I pushed from the wall with clammy hands. “I’d rather wait in my room if I may.”
“Nonsense. You should enjoy the opportunity while you can.” He grinned at Garrett, then back at me. “Another opportunity may not present itself in the time you have left.”
Unease quivered through me. “Have you grown tired of me already?” Would Roland send me home once the First Court lights faded to black? Never mind my home’s location eluded me.
“You are an enchantment.” He tipped my head back. “How could I ever tire of you?” His lips molded to mine with a deep sigh. The way he breathed me in made my knees weaken. “I believe I’ll keep you here, with me, all the days of your life.”
“That’s a lengthy commitment, my lord,” I teased him, breathless at the implication.
“Its duration is well within my tolerance.” He leaned in. “On second thought…I believe I will return you to your room. I’d rather you save your energy for other things.”
Crippled memory fragments of a bed that wasn’t my own, him crushing me into submission, flared panic in my chest. No, no, no. Not with him. He’s not… The thought fled me.
I shoved him back, and my jaw slacked as he bounced off the opposite wall. His skull cracked on stone, and his focus lost me for several seconds. Adrenaline drenched me in sweat.
“Where am I?” I gawked at my surroundings. Rihos? I’d never come here, unless…
“You’re at the summer castle.” Roland’s scowl melted into sweet concern. “You came to spend an evening with me. I sent you an invitation, remember?”
I did remember a letter. I’d read it and passed it to… My eyes widened. “Harper.”
Roland nodded to Garrett. “Cover yourself.” He pulled a vial from his pocket with a flourish. “It’s not time for you to wake up just yet.” He dumped the contents into his hand and blew warm air across his open palm. Glittering sparkles took flight, winging their way toward me.
Reflexes slow and mind dull, I couldn’t react. I just stood there and let his magic take me.
Fetid air fanned the base of Harper’s neck. He twisted as something jabbed his shoulder through the cell bars. A black mass draped in shadows loomed over his head. “It’s true then?”
Harper scrambled to his feet, half convinced he imagined the thing spoke. “Is what true?”
Torches lit this damp section of dungeon and illuminated the creature’s face. His gnarled limbs twisted like the branches of a long-dead tree. His spine crooked and shoulders hunched.
“There is a colony? Yes?” His voice crackled with age. “And you? You are its leader?”
“There is.” Harper took a moment before he answered. “And I am.”
Black skin quivered. “I am Aldrich.” His head bobbed. “I am of the Rand coven.”
Confusion knitted Harper’s brows together. “A spell crafter?”
“I am.” Vertebrae popped with his eager nods. “Yes.”
“I’m Harper Delaney, formerly of Rihos, now leader of the freemen colony in Feriana.” He waited to see if Aldrich elaborated, but his fevered gaze bored a vacant hole through thin air.
Still staring into the distance, he asked, “Does Queen Nesvia know you’ve been brought here?” Strange longing filled his voice when he glanced Harper’s way. “Will she come for you?”
“Come to accuse me, you mean? No, she bears me no ill will.” He shook his head. “I doubt the queen knows I’m here, or that I was invited. My arrest was orchestrated by Roland.”
“Roland.” Aldrich bared sharp teeth in the direction of the door. “I must go.”
“Is he coming?” Harper’s gaze sliced through the gloom, but he saw nothing.
“There is work to be done.” Aldrich glided past, leaving a dripping trail in his wake. Bending down, Harper swiped his fingers through a dark splotch. “Are you hurt? You’re bleeding.”
Steel gleamed as Aldrich presented a knife and his forearm. “Magic is in the blood.” He sank the blade deep beneath the skin, and more blood welled. Dropping to his knees, he smeared a set of carved runes with his offering. His murmured spell crafting filled the air, raising gooseflesh on Harper’s arms and stirring the whispering voice he’d heard earlier to a crescendo.
A hiss of sound slithered through Harper and coiled around his throat.
He imagined the flicker of a serpentine tongue in his ear. Sssong isss ssseeking.
Harper choked out the words, “What is that?” A second later, the tightness vanished.
Aldrich acted as if he hadn’t heard. Perhaps he hadn’t, as focused as he was on his work.
Harper grabbed a bar to haul himself to his feet and jerked his hand back, swearing. The metal glowed white hot. Shimmering, it faded for a moment, causing him to rub a hand over his eyes. He touched the metal a second time, and its malleable length melted in his hand for an instant before it hardened and cooled to its previous density. “That’s a clever trick.”
Aldrich continued to squeeze his arm and chant his mantra over the carving.
“How did you do that?” And what power he must have to manipulate iron as if it were taffy. Such a powerful talent deserved better than a crowded dungeon and a stinking pallet.
Finally, he glanced up. “I can’t tell.” His spiked teeth glinted. “Trade secret.”
A low groan made Harper turn. Dillon twisted on the cot, deep in a fever-induced sleep.
“Your friend won’t last much longer.” Aldrich pointed a finger. “His leg won’t, either.”
“I know.” Harper frowned. “I don’t have many choices, and none of them are good.”
“You would do what you said?” Aldrich didn’t bother cleaning or binding his arm, just let air hit the wound and clot. “Your female is here? You would surrender her for your colony?”
His eyes shut. “She’s not—” In his heart, Emma was his mate. “Yes, I would.”
Finished with his crafting, Aldrich drifted closer. “Why?”
“It’s my duty to put my colonists’ needs above mine.” He recited the words by rote, surprised they rang true. Father would be proud. “One life isn’t worth the exchange of so many.”
Liar. He gripped the bars. Rust flaked off, embedding in his palms. She was worth everything to him, but his hands were tied. Three lives exchanged for hundreds was worth it.
“You are the queenmaker.” Knowledge flickered in Aldrich’s eyes.
“Not exactly.” Harper frowned at Aldrich’s interest.
“You killed Lord Archer.” He inched nearer. “I saw it.”
“You were there?” Harper searched his memory of that night but saw only Emma. How she approached the dais and slipped her robe to pool at her ankles. The disgusting interest reflected in the eyes of those First Court males desperate for their chance to initiate her into her life as the Princess Ascendant’s handmaiden. Her pitiful cries when the ancient priest set to work inking her owner’s name into her tender skin, the eager swipe of his tongue as he asked Eliya for permission to rupture Emma’s virgin barrier in front of the entire court. Then chaos had erupted.
He had erupted.
“Archer’s death meant his country withdrew military support from Askara. His death was the first domino to fall, and you pushed it.” Aldrich peered up at him. “Then another, and another, until Eliya lost her throne.”
Harper frowned. “What does it matter to you who I killed or what the results were?”
Aldrich dropped the hood of his cowl and recognition slammed into Harper.
His arm shot through the bars, his palm wrapping the male’s fragile neck with squeezing fingers. “You’re Eliya’s priest.” So much innocent blood was collected on this creature’s hands.
“I was. Yes.” He didn’t struggle. His eyelashes fluttered the harder Harper squeezed. He must enjoy the pain. “I am beholden to Queen Nesvia now. I would know how my queen fares in my absence.” When a low moan dangerously close to pleasure sounded, Harper released him.
“She closed her court.
That’s all I know.”
“Has she fallen ill?” Aldrich croaked through his crushed throat. “You must tell me.”
Up close, Aldrich’s breed became apparent. His features were Sereian. His skin, which Harper had thought a match for his, was streaked with elaborate runes. As he stared, he realized it wasn’t white ink on black skin, but the opposite. He would bet they were tattooed craftings.
Aldrich had transformed himself into a living canvas for his own artwork.
“This conversation is finished.” Harper wiped his hand on his pants and turned.
Aldrich struck his arm through the bars, reaching. “Perhaps we can make a deal?”
Harper shuddered at the thought. “Not interested.”
“I’m offering you freedom.” Aldrich’s fingers curled in a beckoning gesture. “In exchange, I’m asking you for mine.”
Hope kindled in a rich burst of purpose, even as his conscience squirmed at his intentions. He faced the spell crafter, the remnants of a once-celebrated priest. “What do you have in mind?”
Chapter Twelve
Aldrich dropped to his knees and patted his robe’s pockets. “Give me your arm.” Harper did, repulsed by the frail strength in Aldrich’s fingers. “Swear to me.”
“You want my word.” Harper tugged, but Aldrich held tight. “You have it.”
“Swear it,” Aldrich hissed, slicing a fresh cut and letting it weep. “I want your oath you will remove me from this retched place.” He offered Harper the hilt of his crusted blade.
Harper’s pulse cooled to think of sealing his oath with crafter’s blood, but he took the knife and made his cut. Aldrich gouged a finger in the slit and clasped their forearms.
“I swear, if you free us, I’ll take you from here.” Consequences flickered through Harper’s mind, but he crushed those.
Magic shimmered in contaminated glee. It was as if Aldrich’s blood sank poisonous talons in Harper’s wound, clawing him raw. Gritting his teeth, he waited until the searing ache subsided.
“It is done,” Aldrich said with a toothy smile. “Now you can see.”
His insane laughter rang out as Harper’s eyes shot wide open.
The walls crinkled, caving in on one another. Glitter filled the air, trailing sparkling dust motes, and the cell collapsed. Lunging toward the cot, Harper threw his body across Dillon.
Harper squeezed his eyes shut, braced for impact, expecting tumbling rock to crush them.
Silence rang in his ears. There was no sound. No noise as Aldrich brought the castle down around them. Comforting darkness embraced him. Maybe this was death, blank and empty.
His eyes opened on a lush bedroom.
Grateful breaths filled his lungs with promise. He gaped when he spotted Aldrich, still ancient, but clean. Harper touched his forehead and felt smooth skin. Only the gash in his arm remained. “It was all an illusion.” If he’d doubted Aldrich was Sereian, then he had experienced the proof of his heritage firsthand. His glamour had worked magic Harper barely conceived of.
Aldrich shrugged, as if he conjured dungeons daily. “It’s real, if you believe it so.”
He rolled off Dillon, who grunted, leaving him curled on his side on the low bed.
“Roland will come soon.” Aldrich fidgeted. “We should leave. Now.”
“I’m not leaving without Emma.” Harper brushed past him, casting Dillon a final glance.
“No. That wasn’t part of our deal.” The crafter trailed him. “You said you put your colony first. Returning to lead them is best.” He huffed. “You would have lost her anyway.”
“You’re right.” Harper’s hand closed over the doorknob. “I would have. Now I don’t have to.” He sighed. “I promised to take you from this place, and I will, but not without her.”
“Foolish queenmaker,” Aldrich grumbled. “Go.” He gave Dillon a measuring glance. “At least she can be put to use, unlike that one. Are you sure we can’t…?”
“No one gets left behind.” Harper opened the door.
“Stop it. Stop that.” Aldrich closed it on a quiet snick. “Stay to the walls. Understand?”
A tapestry in the far corner caught Harper’s eye. Tables and mishmash furniture butted into walls and crowded the floor. Beneath the faded banner lay the only section of bare wall.
“Does this intersect the queen’s tunnels?” He had learned every twisting turn as a child, committing the passages to memory for the day Maddie’s safety became his responsibility.
A stone archway hidden in the garden slid aside for easy access to the tunnels. He would have used that entrance, but this would be simpler. He approached the wall. Aldrich switched a hidden latch and a tunnel’s gaping maw stretched deep and fathomless beyond the lit room.
He snatched a miniature hourglass and turned it upside down. “You have until the sand runs out. If you haven’t returned, I will summon the guards.” His face pinched. “Please, hurry.”
With a nod, Harper stepped into darkness. The panel slid shut behind him, trapping him in the walls. Claustrophobia learned from too many years in too tight a space made his palms sweat where he ran them along the walls to keep his balance. Several yards ahead, he spotted moonlight through one of the narrow windows dotting the secret maze. He stopped long enough to glance through the glass at the courtyard below. Triumph curved his lips. Stone benches dappled a crushed shale walkway. Aldrich’s room neighbored the gardens, which meant…
He broke into a quiet run, stopping when a familiar indention teased his fingers.
Please let him have left her here. Applying pressure to the rough edges, Harper eased the stone aside and stepped into a bedroom he’d thought he’d never see again. His heart slammed into his ribs when he saw golden curls littered across the petal pink of Maddie’s ornate pillows.
His knees hit mattress before his brain registered the required steps to reach her. Careful, as if she were made of glass, he scooped Emma against him. “Thank God you’re all right.”
She hit his chest and knocked him backwards. He skidded across the floor with a soft crunch of glamour-encased wings.
“Who are you?” Emma stood, barefoot and rumpled at the bedside. “What do you want?”
Her brow wrinkled. She hadn’t screamed. She catalogued him as if she knew him, but couldn’t place him. Dull pain thrummed in his chest as she rubbed her temples, her face pale.
He should have protected her from Sereians and their twisted use of glamour when he had the chance. Instead of learning concealment, as the Evanti had in order to blend into Askaran society, Sereians focused their magic outward. Their specialty lay in mind manipulation, as Aldrich had illustrated. They loved their potions and powders, extensions of their mind games, and Roland had used enough in combination to trigger magical withdrawal symptoms in Emma.
Sereian glamour left tendrils of suggestion embedded in their victims, and it was difficult convincing the afflicted they had been violated because their memories had been tampered with.
Given time, another few days or a week for those suggestions to fade, Harper could have explained to a lucid Emma instead of one fresh from a meeting with Roland. He could have forced her to listen, locked her in her room until she saw reason or her higher metabolism burned through Roland’s influence. But there hadn’t been time. Harper had made his choice and now he had to live with the consequences.
He’d gambled with her safety for the sake of his colony and almost lost them both.
Harper stood slowly. If she craved a hit from Roland’s magic, he must be due to visit soon. He wouldn’t dare let the effect wear off. She would kill him for what he’d done to her.
Dragging a tired hand down his face, Harper spied Maddie’s old silver brush on the bed.
He pointed. “Do you know who that belongs to?” Her hostile glare said she didn’t. “It belongs to Madelyn DeGray. You remember Maddie, don’t you? Your vinda koosh?”
“I have a little sister?” Hope lent her voice a soft edge. Her shoulders relaxe
d a bit as she bent down, lifted the brush. “Maddie,” she said as if testing the name. “I can’t remember…”
“It’s okay.” He held out his hands to show her he meant no harm. “I’ll help you remember.” He glanced toward the door. “But we have to leave. Now. If we don’t, Roland—”
Her jaw set, knuckles turning white around the handle. “Roland is my friend.”
“No.” Harper kept his tone firm. “He wants you to forget Maddie. If he was your friend, he wouldn’t want you to forget your family. What about Nesvia? Do you know her? What about your friends? Your job? Do you remember any of your life before you met Roland?” He took a step closer, but she retreated. “He wants you to forget everything. He wants you to forget me.”
Her blank stare carved out his heart. “Who are you?”
I blurted the words and his expression shattered. Something about the curve of his cheek, the cut of his jaw, seemed so familiar. His eyes, though, they should be darker. Or perhaps his skin… Something about him was wrong. My earlier panic struck a second blow, just as hard.
Heart racing, I sat on the bed before I toppled onto the floor. Warm metal filled my palm, comforting. I lifted it and saw my reflection in the smooth back. The blue of my eyes reminded me of someone. Was it Maddie? Why couldn’t I remember a thing as basic as having a sister?
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” My chest tightened. “Please.”
“I can’t.” I didn’t doubt him for a moment. “Not without you.”
“I don’t know you.” At least, I didn’t think I did. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go with you.”
“Then I’ll wait here.” He sat in the delicate vanity chair, crossing his legs. “For Roland.”
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I swallowed hard and struggled to find my voice. “You cannot.” His blue-gray eyes stared back at me. “He won’t— Things won’t end well if you stay.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “You sound concerned.”
“If he finds another male in my chambers, he will be quite upset.” I glanced toward the door, tempted to pluck this stubborn male from his seat and shove him back through the wall. He knew better than to use the tunnels. I lifted a hand to my head where a steady pulse beat behind my right eye. “How did you know about the queen’s tunnels? Their use is forbidden.”
Evermine: Daughters of Askara, Book 2 Page 10