In that moment, Cara knew how terribly, absolutely alone she was with Merick dead, Sandu murdered, and Alex a lying monster. Her only solace had been the hope – no, the certainty – that she would find Renna, bring her home, and make all the tribulations worth it. Now even that dream had been torn into bits, and she didn't know where else to turn.
The beast growled inside her, and she welcomed its anger. I still have you, she thought.
A crash sounded from the next room, someone shouted, and a woman cried out in pain. Cara dashed to the door, the beast already in her veins. I'm ready, she thought.
She could never have prepared for what she saw when she entered Mavian's sitting room.
Chapter Forty-Three
Gwen
GWEN DID NOT know she had lain, unmoving and unresponsive, for over a quinn after her failed curse. She did not know that Druam had barely left her side, his face gaunt with worry, lack of sleep, and malnourishment; she did not even feel herself being spoon-fed or given water in sips through a glass vial, her throat massaged to force it down.
All she knew was that, one moment, she had been in Druam's arms, her skin blistering, and the next she felt as if a ten-horse carriage had run her over, her heart had been compressed and squeezed of all its blood, her head stung by a hundred bees.
Gwen groaned, and immediately felt someone come to hold her hand. When she opened her eyes and blinked away her blurred vision, she saw – of course – Druam. With his help, she sat up and leaned against the pillows he stacked behind her.
"Uh," was all Gwen managed to say. Still, relief shown through Druam's worry. He took a cup of water from the table and offered it to her. She sipped it, her throat burning as if she had done nothing but yell for days straight.
"How do you feel?" Druam asked.
"Hurt," Gwen whispered, her throat raw. She remembered him carrying her out of the flames. Guiltily, she rasped, "Are you injured?"
He shook his head. "No." His eyes ran over her as if unsure that she had really woken. "I thought I'd lost you. That I'd never see you smile again, or hear you singing as you embroider."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I want us to be happy, but I only thought of myself when I did the working." Even as she said it, though, Gwen felt that anger, that desire for vengeance, welling within her. She still wanted to make the Skals pay for her brother's death.
"I am simply glad that you're alive." Druam's pale cheeks reddened and his eyes grew brighter. He kissed her forehead, then rose to leave. "I have ignored my duties for days now, but I can confidently return knowing that you are regaining your health. Rest now, my love, and I will see you tonight."
After he had gone, Gwen noticed the gifts and notes piled on a table beside the bed. She rose shakily to her feet and picked a lavender-colored envelope from the top of the pile. It had been sent by some lord she had never met before, and expressed a sentiment she highly doubted was true. Note after note and gift after gift all said the same: We are sending these to gain your husband's favor, not yours.
But there, near the bottom and hidden beneath a bouquet of blue wildflowers, was a letter from Mavian. Despite his recent comments about Druam, Gwen felt a twinge of delight in seeing his handwriting. Curling back into her bed, Gwen read:
Dearest Gwen,
I hope this letter finds you in good humor, and not the worse for wear for your exertions. Your lord husband has told the court that you suffered a weakening of the heart, but I felt the ripple of magic. I know you cast an enchantment beyond your abilities, but have survived it. We can still work together, to hone your magic and bring justice for your brother. Seek me out when you are ready.
Ever your friend, Mavian
Gwen contemplated the letter, her mind a tumultuous wind that blew apart any thought before it fully formed. Pain gathered at her temples, pounding with a beat that echoed the curse she had spoken days before. She closed her eyes until the ache dissipated.
Gwen wanted to see Mavian, to ask what had happened with the working and why it had gone so wrong. Without thinking beyond that simple idea, Gwen pulled a dressing gown over her shift and clad her feet in silk slippers. Concentrating the shreds of magic that darted around inside her, she projected one thought: I am a mouse, nothing more. I am a mouse traveling the halls, and whispered the words that had allowed her to follow Druam to the tavern so many quinns ago. Her Gaiar trembled within her, and she doubted she could keep it for long.
As she slipped past the two guards stationed outside her bedroom, Gwen felt a freedom comparable to that of anonymity: she was a mouse, a mouse that skittered past Realm's Protectors and nobles, page boys and servants, through the wide halls until she reached the high wooden doors to the lesser nobles' corridors. Though she had only passed through these once before, her instinct told her that Mavian's would be the farthest set of chambers that bordered the old wing.
Gwen found the heavy oak door to be unlocked. Behind it lay a spiral staircase that descended for some ways before emerging into a small room. A dead fireplace lay on the other side, and antique couches and rugs occupied the cold granite floors. Four other doors led to the rest of Mavian's chambers.
A shiver jolted her whole body as she stepped into the room and saw a heavy door in an alcove beyond the fireplace. An old, musty smell reminded her of the abandoned wing. She tiptoed past the other closed doors to stand at the heavy one. The alcove was built of older materials, its arch jagged and rough-hewn as if someone had once sealed it and another had later broken through the stone.
Every nerve in her screamed not to open the door, but she could not resist. The metal handle felt cold in her hand, and the hinges creaked slightly as she pushed the door inwards.
The back of Gwen's neck tingled. Mavian watched her, a goblet of wine in one hand, his hair unkempt and his tunic hanging open.
"What were you hoping to find beyond that door?" Mavian asked as he raised his goblet. His eyes never left her.
"I don't know," Gwen said. "Answers, perhaps."
"Answers to what questions?"
"I don't know. I thought maybe someday things would return to normal, but now they never can. My brother is dead." That horrible, stark fact made a hollow inside her.
"I know. I am sorry."
"What am I to do now? I can never go home. This place isn't home. I can't walk one step without being judged or attacked." Gwen clutched at her dress, the soft silk warm in her fingers. "I thought my magic could help me, but it's caused so much trouble. I know Druam fears it, and maybe rightfully so. I don't know what to do, Mavian."
Mavian placed his goblet on a table, then took three steps to stand in front of her. He stared down at her as he took her hands. Gwen's eyes darted between his, searching for something, though what she did not know. Truth and simplicity, perhaps.
"Your magic is a boon, Gwen," Mavian said. "You can use it to change things in our world, to bring about a new era. An era which Druam, I'm afraid, cannot be a part of."
"I don't understand..."
"I want to help you," Mavian said. "But you must realize Druam's falsity, and recognize that the court is filled with fools and liars. They are selfish. I want to give the rustics what they deserve, to bring in an era of knowledge and prosperity. The court shuns me for my values, for my earnestness." His voice gained fervor. "With your Gaiar, Gwen, we can overturn the elite and create a new society. We can share our wealth with all."
Gwen stammered stupidly, overwhelmed by his sudden passion. How has he never spoken of this to me before?
"I can teach you. With me, you can unlock so much more than you ever realized, than you ever dreamed. We are not alone, Gwen. Powerful men and women believe in me; every day I gain support from those who wish to see a new world."
"But Druam–"
"Veck Druam!" Mavian's grip on her hands grew tighter, and he held her firm when she tried to pull away. "He has failed to create his utopia! He is the epitome of the old world, and he will ruin you. Druam will be the first
to be destroyed. Can't you see? He has made you succumb to his banal wishes. He has you convinced that this world is as good as it can be. Will you fall with him, or join me in my quest for justice?"
His manic words frightened Gwen. She tried again to escape, but he held on, his nails digging into her wrists. He was raving mad. Gwen wished she had never left her chambers, that she had waited until Druam was with her again. She tried to summon her magic, but felt only a small stirring in her belly. The attempted curse and her earlier working had drained her.
As she tried to pull away, Gwen said, "Druam is a wiser man than you. He wants what is best for his people, just like you. Work with him! Don't create a chasm where there is none. Surely–"
"See, he has you under his spell! He is not what he seems, Gwen! He is a monster, and his lies will bring this valley to ruin. I don't want to see you perish with him. Please, Gwen, find your inner strength and free yourself from his bonds."
Gwen struggled to find her inner strength to free herself from this madman, but it would not come. She was too weak, too fragile; she would not win against him without her magic.
"You're frightening me!" she shouted at him. "You were my friend! How could you say such terrible things?"
"Because it's the truth, Gwen. Can't you see that? I'm trying to free you from him. I'm trying to free everyone from him. Our society is dying. I can save us all, if you just help me."
Gwen stilled as a terrible realization dawned on her. "You poisoned me. That wine you sent..."
"I had to make you see that Druam would cause the dam to burst," he said, as carelessly as if he were admitting to a late night stroll. "It was the only way."
"And the scrying spell?" Was it all a dream? Please, if it was false...
"My allies in Demarren told me that the Liegelord would soon fall. I made sure you were there to see it." His voice was cold. Who is this man I thought was my friend?
Mavian grew quiet, though his hands did not loosen. He pushed through the ancient oak door. Gwen was overpowered by the dreadful smell: mustiness, blood, decay, excrement...she gagged.
Gwen resisted, but Mavian dragged her down the stairs into darkness, turning and turning until the light above faded and she couldn't see past her nose. Her feet slipped on the worn stone, but she couldn't reach out to steady herself. Before she fell into Mavian, he stopped, jerking her upright. He proceeded more slowly, his hand hot around her wrists.
At last, the stairs ended, but Gwen could not see what lay before them. Another door? A hall? The stench was overpowering now. Bile rose in her throat.
Mavian whispered something, too low for her to catch, and a mellow red light blossomed from his palm. He held what looked like a glass lantern lit by some magical source. He lifted it and said the command word once more, louder this time, and a hundred more of the lanterns glowed all at once, illuminating a large natural cavern.
Gwen squeaked, too terrified to scream properly.
Human silhouettes crawled out of nooks and from behind rocks, the light reflecting in their scarlet eyes. Their apelike foreheads crinkled, drool pouring from their mouths and over their fangs as they advanced. The prowlers grunted and growled to each other in some guttural language. Gwen realized that she recognized some: a stable boy, a minor steward, a kitchen girl who had once brought her supper, her sweet smile now taken over by a feral grin.
They drew closer. Gwen tried to flee. She kicked and scratched at Mavian, but he stood firm. He watched the prowlers calmly, as if they posed no threat to him.
"Don't try to run," he said to Gwen. "They will chase you."
Gwen froze, her heart pounding, sweat dripping down her arms. Again she tried to summon her magic, to bring forth any spell that could help her. It would not come. Desperately, Gwen reached out beyond herself, a wave of fear pouring from her with only one word in it: Help! Mavian shook her, though he still focused on the prowlers.
"None of that now, Gwen. Look at what I've created."
She did. The prowlers had all stopped some distance away, their eyes darting between Mavian and Gwen as they licked their lips and scratched at open sores. Mavian's eyes narrowed, his lips thinning as he glared them down. He uttered a series of harsh, horrible sounds that Gwen could feel were laced with magic. A dark magic, though, like the curse she had wrought: vengeful, angry, drawn up from the deepest parts of the world.
The prowlers scraped and bowed, then retreated, their cries to each other eventually fading in the darkness. Gwen's mouth had gone dry, and she shivered suddenly in the cold, musky air.
"I can control them," Mavian said. "Ever since I saw them, I knew that they retained part of their human intelligence. I knew that, if I could learn about them, I could make them mine. I spent years researching and studying them, and only now have I unlocked the secret."
"You let prowlers into the palace," Gwen whispered. "You sent them after the queen."
Mavian shrugged. "I had to see what they would do for me, and my ally wanted her dead. Can you see now, Gwen? I've turned this creature into a tool for the betterment of man! Druam and the king would refuse, they would call it dangerous necromancy, but with the prowlers and my noble allies beside me, no one can stand in the way of progress."
"You're mad. They're monsters, you can't trust them."
"What do you think men are? We are no better than them, animals driven by instinct. Don't you think that these prowlers, if once they were men, could be turned back into men? Only someone like me can try. And someone like you. Understand that, Gwen, please. Together we can bring man to his full glory."
In his fervor, Mavian released her, his hands gesticulating wildly. Gwen edged away from him, back toward the staircase. He has gone insane, she thought. Before he realized he had let her go, she darted up the steps, back up into the pitch black. She heard him curse, and then the slap of leather against stone as he pursued her. Keeping one hand on the wall, Gwen raced as fast as she dared. She slipped once, her leg colliding with the unyielding stone, but she could not stop. Her breath came ragged in her lungs, her palms scraped by the stone.
Light! Gwen ran from the stairs, past the couches and tables, not daring to look back to see if Mavian had caught up.
A woman stepped in front of her. Gwen crashed into her and they both tumbled onto the hard floor. Spasms of pain shocked Gwen's body and she lay stunned for a breath. Mavian shouted something. The woman, Maeria, clutched her head in her hands.
The way out was clear. Gwen sprang for it. Her breath came hard in her throat. Shadows descended the stairwell in front of her.
Mavian's iron hand closed around Gwen's upper arm, dragging her back toward that horrible, prowler-filled place. The blonde woman regained herself and stood at last, her cold blue eyes turning on Gwen.
"Stop whoever's coming!" Mavian shouted. Gwen struggled against him, tore at his hand with her long nails, drew blood, but he did not care.
Maeria drew the dagger at her side. Gwen screamed, hoping that someone would hear. Mavian slapped the back of her head, sending stars reeling in her vision.
Through a teary haze, Gwen watched Druam emerge from the stairwell, a naked sword in his hand, and others behind him. Maeria rushed at him, her dagger raised. Another woman cried out as Gwen shouted to Druam.
It happened too fast to see. Maeria's dagger slipped from her hand as Druam's sword pushed through her chest and out her back. Druam wore an expression Gwen had never imagined on him: unbridled hatred. He pulled his sword back, letting Maeria slide gasping to the ground, and turned his fury to Mavian.
Gwen pulled, and found herself released. She stumbled into Druam. Mavian stared at the dying woman, mouth agape.
"Maeria..." Mavian half-whispered. He took a step forward, then stopped as Druam moved in front of Gwen, sword raised.
"I have tolerated your misdeeds for far too long," Druam said, his voice like steel. "Come with me, and–"
Behind them, the other woman cried out. Druam and Gwen whirled to see the sulpari col
lapse beside Maeria's corpse and sob. She took the dead woman's hand and caressed her cheek.
Mavian raised his arms, a silver amulet with clear gems held in one hand, and muttered some ancient tongue. Once more Gwen caught a whiff of terrible, dark magic. A void in the air, purple and black, erupted from nothing, as tall and wide as a man. Black shapes crept out of it, along the walls, dancing on the ceiling; evil things from places no man should ever walk. They sprang into being, demonic shadows that surrounded Druam and Gwen, separating them. The shadows wrapped around Gwen, trapping her and sinking their incorporeal teeth into her skin. She screamed and writhed in a hundred thousand pinpricks of sharp pain.
"Ettrili marin, corav alon," Gwen whispered, pulling from the very depths of her magic. Warmth crept from Gwen's bones, seeking out the shadows and prizing them from her in a wash of golden light. The effort of this reserve of magic drained her already-exhausted body. The shadows shrieked and fled from her.
Gwen released the magic, feeling as if her very soul would crumble.
But Mavian yelled something in that deathlike language, and a black tendril, a tentacle of fear and loathing, emerged from the darkness. It moved fast, snaking across the floor. Gwen stumbled from its path, but it moved beyond her.
The tendril coiled around Maeria, immune to the sulpari's efforts to strike at it. Then, just as quickly, it transported the dead woman to Mavian's side.
Gwen met Mavian's eyes, and though all around her was chaos, she saw in him a deep, dark pool of freezing hatred. He took Maeria's hand, then stepped backwards into the void. It closed in around him, then was gone.
Druam gasped, and Gwen rushed to him as the shadows dissipated. His skin was covered in hundreds of red burns, and when Gwen looked at her own arms, she saw the same shadow-marks all over herself. With everyone looking on, she narrowed her eyes, pointed a finger at a large burn on the back of his hand, and uttered the healing words Ebarren had taught her so long ago. A small spark of magic sputtered out and zipped around the burn. When it vanished, it left that part of Druam's skin unmarred and unscarred. She smiled, pleased despite the horrors in that chamber. But her gaze returned to that ancient door, and she shuddered, knowing what lay below. I thought Mavian to be different than them...and he only wanted to use me, too.
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