Ava turned her head weakly to Della, blinking sluggishly. "Mama…?" The light slowly returned to those dark-blue eyes, and they widened as she took deep breaths. Those deep breaths quickened, and she shuddered in his hold. "Mama, where’s… Where’s Brice? We were carving our names in an old pine, and then there was this—and she—and then he—” She sobbed, covering her mouth, and wriggled in his grasp, so he set her down gently.
On shaky legs, she stood, a hand clamped over her mouth, her gaze meandering about the cavern until it landed on the boy, where Katia crouched next to him.
A sob choked through her fingers, and Ava scrambled to him and threw herself down next to his body.
The boy’s eyes were open, but he stared into nothing, that vivid, magical violet gone from his irises, replaced with the cloudiness of death.
His body had been mangled and broken by the stalactites, and crying, Katia took off her dark-brown cloak and covered him to his neck.
Ava wept over him, rocking on her knees, keening.
Ava—
As Della ran to her, took her in her arms, he could only look on, his voice paralyzed.
He should say the right words, the perfect thing, but as his daughter cried over her dead friend, he didn't know what that perfect thing was, and he couldn't say a word.
Chapter 61
Although she’d twisted in Brennan's grasp the whole way from the castle, he didn't set her down until they reached the villa, and when she looked back toward Divinity Castle, everything was still. The domed roof was a jagged ruin, but there was no dragon, no magic, nothing but clear, cerulean sky.
She ran down the drive to the street, rattling her fingers against her now-dry overcoat, with Marfa at her side.
It seemed to be over, but were Olivia, Jon, and Daturian all right? Had everyone in the great hall survived?
And what about the Grand Divinus? Had she been arrested? Would she face charges?
Glaring at the castle, she clenched her fists. The dragon had threatened everyone, had threatened people she loved—and Brennan had—
She snarled. Brennan had hefted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour and dragged her away .
"Dragomaestru gone, Maestru," Marfa said with an encouraging smile. A thin smile. Her thick black mane and her overcoat had dried with sand and blood spatter, and her hands were stained red to her elbows. She looked absolutely chilling.
Footsteps strode down the drive behind her. Brennan’s sure-footed gait. She looked back, and he eyed her evenly.
"It's all over now, Rielle."
All over?
It had only just begun.
"What in the Divine's name were you thinking?" She advanced on him.
His eyes narrowed. "I was thinking how nice it would be for you and me to survive."
An awestruck breath escaped her. "And what about Olivia? Jon? Everyone else in the great hall?"
He took a step toward her, his expression a stone wall. "If they were smart, they ran. And in case you didn't notice, Jon took care of himself."
Unbelievable.
He pinned her with his hazel gaze, but she shook her head and flailed an arm out toward the castle. "Didn't you see how badly everyone needed help? The Divine Guard had closed ranks around the Grand Divinus, and there were so few of us to actually—”
“It was a dragon, Rielle," he said emphatically, crossing his arms and puffing dust from his sleeves. "The only thing to do was to run."
"Three years," she hissed at him. "That's what you promised me. Three years so that I could set some things right. So that I could fight the Immortals that want to kill us, the pirates—”
“But not a dragon, Rielle," he argued, closing in.
She glared up into his eyes. "So is that the promise? That I can be free up until the point you decide I can't?"
He scoffed, rolling his eyes, and planted his hands on his hips. "Free to commit suicide by dragon? That's what you're fighting for?"
“Free to do”—she dragged in a deep breath—“anything I need to. Protect people from dragons and krakens and basilisks, duel murderers, face corrupt world leaders—”
“None of which is your responsibility."
None of—? He didn't understand at all.
To him, everything she did would just be senseless and unnecessary, some sort of hobby, and not the need that it was. "I'm a mage," she began, "one of the few who are born. I'm an elementalist, one of the few types of mages capable of immense power. And I've been training for nearly a decade. If it's not my responsibility, then whose is it?"
Raising his eyebrows, he opened his mouth, but she only stepped closer.
“And what are governments for?” he demanded.
“The government is only as strong as its people, and governments don't act, their people do. And if I'm needed, then I'm one of them.”
While he fixed her with a judgmental scowl, the duchess approached, her gown a fresh gray frock, but her face wan.
Brennan glanced over his shoulder, and the duchess threw her arms around him, then beckoned to her, too. Rielle joined her embrace—she and Brennan could continue this later.
“Praise Nox you two escaped.” The duchess squeezed them both, then pulled away to look at them.
Holding her hand out before Brennan, the duchess opened it and revealed a sage-tinted band. "It's your father's, but I don't think he’ll miss it… since he's never here," she added under her breath.
Brennan took the ring, looking over the simple arcanir band between his fingers, and then slowly slipped it on. Then he turned to her and offered her the Sodalis ring.
As she slipped it back on her thumb, Brennan watched with an intense gaze.
The ring was Jon's.
It had saved his life, and hers. Even if it was Jon’s—
“Why don't you come inside?" The duchess glanced at Brennan, her and Marfa, then began walking toward the villa, as if she were fully confident they would follow.
Without even a conscious decision, her feet did follow as the duchess, Brennan, and Marfa headed toward the villa. “I’ve had Vietti send someone to learn all the news. I suspect the Grand Divinus will be charged, and Rielle—after all the work you've done, I think you should be included in the choice of the next Grand Divinus. Wouldn't that be satisfying? Playing a hand in replacing a venomous snake—”
“Actually, Mother, Rielle did win the duel against Mac Carra. Since no one had yet left from the final trial and there were no rules… In theory, Rielle should now be magister."
What? She coughed.
A magister?
“You won?” The duchess gawked at her.
In the heat of the moment, she’d charged into Divinity Castle and made demands, worthy demands, and yes, she’d dueled Mac Carra and had argued that it was still her right, as a surviving candidate who hadn't withdrawn nor been defeated.
And she’d won.
Was she now a magister? Who would decide? The Grand Divinus had been arrested, so would the Magisterium convene and issue a ruling?
"I did duel Mac Carra, and I did defeat him… But I don't know if I'm a magister." And even as she said it, tension dissipated in her chest, and in its place, there was this… relief.
Just how deep did the Divinity’s corruption go? The Magisterium had let Eleftheria II remain in power for so long, and perhaps she'd been good, once, but then she’d become something else. If she’d remained in power for so long, then it was due at least in part to some of the Magisterium supporting her.
And one new magister—could one new magister change that? Could one new magister ensure that an organization as large as the Divinity could do what it was supposed to do, could fight the Immortals, the pirates, fight for the greater good?
Or… had Leigh been right? Did the Divinity have to be dismantled?
I don't need the Divinity to let me fight for the greater good. I can do that myself, without their backing.
She was Favrielle Amadour Lothaire, Marquise of Laurentine,
and a master elementalist. She already had everything she needed in order to fight.
The duchess went on about how wonderful it would be for there to be a magister in the family, when they entered the villa and Samara, along with Brennan’s sisters, ran to them.
Samara threw her arms around her while Brennan’s sisters embraced him and pulled him toward the library. He looked back over his shoulder at her, an uncertain look beneath low eyebrows.
She didn't follow after him.
After what he'd done today, they had a long, serious discussion ahead of them tonight. And before that, she needed time to think.
"What happened?" Samara asked, as they ascended the stairs with Marfa.
Rielle told her as much as she could, and Samara fidgeted nervously, asking about Jon and Olivia.
Answers that she, too, desperately wanted to know.
She'd change, then escort Samara back to Jon's rented villa, where no doubt he worried about where she was.
In Brennan's quarters, she headed to the drinks cabinet, poured three goblets of wine, and offered two to Samara and Marfa.
Someone rapped on the door, gently, and Stefania came in with a letter from Olivia.
Olivia.
Then she was all right.
Hastily, she cracked open the seal and read.
…Grand Divinus defeated the dragon and reclaimed her throne. Her decision didn’t change, and we’re sailing back tomorrow on the Aurora. You are most welcome to join us.
Reclaimed her throne?
After everything, the Grand Divinus had defeated the dragon and snatched back her power?
“What is it?” Samara asked.
“Jon and Olivia are safe.” After handing the message to Samara, Rielle moved backward to the vanity, where she dropped into the seat. Her jar of queen's lace sat there, and she dosed her wine.
As Samara approached, Rielle covered the jar again, but Samara’s eyebrows knitted together as she eyed it.
"What is that?" Samara took a few steps closer.
Rielle's cheeks warmed as she sipped the wine. "It's queen’s lace. I'm sorry, I should've—”
Samara shook her head. "I don't think that's queen’s lace.”
With a half-laugh under her breath, Rielle opened the jar. "No, it is. I've been using it for a long time, at least six years."
With an inquisitive look, Samara closed her hand around the jar, and Rielle nodded her permission. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it. She’d brought it with her from Emaurria.
Samara held it up, walking into the sunshine, where the soft light hit the powder dully.
"No," Samara said, rotating the jar this way and that, "you see—queen's lace has a very subtle shimmer about it, but this doesn't. There's another plant—wild carrot root—that some tried to use at House Hazael to trick their partners, something I was responsible for catching. Wild carrot root tastes almost exactly the same, and looks very much like it… except for that subtle shimmer."
Marfa drank her wine and slammed her goblet down on the vanity, then sniffed the air, frowning. "Not smell right."
That looks almost exactly the same.
Wild carrot root.
Her queen's lace had been replaced with wild carrot root.
She stared at Samara, who lowered the jar from the light and set it back down on the vanity.
Here in Brennan's quarters, someone had replaced her queen's lace with wild carrot root.
Someone—
She shivered and lowered her gaze.
Everything he’d said to her—had it all been a lie? Had there been even a grain of truth in it? He knew that after Sylvie, she could never take the bitter herbs if she got with child. Never.
He knew that, and—
Her hand went to her belly, where even now there could—where even now—
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, and she flinched. When she looked up to the mirror, she was crying. Divine’s flaming fire—
Wiping her face, she forced a smile and stood. "Samara, could you give me a moment? I—”
“Of course," Samara said, her eyebrows creased together, and she set Olivia’s note down on the vanity table. "If you need anything, I'll be downstairs."
She padded back to the hallway door and left.
Rielle locked eyes with Marfa in the mirror, and Marfa tipped up her head inquisitively.
Brennan had promised her three years—of freedom, of waiting before they tried to start a family.
Then he’d dragged her from the great hall, against her will, leaving people she cared about behind, and his first promise.
And now… this. She didn’t even know when it had happened, but for some time, she hadn’t been taking queen’s lace at all. He hadn’t waited the three years he’d promised at all.
He had broken both promises he’d made to her.
She couldn't stay here. Couldn’t stay here another minute. Not in these quarters, in this villa, in Magehold, in Silen.
Brennan had wrapped her so tight that she couldn’t even breathe, that she gasped for air, struggled just to inhale an ounce of the future she’d planned for herself. And he would never loosen that hold. Ever.
Some time on the Shining Sea, with no one to lord over you, just you, the wind, and the waves, would do you some good, Liam had told her that day on the Red Veil’s rooftop, and the wind, the waves, and hunting slavers had never sounded better.
She rose and turned to Marfa. "We're leaving," she said quietly.
There was no time to pack. She scrawled a short note to send her things to Laurentine—and that Olivia had something for him—and then gathered her cloak and coin purse, and opened the balcony doors.
As she and Marfa walked past Jon's rented villa, the garden was bustling. Stable hands harnessed horses and servants loaded carriages. Jon and Olivia really were all right, and returning to Emaurria. Good.
She hadn’t won the Magister Trials, and Jon wouldn’t be getting his mages, but surely now, he and Olivia could enact their plan.
After everything, she’d participated in the trials, dueled Mac Carra, and… an argument could be made that she’d won. If the Grand Divinus objected to Jon allying with the Covens, then all she’d have to do would be to announce the winner. And just like that, the Grand Divinus would be able to stop the alliance by granting her boon—and sending help.
If not, the public wouldn’t forgive her. And would the Magisterium? Daturian was on it, and surely there were other good members like him. After what he’d seen, he wouldn’t leave this alone.
The streets on the way to Il Serpente were full of frantic people darting about to load carriages, buy supplies, flee to the docks. Rumor was that the dragon was dead, but if dragons had come to attack Divinity Castle, then it wasn't safe.
Nowhere in the world was safe, not until humans and Immortals alike came together to defend against the monsters that would harm them.
She rubbed Thorn’s pommel, then let her fingers travel down past the hilt, to the arcanir. While she was in contact with arcanir, Brennan wouldn’t be able to find her… And right now, she didn’t want to be found. Everything he needed to know was on that vanity table.
The Sodalis ring could be in contact with her skin if she put it on her locket’s chain, and that’s what she did, tucking it back into her shirt, against the skin of her chest.
She and Marfa didn't stop walking until the Red Veil came into view, and as soon as she walked in, Liam embraced her, earning a warning snarl from Marfa.
He eyed Marfa with wary sky-blue eyes.
“It’s all right, Marfa,” she said. “This is my brother, Liam.”
Marfa narrowed her gaze, but nodded.
“Oh, so we’re just telling everyone now?” Liam asked, hands on his hips. With his wild hair knotted at the nape of his neck and his clothes wrinkled, he was disheveled as ever, but with a cloak swept over his shoulder, perhaps just slightly less disheveled than usual.
“Marfa’s not everyone,” Rielle
said, hooking an arm around Marfa, who glanced at her wide-eyed and then at Liam. “She pledged herself to my service after the second trial. She’s my friend, a werewolf, and I trust her with my life.”
Liam cocked his head, pursing his lips, and rubbed his stubbled jaw. Marfa hmphed and looked away. At least it was a start.
Liam turned a scowl back on her. “I’m not sure where to even begin, little bee,” he said, the words whooshing out like a breath. “What happened at the—”
She shook her head. "I'll tell you all about it, I promise. But…"
He had a pack slung over his shoulder. Cloaked, with a pack, here at the door—he was leaving.
“But what?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. "If you're leaving, I’m coming with you."
Chapter 62
Brennan glanced back over his shoulder toward the entrance of the library as Samara and Una entered. Hopefully after talking to Samara, Rielle had cooled down a bit. He’d only done what he’d done to save her life, and his.
Stefania had told Mother that Olivia had written to Rielle, so clearly Olivia and Jon were all right. That had to go far in assuaging her anger. Perhaps by the time they talked, she’d be calmer.
Tearing himself away from Mother and Caitlyn’s questions, he walked up to Samara, who wrung her hands in a violet thiyawb. “How is she doing?”
Samara wouldn’t meet his gaze, and instead looked at the floor. “She—I think it’s best if you speak with her.”
Her pulse was racing, and she crumpled into herself. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
With a nod to her and one to Una in parting, he headed for the stairs and up to their quarters. Rielle couldn’t possibly be angrier, could she? She’d had time to cool off, so what could have made her angrier?
Olivia had written, and—
Olivia.
What if Olivia had been hurt? That would destroy Rielle. Or… what if Jon had—
He ran for the door, and even as he flung it open, he knew she wasn’t there. There was no sound of her heartbeat, her breath, no strong scent of her here. He strode inside, searching the surfaces in each room until he found two papers on the vanity table.
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