her chest ached, and when she pressed her hand against the bandages her palm came away sticky with blood. “If either of us are seen in the capitol, they’ll throw us both in the Pit.”
That was if they were very, very lucky. No matter where she went, there would be people who wanted her because of what she could do, but Jayin would die before she ever went back to the Palace. And he was Maddix bloody Kell, boy murderer and the most wanted criminal in Aestos. If either of them wanted to keep their heads on their shoulders, they needed to get out of this blasted kingdom, not head into the heart of it. If Kell had any sense at all, he’d do the same.
So far, he hadn’t shown much by way of sense.
“You’re a fool,” Jayin said, suddenly exhausted. She laid her head back, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. She couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“As soon as we find them, I’ll let you go.” There it was again, the hint of childish naïveté that should have been burned out of him years ago.
“We’ll never get close,” she said softly. Someone would see them, try to stop them, or kill them to collect their bounties. And if the bracelets were what she thought they were, they were both going to die well before this little adventure concluded. The thought was so bleak she almost laughed.
“What?” Kell demanded.
“You’ve tied yourself to the most dangerous sahir in Aestos,” she said. “And I am now bound to the most wanted criminal. We’re going to die bloody.”
And no one would mourn them. Ravi perhaps. Jayin’s stomach twisted at the thought of him. He’d never know what happened to her. Maybe Om might have been saddened to hear of her passing, but he was gone. She could still feel him hovering on the outskirts of her second sight, a reminder. Jayin was leaving quite the trail of bodies behind her, and now she was being forced back to the place where it all started.
“Let me show you something,” Jayin whispered. Kell eyed her warily. As fast as she could manage, Jayin ripped the white crystal off of his neck. She tried to brace herself, but it didn’t do any good. His energy was weaponized, a blunt instrument that destroyed her shields as if they were made of glass. Beside her, Kell fell to his knees, clutching his head and screaming as her pain echoed inside his skull.
“What under the stars?” Ayanara demanded, bursting into the room. Jayin didn’t fight when she took the necklace and looped it back over Kell’s neck. She uncurled her fists one finger at a time to keep her hands from shaking. “None of that. You both need to heal. And you, girl. Old Aya doesn’t know what to make of you, but you won’t live much longer if you don’t get those gifts of yours under control.”
“We’re not going to live long anyway,” Jayin replied.
&nb
sp; “Live or die is up to you, but there will be no petty tomfoolery under Old Aya’s roof. Not when you are both guests here.”
Jayin muttered a half-hearted apology before turning her face to look at Kell again.
“You sure you want to be linked to me?” she asked. He was the initiate; only he had the power to remove the cuff. Until then, she would feel his pain and he’d feel hers. They would live and die together. It was a brilliant way to compel her help and an equally brilliant way to get them both killed.
At least I won’t have to glamor my skin anymore, she thought bleakly. The bracelet was just wide enough to hide the telltale burn from the world. It was a small consolation.
“I don’t have a choice,” Kell said. “Once he’s brought to justice, I’ll let you go, I swear.”
Brought to justice. That was the biggest farce of all. Jayin thought after everything Kell had gone through at the hands of the King’s so-called justice, he should know better than to put his faith in the courts. But clearly, she was wrong.
“Enough talk,” Old Aya insisted. “You two must heal, or all my work will be for nothing, and I hate wasting magic. Hush.”
Jayin shot Kell one more poisonous glare before turning her back to him and closing her eyes. Just an hour before, she wouldn’t dare to sleep with a baby sahirla so close lest he slip a dagger between her ribs. Now he couldn’t.
“Thank you,” Jayin said later, once she’d woken up again. Kell was still asleep, passed out in the chair next to Jayin’s table. Old Aya was standing over a steaming cauldron of something, and for once, Jayin wasn’t cold. The warmth and magic made her feel at home, safe the way the Palace used to. “For helping me.” A potionwitch was a lucky find, especially in a place like this. Not as effective as a healer, but damn close.
“You know many things, young one,” Old Aya said. It wasn’t the answer Jayin was expecting. Slowly, she sat up on her elbows, facing the blind woman. “I have seen much in this lifetime, all kinds of magic, but nothing like you. Old Aya would remember.”