River Running

by Eden Reign

  “You may take down your walls, son,” Asher said to Grey. “We have her now.”

  Grey dropped his arms, and water splashed all over the floor. Jackson caught the boy before he fell over, picking him up and holding him against his chest. Grey buried his face there. “She forced Miss Westerly to stab herself with the curtain rod. The heart hag controlled Miss Westerly through the mark. Don’t believe her if she says different.”

  “I know,” Jackson murmured. “Don’t worry. I know.”

  New smoke exploded in front of Leah Blazen. Asher moved as fast as a whip, letting his barrier fall as he snatched at Leah’s fire. Leah’s counter flames fizzled to nothing as Asher pulled her fire from her control and extinguished it.

  Leah ran headlong toward the door, but her wide skirts were weighed down by plain old seawater. Jackson flicked his hand and sent another controlled fire barrier in front of her.

  She dove directly through it.

  Grey wriggled in Jackson’s arms until he freed his hands, gathering the water again to cast yet another wall in front of Leah, who slammed into it and fell backward, screaming. Her stiff hoops—the largest high society fashion dictated—swung up, making it impossible for her to right herself.

  She screamed inarticulately as General Asher leaned over her. Before assisting her to her feet, he cast shackles of flame around her wrists, rendering her unable to access the Wells. “Leah Blazen, you are under arrest.”

  “For what?” she spat. “You can’t prove anything—”

  “For illegal use of magemarks,” barked Jackson. “For the attempted murder of a child!”

  “He’s a halfbreed!” she screamed. “He deserves to die!”

  “For the murder of Rose Westerly, an airmage,” Manda said quietly, rising from the cook’s side as tears rolled down her face. “I’m sorry, I could not save her.”

  “The uppity darkling wretch deserved it,” Leah screamed. “Abigail Windham told me all about her—reaching beyond her station and befriending halfbreeds.”

  “Where is Miss Windham?” Jackson asked.

  “Ha!” Leah cried. “Wouldn’t you like to know! I’ll tell you this. Miss Windham has more power than you think, and she’ll be back—with others, stronger and more powerful than you, Jackson Coal!”

  General Asher prodded Leah toward the door, but she didn’t seem to be able to absorb the gravity of her situation. She could not keep her silence, not even to protect herself. “They promised me Coalhaven!” she cried. “They said if I cooperated, I’d get to be mistress of Coalhaven. All I had to do was marry the Leveler rebel, to subdue him and keep him under my control with one of the new marks we’d developed, and I could do whatever I wanted with the house and his money, as long as I gave them the indigo Coalhaven produced.”

  “Why did they want the indigo?” General Asher asked sharply.

  A manic light sparked in Leah’s green eyes. “Oh, they have great plans, General. They need the indigo. The new marks my father and I have developed, like the one I used to kill the darkling cook, require a great deal of indigo. You cannot imagine the power the marks give us. Control over anyone—mundane or mage! Our marks will lead fullmages back to their rightful place in the world. Power! Purity! Order!” The girl finally crumpled in General Asher’s hold, wilting like a weed in the sun. “I was to get Coalhaven,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And my father was to receive a watch, to become the Keeper of Fire. Now we will get nothing, and they will let us fall.” She sobbed.

  “Who, Miss Blazen? Who promised you Coalhaven and your father a watch?” Asher asked.

  “Daniel Lake and the other two. All I had to do was give them the indigo. I was going to be mistress of this whole great estate.”

  “What other two? Who are they?” Asher demanded.

  Leah snapped her mouth closed, as though finally realizing she’d said too much. Then she stared ahead, lifted her chin, and refused to speak again as Asher escorted her down the stairs and out the door, presumably to join the others in a Savana prison.

  Jackson, Grey, Manda, and Mr. Stone stood in silence, staring down at the still form of young Rose Westerly.

  Mr. Stone’s face was more implacable than ever. “She had a good heart. I’ll see to her.” With infinite care, he knelt and scooped his arms under Miss Westerly’s body, rising to his feet with his usual natural grace. He inclined his head and departed with the cook as his burden.

  Grey slid down from Jackson’s embrace and ran to Manda, throwing his arms around her and burying his face in her skirts. “I was so afraid, Manda. I thought I’d never see you again. All I want is for you to marry Papa and be my mama. I’ve never had a mama, not one I can remember.”

  “Grey,” Manda began.

  “She will be your mother,” Jackson said, his voice overflowing with emotion. “She already is, in her heart.” He scooped up Grey before he could fall over on his feet. The boy was clearly exhausted from the trials of the day and the long ride through the night. Jackson had no more than settled him in his arms again than he was fast asleep. He carried him to the bed and set him in it, tucking the blankets around him.

  Then Jackson turned and headed directly into Manda’s arms.

  “Actually,” Manda said, holding him around his waist, “I’m his aunt.”

  Mr. Flacks’s too-tight coat strained uncomfortably around Jackson shoulders. His arm and the magemark on his back stung and burned. “I think I may need to sit down.” Without releasing Manda, Jackson angled for the wing chair near the bookshelf. He dropped into it and squinted up at Manda still standing. “Did you just say you’re Grey’s aunt? I must be hearing things.”

  Manda knelt before him and put her head in his lap. “Grey is my nephew.”

  “Manda, what are you saying?” Jackson felt as though the rug had slipped beneath him. Unsteady. Disoriented. He stroked her mussed curls, pulling one straight and then releasing it with a bounce.

  “I finally understood it all after going through my mother’s papers in Sweetwater,” Manda explained. “My mother, Eve, was once Daniel Lake’s wife. He divorced her in a terrible, deceitful court case, slandering her name and bringing false charges of insanity. He tried to lock her in an asylum, but she fled, and after her escape, Daniel wished her dead, for she knew his secrets. She fell in love with my father, a mundane named Nathaniel Cutter. But Daniel discovered him and put a magemark on him, which killed him. I saw him die, but I never knew who had caused it until I read her journal. And Jackson—I’m almost certain Daniel killed my mother, too. She had his marks all over her body when I found her.”

  Jackson blinked down at her, utterly dazed. “Sacred Wells, Manda. You must report that to General Asher. It may corroborate his evidence against Daniel and give support to the case against him. Did your mother give specifics about his secrets?”

  “I wasn’t able to read through all her papers, but I brought them from the cabin near Sweetwater. They’re in Beau’s saddlebags. And I will tell General Asher about Daniel. But later.” She kissed his hand as he traced her cheeks, her neck, her throat.

  “You’re Lige’s sister,” he said in wonder. “He was your older brother then. My best friend. Yes, it makes perfect sense. You are like him in so many ways.”

  Manda tightened her grasp on his hand, stilling his caresses. “Jackson, there’s more.”

  “More?” He pulled her up and across his lap, her skirts billowing around them. “You mean about the new law that says we can marry in the Wells, correct? That we mustn’t delay another moment?” He bent to kiss those sweet lips, but she held him at bay.

  “No, I mean I learned more in Sweetwater. I found Bitter Root, the Nanukata woman who taught me about magemarks, still alive.” She gripped his wrists. “Jackson, she knew of a way. A way to remove Roving Magemarks. One we must try.”

  Chapter 30

  Manda

  Jackson stared at her, his dark eyes brown pools of astonishment. “What did you say?”

 
Manda touched his cheek. “I discovered a way—to remove magemarks. Bitter Root told me of a possible cure.”

  “But—” He ran a hand through his hair, his face disbelieving. “But there isn’t any way. The Blazens might have the answers, but now—are you saying—”

  “I'm saying that I've found a possible method to remove magemarks like yours, and if you are willing, we can try it.”

  Manda swallowed. She longed to attempt the ritual, but uncertainty crushed her. She didn’t know if she could hold her power as Bitter Root had instructed, and Jackson’s life was forfeit if she failed. “I--the ritual Bitter Root spoke of only works through the magic of a halfmage ... and because your mark was cast from fire, it would have to be a water halfmage.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. Her fingers fidgeted. She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes and see the burgeoning hope. “You see, during the ritual, two cures happen. You—the fullmage—would enter the Wells at precisely the same time as I—the halfmage—cleanse your wound in the flesh. You would counteract the mark’s spellwork in the Wells while—my hands counteract it on your actual skin. It’s—fairly intimate; you would need to remove your shirt …” she trailed off as his fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. He was smiling.

  “Is this true, Manda? Can this be real?”

  Manda bit her lip. “Bitter Root gave me an—an object, a talisman the Nanu use. They call it a stick-snare. It’s supposed to catch magic; I am to hold it during the ritual. You see, there is danger in doing this magic between a firemage and a half watermage.” Her gaze riveted to his. “The half watermage’s power might smother the full firemage’s. Bitter Root said the stick-snare would help contain my water power. It’s still in Beau’s saddlebag with my mother’s journal. But Jackson, do you understand?” She stopped him as he tugged her closer. “The ritual contains great risk, but Bitter Root said that if the mark wasn’t cured—you would die.”

  Jackson nodded solemnly. “I know. I read the same in a book in Savana, months ago.”

  “And you never told me?” Manda cried.

  “I didn’t see the point. What happened between us was so unexpected. I’d already fallen in love with you before I could stop myself. By then, it didn’t matter. I know I was selfish, Manda. I wanted any scrap of happiness I could get.” His face grew light again, as though a looming death sentence was inconsequential. He traced a finger across her jaw. “So,” he asked quietly. Deep joy shook his double-bass voice, “can we try the ritual right now? Is there any reason to wait?”

  Manda pushed back, sliding off of Jackson's lap and standing, twisting her hands together. “No. That is, I—as I said, the ritual is—intimate, and …” she hesitated, and then plunged ahead, her cheeks on fire. “I want to marry first. If you’ll still have me.”

  “I’d have no one else, my Manda.”

  “And I want to get cleaned up,” she tacked on. She was sweaty and salty, her skin still crusted with blood, seawater, and dried mud from the battle.

  “Why, Manda-soon-to-be-Coal,” Jackson teased, rising and taking her hand, “are you suggesting that the ritual is not the only thing we will do tonight?”

  Manda ignored his teasing implications, desperately tightening her grip on his hand. “Jack, you understand, don’t you? If something goes wrong during the ritual, if my water power is too strong, I could kill you.” Tears rose as she thought of the horrific possibilities. “What if—what if I cannot do this correctly? If I let too much power flow through my hands, you will die. I’ll kill you. Drown you.” A lump rose in Manda’s throat; her voice came out in a whisper. “Jackson, I can’t bear it!”

  Jackson slid his arms around her waist. “Manda, no matter what, you are the one who brought me out from beneath the shadow of my father, who made me realize that I am not the vermin he so often called me. That I am worthy of love. Whatever amount of time we have together, I will thank the Wells I was given it. And look at me. I am perfectly well. Better than well. We have hope, Manda! I have not had such hope for so long.”

  Manda peered deep into his dark eyes. He smiled and dropped his gaze to her lips. “Whatever magic is worked on the magemark, the magic of love has already worked on my heart. It is, now and forever, yours. No matter what.”

  His kiss was soft, sweet, and full of promise. She moved closer, sliding her hand to his nape, deepening the kiss, but he pulled back abruptly, clearing his throat.

  “You wanted to get cleaned up, did you not, my love?” His voice was gentle, but she could see the fire in his gaze. He was pushing aside his own desires, allowing her to create the space in which she hoped to cure him.

  She nodded. Touching his cheek, she smiled and left the room.

  Manda bathed in the servants’ quarters, trailing her fingertips through the suds that floated on top of the water. The vivid and terrible events of the past day would not rest quietly inside of her.

  Rose Westerly’s pretty face and crumpled body floated in her mind. Grey’s pleading voice asked her to be his mama over and over again, bringing a lump to her throat. The damaged plantation creaked and groaned all around her.

  Wilcott Blazen’s mouth spewed hate as he justified his diabolical researches on mundanes. Daniel Lake and his white knuckles tried to squeeze the life out of Jackson.

  Anger, hot and fierce, swirled tightly under her rib cage.

  Finally, she remembered Jackson’s eyes as she had told him there was a way to remove the magemark. They had widened and blinked, unbelieving, and for the first time, shimmering in their dark depths, she’d seen ... hope.

  Courage comes from hope, Manda thought, tilting her head back into the water and sinking beneath the surface to rinse her hair. Without hope, there is no will to fight. But how can I have hope knowing Jackson will be taken from me, one way or another, if the ritual fails?

  She rose, dressing in her favorite new gown of sprigged lawn. The Nanu Wells marriage ceremony would come first, with Mr. Stone in attendance as their witness, and then ...

  Manda inhaled a calming breath. And then the magemark removal. It will work. It has to work. I can temper my power; I can demonstrate control.

  Jackson stood on the back verandah, his hands resting on the balustrade, gazing into the honeysuckle-scented night. Alexander Stone leaned against the rear wall of the house, his arms folded as he waited with Jackson. Manda had thought of waking Grey, as well, but the day had truly exhausted him, so she had allowed him to remain tucked beneath the blankets upstairs. She was exhausted herself, but fear and tension thrummed through her body; she could not rest until she knew what was going to happen.

  When Manda stepped onto the flagstones that led to the verandah stairs, Jackson turned his attention to her. His face worked beneath his emotions as he silently held out his hand. When she reached the top of the stairs, he grasped her fingers and pulled her to face him.

  “Manda,” he whispered, “you are beautiful.”

  Manda squeezed his fingers, but she couldn’t speak.

  Mr. Stone straightened and stepped forward, placing one hand over Manda and Jackson’s joined hands, and one hand underneath them.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, searching Manda’s face.

  Some hidden emotion stirred behind Mr. Stone’s dark eyes, a reflection of a hidden past, she thought. She nodded mutely, stiffening her lip lest it tremble.

  Mr. Stone began the age-old Nanu ceremony. “Then within these Sacred Wells, we do commit the union of two souls, thus bound by hearts in love, thus joined by bodies together, to live, to laugh, to love, and to weep, not separately or discordantly, but in agreement together ...”

  Manda kept her gaze trained on Jackson’s face, watching as his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. It took her a moment to realize Mr. Stone had stopped speaking as he waited for the vows they would each make to the other.

  “I take you, Jackson Coal,” Manda said, but her voice trembled, and she had to start over. “I take you, Jackson Coal, as the husband of my heart, to love
with my soul, to worship with my body, to support, respect, and encourage with my words, from this day until Lady Death at last unfurls her cloak to take me beyond the Wells.”

  The tears in Jackson’s eyes spilled over, one great drop sliding over his v-scar and dripping off his jaw as he repeated the same words to her. Mr. Stone nodded, his eyes blurring as he tapped the Wells.

  The Wells, the great vortex of Eternal elements, opened above them. It was the first time Manda had seen them. As a halfmage, she had never accessed them; she did not even really understand how it was done, other than with the mind. Jackson brought them before her, inviting her in. The Eternal Flame circled them, burning indigo. Mr. Stone waited while Jackson reached for the flame, opening the doors into the Wells, allowing Manda access. Taking a deep breath, Manda reached for her own power, seeking the watery heart of Coalhaven. The two elements, ethereal Wells flame and pure, real water, combined with a mixture of sparks and steam, twisting in a coiling vine high into the air before collapsing once again within the Wells.

  She was bound to Jackson Coal now.

  Mr. Stone released their hands, stepping back. He nodded at Jackson, who moved forward, pulling Manda into his arms, kissing her soundly.

  Mr. Stone cleared his throat at last. “I’ll just give my congratulations now, then, shall I?” A shadow flitted over his face. He caught Manda’s look of concern and smiled. “Don’t let me worry you, Miss Rivers. I—have memories of my own.” He turned to Jackson and offered his hand.

  Jackson laughed as he shook it. “Thank you, Stone. I owe you.”

  The butler inclined his head modestly. “I’m only glad I could witness this. I offer my sincerest wishes for your happiness.” He yawned a wide, overly-dramatized yawn that accompanied an awkward arm stretch. “Well, I am tired. I will retreat to my quarters, now.” He didn’t meet Manda’s gaze as he passed her.