Crown of Danger (The Hidden Mage Book 2)

by Melanie Cellier

  I crossed over to the window and held out the small posy with a tentative smile.

  “It’s a little silly,” I said. “But in Ardann, white tulips are used for apologies and fresh starts. I’m hoping we can have a fresh start.”

  He took the sprig from my hands with a gallant bow.

  “How could I refuse such a gesture?” He straightened, a smile on his face. “Darius will be pleased.”

  “I hope so.” I let my tension push a slight flush up my cheeks.

  Hopefully he would think I was making the effort for Darius’s sake. And hopefully the thought would enrage him.

  “I will leave you in peace for now,” Jareth said. “But I look forward to a new chapter between us.”

  “Thank you,” I said, politely seeing him to my door.

  As soon as it had closed behind him, however, I rushed back to the desk. I pulled open the top drawer and stared at its contents.

  “Well?” Bryony asked from behind me.

  I spun, triumph in my eyes. “They’re definitely disturbed. He read them.”

  “So we won’t be sleeping tonight then?”

  I chuckled. “You should probably sound at least a little nervous.”

  “Never,” Bryony scoffed. “The two of us can take on any assassin.” She gave a smug smile. “Especially you. They won’t have any idea what they’re walking into.”

  Chapter 24

  Bryony had somehow managed to raid the kitchen again and had a midnight feast ready for us long before midnight. But I could barely eat or drink, my nerves stretched taut.

  I insisted we position ourselves on the bed with the door to the sitting room closed, as if I had already retired for the night. The hours stretched on, however, with no sound or sign of life.

  “What if he’s not coming tonight?” I asked Bryony. “Maybe he needs some time to source an assassin.”

  She yawned. “Then it’s a good thing it’s a rest day tomorrow. We can sleep all day and wait up again all night tomorrow night. But I suspect he’ll want to move quickly. Exams are next week, and then you’ll be gone back to Ardann.”

  As the hours wore on, her yawns grew closer together and longer until I suggested she lie down, just for a few moments.

  “Of course not.” She widened her eyes dramatically, making me giggle.

  “You’re not going to convince me you’re not half asleep that way. It makes sense for us to take shifts, anyway. Otherwise we might both end up falling asleep at just the wrong moment.”

  She grumbled but admitted I was right, making me promise to wake her at the first hint of any movement—or in a couple of hours, whichever came first. I agreed, although now that I had carried my point, I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to stay awake without her company.

  I needn’t have worried, however. Despite the creeping tiredness, I couldn’t have slept even if I wanted to do so. Bryony had dropped into slumber almost instantly, barely moving except for the occasional twitch, but too many thoughts whirled through my head for such peace.

  I had been so determined to reveal Jareth’s true colors for so long that I hadn’t given much thought to how Darius would react. But now that the moment had potentially come, I found myself wishing someone else—anyone else—could be responsible for revealing the truth to him. I hated the thought of being the one to deliver such devastating news.

  The minutes ticked on, Bryony’s assigned two hours nearing a close, when I finally heard what I thought might be movement. I nearly roused her but hesitated at her peaceful face. I had been waiting here in tense expectation for hours now. And it wasn’t the first time I had thought I heard something that turned out to be nothing.

  I carefully slid off the bed and padded silently over to my bedchamber door. Placing my ear against it, I listened.

  There. The scraping sound came again. Excitement raced through me, flinging me into full wakefulness. Someone had opened my door and entered my sitting room.

  Of course, now I was too far away to shake Bryony awake, and I didn’t want to call to her and alert the assassin. Should I run back to the bed, or was I better positioned here by the door? I hesitated. I might not need her assistance if it was a single assassin, and any scuffle would wake her anyway.

  A muffled sound came again, like another door opening, but the one in front of me stayed still and silent. I frowned.

  Surely the assassin wasn’t retreating again already. I was certain I’d made no noise coming to the door. Had I somehow given myself away? I couldn’t think how.

  I pictured my sitting room in my mind, trying to think what else it could have been. It had definitely sounded like a door closing, although it had been slightly muffled.

  A jolt of horror passed through me.

  I had tried to lay a trap with myself as bait, but what if I had miscalculated? All this time, I had been the target of Cassius’s hatred and anger, but everything had changed now. He no longer held the throne—not really—and it was his son who had wrested it from him.

  I had suspected Jareth of betrayal, but it seemed my mind had shied away from the possibility that it could run so deep. I had made the terrible mistake of not considering that I might no longer be the target—and that access to my room also provided access to Darius’s suite. Whatever protection he had on the door behind the tapestry was different from what he had on his main door—I knew that because I had barged through it myself more than once.

  The assassin had never been coming for me, and I had just given him access to his true target. Ripping open my door, I abandoned all thought of subtlety and silence.

  My sitting room sat dark and empty, giving no sign that anyone had sought passage through it. I almost fell in my rush across the room, tripping over a side table and bouncing off the side of a sofa.

  I fumbled with the tapestry, my haste making me clumsy. But at last I managed to push it out of the way and pull open the door. The sitting room on the other side also sat dark and empty, and for a single moment I doubted myself.

  Then I saw the open door on the far side of the room and heard the muted sounds of a scuffle. I ran.

  I paused in the door of Darius’s bedchamber, my eyes straining to see in the dim light. It would have been pitch black except that someone had pulled open a curtain, letting soft falls of moonlight in.

  Two figures grappled beside the bed. One had his back to me, his right arm held above his head by Darius, preventing the long knife gripped in the assassin’s hand from finding its target.

  The two swayed back and forth, grunting with effort. The strain of holding back the blade seemed to be preventing Darius from retrieving a composition that might keep him safe from it. At least that was the only explanation I could think of for why he hadn’t already hedged himself in so many shields he couldn’t be touched.

  The assassin must have come with an arsenal of compositions himself if he had already broken through the protections Darius always wore.

  I took two steps forward into the room, my foot colliding with something sharp and hard. Looking down, I caught the glint of moonlight on steel and snatched up the knife that lay there. Apparently the assassin had managed to kick Darius’s own blade away.

  Gripping a weapon, I moved more confidently, hurrying toward the two men.

  Darius caught sight of me over his attacker’s shoulder, shock twisting his face. He faltered slightly, one foot slipping, and the assassin pressed forward.

  “Darius!” I cried, just as the attacker’s knife plunged downward.

  I threw myself across the remaining distance, screaming my rage. But I couldn’t reach them before the blade slid into Darius’s chest with a sickening squelch. He grunted, staggering backward, the hilt protruding from his wound.

  His attacker spun, turning to face me now that Darius was incapacitated.

  I gasped and almost dropped my own weapon. I had expected to see the face of a stranger, but instead it was Jareth himself who had just stabbed his brother. Darius looked past
Jareth, meeting my eyes, the shock even stronger than before. But now I understood its true cause—it hadn’t been there because of my arrival.

  “Verene,” Darius gasped before crashing to his knees. His eyes flickered to his brother, now advancing on me, and he managed to whisper, “Jareth, no.”

  But even now I could read the disbelief and hesitation in his voice. Jareth had used his brother’s trust and love to break past his defenses. Darius had been hampered because even now he didn’t want to hurt Jareth.

  Anger flared inside me, overwhelming all sense, and I launched myself at Jareth. My mind thrummed, waiting for him to unleash a composition in either offense or defense. Unlike Darius, I was ready and willing to send the attack straight back at Jareth.

  But it seemed all his testing had made him cautious. He made no move to draw a composition, instead dropping into a crouch and pulling a second knife from his belt.

  I didn’t have the same skill with a shorter weapon as I did with a sword, and my height put me at a disadvantage, but I didn’t hesitate. Lunging forward, I slashed with my blade. He danced out of reach before darting forward with an attack of his own.

  I only just blocked him with my own knife, but the movement put us dangerously close together. He pressed forward, bringing his greater strength to bear, and I felt my arm give way.

  A sudden blur of movement flashed in the corner of my eye, and Darius slammed into Jareth’s side. The two of them staggered sideways, pushing Jareth away from me.

  But the younger prince lost no time turning on his brother. Gripping the hilt of the knife still lodged in his chest, he pulled it out in a single fluid motion.

  Darius cried out in pain as blood poured from his wound.

  I nearly threw myself at Jareth again, despite the failure of my first attempt, but was halted by the realization of my own stupidity. I didn’t need Jareth to work a composition for me to control. I could work one myself.

  I had never gotten undressed for the night, so I had the full range of defensive compositions in my usual pockets. My hand flashed straight to one my father had provided me. It would have all the power I could need.

  Jareth raised both his blades and moved toward Darius, who swayed on his feet as he tried to stem the flow of blood from his wound. I dropped my knife and ripped the parchment in half in one clean movement.

  Power surged out, racing toward Jareth.

  “Take control,” I growled and instantly connected with it.

  It had been so long since my father gave it to me I had forgotten the details of its purpose, remembering only that it was strong and would target any threat against me. It unfolded clearly in my mind, however, its purpose broad rather than targeted. It would disarm anyone within its range who held a weapon, and my father had poured enough strength into it to wrest the blades from several squads at once.

  But I needed it for a single attacker only. The power here would be more than enough to destroy him completely. But even as I felt the strength of the power under my control, my eyes fell on Darius. I couldn’t kill his brother.

  “Bind Jareth,” I whispered, and the power writhed and twisted. It had already been streaming toward the single attacker in the room, reaching for his knives, but it now sped even faster, crashing into him in an irresistible wave.

  Both blades fell from his hands, and a moment later he collapsed to the floor, unable to move any of his limbs. As soon as he hit the carpet, Darius sank after him, the removal of the threat leaching away the last of his strength. He went to his knees first, and then toppled sideways to lie beside his brother.

  I ran for them both, ignoring Jareth to fall to my knees beside Darius. But the sound of the younger prince’s voice pulled my attention toward him.

  “Darius! Darius!” The horror and anguish in his tone matched the expression on his face as he stared at his brother, bleeding out beside him.

  I growled in disgust. It didn’t matter how torn he might be about it now, he had still been the one to strike the blow against Darius. While Darius wouldn’t strike against Jareth even to save himself.

  “Silence,” I muttered, viciously twisting the working so that it bound his voice as well as his body.

  Excess energy still surged through me, so I shoved against him, rolling him over so he faced the wall, unable to see either me or Darius. Turning back to Darius, I met his eyes.

  “Verene,” he whispered, his voice so faint I could barely hear the word.

  “Darius,” I sobbed, pressing against his chest with both hands. He had already lost so much blood, and more kept pouring out, despite both our efforts. Soon he would have lost so much that no healing effort could save him.

  “Surely you keep a healing composition ready,” I gasped. “Where is it?”

  His hand fluttered in the direction of his bed. I gasped another sob. Unlike me, he no longer wore his robe, and he must only keep a minimal number of compositions in his nightshirt. They were probably all chosen to keep him from being hurt in the first place—if only he had been attacked by anyone other than his own brother.

  I didn’t have time to go searching through his robe and bed for a healing composition. It would take me too much time to find the right one anyway. If only mine weren’t all keyed to heal only me.

  Wait! I jolted upright. For the second time my terror and grief were clouding my thinking. The original working might be designed for me, but I could twist it—I would gladly sacrifice it to the attempt, even if it didn’t work.

  I had never tried to take control of two workings at once, but the one binding Jareth no longer needed my attention. My hand flew straight to the pocket that held my healing compositions, once again reaching for the strongest one.

  I ripped it, whispering, “Take control,” as soon as I felt the swell of power.

  It pushed toward me, determined to heal whatever minor scrapes or bruises it could find.

  “Darius,” I ground out through my teeth.

  The power resisted, wanting to come to me. I had been embedded strongly into every layer of the working, both the words and the intent focused on me. But it was still a healing composition.

  I latched on to the part of the power that had been shaped for healing and strengthened it, directing it toward Darius’s desperate wound. It wavered and then buckled, reaching for him.

  I gasped and sat back as it sank into his chest. The bleeding slowed and stopped as the wound knit itself back together. He gasped and spasmed, but his eyes didn’t open.

  Tears ran down my cheeks as I watched his pale face. I was too late. Healing compositions had only ever been able to do so much, and he had expended his final energy rescuing me, only exacerbating his blood loss.

  He needed energy, and he needed it immediately. If only…

  My desperate mind reached out for Bryony, now four rooms away from where Darius was fighting for his last breaths. Surely she was too far for me to—

  But the familiar feel of her energy called to me, even across the distance. I could feel it there at the edge of my limits.

  “Connect,” I gasped out and dove into it.

  My blood-stained fingers scrabbled inside my robe for my parchment and pen, streaking the surface red as I pulled it free. My mind fastened on to what I needed, the words of a healing composition unfurling inside my mind as easy as breathing. I put my pen to the paper and began to form the first word.

  With a choked cry, I snatched the tip away from the parchment, my fingers trembling. Responding to instinct, I had nearly stolen a healing composition from Bryony, permanently robbing her of some of her energy in the process.

  Gulping, I forced different words to form in my mind. My handwriting was sloppy and rushed, and I had to force my hand to stay steady enough to keep it legible. Thankfully I didn’t need many words.

  I ripped the parchment, the energy I had just taken from Bryony rushing toward Darius and filling him with a jolt. He gasped, gasped again, and then his breathing strengthened.

  “
End,” I whispered, cutting off my connection to Bryony. I didn’t want to be linked to temptation.

  But as I watched, his breathing remained strong and steady, and the color slowly returned to his face. With the help of the extra energy, the healing power still lingering in his body was replacing enough of his lost blood to keep him alive. He would live.

  I let out a long trembling breath and sat back, covering my face with my hands. It had been close, too close. And in more ways than one.

  I had been scared of my new ability, but it had just saved Darius’s life. I couldn’t hate a power that had done that. But it had also nearly stolen something incalculably precious from Bryony.

  But I couldn’t blame my power for that either—that had been me. I had refused to acknowledge or train my new ability, and so when I had reached for it in panic, I hadn’t had the experience I needed to use it properly. I had been afraid of misusing my ability, and those fears had nearly come true.

  I had to make sure it never happened again, which meant I had to accept this new power and master it.

  Even in my moment of greatest panic, watching Darius dying before me, I had managed to pull myself back in time. I hadn’t taken Bryony’s healing energy without her permission. I could trust myself to stay in control of this ability and not abuse it.

  “Verene.” This time when Darius spoke, his voice sounded steady and clear. “What happened?”

  He pulled himself up into a sitting position, looking around at the streaks of red all over us both and then at his brother, lying awkwardly with his face rolled away.

  “I bound Jareth,” I said. “And I healed you.”

  I grabbed the torn scraps of parchment around me, shoving them deep into my pockets to hide the fact that the words they contained didn’t quite match the feats they had performed. Darius had been too close to unconsciousness to see me using my ability, so I would let him assume I had come equipped with the right compositions.

  Darius shook his head. “You shouldn’t have put yourself at risk like that. You’re not hurt?”