The Source of Magic: A Fantasy Romance

by Rowan, Cate

  “What makes you think it was him?”

  Thoren dropped his gaze. “Sara had been friends with her mage partner for decades when he died. She mourned him deeply. She left Ysanne to take her mind from it and eventually journeyed to Chellen. Around that time, the Council heard of an exceptionally powerful mage there. None of those we knew had tutored him. That concerned us, and particularly your royal mother. She worried that a mage untrained in the balance of life might destroy it out of ignorance. Or malice.”

  Alvarr winced. Bhruic’s red arrows in the bodies of his mother and father were all too vivid in his memory.

  Thoren cleared his throat. “Sara returned from her trip looking happy, and coy about a man she’d met in her travels. She went to Chellen several more times, though after each visit she became more solemn and withdrawn. She never told anyone the man’s identity. I tried to gain her confidence, without luck.”

  Alvarr felt his eyes bulge. “How do you know she was pregnant before she left Teganne?”

  “She hid it well from us all—but before the Crossing, she transferred some kyrra to me. In that connection I felt the life in her—already a month or two along.”

  Alvarr stared out the window, toward the past. “So blood tells. The daughter is now helping her father.” He itched to slam his fist down again, but thought better of it. Instead, he glowered at his great-uncle. “Why? Why would Jilian aid him?”

  Thoren shrugged. “Perhaps Sara told her what had happened, and Jilian sought her father out—or perhaps he found her. He’s rather resourceful.”

  “By Fate, how stupid I am,” Alvarr ground out. “And how good were her lies. I thought she might run, might try to find some way home to Earth, but I never imagined this! It seems she’s Bhruic’s daughter, all right. To the core.”

  The mere act of moving toward Bhruic’s dais strained every nerve Jilian possessed. As she neared and stared up at him, she went cold inside. The truth was all too visible.

  His pointed chin, the hollows of his cheeks, those eyes. Their color was altered, as if her green had been sucked out and replaced by obsidian, but still…her own eyes stared back at her, impassive and unblinking.

  And within them flared a brutal darkness she hoped never to feel.

  He lounged on the throne in languid confidence; the unthinkable forces he held in check seemed to simmer just beneath his skin. “Source, you’ve had time to consider your situation, as well as certain…consequences of failure. What say you now?”

  Mother, this is for you. Despite the shrieks echoing her mind, she raised her chin and spoke. “I’ll cooperate. Blood wins out.”

  One brow arched as he regarded her coolly.

  “Your blood.” She took a breath and looked him straight in the eyes. “You’re my father.”

  Two heartbeats passed, then an amused smile draped his mouth. He leaned forward on his throne. “Source, you’re an orphan, remember? Or is it too difficult to recall your own lies?”

  “You’re my father,” she said quietly. “My mother’s name is Sara.”

  He grew still, and in his eyes—those mockeries of her own—the darkness coiled tight.

  Despite a mouth gone dry, she forced herself to continue. “Look at my face. You’ll see that it’s true.”

  Bhruic’s expression remained as implacable as if carved in steel, but his hand slid from the armrest to his outer thigh. There his fingers gripped a rectangular object in his pocket. She couldn’t tell what it was.

  He descended the steps of the dais, and Jilian’s nerves tightened further. She dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from screaming.

  “Leave us,” he told the guards without a glance. After a moment’s hesitation they obeyed, departing through an arched door to the left of the throne.

  Bhruic took Jilian’s chin firmly in a cold hand, moving her face this way and that in the torchlight. The sour rumble of the contact moaned through her body.

  He stared at her until she met his eyes again. For an unforgettable moment she recognized a howling loneliness within before a dark curtain slid across it.

  “How do you know this?” His voice sliced into her.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath and clasped the pocket of her skirt.

  I’m so sorry, Mom. It’s the only way I know. She withdrew the book and held it out to Bhruic. “My mother’s journal.”

  His long fingers wrapped around the leather cover as if touching the essence of the author. He stepped away from her, head bent as he stared down at the book. Tension crackled along her bones while he flipped the pages.

  When he halted on the final page, her breath froze and silence exploded through the room.

  Bhruic whirled back to her. His obsidian gaze flicked over her face. “You’re Sara’s child.”

  “Yes.” Frissons of danger electrified her nerves.

  His eyes blazed as he bared his gleaming teeth. “Daughter of mine.”

  He seized her arm and hauled her out of the chamber.

  Nenth pressed her forehead against the locked door of Alvarr’s chambers. “I must talk with you.”

  His voice came muffled from within. “No. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, Alvarr—truly. But this is crucial.”

  She knew she must sound odd, but fortunately, it got his attention. He opened the door and looked at her wearily.

  She gulped a breath to gird herself for what was to come. “May I enter?”

  Alvarr cast a puzzled glance at the blue glass vial in her hand, but stood back to let her pass.

  As she crossed to the center of the room, she trembled. “I’ve come to make apologies, and restitution, for something I’ve done.” She swiveled around to study him. “You believe Jilian’s working with Bhruic. I know it isn’t true.”

  Grief and a hollow anger settled into the lines of his face. “It is true. And Thoren told me more—she’s Bhruic’s daughter.” His jaw clenched. “Everything she’s done has been a lie.”

  Nenth frowned—but it didn’t matter, even if true. It couldn’t change what had happened, what she had done. “Jilian isn’t with Bhruic willingly.”

  “The message I found showed—”

  “Alvarr, whatever her parentage, I know the truth. Because I had her kidnapped myself.”

  “What?” He turned pale.

  “She was supposed to be halfway to Kad by now, with the men I paid to capture her. Bhruic has her instead.” Her tongue trembled in her mouth. “I allowed jealousy to consume me, and because of it, Bhruic found a foothold.”

  “You kidnapped her?” He grasped her arms. “Tell me what you’ve done.”

  His powerful, sword-wielding hands could have crushed her. She would have welcomed that as justice, but he didn’t even bruise her. “There isn’t much time.” Her throat was already drying out; it wouldn’t be long. “I’ll tell you what I know.

  “Alvarr, your soul has held mine in its sway from the moment I met you. My only wish was to be the woman you loved, the love whose touch gave you hope and comfort. Two mages, side by side.”

  She dislodged his grasp and placed quaking fingers on his cheek, below his shocked eyes. As she caressed him, she marveled at the sensation of touching him so, a pleasure she’d never known. Her tears gathered and she smiled at him. “I always thought you’d learn to see me that way. But when Jilian came…I knew she was a rival, Source or no. The fact that she’d witnessed the loss of my magic—the only thing that let me be worthy of a man like you—made it all the worse.”

  “Nenth—” Alvarr began, but she stopped him with a shake of her head.

  “When I learned that you two had become lovers, rage blackened my heart. I felt lost, betrayed—terribly alone. And I listened to a voice inside that said I must remove her from your life, so that you’d see me. Foolish, I know. But Bhruic had found me when the wardweavings were torn. He learned my thoughts. In my own voice, he suggested I rid myself of her. So I did.”

  Alvarr’s breathing quickened.


  “I paid two men to take her safely to Kad, where I knew someone who would keep her for a while before releasing her. I planned to use that time to make you see my love.” Her words quavered. “But you found the note she’d supposedly written. I realized the two men weren’t mercenaries, they were Bhruic’s henchmen.” She swallowed and looked away. “Bhruic laughed within my mind. I cut his link to me, but it was much too late.”

  Her body shook. “I allowed our greatest enemy to take the only hope we had for Teganne’s salvation, and in the process, I’ve caused you great grief. Because, in my blindness and rage, I did not see the truth of it. You love Jilian.” She nodded. “You love her. And because of that, I’ve done what I can to make it right.”

  “Right?” He staggered back on his heels. “What could you possibly do to make this right?”

  Standing tall, she gazed at him with all the depth of her heart. “I bless you and your love for Jilian. May the two of you be happy all your days, and may they be long and loving. You deserve that. It’s what I took from you, and the one thing I pray I can give back.” Shivers rolled through her. “I’ve eaten a poisonous rularc seed and I’m dying. I want you to Cross to Bhruic using the kyrra in my soul.”

  His eyes widened and he gripped her shoulders. “Nenth, you can’t!”

  “This is the only gift I can give you. You’re our last mage of any real power, and Jilian is in Fallorm with Bhruic. Find her before Bhruic can use her against us.”

  “No! There has to be an antidote to the rularc, something…”

  “There isn’t. You know that. And I want—I am begging you—to let me redeem myself. Before my soul flies to the netherworld, capture it.” With shaking hands, she placed the blue vial in his palm. “My Prince, it must be done. Take my soul before it departs. You love Jilian. And to defeat Bhruic, you’ll need her. Rescue her before Bhruic kills her or uses her kyrra against us. On a fydd, it would take a tenday just to reach his keep. The only way to get to her quickly is with the magic of a soul. My soul.”

  “Nenth, I can’t! It’s a dark art, it’s not allowed—”

  “It’s the one way, and my dying wish. My restitution.” She placed her hands over his and closed his fingers around the glass. “Be together. The Old Letters don’t always understand what’s right for the soul.”

  The poison swelled through her blood, fogging her mind, but she smiled. As her legs weakened beneath her, Alvarr caught her in his arms and knelt on the floor, holding the vial with whitening fingers. Fury, despair, and deep sorrow crossed his face.

  She deserved the first, and was grateful for the last. “When you have Bhruic, set what’s left of my soul free. I’ll go to the halls of the dead knowing I’ve done what I could to make things right.”

  “Nenth, oh Nenth…” he whispered, cradling her close in his strong hands, his heart beating a requiem in her ear.

  The bittersweet joy of his embrace flooded her. “I love you, Alvarr. Tell Jilian I’m sorry for what I did. I hope she’ll forgive me.”

  His fingers splayed gently across her cheek and she savored his touch, the last she would ever know.

  Her eyelids closed and she slipped into endless night.

  Alvarr lifted the glass and spoke the necessary words. The vial filled with light, the very essence of Nenth.

  Alone in the room, he wept for her unhappiness, her courage, and her gift.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Bhruic gripped Jilian’s wrist in his icy hand, pulling her through gloomy corridors. Even the walls exuded despair; whatever colorful tapestries and rugs had decorated the halls of the previous rulers of Fallorm were long since gone, leaving only torches, smoky air and creeping shadows.

  She stumbled over a loose flagstone. Instead of yanking at her, Bhruic steadied her arm before towing her onward. His unexpected gesture knocked her more off-balance than the stumble. The dark look he shot her was unfathomable, and her heart shivered as he swept ahead.

  They entered a chamber even more chilled than the great hall. Bhruic shoved the iron door shut behind them and locked it without releasing her.

  Chairs and two bookshelves rested against a wall, but Jilian’s gaze was drawn to the large table in the middle, a slice from an enormous tree.

  Bhruic stopped beside the table and placed Sara’s journal on it. His carbon eyes glinted in the torchlight as he let go of Jilian to pull the rectangular object from his pocket. It was a golden box. “Look.”

  The lid opened, revealing a single, long strand of black hair.

  When she stared down at it, Bhruic reached for a lock of her hair. She pulled back, startled, and he let it glide through his fingers. Nodding, he said, “It’s yours. I thought it was Sara’s, mocking me. But it was yours, telling me of you, though I didn’t realize it.”

  “How did—”

  “A divination spell. Finding the strand…surprised me. But I kept it, in case.”

  “In case?”

  His voice hoarsened. “In case it meant Sara was returning to me.”

  A muscle in his pale cheek twitched as he eyed her. Ghostly flutters slid down her back. Good Lord, what have I stepped into?

  “She wasn’t supposed to die.” His words came forced through clenched teeth. “I’d ordered them not to kill her—just the other Sources. But she disappeared. I tortured the assassins, hoping to learn who did it. None confessed.”

  Stepping closer, Bhruic peered at the laceration on Jilian’s forehead. Her gut lurched at his nearness, but there was nowhere to hide in the locked room—and where could she run from a mage? She flinched as he placed his fingers on the gash.

  She felt a prickle along the injury, and the sharp rumble of his power.

  “Your wound isn’t deep. Just bloody.”

  When he removed his hand, she touched the lesion. It was closed, fully healed, and she cast him an uncertain glance.

  He caught her look and his gaze hardened. “You’ll be better able to transfer kyrra to me if you’re not wounded.” He spun away.

  Wounded… Might that describe him, too?

  She fended off the stab of pity. This is no fairy tale. He might be her biological father, but he was also deranged.

  With his back still turned to her, he spoke. “Never had I felt so much for a woman as for your mother. She made everything I’d been through worthwhile, just to have known her, to have earned her love. She blessed me and made me strive to be worthy of her. I’d have done anything to prove myself. When she spurned me, my happiness, my life ended.” With trembling fingers, he reached for her journal. “But it was worse than I ever imagined. Not only did she take my life, but my bloodline.”

  He swung toward her, eyes blazing. “How dare she hide the life I helped create?”

  Jilian stepped back. “I don’t know.”

  He advanced. “What did she tell you?”

  “N-nothing, really—”

  “Then she took your birthright from you as well. You’re my daughter, and a Source. Together we hold more power than all the other mages in the world.”

  A nervous laugh fell from her mouth. “I thought you’d already managed that by yourself.”

  But he seemed wrapped in his bitterness. “Twenty-eight years.” His nostrils flared. “Twenty-eight years since I saw Sara. She deserted me and had my brat by herself!”

  The sarcastic “Hey!” in her thoughts died as he moved closer. She jerked away when he raised his arm.

  But instead of striking her, he reached out and caressed her cheek. “Sara. Where is she now?” The dark curtain in his gaze pulled back again and his eyes glittered.

  “She’s…dead,” she replied by reflex, but the possible truth of those words yanked the events of the past weeks through her mind: her imprisonment by a paternal psychopath, losing Alvarr, the crazy search for a scarce plant, the guilt of not staying with her mother to be sure she’d survived her deathly illness…

  “Dead?” he rasped.

  Jilian reeled from the memories. I was too late. I
killed her. All of it—too late.

  She didn’t realize she’d whispered it aloud until Bhruic stepped closer. Rage mottled his cheeks. “You killed my Sara?”

  His possessive wording didn’t escape her. She threw up a hand in defense. “No! She was already dying. I tried to save her with starlace—we searched for it everywhere—but it might not have worked.”

  “Might not—why don’t you know? Where is she?” Faster than she could blink, his hand shot toward her throat.

  Her windpipe squeezed closed under his grip. She clawed at his fingers in vain. Her cells rumbled at his touch and her eyes bulged in terror.

  Bhruic’s frenzied glare filled her view as her sight began to dim. Tears of pain rolled from her eyes.

  As he saw them spill, his own eyes widened.

  He released her and gaped at his palm as if it was someone else’s. Jilian collapsed to her knees, fighting for air. His gaze flicked down to her in shock.

  When he raised his arm again, she flinched and pushed backward, but she bumped against the wall.

  “I didn’t mean…” Bhruic loomed over her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice cracked and he crouched down next to her.

  Through her tormented haze she eyed him, shivering.

  “I’m sorry.” He reached out and stroked her cheek once more.

  Throat on fire, she trembled under her father’s hand.

  He leaned closer, and his eyes revealed the shards of a shattered psyche. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. You’ve returned to me at last, Sara.”

  He leaned in to kiss her lips.

  Jilian shoved at his chest and pushed to her feet—only to trip on her gown’s hem and plunge back to the floor.

  “Whore!” Bhruic rose over her like a vengeful demon. “You shattered my heart once, but I’ll do the same to you.” When he raised his hand, his fingertips glowed blood red. “Orcunor mul—”

  Jilian rocked back, only to bang her head on the stone wall. The room whirled in front of her and she closed her eyes.