So a figure standing alone in the square, sword drawn, really stood out.
It looked like Daniel. But something made her pause.
‘Grace? What’s he doing?’
‘Waiting, I think.’
‘Just like that. Out there. In the open?’
‘Like he’s waiting for us.’ She tried to sound convinced but knew she’d failed. Every instinct warned her that this was wrong.
‘He wouldn’t wait out in the open like that.’
Daniel would never leave himself so exposed. So vulnerable. Everything about this rang wrong for her. A cold feeling clawed at her guts.
‘No. No he wouldn’t. I don’t like this. Don’t do anything. Just… keep an eye… Can you circle around? Get behind him?’
‘Can a dog bark?’ Ellyn slipped off into the shadows but not before Grace held up a warning hand. ‘I know. Be careful.’
Grace gave it a count of ten and then walked out into the open, right towards him. Her footsteps rang out on the cobbles and she loosened the sword in its scabbard.
‘Danny? We’ve been looking for you.’
The weird look on his face made her stomach clench. ‘Grace.’ That was all he said. No smile. No nothing. His face was like a mask.
‘Are you just going to stand there?’
The sword came up and he studied it. Then he pointed it directly at her. ‘I need that.’
Whatever that was, she didn’t know and didn’t have a second to ask. He came at her in a lunge, quicker than she ever remembered him being. Daniel was a good swordsman. Not as good as Ellyn perhaps, but easily Grace’s equal. As Grace folded back out of his way, she drew her own weapon. His next attack drove her back across the square, the clash of blade on blade singing in the night’s air.
‘I don’t want to kill you. But I have to. Give me the warrant. I’ll make it quick.’
‘The warrant?’ She pressed an opening, a brief advantage. He took two steps back and grimaced. If they’d been fighting in a training session she’d have scored points. But they weren’t.
The kick to her shin was a dirty move. He’d learned to fight in Eastferry where nothing was clean. But she’d fought with Daniel all her life. Knew his moves like her own. Daniel always pulled his punches. That was the one thing they all knew about him. Deep down he didn’t like hurting anyone.
But in this fight he was different.
An elbow came up hard into her face, sending stars dancing all around her as she stumbled back from him. The fire inside her flared up. Utterly useless in this situation. She wasn’t going to use it on Daniel. How could she?
But she’d been using it all her life. Not the actual powers of a Flint, but the instincts, the speed, the way she always had.
Grace rallied, fighting like with like. She had to. She pulled one knife free and went at him with two blades. He almost brought her down by the well but she spun around it, using it to block him. And seizing those brief moments to catch her breath.
‘What the hell is going on, Danny? You can’t take the warrant. It’ll kill you. Talk to me. What are you doing?’
He faltered, as if struggling against something. He took two steps back and then shook his head. ‘I have my orders. I need the warrant. That’s all that matters, Grace.’ His voice trembled. ‘They’ll kill Misha. They might have killed him already. I didn’t want to do any of this but… she told me to… She said to take it and… and to kill anyone trying to stop me.’
The warrant itself hung like a cold weight against Grace’s chest. She could feel it there, calling to him. Someone had told him, compelled him… she…Who was she?
Misha… that was the singer, wasn’t it? The harpist. The one he’d been mooning over. More than mooning. Ellyn had said he was in love. Oh divinities, what had he done?
‘Danny, listen to me. Where’s Bastien?’
The concern melted away to disgust. The mask slid back into place. ‘Him… They took Misha so I’d bring Bastien to them, tortured him, told me that if I didn’t they’d kill him. All for Bastien bloody Larelwynn. It’s always about him, Grace. Has been since you met him. He’s all that matters to you now.’
Another flurry of blows came out of nowhere and she blocked him, breathing hard. Damn this, where was Ellyn? She’d told her not to interfere, but that had been a mistake. Clearly. She needed help. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t the Daniel she knew.
‘He’s… he’s the king.’
‘No king of mine. Or yours. Since when did you have time for kings? Oh, I know, when you screwed him. When you threw us all over and yourself into his bed.’
He scooped her foot out from under her and she came down hard. Before she knew where she was, her sword was on the ground and before she could bring the knife up, his blade was at her throat.
It pressed there, shaking. But it didn’t bite. Not quite.
She drew in a shaky breath, gazing up into his face in dismay. Daniel was her weakness. She’d thought they were friends. They always had been. And now he was being used against her.
‘If you’re going to kill her, shouldn’t you be getting on with it?’ Ellyn called from the darkness, the singsong taunt making him scowl. About bloody time, Grace thought. What the hell was she waiting for? He jerked his head up, looking for her.
‘This is none of your business, Ellyn,’ Daniel snarled.
‘Yes it is, mate. We’re a team. You don’t turn on your own team. Danny, what happened?’ Grace said on a ragged breath, drawing his attention away from Ellyn and back to her.
‘Give me the warrant, Grace.’
She lifted up her chin defiantly. ‘Take it.’
The look of anguish that crossed his face made her heart twist inside her. He was her friend, her oldest friend. The sword pushed against her skin, pressing in, ready to slice her throat open. His hand shook more than ever.
Slowly, she reached out. He didn’t even seem to notice. He fixed his gaze on her face and fought to kill her or release her. Grace narrowed her eyes. She could almost see it, lines of purple light twisting around him, binding him, compelling him.
‘Is it a spell?’
‘Such a spell. I… I can’t fight her. I can’t… please Grace…’ Tears matted his eyelashes.
Her hand closed on his wrist and she let the fire flow through her fingers. Daniel screamed, trying to pull back from her, his sword falling free, and Grace felt the compulsion snap, threads of it incinerating around him. Daniel dropped to his knees beside her, his face stretched in pain.
A moment later, Ellyn was on him. She dragged him free of Grace even as his sword hit the cobbles, whirled him around and slammed him back against the side of the ornate well.
‘You betrayed us for a bloody singer?’ That one word didn’t sound like any sort of compliment. ‘Fuck’s sakes, Danny.’
‘Ellyn,’ he sobbed. ‘Ellyn, please listen…’
She slammed him back again, his head cracking off the stone. ‘What? Like you were listening? He’d better be the love of your fucking life, Danny, because I’m going to—’
And her voice just stopped as she saw the look on his face. Grace felt the world drop out from under her. The love of his life. Oh divinities, glories, seraphs and powers, Grace thought. That was it, wasn’t it?
‘His name is Misha Estin… he calls himself Harper though…’ Abject misery dripped off Daniel with blood and tears. Misha… Grace remembered him, golden-skinned, golden-haired, sunkissed, the golden boy who had played the harp in the Rowan, and Daniel hadn’t been able to take his eyes off him.
‘Aw shit, Danny,’ Ellyn sighed. ‘Why didn’t you just tell us they’d taken him?’
‘I wanted to. But…’
Grace glanced towards the Temple. ‘Is he in there? With Bastien?’
He nodded.
If they hadn’t killed his lover already. She couldn’t say that to him. She just couldn’t.
If they hadn’t killed hers.
‘Let him up, Ellyn,’ she said, shoc
ked at how steady her voice sounded.
He was still cradling his arm, staring at her warily. ‘I always knew you were a Flint. Even when we were kids. I protected you and your secret. I never thought you’d turn it on me.’
‘You don’t get to talk about turning on people right now,’ she warned him and he hung his head, avoiding her glare. ‘Is the spell broken? Still feel the urge to kill me?’
‘Yes.’ His voice was a growl. ‘But… the spell is broken. As far as I can tell.’
At least there was that. She couldn’t see anything any more, couldn’t sense the coils of it around him. He was himself again. Or at least, she hoped so.
Either Celeste was in on it, or Miranda was making her cooperate. Crazy or not, she was powerful. So was Miranda. So was Asher. Far more powerful than Grace. What could she do besides make things uncomfortably hot? What good was a Flint to anyone?
Bastien on the other hand…
If they could tether him… if they could syphon his magic… if they could make him share the things he’d discovered…
And they would. They didn’t even have to drug him and wipe his memory this time. They had a way, a lever to make him do it.
Something he cared about. His sister.
‘Do we have a plan, boss?’ Ellyn asked, retrieving Daniel’s sword. She didn’t give it to him, Grace realised, but held onto it.
‘Of course I don’t have a plan. We’ll do what we always do. We’ll improvise.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Bastien, Bastien, Bastien,’ Celeste sang. ‘I tried to tell you but you would never listen. Why don’t you remember? Why is it so hard?’
He couldn’t keep explaining it. ‘They’re using you, Celeste.’
She laughed. His sister, the most important person in his life… she laughed. ‘No, my sweet boy, I’m using them.’
She stroked his hair, her fingers digging too deep for comfort. She held him as he’d held her so many times. Sometimes she sang lullabies. They’d been together for an hour and once he would have thought it was all he wanted from life, to have her here, to have her lucid.
He had never imagined it would be a nightmare.
His sister wasn’t just crazy. Not in the traditional sense. She was something else.
The room, her room, at the top of the tower was beautiful. Or had been once. Every so often she’d hurl things at the walls, tear the wallpaper or smash the windows. Things got repaired, patched up, but the scars still remained. One of the windows had been boarded up recently. The others had mismatched stained glass. Scratches like claw marks scoured the door.
‘I’ll try again,’ she murmured. ‘In the beginning there was just the two of us. We were free. We danced among the stars. We lived in the fire. Our tears were the oceans. Remember? Please remember?’
Another ripple of agony shuddered through him. He gasped and she purred at him. ‘Remember.’
‘We need more sigils to hold him,’ Aurelie said, pacing the perimeter of the room, her gown swishing around her slippered feet, reflected in the polished floorboards. She sounded nervous. It made her irritable. There was a chair, one which had been brought in especially for her because it was undamaged. She ignored it. ‘Where’s Miranda?’
‘The Atelier is exhausted. He says he can’t make more. She’s… encouraging him.’ Asher didn’t look down at Bastien. As if he couldn’t bear to. He stood in front of the door, his arms crossed.
‘Then find another Atelier,’ she snapped. ‘This isn’t some game, Asher. Look at him. You can sense the power in him as well as I can. Without Marius, without that warrant… Look!’
But Asher didn’t look.
Didn’t look at Bastien, naked and bound with sigils glinting on his skin, muscles straining, drenched in sweat. Didn’t look at the pathetic, broken mess he had made of his old friend. Perhaps he couldn’t stand it. Bastien wished that was the case but he didn’t believe it.
‘Asher,’ Bastien tried again. ‘Please…’
‘Why do you even bother?’ the queen snapped at him as the door closed behind his friend with a soft click. ‘He’s the one who thought of this, you know? He’s the one who suggested we use you and your sister in the first place. Divinities, Bastien, you’re such a fool. We could have ruled this kingdom together. You and I. All you had to do was say yes.’
She slammed the door behind her so hard that the walls seemed to shake.
All he had to do was betray Marius, she meant. Something she had no problem with. He on the other hand…
‘You never could,’ Celeste crooned. She stroked the torc around his neck, wrapped her arm around his throat and squeezed. ‘They always had you, those thieving Larelwynns. A way to control you. You were never one of them, neither of us were. They stole you. You loved them. All of them. And if they couldn’t control you, they had me to compel you. They always made you forget but they couldn’t make you forget me. Not entirely. You always remembered that I am your sister. I always will be. They locked me up, they trapped me here, but their drug doesn’t work the same way on me. Oh, it makes me dream and makes me mad, but I don’t forget. I never forget. But it’s over, my darling love, they’re gone. Every last one of them. There’s only you and I left. We’re going to be free again. We’re going to purge it all with fire and flood. We’re going to rain down vengeance. We’re going to—’
‘That’s quite enough, Celeste,’ Miranda said as she entered the chamber. ‘We’re going to do nothing of the sort. We’re going to rule. As it should have been all along. As it was meant to be.’
Bastien looked up into the other woman’s face. He knew her. But at the same time he didn’t. Once he had thought her kind. She was Mother to the Temple faithful. She fed the poor, cared for the children.
And it had all been an act. Grace was right. She was a monster who fed on others. Not just a Leech of magic. Of life. Of freedom. Of everything.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked. She gave him a look like she pitied him.
‘I’m not going to go on surviving on the scraps these morons feed us. Look at you,’ she said, the words seething with disgust. ‘You don’t even know what you are any more.’
‘Remember, Bastien,’ Celeste murmured. ‘Why won’t you remember?’
‘Because he can’t. Not without his full power. And he can’t have his full power without the warrant. If we had that, we could make the crown complete again, make it ours. But Marius gave it away.’
Celeste abruptly shoved Bastien aside with a snarl of impatience, a child whose favourite toy wouldn’t work. He fell heavily to the ground, his hands barely able to hold him up.
The sigils digging into his skin were weakening. Any moment now, they’d go. He just had to wait. Wait for the right moment. Endure this.
‘I’m getting the warrant,’ Celeste snarled.
‘You sent that Academy idiot. On his own. Like a halfwit.’ Miranda sat down at the card table and shuffled her cards, before she spread them out face down. She flicked them over one at a time, studying the garish pictures. If they told her anything she didn’t let on. ‘We could have sent a whole battalion of Royal Guards. We should have—’
‘He knows her. He’ll get it.’
‘We could have gone ourselves.’
‘Outside?’ Celeste shrank back from Miranda, backing towards Bastien again as she always did when something scared her. ‘You want to go outside?’
‘Oh for goodness sake, you’re able to go outside, Celeste.’
Celeste shook her head, muttering to herself in a frenzy.
Bastien struggled to draw his body back under his own control. The sigils were definitely failing. The more he pushed the faster they went. He was burning through them but he wasn’t strong enough yet. They still blocked him from the pool and the magic inside it. The pain was receding too, or perhaps he was just becoming accustomed to it. Whatever was happening, he had to keep his wits about him. Especially as Celeste had gone over the edge and had apparently taken Mother Mi
randa with her.
His breathing calmed and his racing heartbeat slowed. Focus, he told himself, focus. The pool of light was so close now. The Deep Dark beneath beckoned. It swirled up through the base of his spine, coiling around it like a snake, ready to rise, ready to strike.
‘Oh look,’ said Miranda, her voice bland. ‘He’s trying to draw on his power. How sweet. Here.’
And she reached across the table to pull a jar off the shelf. Not one of his. This was something else. She handed it to Celeste and then saw his look of confused alarm. She smiled.
‘I improved on your design, Bastien.’ Miranda grinned at him. ‘You’re not the only one in the family who can create such wonders.’
‘You’re not my family.’
And Celeste laughed, riotously, uproariously. She threw back her head and spun around, hugging the jar to her chest. ‘Oh but she is. He doesn’t remember you, sister. He doesn’t remember at all.’
‘No,’ Bastien said, suddenly unsure. There were so many things he didn’t remember. But he couldn’t have forgotten another sister. Especially not Miranda. He knew he had to have forgotten something about her. She knew things she couldn’t possibly know.
‘Listen to yourself,’ Miranda said. She looked at him with those disdainful, pale eyes that seemed to see inside him. ‘You’re such a fool, Bastien. Now try not to struggle. It’ll hurt less… well, no. That’s not quite true. It’ll hurt like hell but you know that already. It always does. But you don’t have to put any effort in with my syphons. I improved on your inventions. Took my time. I could only take a little to begin with, when they first wiped me from your memory and threw me out. But I’d worked on our project with you. It was as much my work as yours. I perfected it. Slowly. I could only take a little magic, scraps of power at first. It took an age to drain them. I had to look after the little mageborn brats until it was done, until I was finished with them. For years, I hid in the pits of this city, hid from the Larelwynns and my bloody family, and I started there. And the more of them I kept, the more the word spread that I was saving them. Imagine. Saving runts and cast-offs, and suddenly I’m a saint.’ She laughed. She actually laughed. ‘My reputation made me Mother of the Temple, goodness personified. They’re so gullible, the people of Rathlynn. They believe you’re a monster when you keep them safe. They believe I’m a saint when all I wanted to do was drain every last drop of magic from their children.’
Mageborn: An absolutely gripping fantasy novel (The Hollow King Book 1) Page 32