by Rowan, Cate
“I can’t,” he interrupted.
“Why not?”
“I can’t return you to your world. I don’t have the kyrra. The power.”
Jilian frowned. “You brought me here, why can’t you send me home?”
“I spent most of my kyrra in that Crossing. That’s why I couldn’t take you back and collect Sara instead.”
Collect? The weird jealousy she’d almost felt shattered at the image of her sick mother being gathered up like a prince’s bauble and yanked into danger. “She’s too ill to do whatever it is you want.”
“I didn’t know that until you told me a moment ago,” he said softly. “Fortunately, you’re a Source too.” The heat in his palm flared into hers and spread up her arm. The nerve-caterpillars were back.
She stiffened and withdrew her hand. “I’m talking about my mother. And the fact that she’s dying.”
He breathed a small sigh. “Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do for Sara. I don’t have the power to send you back, herb or no herb.”
She glared at him, hackles rising.
With a regretful shake of his head, he said, “I’m sorry about your mother. Truly, I wish her no harm. But she abandoned us long ago. And I have a realm of people who may perish—or worse—if I can’t protect them, and soon. The needs of all of Teganne must come before the needs of one woman who left us years ago.”
Furious, Jilian sucked in her breath. “This one, as you put it, is the one who gave me life, who held me when I was a baby. Who wiped the tears from my face when my father disowned us, and when Matt…” She choked off before she exposed her humiliation.
“Jilian,” Alvarr said, “I can’t do what you ask.” He looked down at the table, and his fingers traced the tabletop, running along the groove between the adjoining planks. His lips thinned when he finally raised his gaze to hers. “Bhruic’s a twisted man. He’s also resourceful and dedicated to conquering Teganne. My people need my protection, and thus your abilities. I’m very sorry, but you’re needed here. I can’t help Sara.”
“Oh? Then I can’t help you.” Jilian rose from the table. “And why should I? You abducted me from my home and the only family I have. I just found out there might be a cure for her, and now you tell me I can’t get back?”
Alvarr’s expression hardened.
But if he’s right, what about Bhruic? What about Alvarr’s people?
No, uh-uh. To hell with you, Ms. Clean Conscience. Bhruic and his henchmen aren’t my problem. My mother’s dying and I was kidnapped—and nearly murdered as soon as I got here. How safe could it be for me to stay? Her hand flew up to the arrow wound.
Alvarr’s gaze followed the movement and then he stood as well. “You will help me.” He didn’t have to raise his voice—the words had the strength of rule behind them. Not to mention that he towered over her.
“I won’t,” Jilian said, glowering. “I won’t help, unless you help me.” But inside she was shaking. What am I doing? He could turn me into a rat-thing, and that’s the end of me, and of Mom. There has to be a way out of this!
His gray eyes frosted over. She sucked in her breath, preparing to spend her life as a rodent, when her mind grabbed at a straw. “Wait. You’ve said that once I’m a Source and give you power, you’d be strong enough to overcome Bhruic.”
“Yes.”
“Then…if I were your Source, you’d have enough power to send me home to give my mother the herb treatment?”
His brows lowered. “Yes,” he said, “but I need you here to challenge Bhruic. I can’t risk it.”
Meaning he can’t risk me running away.
Her conscience rose again: He’s right, isn’t he? You’re going to stay home if you get there.
She rose taller and thrust her chin up. You bet. I’ve been dragged into a lunatic world where I was shot by an invisible soldier, who then got turned into a rat-thing. My mother’s at home, dying of a disease that might be curable—if I can get this conceited, bullying KIDNAPPER to repair the damage he’s done. “What if you teach me to be a Source, send me back to give the starlace to my mother, and then I return to help you?”
In her head, a drum roll thundered. She saw herself walking a thread-thin tightrope above swarms of writhing rat-things, leering soldiers and evil sorcerers while blood-red arrows took aim…
Alvarr stared at her coolly. “And if you don’t return?”
“I will. I promise.” Oh Lordy, I’m going to hell for lying… But I’m only doing this to protect myself and my mother.
He crossed his arms. “Why should I trust you?”
“I give you my word.” Which had always been good—until now. She tried to ignore the cacophony of guilt. Hold firm, Jil. Mom needs you. But her palms moistened with sweat.
Alvarr watched her carefully as he spoke. “Do you understand that if I were to agree to this, I’d risk everything? The lives of my people—everyone I have pledged to protect—are at stake.”
She stood mute, afraid to say anything that might shatter her only path home.
“How much time does Sara have?”
The memory of her fragile mother on the white hospital bed forced a swallow. “A few weeks at most—maybe days.” Keep it together…
Alvarr’s hands clenched into fists. “My father said Sara was one of the best Sources Teganne had ever known. He and my mother were close to her—so close that they chose her to be my FriendMother, though afterward she broke faith with us all.” He leaned his palms on the table and stared at her as if he were boring into her mind.
What if he could read her thoughts? Her gaze flicked to the wall, the open window, anything but his eyes. I have to get home. I HAVE TO.
“The future of my people hangs in front of me, Jilian. But so does the life of your mother—a lady dear to my own dead parents.”
He lowered his head, then straightened to his full height. “Very well.”
Her gaze shot to his. “Very well what?”
“If you’ll learn to be a Source and swear to help me defeat Bhruic, I’ll help you get the herb and let you go home to your mother first.”
Relief flooded her. “I swear,” she said, nodding.
Hell. I’m going to hell. In a handbasket with lying smiley faces all over it.
“But before that, you’ll swear an oath of fealty to me and to Teganne.”
She froze. “An oath?”
“To prove your intentions are honorable and that you’ll do as you promise.”
Jilian heard devils cackling inside her head as she embraced the dark side. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Should I swear now?”
“No, tonight. In front of my advisors. They’ll witness your oath.”
Oh, fantastic.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Mom—I’m coming home! Hang on!
“We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn to find the herb. I’ll train you on the journey. And Jilian,” his voice deepened, “tell no one.”
She blinked at the demand. “Varene already knows…”
“I’ll speak with her. But you’re not to discuss this with any others.”
“Okay, fine.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer. It was a warning—but about talking, or something else? Could he read her thoughts after all?
He strode into the hall, leaving the air of the room tingling in his wake. She heard him call Varene’s name, and heard the Healer answer in a calm voice.
Jilian sank to one of the chairs. What was she about to do? Trek across a freakish world in search of a rare and possibly extinct herb, with an arrogant mage prince who could turn her into a mutant rat with one word, and who likely suspected she was lying her kidnapped Earthling butt right off.
Bitterness singed her laughter. She wasn’t on Earth—so the fact that nothing made sense was probably normal.
Falling into silence, she recalled Varene’s haunted look when Jilian had asked why the Healer wouldn’t be coming on the journey.
Alone in the warm room, Ji
lian shivered.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Are you completely MAD?” Thoren’s mouth hung open.
Alvarr sighed and set his stylus on his leather-bound desk. “No, I’m not. I’m going to the Nerils. You’ll have to cover for me.”
Thoren folded his arms across his scrawny chest, the very picture of obstinacy. “I may be the last true mage left on your Council, but my oath doesn’t bind my tongue. At least not in private. This is insane.”
“It isn’t really.” Alvarr leaned back in his chair and tried to squash a grin. Stubbornness was a long family tradition. “There are good reasons.”
Thoren’s right brow shot up. “Such as?”
“I need to check the wardweavings. Bhruic may have ripped holes in them along Fallorm’s border by now, and he’s strong enough—particularly near his own boundary—to conceal them from view here in Ysanne.”
“So why should you go? Why not Rokad or Fin…Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” Alvarr said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They can’t sense wardholes anymore.”
Swallowing, Thoren straightened. “Then I should go.”
Affection tugged Alvarr’s lips into a smile. “Fate knows I couldn’t wish for a better Councilor, or great-uncle.” He rose from the desk and clapped his hand over Thoren’s bony shoulder. “But you’re still recovering, and you have no love of the wilderness. The Nerils are far.”
“That’s not enough—”
“There are people I wish to see.”
“Can’t they come to you?”
Alvarr’s smile broadened. “They run a farm. Their work stops for no one.”
“Neither does yours, Your Royal Highness,” Thoren growled. “I suppose you mean Resara and Mellec?” He didn’t look convinced by Alvarr’s nod. “Anything else?”
Reseating himself, Alvarr answered with a word. “Jilian.”
Thoren’s brow quirked again.
“She said Sara is deathly ill. Varene believes the symptoms match a disease known here, and that it can be cured with a rare herb. From the Nerils.”
“What?” Thoren threw his hands in the air. “There’s no time for a scavenger hunt. Bhruic won’t stay his plans!”
“I know. As I said, I have several reasons for the journey. And Sara is my FriendMother.”
“Who left you before you were even born—”
“We’re still bonded.”
Thoren stared at him, appearing to fight an urge to burst into a thousand pieces. Within seconds, his mood visibly shifted. “You’ve already admitted Jilian is reluctant to be your Source,” he said quietly. “How do you know she tells the truth about this illness and its seriousness?”
“I don’t.” And the possibility gnawed at Alvarr. “But I spoke with Varene, who verified the disease’s symptoms and the herbal cure. Jilian hasn’t been here before. So how else could she have known of it?”
“A lucky guess, or her mother told her…”
“Perhaps.” Alvarr rubbed a finger under his chin. “But there are more obvious maladies. Varene said this disease isn’t seen today; she only knew of it from the Healer records. How would Sara have heard of it? And Jilian seemed unaware of our world’s existence.” He shook his head. “I saw the fear in her eyes. I think she tells the truth…about her mother.”
Thoren, ever sharp, caught his hesitation. “Just about her mother?”
What good would it do to mention my suspicions? I’ve already given my word. “The journey will give me time to determine how much kyrra she has, and to instruct her.”
“She doesn’t want to be here—or be a Source, for that matter. What if she betrays us?” Thoren stared at the floor, his tone low and reluctant. “You could…force her, Alvarr. If the circumstances require it. There are precedents in the Old Letters.”
Alvarr picked up the stylus and flipped it end to end in his fingers. Thoren was correct. It would be easier in some ways, certainly. Less risk of her breaking her oath and not returning here; safety for his people. Were the wishes of one person worth the lives of all those he protected?
Alvarr tossed the stylus into the air. He caught and held it for a moment, gripping the thin shaft, weighing it in his hands…then hurled it skittering across the floor. It hit the wall and shattered, spilling black ink over the stones.
“That’s where such a path would take us.” He looked at Thoren. “I removed Jilian from her world against her will. I didn’t mean to bring her—I needed Sara, who’d sworn loyalty to me and to our people. But I took her daughter instead. And I can’t send Jilian back unless she learns to use her kyrra. She and I have agreed on a solution—one that can get us both what we need. Forcing her, I might defeat Bhruic—but at the cost of making her my slave. I’d defeat Bhruic by becoming him.”
Thoren gave an ironic smile. “You paid attention to your ethics lessons after all.”
Perhaps too well. Alvarr looked down at the ink on the flagstones, pooling like dark blood. Would he fail? Would the blood of his people spill over Teganne?
“All right, Alvarr, I see there’s no point in arguing. I’ll talk to Master Quibb and begin the preparations.” Thoren nodded and turned for the door. “You’ll need at least three squads to guard you. I’ll ready them.”
“We’ll go alone.”
Thoren twisted back, incredulous. “What?”
“Bhruic shouldn’t know I’ve left Ysanne. Squads are too difficult to hide.”
“But…protection! You’ll need some!”
“I still have my magery.”
“Weakened! And what use is that against a scout’s arrow or a kugarrott?”
Alvarr shot him a quelling look. “Jilian’s a Source. I’ve felt it. She may even be as strong as her mother.”
“But she’s untrained…”
“I’ll teach her on the journey. It can be done as easily there as here.”
Thoren stepped toward him, assessing. “You’ll teach her. And therefore touch her. With just the two of you, alone, on a trip that will take a tenday or more.”
A shaft of irritation tore Alvarr’s mood. “She’ll be my Source, not my mistress.”
“She’s a beautiful young woman.” Thoren’s gaze hardened in warning.
“I’m sure she’ll be delighted you think that of her.” Restless, he reached for the stylus and was annoyed to remember it was a fractured mess across the room.
“The Old Letters, Alvarr. You know what they say about physical love between mage and Source.”
“So you taught me. Not that Teganne had any Sources left.”
“Now there is one. A very pretty one, too. Raven hair, you said, eyes the color of gemforest—”
“Enough!” There’d been a time and a place to be lectured by his great-uncle, but his childhood was long over. “I remember your teachings. Always.”
At the twinge of hurt in Thoren’s eyes, Alvarr sighed. “Of course I value your wisdom, Uncle. You helped me survive my parents’ deaths, directed my anger into fruitful channels, taught me my duties…took on a gangly boy and pushed me to grow into a man. I’m grateful to you, and to all those who helped me become who I am.”
The stiffness in Thoren’s features gave way to a glint of humor. “You were quite a pill, you know.”
“Yes. Nearly drove you mad.”
“Thought I’d have to kill you more than once, just to rid myself of the aggravation.”
“Good thing you didn’t. Varene would have skewered you, and then where would Teganne be?”
“Missing two stubborn and opinionated men. But possibly more peaceful.”
They grinned in mutual respect.
“Alvarr, just one thing. If it’s known you’ve left Ysanne on this quest, we’ll have no end of worries. And Bhruic will hunt for you.”
“There are some ways around that. The first you can help me with later. For the second…” Alvarr rubbed his thumb and fourth finger together. “Hallohk.”
A pile of garments appeared on his desk: a gray, dirtied tuni
c, nondescript brown wool leggings and a floppy brimmed hat. They smelled of dusty bridleways and long miles under the sun. He reached for the hat and placed it squarely on his head, where the brim shaded most of his gaze. He altered his expression to one of placid dullness. “Happen on any jackamunks, m’lord? I’m a good hand at catchin’ ‘em, and I could sure use the coin.”
Thoren shook his head wearily, but couldn’t repress a smile.
A few minutes later, Alvarr entered the tree-shaded courtyard of the Mages’ Wing. A grass-scented breeze skimmed his cheeks as he spotted Rokad reading at a small table. Rokad glanced up, then smiled and laid his book aside.
“How are you, my friend?” Alvarr was pleased to see some color back in his face, though it was still pale beneath his ink-black hair.
“On the mend.” Rokad pushed a chair out with his foot. “You worry too much.”
Alvarr took the proffered seat, its smooth wood warm from the afternoon’s rays. “Not when you’re concerned. You nearly died.”
“Ah, but I didn’t.” Rokad pointed to his neck, where the bruises had almost disappeared. “Now the sun is shining above us all, and I’m enjoying being alive.”
Alvarr held his friend’s gaze. “Truly?”
“Magic was a gift. Mother Fate has taken it back, but left me my life. As well as my mind, and my heart. Some people are missing one or the other.”
Snorting, Alvarr pointed at him. “Then you can share, since you have more than enough of both.”
Rokad chuckled. “And how are you?”
“Fine on all fronts.”
“And your new Source?”
Alvarr grimaced. “She’s…stubborn.”
“Imagine that. What an impossible characteristic. Of course, it’s especially prominent in princes. The two of you should have a fine time butting heads.”
Alvarr shot him a droll smile, then divulged the situation with Jilian.
Rokad blew air through his lips. “You’ve told Thoren of the trip?”
“He tried to dissuade me, but Jilian and I will be going. Alone.” His gaze defied Rokad to counter his plan.
With a mild look, Rokad said, “All right, I see that path’s been trod.”