‘It can’t be done,’ he said. ‘Not… not safely.’
‘No… not safely. But when they died, all those years ago, who missed them? No one was looking. Your Captain Marchant was the first one to survive and it wiped away everything she knew. I thought she’d die when I dumped her at the Academy. She should have died, but she was always stubborn.’ She leaned in, gazing into his eyes, and suddenly she seemed younger, like a girl staring at her lover. ‘I perfected it, Bastien. Everything we worked on. You’ll see. It takes everything and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Don’t worry. You’re strong, like Celeste.’
The burns on their hands, the failed syphon, all those dead kids dumped in the alleys of Rathlynn and the divinities knew where else. And before that… Grace…
She stole my magic, Grace had said. I know her.
All he’d had to do was listen. And believe her. No, he’d just told her it was impossible.
Celeste cradled the jar like a baby as she approached. ‘Take it. It… it isn’t the worst thing, Bastien. It hurts but—’’
He shuffled back. ‘No.’
‘You don’t get to avoid this,’ Miranda laughed. ‘Don’t you remember, really? You said you loved me. So many times. And I, like a fool, believed you.’
‘I… I never…’
‘You don’t remember, the Larelwynns made sure of that, with that cursed potion of theirs. Aurelie would have done it again if I hadn’t offered her another way. You were mine, Bastien. You loved me. We had a plan. You taught me and I learned well. And then the Larelwynns stole your memories and tossed me out on the street. I survived on scraps, on whatever magic I could scrape from the underbelly of this wretched city.’
‘Why won’t you remember?’ Celeste chimed in again. ‘Please, Bastien, remember.’
‘Because if he remembers that, he’ll have to forget her. Marchant.’ Miranda spat out the name like a curse. ‘If he draws on his powers as deeply as we need him to, the man he is now will be gone. And do you know what, Bastien, I don’t care. This man you’ve become is pathetic. Just get it over with, Celeste. Now.’
Light encircled him, wires in his skin, barbs digging into his bones. Bastien fought her but she was too strong.
Miranda rose gracefully and approached him slowly. The pain increased with every footstep. ‘You’ll feed us for millennia, Bastien. Tethering won’t work on you yet. You’re too powerful, you burn right through them in no time at all if left alone. I’ll perfect it eventually, you’ll see. I can tether a weaker mageborn for days, sometimes weeks. They don’t even remember it. I combined the two. Drain them down and then tie them to another, use them both ways. But not for you. Not yet. Until then syphoning will have to do. Even with the pittance we give those stupid quots. And they are so hungry for you. To drink of the magic of a god, from the Maegen itself… Now do as you’re told and play nice.’
‘No.’ He had to bite out the word, but it did no good. His body bent to her whim and he was on his knees, his hands outstretched.
Celeste kissed his feverish forehead and then pressed the jar between his palms. It was cold as a block of ice, painfully hard.
The rush of the void within it seized hold of him, dragged the magic from him, raking along the insides of his veins like acid, scourging the power from within him.
The scream that came with it tore its way out of his throat, light pouring from his eyes and mouth, every iota of it burning as it ravaged through him.
‘Don’t,’ he gasped in the moments between. ‘Please. Don’t.’ He knew it wouldn’t do any good. He just couldn’t help himself.
If anything the pain lurched up a notch, into blinding agony. Miranda watched him, smiling. She was enjoying this. Enjoying all of it.
‘You always were so superior, weren’t you?’
‘It’s not his fault, Miranda,’ Celeste said, stroking his hair, trying and failing to soothe the pain. Her touch made it worse. ‘We were gods once, divinities, all powerful. We danced in the pool’s depths, we sang up the stars. Before Larelwynn.’
Light and flames burned his flesh and boiled his blood. Celeste murmured on and on as if he would listen and finally understand her, as if she could hypnotise him with her voice. The last dregs of magic guttered out inside him and the jar, glowing like a new sun, slipped from his numb grip, his hands burned and raw. It didn’t fall. He prayed it would, that it would shatter and the magic would be gone and they’d be cheated. But they were ready for that.
Miranda took it in greedy hands, lifted it to her mouth and began to drink. Glowing magic poured down her throat, illuminating her from within.
‘Me!’ Celeste cried out. ‘My turn. Give it to me!’
Either they forgot about him or they didn’t need him any more. Whatever held him vanished and he collapsed slowly, weak sobs racking his body, sounds he couldn’t even give voice to. Darkness pooled around him. He faded into it but it didn’t fill him. Not this time. He was lost, empty and broken inside.
Chapter Twenty-Six
In retrospect, a plan would have been better. Grace knew that the moment she laid eyes on the queen. They’d made it as far as the Temple gates, the great filigree-like arches opening onto Temple square, aglow and empty in the moonlight. The gates stood open, waiting, and guards fell in around them, silent and grim. In moments they were surrounded and led inside, up the stairs to the tower and into a simple corridor, panelled in gleaming wood, lit by candles. The light reflected like stars in the polished surface and the dark glass of the windows. Aurelie was there, like she’d been waiting for them. But clearly, she wasn’t. She knotted her hands together in front of her and, when she saw them, her mouth twisted in disgust.
‘What is she doing here?’
‘She has the warrant.’ Daniel shoved Grace down on her knees. He didn’t ‘your majesty’ Aurelie, or bow. He was too angry. So long as he didn’t mess this up, Grace didn’t care about the bruises he caused her. She’d had worse treatment. Looking at Aurelie, worse was coming.
Aurelie’s fingers twitched at the sumptuous folds of her dress. ‘Give it to me.’
Grace smiled up at her. She’d love to see that pretty face burn. Call it spiteful. ‘No.’
‘Asher,’ she snapped but he didn’t move either.
‘Go on, take it. I dare you.’
Clearly they both had heard what happened the last time someone tried that.
‘Let Miranda deal with her,’ Asher said.
‘Where’s Misha?’ Daniel cut in before they could leave.
Aurelie rolled her eyes. ‘We kept our word. Take him. Much good he’ll do you now.’ She swept off but Kane stood there a moment longer. He dragged his gaze over Grace and then fixed Daniel with his darkest glare.
‘He’ll be brought to you. You’ll have to put him together again, but if you don’t get out of the city before they get control of Bastien’s powers it’ll be too late. No one will be getting out. Understand?’
‘Where are the mageborn?’ Grace asked, forgetting that she was meant to be a prisoner. ‘What have they done with them?’
Asher shook his head, his mouth lifting on one side in a sneer. ‘Your precious Academy friends? She’s got them lined up like chickens in a coop, and they’re not coming out again. The dead don’t. Down there they won’t see the light of day again, but they won’t miss it. Parry, tell your brother, all debts are off now. Understand? Once that ship has sailed there will be no others. This isn’t his city. Now get out.’
‘Giving up?’ Grace needled him. ‘Running away?’
He laughed, a deep, bitter sound. For a moment she thought he might ignore her. But he couldn’t. Not Asher Kane. Not when she called him a coward. No, he couldn’t stand that.
‘Not at all. Grace Marchant… you should know Bastien at this stage. How powerful he is… They think they can control him. But they can’t. Celeste is crazy and Miranda… well… Miranda is a dangerous narcissist who wants to be a goddess in her own right.’ Oh, he was one to talk.
‘But there are other ways to control them, all of them. Ways for a queen of Larelwynn to rule.’
‘With you at her side.’
He hit her in the face, just once with all his strength, sending her down on the ground with the force of a battering ram. And then he spat on the floorboards beside her. ‘It takes a man to wield a sword.’
Then he was gone too.
Grace felt like throwing up. Daniel didn’t look much better. He tried to help her up, tried to wipe the blood from her face. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘More convincing anyway.’
He swallowed hard, clearly distraught, and Grace wondered once more how he had ever survived growing up in Eastferry with Kurt.
‘They have them in the catacombs underneath us,’ Daniel said. ‘It has to be. There are ways in there. And ways out. Kurt even uses some of them.’
‘Kurt betrayed us. Weren’t you listening?’
Daniel shook his head. ‘I betrayed you. Kurt… Kurt tried to make sure it was just Bastien. He hates Kane, but he likes his debts. Kane owes my brother. That’s the only reason they’re letting Misha and I go. And the ship with the mageborn who are in Eastferry.’
Grace grabbed his hand, pulling him close. He pressed something into her hands, something cold and hard, humming with magic. She looked down to see Zavi’s sigil glowing softly in her hands. She almost smiled except it would hurt too much, and she forced herself to breathe.
‘You messed up, Parry. Don’t do it again. Now, get Misha and then get out while you can. You and Ellyn can get the others out through the catacombs. You make that ship. All of you.’
‘But Grace—’
‘That’s an order, Daniel.’
‘But I—’
‘You have to do what I say. Don’t try to go off script again, understand? We are not leaving the mageborn behind. Especially not our own. An order, Daniel. Remember them?’
He almost snapped to attention, but there was unspoken pain in his voice. She hated herself for putting it there. ‘Yes, Captain.’
All she could do now was stall for time. The door opened and he shoved her inside. She tried to fall convincingly, but ended up just thudding to the floor on her face, right beside Bastien.
The broken wreck of the man who had been Bastien.
He tried to say her name. This was bad. Unbearably bad. What had they done to him? Sigils peppered his sweat-drenched, gleaming skin, humming with fading power. But he didn’t shake them off. He couldn’t. He was too weak. His magic was a faint glimmer now.
‘Bastien? What happened?’
Daniel was gone. Ellyn was under orders not to come back for her. Grace had hoped Bastien would be in a fit state to help her, to work with her.
A plan would have been a really good idea.
She didn’t think. She just pulled him into her arms, held him. When she looked up again, both Miranda and Celeste were back in the room, staring at her like magpies ready to play.
‘What have you done to him?’ she hissed at them.
He lay in her arms, helpless, shattered.
Mother Miranda gave her a withering look. ‘Nothing he won’t recover from, eventually.’ She turned to her companion, dismissing Grace. ‘We just want the warrant. Not the girl. Celeste, make yourself useful and kill her.’
‘No!’
Out of nowhere, Bastien surged back into life, holding onto her fiercely, his grip painfully tight. He seemed more animal than human, pain making muscles stand out on his body, his skin on fire to the touch. Celeste, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch. Like Miranda, she had no intention of getting her hands dirty. She ignored the command, like she hadn’t heard it at all.
‘He loves her,’ Celeste said, every inch the bratty sister. ‘I don’t know why.’
‘Because I do, Celeste,’ Bastien replied. ‘There’s no reason to it.’
This couldn’t be true. He didn’t know what he was doing. He’d just handed them the leverage they needed. Besides which, it… it couldn’t be true.
Miranda’s eyes glowed with that unholy golden light Grace had seen fill Bastien. His magic, she realised. They had stolen his magic. That was why he was so weak, why those almost burnt-out sigils were still holding him.
‘He loves her.’ Miranda made it sound like something craven and disgusting. ‘And I suppose you love him too. He said as much to me once, when I was Hanna, when I was just a girl.’
Hanna? Asher’s sister? Grace had imagined her younger than him, not older, but now… now she started to understand. Had they been working together all along? Or had Miranda, disgraced and cast out, made her own way in the world until she got herself into a position of power? And then she had reeled her little brother back into her sphere of influence.
‘You’re Kane’s sister?’
‘Yes. Or rather he’s my brother. Our parents had such plans. They were idiots, of course, but ambitious idiots. The Larelwynns stole him from me, wiped his memory with their potions and cast me out. Even my parents rejected me. And Asher, poor little Asher, had to go along with it. Until one day, when I’d established myself as Mother of the Temple, we invited them to dinner and we slaughtered them all, our parents, grandparents, siblings… Delicious vengeance. It almost made it worthwhile, losing Bastien. But that was long ago. Bastien forgets so easily. A certain drink, a long sleep and he’s born anew. They’ve done it for centuries, the royal family and the marshals. Even Simona did it, when I was young, poison from a trusted hand. He never saw it coming. If he did… well, they could force him to drink and he’d forget. They’d just tell him there was an accident. Blame Celeste…’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Celeste crooned. ‘They lied and lied and lied. I didn’t hurt anyone. I’m a glory.’
‘Of course you are, my darling girl,’ Miranda replied, smiling at Celeste. ‘My glory. And now we have the captain, Bastien will do exactly what we want. With or without the warrant. Isn’t that right, oh Lord of Thorns? We have you as long as we have her. You’ve just secured her survival. Well, maybe. If she can stand to live when I’m finished with her. Do you know why the Larelwynns call him the Lord of Thorns?’
Grace had to be brash, harsh. She had to make Miranda believe that even if Bastien cared for her she didn’t care for him. She had to make Bastien believe it. It might be the only way to protect him now.
She scowled. ‘Because he’s a massive prick?’
Miranda’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t bite, or get the joke. Why would she? It wasn’t a joke to her. Nothing had ever been as serious. She was so close to her goal, she could taste it. ‘No, foolish child. Because everyone who touches him gets hurt.’
Something unseen wrapped itself around Grace, cold as ice and twice as strong. It wound itself around her like a python, squeezing her, lifting her, wrenching her away from him. She hung in the air, a specimen to be examined, her body crushed by an unseen force. Bones ground together, her breath shortened and constricted, muscles straining but unable to move.
A scuffle behind her told her Bastien was trying to fight but Celeste was on him already, murmuring away, her magic almost his match at the best of times, now easily overwhelming him.
‘You see, I know you.’ Miranda peered closer at her face, as if she was examining a holy book, or, more probably, a small and helpless child. ‘From years ago. I was on the street, starving, desperate after the Larelwynns had cast me out. I had to find a way to use what I’d learned from him. I made those mageborn street rats sustain me. I remember you. You were a Flint, weren’t you? Let me in. Let me see.’
‘No.’ It was a trial to even force out that one word. The need to obey, to submit, to do whatever was demanded ground down on her, Miranda’s magic, the compulsion and the weight of her magic combined. ‘You can’t make me.’
‘Oh, child,’ Miranda said, almost amused. And Grace realised the woman wasn’t even trying yet.
It was just pressure at first, pressure at her temples, behind her eyes, like a headache from trying to focus t
oo hard. And then it pushed harder. Explosions of pain burst at the back of her brain and her whole body tensed. A knot of agony unfurled along her spine, lancing up to the base of her skull, like a white-hot wire snapping taut. Her scream was strangled and cracked.
From somewhere far away, Bastien howled her name. But he couldn’t help her now.
Miranda was in her mind, in her memories, rifling through them, looking for her most intimate secrets, her forgotten memories, dragging her past back into agonising clarity.
Sunlight filtering through long grass and a woman with red hair like her own, laughing, spinning her around. A pair of hands in hers, so strong, so gentle. And that song. That voice.
Tears stung her eyes, burned like acid down her cheeks. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to know. Not like this. Not like this.
‘Show me,’ Miranda snarled. She gripped Grace’s jaw with iron fingers and forced her way even further into Grace’s mind.
The sound of the smithy rang through her, the clang of the hammer on the anvil, horseshoes and bits, farm equipment, gleaming in the sunlight, the smell of wood smoke, the fire warm against her skin.
‘Gracie, come away from there,’ the voice, that voice. ‘It’s dangerous.’ Her mother. It was her mother. Her voice, sweet and gentle.
‘Don’t worry, love. I have my eye on her. She’s happy here.’ Her father. Strength, surety, a man who never failed her, never let her down. And she was happy. There was nothing to fear. Nothing to worry about at all.
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