She lowered her hand, palm pressed between Marcus' eyes.
"A roving knot," Emily whispered before Destiny formed her spell. "What does that mean?"
Destiny rolled her eyes up without raising her head.
"He will sense his magic, think he can untie my spell, and when he tries, the nexus will move. Whenever he attempts to counter what I've done, when he thinks he's making progress, the knot will slip away again, forcing him to start anew. If he uses his brain, he'll understand he cannot free himself, stop wasting time and accept that I've bound his power."
Emily's sudden grin startled Destiny.
"But we both know he'll refuse to accept defeat at your hands, and exhaust himself in the trying." Emily's gaze flicked down and she set her mouth, her smile dimming as though such gloating didn't sit well on her shoulders. But she nodded again and said, very quietly, "Do it."
Destiny formed the spell in her mind, enunciated a precise set of words, and sent a pulse of power down her arm to wrap around the unconscious wizard. As soon as the shield flowed over the web Marcus had created, his spell winked out and Emily shivered. Her gaze immediately sought out Darien, watching, waiting for any indication that Destiny had countered Marcus' spell.
It took only a moment before the Chief Librarian, and those around him, began to move.
Emily pulled her blade away from Destiny's throat, lowering the weapon to her side. Their eyes met.
"Thank you," she said. Then her gaze fell to Destiny's hand as it pulled away from Marcus. No, to the wrist with its delicate shackle. Destiny stared at the device that would capture her magic again if she allowed it. With a force of will, she raised that hand, then the other, presenting both to Emily. Steel in her eyes and around her resolve, Destiny held herself still, her dark stare boring into the woman opposite her. Why she should trust this librarian, who surely had little power to keep her promise of seeing that Destiny not return to her cell, she didn't know, but she granted that trust nonetheless.
With a wry twist to her lips, Emily sheathed her knife, then sealed Destiny's magic away with a snick of the binding bracelets. Destiny tried to disguise her shudder and flash of despair that she had just thrown away her best opportunity at freedom. Emily's warm hand on her shoulder, the brief squeeze of surprising comfort, suggested she had failed to hide her fears.
When Emily rose and offered Destiny her hand, the wizard took it, then turned to face her fate as the dignitaries of Dalasham recovered and searched for an explanation to the morning's events.
***
Malcolm Prichard surreptitiously rolled his left shoulder, trying to ease the residual ache of a dislocated shoulder roughly shoved back in place by a scowling Captain Frederick earlier. Whatever spell had felled them and left them aware but unable to move hadn't cared whether it caused injuries. Magic, Prichard knew, not cast by Destiny, despite fearful men wishing to lay the blame at her feet.
Prichard wished, not for the first time since these trials had begun, that they had a better understanding of the mechanics of magic, knowledge from some source that didn't seek to cause harm to Dalasham. To that end, he had sent a request west to the Frontier School of Wizardry in Bakaana, to Wizard Castillo with whom they had recently had mostly favourable dealings. If Castillo could spare anyone who could help them untangle the mysteries of magic at play in the kingdom, Dalasham could certainly use their aid. So far, he had received no response. Admittedly, less than a week had passed since he sent his missive, but an expert today might provide some useful insights, or even have prevented this unexpected attack.
Prichard keenly felt his own lack in the face of the unknown, vividly recalled his helplessness at the hands of an external influence, but even that paled next to Fred's outrage. Twice now, the large Captain of the King's guard had fallen prey to a power outside his experience, had failed to protect Stefan as magic stole his ability to keep harm from twining clawed fingers around his monarch. Still reeling from the effects of the Destiny Seat having turned his loyalties against Stefan as it overwrote his memories, Fred couldn't help his impotent fury at this newest onslaught, and he would spare himself any recriminations least of all as his hot glare swept the room and those remaining within, demanding answers.
Upon regaining the ability to move under their own will, those able to stand and help their neighbour had done so, confusion reigning amid grunts of pain and cries of distress as people tallied injuries and tried to understand what had occurred. Prichard well remembered the disturbing words of Wizard Marcus as he stood over the King―his intent to hand Dalasham over to Nathan made clear as he gloated over Stefan―but not all had heard or comprehended the man's utterances. Until they could sort out how distressingly easily one man had brought the rulers of the kingdom to their knees (almost literally), Stefan had deemed it most prudent to clear the room, arranging for the injured to find care in the infirmary while the rest would seek solace and safety away from the Greater Audience Chamber. Some protested, casting dark looks at the two wizards in their midst; one bound and unconscious, the other standing with delicate chains around her wrists. But Stefan made it clear that his orders would stand. The room would clear, and he would determine what had happened, holding everyone responsible to account.
The Councillors remained with Stefan on the dais, the King's guard obvious as they formed up in front of the platform. Other guards stood barring the closed doors, leaving the small knot of people at the centre of this disturbance facing a ring of steel at their backs and an angry and frightened group of men glaring down at them.
Prichard found this segregated lot a fascinating blend, though the master spy suspected he stood among a select number who would think so. Wizard Marcus lay secured and motionless, his body laid out as though to accentuate the line drawn between the Councillors and the prisoner. Behind him, Emily stood braced, arms held at the sides of her fawn-coloured skirts in an inverted V, protecting those at her back. Ambrose, a lithe and sleek weapon in his leathers, mirrored her stance at her side. The Chief Librarian had taken up position a half-step back from the woman Emily guarded, though his hand wrapped around Destiny's arm. To hold her in place or as a show of support, Prichard didn't know. Destiny herself sheltered in the midst of this odd trio, her coldly attractive face set in an unreadable mask, her back ramrod straight in her simple gown. She met the stare of any who dared challenge her, refusing to shrink from the palpable atmosphere of hostility. Darien had explained the strange nature of the chained bracelets Prichard saw glinting on Destiny's wrists to the King and his advisors―their ability to keep a wizard from touching her magic―but fear had likely eclipsed the librarian's assurances in many minds. An assumption soon brought to the fore by Alphonse's furious claim.
"If you think to shelter that treacherous snake from reprisals, you will share her punishment," the old man grated.
"Of course, Councillor," Darien answered smoothly. "She will stand trial as planned, despite Wizard Marcus' disruption of the proceedings."
Prichard rather enjoyed the flummoxed contortions of emotion that went over Alphonse's face and almost counted it a pity when the Chief Librarian continued, saving the distinguished Councillor the indignity of a spluttered response.
"However, if you refer to that disruption and think to lay blame at Lady Destiny's feet instead of the true instigator, then I believe it prudent to present certain facts of which you may remain ignorant."
Again, Prichard wanted to applaud Darien's beautiful ability to deliver a reprimand to a nobleman cloaked in such civility. One of many qualities that had drawn Prichard's attention years ago to the man who had since risen to the height of his profession and entered him into the ranks of agent to the master spy.
Before Alphonse could decide whether his subordinate had insulted him or not, Stefan raised his voice.
"You have an explanation for what just happened, I take it." Darien nodded to the King. "Let's hear it," Stefan commanded.
"Your Majesty, when I brought Destiny int
o the Chamber, Wizard Marcus cast a spell to immobilise everyone in the room for two reasons. The first centred around his very real desire to take custody of Lady Destiny and deliver her into the covetous hands of Wizard Nathan; a course of action I'm given to understand that he has pushed for since you initially captured the Lady. The second, far more troubling purpose behind his spell, I heard from Marcus' own lips, as, I believe, did everyone here. Unless I alone could hear but not react?" Grudging head shakes affirmed that every man there had suffered the same impediments. Darien inclined his head in acknowledgement and continued. "He planned to present the leaders of Dalasham to that same Wizard Nathan, presumably in the belief that, immobilised and unable to resist, he could take over our kingdom."
"And you claim that Marcus, not Destiny, cast this spell?" Alphonse demanded.
"The chains block her magic," Prichard reminded the man, saving Darien from having to reiterate that point. "She couldn't have cast the spell."
"Then we assume he acted alone and not on her behalf?" the old man pressed.
Destiny stirred, a twist of her lips, a slight shiver. Darien's hand on her arm shifted, as though warning the woman to still her tongue.
"It seems unlikely she would willingly deliver herself into the hands of a man who wants her dead."
"Or a clever ploy to win her freedom," Sir Edvard spoke up, the peacekeeper knight adding his voice to Alphonse's doubts.
Darien glanced at Emily, though the young woman wouldn't see it. She still stood protectively before Destiny, her head held high despite the slight tremble of her limbs and features gone ghost-white to betray her nerves. Darien took a breath, his gaze coming to rest on Stefan.
"Lady Destiny had a chance to take her freedom. She chose to honour a promise and set us free instead."
The Councillors shifted, exchanged uncertain looks, murmured confusion. Prichard stared at Darien, then studied Emily's clenched jaw, her grey eyes made darker by conviction. What had they all missed as they lay helpless under the uncaring hand of a wizard? What had Emily done?
Stefan's curt gesture silenced the mumbles.
"Enough word games, Chief Librarian," Stefan said. "Tell us what happened."
"While we all lay helpless, listening to the rants of a mad wizard," Darien began, "three lay immune to the paralysis. I heard only the hint of whispers as they strove not to attract Marcus' attention. I imagine these three can explain better than I what led to Destiny's choice and our reprieve." He stared at Emily again, gave a small jerk of his chin.
"Emily," Darien said. Emily sighed, then stepped forward, over the trussed form of Wizard Marcus. She looked at the King.
"Permission to speak, Sire?"
Stefan raised an eyebrow.
"If it will answer my question, Junior Librarian, then by all means, please do so."
"I hadn't liked the way Wizard Marcus waited for Destiny's arrival. He had a disturbing avidity to his expression that suggested he planned something unpleasant. I had thought to warn Darien to have a care, but the guards stopped me from approaching too close. Looking to see where Marcus stood while everyone watched Destiny's entrance, I saw him cast his arms wide, fingers weaving and mouth moving though I couldn't hear his shout. I shoved forward to knock Darien out of the way, hoping to save him from the wizard's spell, but I fell into Destiny instead, while Ambrose tried to help me keep my feet."
Emily paused only long enough to gather in a deep breath.
"I imagine Darien has explained the nature of the chains on Destiny's wrists. They sit currently in a configuration that will deflect magical attack, the Chief Librarian having feared Wizard Marcus might attempt an attack on the Lady Destiny. That immunity spread to myself and Ambrose upon contact.
"Once we determined that we alone had escaped Marcus' trap, and that the wizard remained ignorant of that fact, we waited until he approached, knowing he wanted Destiny above all others. Ambrose struck him unconscious and we bound him, but his spell still held. After some discussion, we came to understand that if we could block Marcus from his magic, the net he had cast over the audience chamber would fray, releasing his hold on you.
"Not having access to any more magic-inhibiting chains like Destiny currently wears, our only method of binding Marcus' magic lay in Destiny's hands."
Ambrose shifted beside her as though he wanted to add something, but he kept his peace, allowing Emily to conclude.
"I obtained Destiny's promise to do two things only: seal away Marcus' magic; and ensure that Wizard Nathan, the man whom Marcus serves and to whom he intended to deliver all of you, did not approach the city. Then I released her chains so that she could fulfill that promise. She did so."
Silence met that statement as the Councillors gaped at her, Prichard among them. He didn't know what to think. Emily usually thought through her actions with logic and competence, and always had a reason for what she did, so he had to assume she had taken precautions―or at least engaged in some form of forethought―before freeing a dangerous prisoner. Still, his mind cried out in dismay: she had taken Destiny out of her restraints, allowed the woman who had nearly destroyed a kingdom free rein.
And yet, another part of Prichard's brain pointed out, Destiny stood under guard once more, her magic cut off, her freedom relinquished. And under the apparent protection of a brave little librarian. A small grin stole its way onto Prichard's face.
Others didn't appreciate Emily's resourcefulness.
"You took it upon yourself to further endanger the King by turning loose the creature who sought to kill him?" quavered the reedy voice of Lord Alphonse. The old man shook with emotion.
"You set her free, with nothing more than a promise to stay her hand?" Fred demanded incredulously on the heels of Alphonse's outburst.
Ambrose stepped forward to stand at Emily's side. He met Fred's stare with a challenge of his own.
"No Captain," he informed his commanding officer. "She held a knife pressed to Destiny's throat the entire time, with my sword at the wizard's back, and an innate understanding of how magic works. Emily also bargained that, although Destiny would remain a prisoner, she would do so somewhere other than her cell. I concurred with all her actions, and Wizard Destiny fulfilled her half of the bargain."
He didn't add, and because of these two women, you no longer lie paralyzed on your back, but Prichard imagined he heard something close in Ambrose's defence.
"Destiny didn't try to kill the King," Emily added in a soft voice, her stare holding Lord Alphonse captive. "The Prince did. Yes, Destiny made it possible, but only at the Prince's insistence. Lay blame where it belongs, Councillor, and stop adding to crimes that don't exist."
"Insolent little wretch," Alphonse exploded, eyes wide and heated, hands fisted at his side as he leaned forward, ready to storm toward Emily. Stefan sighed loud enough that Prichard had no difficulty discerning his annoyance and frustration.
"Enough," the King said wearily but with a bite. He massaged the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed closed, as though trying to evict a headache with a sharp pinch. Then he dropped his hand and straightened to his full height, bearing proud and noble as he regarded those defending Destiny.
"Wizard Marcus attacked, you three evaded his spell through some forgotten magic forged into Destiny's fetters," Stefan summed up. "Then Emily threatened and freed the prisoner, under strict guard, to undo Marcus' mischief. Once achieved, Wizard Destiny acquiesced to resuming captivity and now calmly stands waiting to see if frightened men will praise or condemn her. Do I have that aright?"
Ambrose's jaw clenched, Darien raised a stoic eyebrow, and Emily's lips twitched. Destiny didn't alter her stance in the slightest.
"You do, Sire," affirmed Emily, her shoulders relaxing minutely. Had he not watched for a similar indication, Prichard doubted he would have seen her relief. The intrepid adventuress who had begun to emerge on their journey now peeked out from behind the shy and aloof librarian who hid behind the false perception of female frailty so as not t
o betray her fears. Fred and the Councillors might criticize her, but King Stefan accepted her bold solution and brought to the fore the true Emily, the woman willing to risk all for Dalasham.
Stefan turned his regard to the man standing next to Destiny.
"Chief Librarian, we have another wizard cell, correct?"
"We do, Your Majesty," Darien replied.
"See to it that it's made ready to receive Wizard Marcus as its guest once we're through here."
"At once, Your Majesty."
Now Stefan's gaze landed on Destiny.
"Why did you agree to let Emily shackle you again? I assume you could have taken the freedom she briefly offered, left her and Ambrose on the floor with the rest of us despite their blades, and disappeared. Why did you not?"
Destiny studied the King in turn.
"I could have. I thought of it. But I recognised in your Emily an opportunity." Her voice held a calm dignity, a measure of control and unconcern that put aside the fact of her captivity. Then she sighed, and Prichard detected a weariness that went beyond the physical. "I have run long enough. Her surprising act of trust and ferocity, no matter how desperate, made me think perhaps here, with an opponent who understands the difficulties of navigating this world, of achieving a measure of respect we shouldn't have to fight so hard for, I might actually accomplish my goal."
"That goal being?" prompted Stefan.
"True freedom," Emily murmured, before biting her lip and lowering her head to avoid eye contact, having answered out of turn. Interestingly, Destiny offered a wry little smile and a slight gesture of her chained wrists, as though to say, See, she understands.
Stefan regarded both women in equal measure, thoughts locked behind a stoic mask while his blue eyes flickered in contemplation. Prichard suspected his King considered an action most of his Councillors would not like. If Stefan's thoughts had travelled along the same lines as Prichard's, the master spy soon expected to stand in the centre of a controversy.
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