The Wish Granter (Ravenspire Book 2)

by C. J. Redwine

His father jerked on the whip, but Sebastian held it steady.

  “You don’t order me around, boy.” His eyes were wild, spittle flying as he yelled. “People tremble when I enter a room. Streets clear when I walk them. This is my town.”

  “Actually, it’s Teague’s. You’re just his errand boy.” Ari’s voice was vicious, a first for her. “But that’s all you have, isn’t it? Pride in following a monster’s orders even when it means killing an innocent girl. Even when it means killing your own son. When we stop Teague, and we will, I will personally lock you away in a dungeon so obscure that no one will bother to remember your name.”

  His father lunged toward Ari, aiming the butt of the whip at her face.

  Fury roared through Sebastian, obliterating the panic and the shame and leaving nothing but a red haze in its wake. Launching himself into the air, he slammed into his father and sent them both skidding across the stone floor of the cage.

  His father swore and landed a solid punch to Sebastian’s chest, but he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t hear the words spewing out of his father’s mouth.

  All he felt was the brilliant, hot purity of the rage that had broken free of its cage and filled him like an armor he wore beneath his skin.

  Scrambling to his feet as his father rose, Sebastian absorbed the blows that struck him—one to the jaw that snapped his head to the side and sent blood running from his mouth, two to his shoulder, and another two to his chest—like he’d absorbed so many before. Only this time, he wasn’t trying to escape the pain. This time, he wasn’t trying to endure. This time, he was calculating his father’s center of balance, his fighting style, and looking for a weakness.

  He found it in the frenetic zeal of the man’s punches—so concerned with breaking his son’s body with his fists that he forgot to pay attention to the weapon they each still held in their hands.

  Bracing himself against the strength of his father’s blows, Sebastian snatched the middle of the whip that sagged between them. Pulling the leather taut, he ducked a roundhouse punch, held the section of whip in front of him like a horizontal pole, and lunged.

  He thrust the taut leather against his father’s throat, looped a foot behind his leg, and swept him off balance. Jacob stumbled, a tiny error that gave Sebastian everything he needed. Letting the whip slide through one of his hands, he wrapped the section he held around his father’s neck and twisted until the man choked and clawed at the leather for relief.

  “On your knees.” Sebastian twisted the leather noose again and shoved his father to the floor.

  The man abandoned his attempt to loosen the noose in favor of grabbing for a dagger strapped to his ankle. Sebastian stomped on the hand that was pulling the blade free and ground his father’s fingers beneath his boot.

  For one agonizing moment, he stared at the dagger and imagined picking it up. Burying it in his father’s heart and whispering that he’d done it for Parrish. The rage that fueled him begged him to show no mercy.

  But he was better than his anger. Better than his need for vengeance.

  He was better than his father.

  Releasing the noose, he let the man fall to the floor, gasping for air, and reached into Jacob’s pocket for the key to Ari’s chain. Sebastian’s hands shook as he freed Ari’s ankle, and for the first time he noticed blood dripping from his mouth onto his tunic.

  Together, he and Ari dragged his father, who was still gasping, still holding his hands to the raw, abraded skin of his neck, onto the mattress, where Ari locked the chain around his ankle and then handed the key to Sebastian.

  “You didn’t kill him,” she said.

  “I wanted to.” He backed away as his father let go of his neck to yank on the chain that held him.

  Ari gave him a warm smile. “But you didn’t, because you knew when you had him beaten, and that was enough for you.”

  It wasn’t what he’d promised on Parrish’s grave. It wasn’t what he’d dreamed about when he’d first fashioned his cudgel from iron and wood.

  But Ari was right. He’d beaten his father. He’d conquered his fear and his rage, and that was enough.

  Glancing out the window, he noted the position of the sun as it began bleeding out across the distant horizon. “Teague will be back at nightfall. You sounded confident when you told my fath— Jacob that you could beat Teague.”

  Her smile grew fierce. “I think we can. And we’re going to use his own magic to do it. All we need to do is steal another contract. Are you with me?”

  “Always.” He offered her his hand and together they left his father behind.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  SHE EXPLAINED THE plan to him as they crossed the lawn and hurried up the steps of the villa. The plan was simple, but the execution itself could be tricky. Thank the stars Maarit was still at the palace with Teague. Ari could tell the moment she walked into the house that it was empty.

  Step one: break into Teague’s study.

  They stood outside the study door, and stared at each other for a moment.

  This was it. Her last idea. The only plan they had left. Teague would be home within the next hour. If this failed, Teague would speak the remaining word to the incantation that would rip Ari’s soul from her body. Sebastian would die. Thad would die. And Súndraille would be ruled by Teague.

  “I’ll watch out for you,” Sebastian said as his lips brushed against the crown of her head and sent a delicious little shiver through her. “I promise.”

  She tipped her head back so she could look him in the eye. “Ready?”

  “No.” He closed the space between them and kissed her—a fierce touch full of longing that lit a fire beneath her skin. She clung to him, as much to keep her suddenly weak knees from buckling as to keep him close.

  When he slowly pulled away, she pressed a hand to her racing heart. “I could get used to that.”

  “Then let’s make sure you stay alive.” There was a quiet agony in his voice that tugged at her heart.

  “Exactly.” She looked at the door. “Ready?”

  “It’s locked,” Sebastian said softly as he tried the knob.

  “It’s an easy lock to pick. There are hairpins in my bedroom.” She raced to her room, grabbed a hairpin, and returned breathless to find Sebastian glaring at the front of the villa, his entire body braced for trouble even though the house was quiet.

  “Ready?” she whispered as she straightened the hairpin and inserted it into the lock. The lock turned with a satisfying snick.

  He gave her a look that sent heat spiraling through her stomach, but all he said was, “Make it quick. I’ll listen for trouble.”

  Step two: steal a blank contract.

  She left him standing in the doorway, his back to the room while he watched the hall, and entered the study. Someone had recently polished the bookshelves and the doors to the enormous floor-to-ceiling cabinet, though the statue in the corner was still coated with dust. Ari rushed to the desk, where the stacks of parchment were still sitting. Quickly checking to make sure she was taking one that hadn’t yet been filled out, but had the faint woodsy scent of fae magic to it, she folded it up and stuffed it down her dress.

  “Ready!” she said as she spun back toward the hall in time to see Maarit step out of the enormous cabinet, her eyes livid with rage.

  “Sebastian!” Ari scrambled back as the woman rushed toward her. The princess hit the desk and slapped her hand on its surface, looking for a pen, a letter opener, something that could protect her.

  “Betrayer!” Maarit’s paper-thin voice cracked as she raised her hands for Ari’s throat.

  Sebastian slammed into the older woman, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her away from Ari. His lips were set in a thin, hard line, his expression fierce.

  “How did you get in here?” Ari asked as she pushed herself away from the desk, the contract still safely folded up and stuffed in her chemise. “You spent the day with the palace physician.”

  “And you’re so very sure you sh
ould trust Jacob’s word, are you?” Maarit spat the words at Ari. “So very sure you understand everything?”

  A chill crept over Ari’s skin as Maarit smiled, cold and cruel.

  “What are we going to do with her?” Sebastian asked.

  “We can’t keep her in the villa unless we find a way to make her stay quiet,” Ari said, her mind racing, looking for options. “She’ll tell on us the second Teague walks in.”

  “We can’t keep her in Kosim Thalas. Teague has spies everywhere,” Sebastian said.

  Maarit’s smile widened until it seemed like it would split her wrinkled, weathered face. “Yes, he does,” she whispered.

  Ari’s mouth dropped in horror as Maarit’s skin shimmered, a light spreading along her veins to gather in her chest.

  “Sebastian, something’s wrong with her,” Ari said as Maarit threw her head back, the cords on her neck standing out in sharp relief.

  Ari’s stomach pitched, and a yawning chasm of fear opened deep within her as the ball of light in Maarit’s chest drifted out of her body and began spinning rapidly in place, a brilliant cyclone that hurt to look at.

  Maarit slumped in Sebastian’s arms, all vestiges of life drained out of her.

  He let go and stumbled back as the woman’s body hit the floor.

  Ari met Sebastian’s eyes for one heartsick second as the cyclone of light slowed to a stop and shimmered into the vague shape of a man.

  “Run, Ari!” Sebastian yelled as the light shuddered, like a snake shedding its skin, and became Teague, standing there in the flesh, his golden eyes glaring, the glittering diamond vial clenched in his hand.

  Ari lunged over Maarit’s body, her hands reaching for Sebastian’s outstretched arms as Teague’s cold, polished voice said, “Dhéanamh.”

  Pain, terrible and absolute, flooded her body—a thousand daggers slicing her to pieces from the inside out. Her veins glowed.

  “No!” Sebastian screamed as he caught her and pulled her against his chest.

  She met his gaze and tried to form the words “I love you” but the pain receded, the study faded, and then there was nothing.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  “ARI!” HER NAME ripped its way out of him, a jagged blade that scraped him raw and left unbearable grief in its wake.

  He sank to his knees, clutching her to his chest as a hurricane careened through him, destroying the hope she’d given him, shredding the belief that with her love, he could become the man he wanted to be.

  “Ari,” he whispered as the hurricane’s wreckage cut him to his core. Her head tipped back, and he looked at her eyes, begging her to let him see a spark, a hint of the princess who’d marched into the arena and turned his entire life upside down. Begging for hope he knew deep down was already gone.

  Her eyes stared past him at nothing.

  “She really was the most resourceful girl.” Teague’s voice was coldly furious as he stood over Sebastian, putting the stopper in the vial. “It would be a shame to let that mind of hers decay into dust.”

  He crouched and lifted a pale hand toward Ari’s face.

  “No.” Sebastian hurled the word at him as he pulled the princess closer to his chest. “You don’t get to touch her.”

  Teague laughed softly. “You foolish boy. Once I own their souls, I can do anything I want. Maarit’s body has served me well for years.” He lifted the vial as if to show Sebastian the trapped soul of Maarit caught somewhere inside. “But her limbs are weak, and her mind has nothing new to offer me.”

  “No,” Sebastian said, but Teague continued as if he hadn’t heard.

  “Arianna’s body, though, now that will be an excellent vessel. Intelligent, youthful, and very rarely sick.” Teague smiled slowly.

  Sebastian’s chest burned with every breath he took. “You can’t take her body. You can’t just occupy something that isn’t yours.”

  “Her body is an empty vessel.” Teague twisted the vial so that it caught fragments of light from the window. “And I hold the key.”

  “She isn’t yours.”

  Teague’s golden eyes met his. “She is now.”

  Sebastian bent his head over Ari’s chest and shook as the hurricane of grief that devastated him became a firestorm of bone-deep rage.

  None of this would have happened if Teague hadn’t orchestrated it.

  If he didn’t survive on preying on the innocent and the desperate.

  Sebastian was one of the desperate now, and, by all the stars, Teague was going to make a bargain with him. He was going to give Sebastian the deepest desire of his heart, and that bargain was going to ruin the monster who’d killed Ari.

  Sebastian had promised to protect her. He wasn’t done keeping his promises.

  Gently he lowered Ari to the floor, careful not to let any part of her touch Maarit. And then he stood, towering over Teague as he said with quiet vengeance, “I want to make a wish.”

  Teague laughed and stood as well. “No.”

  “I wish for you to return Ari’s soul to her body and bring her back to life.”

  Teague shook his head, his laughter mocking Sebastian.

  “In return, I will pay any price you name.”

  Teague stopped laughing. “If you think I’m going to play this little soul-swapping game with you after the princess betrayed me, you really don’t know me at all.”

  “I know you.” Sebastian stepped closer to Teague, his hands curled into fists, his body vibrating with the need to hurt him. “Have you forgotten? I’ve spent the last month and more running every part of your business. Collecting on your debts. Enforcing your punishments. Even taking a soul. There isn’t a single task I haven’t done for you. I know that power is what you truly crave and that you’ll do anything to keep it. I’m offering you power over me, and through me, power over as many others as you’d like.”

  Teague cocked his head. “Explain.”

  “How many?” Sebastian asked quietly. “How many souls do you need to collect to secure your place as the most powerful man in the world? How many bodies waiting to be used by you? Spies in every kingdom at every level of authority and influence. An unlimited supply of apodrasi customers. And the unquestioning loyalty of everyone who hears of the Wish Granter, because they know that if they aren’t loyal, I will come for them.”

  “And when you decide to betray me—”

  Sebastian slammed his fist onto the desk. “You know me! You know me the way I know you. You know what to put in my contract to make sure I cannot be bribed, cannot be begged, cannot be moved to do anything other than your bidding.”

  Teague glanced down at the princess’s body and smiled.

  “Return her soul. Destroy her contract. Let her go and never have anything to do with her again, and I will be yours until the day I die. I will show no mercy on your behalf. I will tear kingdoms apart if that’s what you ask of me. I will make sure no one ever gets close enough to you to betray you again.” Sebastian’s chest heaved as he struggled to contain his desperation. “Save her, Teague, and the world is yours.”

  Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. The tenuous calm that Sebastian was holding on to by sheer force of will began to unravel, and then Teague said, “How do you propose to get me these souls if I don’t grant them a wish and make a contract with them?”

  “Give me a stack of contracts with your fingerprint already on them. I’ll get people to sign them.”

  “How?”

  Sebastian’s voice rose. “I’ll trick them. I’ll hurt them. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

  Teague met his gaze. “I believe you would. But how will you guarantee that the princess won’t try to free you by coming after me?”

  “Tell her that if she harms you, my soul is forfeit. She’ll leave you alone.”

  Teague watched him closely. Sebastian held his gaze and willed him to take the bait.

  Finally, Teague moved to the desk, lifted a contract, and quickly filled it out. Puncturing his finger on a da
gger he kept in the top desk drawer, he pressed it to the debtee side of the parchment.

  Sebastian reached for the dagger, but Teague held it just out of reach and said, “There’s a limited window for returning a soul to a body. It’s one thing to put myself into a vessel. A little touch of fae magic keeps a vessel in excellent shape for years. But returning an ordinary soul is tricky. If I wait too long, the body decays, and it can’t be saved.”

  “Then don’t wait.”

  Teague’s eyes glowed with vicious intensity. “Oh, I’m not going to restore the princess until I’ve seen proof that you’re going to hold up your end of the bargain. I’m going to require a down payment on all of those souls you’ve promised me.”

  Sebastian’s stomach plummeted, and panic wrapped around his chest, making every breath a struggle. “How many?”

  “One hundred.” Teague smiled. “By midnight.”

  One hundred innocent souls collected in the space of five hours. Sebastian held himself rigidly still while his heart thundered and his vision blurred.

  He couldn’t do it.

  He couldn’t refuse.

  Teague had called him on his bluff, and it was either prove himself and trust that Teague would have to honor his side of the contract in time to save Ari, or walk away and lose her forever.

  Forcing himself to cut through the chaotic panic that screamed through his thoughts, he latched on to the plan.

  Ari’s plan.

  The plan he still trusted was their best shot to destroy Teague, if only he did what it took to give her a chance to see it through.

  “She’s running out of time,” Teague said softly.

  Sebastian took a long look at the princess, lying so horribly still at his feet, and then he grabbed the dagger, pricked his finger, and sealed the contract with his fingerprint.

  FORTY-NINE

  “BETTER HURRY.” TEAGUE finished pressing his bloody finger to the final parchment in a stack of one hundred and handed it to Sebastian. “You have about five hours left to deliver your down payment.”

  One hundred contracts waiting to be signed by those who had no idea what was coming for them.