By Dark Deeds (Blade and Rose Book 2)

by Miranda Honfleur

  As she pulled on her corset, Tor helped her and then began lacing it.

  “The coronation isn’t for at least three weeks yet.”

  Stiff, she laughed and tried to loosen up. “Oh, I know, but the Master of Ceremonies made such a fuss about seating arrangements, and I just know he’ll make a scene if he doesn’t prepare in time.”

  He picked up her dress and handed it to her. “I thought you were writing to Parliament?”

  She put it on and smiled. “Right. And they’ll let the Master of Ceremonies know if they approve.” When she finished lacing her bodice, she took his hand in hers. “I’ll be right back—promise. Save some of that wine for me.”

  She rounded the bed and headed for the door.

  “Olivia,” he said, his voice lilting, almost a question. As she turned, he headed toward her, around her, faced her. He took her hands.

  A glance toward his bedside table. “You read my correspondence.”

  “Tor, I—” Her hands twisted in his grip. He didn’t let go.

  “Let me explain,” he said.

  She yanked at her hands, but he wouldn’t release her. “This is—You can’t—”

  “Just hear me out,” he said to her calmly, standing still and immovable.

  She pulled and threw herself away from him to no avail—his grip was unforgiving, and without her hands, magic would be— “Well of dreams, lush and deep—”

  He spun her in his hold, maneuvered his arm over and around her. Her back was solid against his abdomen, her hands still clutched in his, an arm over her mouth.

  “It was only—”

  She smashed her heel down on his toes.

  His hold loosened just a touch.

  A yank. A free hand. A sleep spell.

  He held up his arcanir ring.

  Deflected.

  Retreating, she tripped and fell back onto the floor. Pulled up a calm shield.

  He waved his fingers through it—dispelled—and grabbed her ankle. “Just listen—”

  She held up her hand. “Well of dreams, lush and deep—”

  “Olivia!” He dragged her toward him, grabbed her hand, as she scrambled farther.

  “—Encircle him in slumber, make him sleep.”

  His hands clawed up her body, reaching higher and higher as she tried to pull away. The wide-eyed disbelief faded and faded and faded…

  Until he collapsed atop her.

  Her hand scrabbled for a hold on something—anything—the large cherry-wood bedpost, and she drew herself out from under him, trembling.

  With shaking arms, she pulled herself to her feet, stared down at him, lying motionless on the heavy-pile rug.

  Those hands—

  Just a few minutes ago, those hands had been lavishing her with affection, but just now… the way they’d reached, the way they’d clawed, their strength, their potential energy—

  Would he have—Had he been prepared to—

  She swallowed.

  A click. A creak. The door from the hallway opened.

  She held up her hand, ready to cast another sleep spell.

  A wide-eyed serving girl with a tray of wine froze in the doorway. “Your Ladyship…”

  “Get Sir Edgar Armurier here now,” Olivia said, her voice low. “No one else, girl, or Divine save you.”

  Chapter 69

  Drina emerged from the jungle foliage and stared up at the crumbling black tower. Khar’shil. Home.

  Shifting her satchel on her hip, she jogged across the clearing, whispering, “Wings of wind, great and soft, / Take me high, bear me aloft.” She repeated the words until her boots landed atop the tower’s black stone surface, level with the massive Bell of Khar’shil.

  Everything she’d read about the bell—it was true. This tower, this entire island, had once been home to the most powerful Immortals to have ever existed: the dragons. And after betraying them, ancient wild mages had bound the dragon king, Nyeris, to this bell. A tool to be summoned to do their bidding, called to arrive at Veris—when day and night were equal, a time of great power—and then banished as they pleased.

  She rested a palm on the bell. Nyeris. Summoned with sangremancy.

  Yes, come what may, her will would be done.

  The metal-ring handle gleamed in the bell tower’s floor. She approached it, knelt, threw open the door, and descended down the spiral stone stairs.

  Bookcases lined every wall, stacked and double-stacked with everything of interest she’d ever collected; records from Magehold, rare books, ledgers, and journals, and the ancient tomes in Old Erudi that had been here when she’d found this place. Texts about dragons, krakens, mermaids, werewolves, frost giants… primordial magic and rites, some in languages she hadn’t been able to decipher, containing untold knowledge and wisdom. Nearby curios contained artifacts, weapons, things she’d stolen from Magehold and anywhere her recondite skeleton key could get her.

  A bed nestled in a window between two bookcases, not far from her apothecary chest and alchemy table, stocked with everything she could ever need. Pulling the satchel’s strap over her head, she headed there, then placed it atop the blackwood surface.

  With quick fingers, she removed the vial bearing the king’s flesh and set it down. The Old Erudi tome about the bell was here somewhere, and she thought back to its tattered blue cover, the creases on its spine, the scorch marks, and her feet took her across the room and up a ladder to a high shelf, where her finger traced the leathers and fabric boards until its familiar texture grazed her skin.

  She pulled the book, hopped off the ladder, and ambled back to the table. A red ribbon parted the pages, and she tugged at it, opened to what she’d marked, and there it was.

  A brazier, her blood, the target’s blood, water, wood, a breath, and fire; three repetitions of the incantation in Old Erudi, ringing the bell after each time while thinking the command. The only way to countermand it would be to repeat the ritual with the bell and wish it undone. But no one would know that. Not once she destroyed this page.

  Grinning, she gathered the ingredients—a skillet would have to do, and she pulled off her coat and rung it out for the water, uncorked the vial and tipped the flesh from it, cut her hand and squeezed a few drops of her own blood inside, then swiped some kindling beside her hearth and tossed it in.

  That was everything.

  The skillet and book in hand, she charged up the stairs, set the skillet down under the bell, then sat with it, her gaze fixed on the contents. “Fire blazing, fire bright, / Spark to life, burn all in sight.” She blew a breath at the fire as it roared to life, then smiled.

  It was time.

  She looked out toward the sea, where the many sails of a frigate were a stark white against the turquoise waters. Quickly. She’d have to do this quickly.

  “Ahre, Nyeris, dragonis rexem! Meah eh vocari teh. / Verna eh aestiva ah noctur, Nyeris, te vornu, venire ah meh.” She grabbed the bell pull and yanked it—Destroy Jonathan Dominic Armel Faralle. It rang, deafening.

  The fire wavered in the wind.

  Again. “Ahre, Nyeris, dragonis rexem!” she shouted. “Meah eh vocari teh. / Verna eh aestiva ah noctur, Nyeris, te vornu, venire ah meh!” Ringing the bell again—Destroy Jonathan Dominic Armel Faralle.

  The fire flared.

  Once more. “Ahre, Nyeris, dragonis rexem!” she screamed, her wedding brand hot on her skin. “Meah eh vocari teh! / Verna eh aestiva ah noctur, Nyeris, te vornu, venire ah meh!” Ringing the bell the final time—Destroy Jonathan Dominic Armel Faralle.

  The fire roared up into the bell, filling it with a great black smoke that billowed and grew, clouding the bell tower in a deepening black as the ringing reverberated through her.

  Fate spun her threads in such strange ways.

  Jonathan Dominic Armel Faralle would be destroyed, and Favrielle Amadour Lothaire would repay her debt in blood, know the keen pain of losing forever.

  Nyeris, king of dragons—did a greater horror exist? Would he find Favriel
le’s love and consume him alive? Tear him limb from limb? Sunder him before her very eyes?

  A certain end. Blood for blood.

  She ripped the page in half, and again, and again, then scattered the tiny pieces to the wind.

  Marko, you will rest well avenged.

  The call of land from the main deck shot Rielle from the hammock, and Brennan next to her. Securing her gear, she glanced toward the hatchway, her feet eager to tear up the deck and the stairs and to finally deliver Shadow to the Lone.

  At last, her belt pouch fastened, she raced up to the main deck, where Liam manned the wheel. “The sloop sailed on,” he said, “but someone rowed a boat to shore.” He held out a spyglass to her, and she took it.

  In the distance, an overgrowth of verdant green contrasted sharply with the turquoise waters of the Shining Sea, a gleaming ruin of a black tower spiking out of its canopy, billowing a great cloud of black smoke. And there, on the stark sandy beach, lay a boat.

  She collapsed the spyglass and handed it back to Liam. “Where are we?”

  “Sterling says it’s Khar’shil.” He pushed a straw-blond wisp from his face.

  Khar’shil… There were rumors of a tower somewhere out at sea, sometimes only its jagged peak visible. Khar’shil.

  Shadow’s husband had been part of the attack on Laurentine, which led to her family’s deaths. Shadow had been the reason for Olivia’s imprisonment. For her own enslavement. For everything… everything that had happened in Sonbahar.

  And if Shadow were allowed to live, perhaps ultimately, she’d be the reason for… Jon’s death.

  For too long, she and Shadow had been walking intertwining paths that would now end.

  Footsteps thudded up the hatchway and then onto the quarterdeck. Brennan peered down at her, over six feet of leather-clad menace.

  “I’ll send a landing party,” Liam said, his tan knuckles whitening as his fingers clenched the wheel.

  “Let us take the boat,” she argued.

  “Absolutely not.”

  Brennan shook his head. “She’s a highly trained shadowmancer. We don’t know what we’ll find. Traps, runes, magic. Just Rielle and me would be the best option. She’s trained for this, and I—”

  Liam held up a hand and sighed. “Save it. I’m coming with you.” He shouted orders to the crew, and within moments, the boat was lowered to the waters. When Rielle glared at him, he frowned. “I’m a pyromancer, and you’re used to working with a mage partner.”

  He was going to logic his way along on the mission?

  “Sterling will keep an eye out for other ships and cover us.”

  He was right. She was used to working with a mage partner, and they had a better chance with Liam along.

  She headed up to the quarterdeck, covered his hand with hers, and kissed his cheek. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’ll try to restrain myself.” He unfastened a small sheath from his weapons belt and handed it to her. A knife.

  “Liam, I—”

  He closed her hand around it. “I know you don’t need it. You’re taking it anyway. In case she has arcanir.”

  With a nod, she strapped the sheath to her belt.

  Brennan traversed the deck, and she followed. He climbed down the rigging and hopped into the boat, then looked up at her and opened his arms, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  She looked over her shoulder at Liam, his stony gaze, the wind riffling his unruly locks of straw-blond hair. Her brother. Her living brother. Sonbahar had been many parts a nightmare, but in bringing Liam back to her, it still felt like a dream. One she wouldn’t easily let go.

  She descended the rigging down to the boat.

  Brennan’s hands secured her waist as she extended a leg, her foot searching for the boat’s bottom. As he helped her in, Liam climbed down as if he’d done so a million times before, and hopped into the boat.

  While Brennan grabbed the oars and began rowing to shore, Liam settled in next to her.

  As Brennan rowed, her misbehaving eyes roved over bulging muscles and sinew in action. She could have rowed the boat herself, but Divine, it was a feast for the eyes to watch him do it.

  He caught her gaze, cracked a smile, and she cleared her throat and looked away. “I could get us there, you know.”

  “You want to?” He winked. “You still can, if you feel so strongly about it.” His smug grin was almost enough to make her say yes. Almost.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to delay our arrival.” She pursed her lips, hoping to hide her smile.

  “There’s always the way back, I suppose. If you feel so strongly about it.”

  Smug. So very smug. She would have to retaliate later.

  “I’d say ‘get a room,’ but we have business. Keep your heads in the game,” Liam said with a sigh, although a smile escaped.

  They reached the shore, and Brennan and Liam dragged the boat onto the sand. Aside from the calls of birds, there was no sign of life. If Shadow was anywhere on this island, it would be at the ruined tower.

  Footsteps whispered through the sand behind her, and Brennan and Liam jogged up to her side. He frowned, wrinkling his nose. She inclined her head toward the jungle and started for it—

  He grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

  “What?” The sooner they reached the ruined tower, the sooner she could deal with Shadow.

  He shook his head. “Something smells… strange. The trees, the shrubs—No, maybe a—”

  “Just smells like jungle,” Liam said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Of course something smells strange,” she said. “Neither of us has ever been here before.”

  “Mother earth, grant me your sight, / Show through your eyes, reveal all life,” Liam said, using the earthsight incantation.

  Brennan shrugged, but the hard look in his eyes didn’t abate. There was more they couldn’t say to each other with Liam along, but with any luck, he wouldn’t have to Change.

  Brennan’s instincts were never wrong.

  She cast earthsight on her eyes and looked out at the jungle, the vivacious anima in the trees and the jungle floor, small bursts of light—animals—in the sky, in the canopy, on the ground.

  The life here was hidden, but not absent. Taking care to avoid the animals, she picked a path through the jungle and headed for the tower.

  Liam preceded her, cleared the foliage with a cutlass, but Brennan paused and scanned their surroundings. He went taut and snarled.

  “Get behind me.” His voice was low, firm.

  Chapter 70

  Rielle darted behind Brennan and looked in the same direction he did with her enchanted eyes. At nothing. He bent at the knees, growled.

  Liam frowned, holding his cutlass ready. “Did he just… growl?”

  “What do you see?” she whispered, ignoring Liam. Hopefully she and Brennan could explain this later.

  The vibrant threads of anima remained stable, the only animals a couple of birds, monkeys, some rodents.

  “You don’t see them?” Brennan hissed back. “The warriors—”

  “The warriors?” Liam asked.

  There were no human forms in front of them—she looked around—nor anywhere around them. She dispelled her earthsight.

  No less than one hundred men surrounded them. Clutching spears and bows. Faces painted and snarling. Massive jungle cats accompanied them, hungry eyed with long sharp teeth, much bigger than any normal animals. Immortals?

  She gasped, conjured a flame in her hand. The men and beasts closed in—

  “Rielle!” Liam shouted, grabbing her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “You—you can’t see them?”

  “Them?”

  But why… why weren’t they visible with earthsight? Brennan was, and he was technically an Immortal. The kraken had been, and it most certainly was an Immortal—

  A roar. Brennan’s face tilted to the sky. He put out an arm and directed her backward. Above them, a massive form flew. A massive winged f
orm. A dragon.

  She shook her head. Recast the earthsight.

  No anima. But for herself, Brennan, the few small animals, and the plant life, there was nothing. No men, no beasts, no dragon.

  And no sounds but for her breathing and Brennan’s, and the distant calls of birds.

  “Brennan,” she whispered. “They’re not there.”

  He scoffed. “Rielle, I see them, I smell them, I hear them—they’re here.”

  Impossible. “Liam, I think there’s some illusion here that we’ve managed to avoid with earthsight. Try dispelling yours for a second, then pull it back up.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it.”

  With a grunt, he dispelled the glow and staggered backward. He quickly mumbled the incantation again. “They—they’re not real?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. How did Brennan smell them, hear them, when they weren’t here? “Are they making noise now, Brennan?”

  “You don’t hear that? The roaring, the screeching, the shouting—”

  “No.” Magic?

  No, it couldn’t be magic. Magic wouldn’t work on Brennan. Whatever it was, why didn’t it work on her and Liam? Was it the earthsight?

  What was it about this place—

  She gasped. “Brennan, what was that strange smell you were talking about earlier?”

  He swept around them with his claws, growling. “We have bigger things—”

  He tumbled to the ground, onto his back. “Run!”

  There was nothing to run from. Shaking her head, she knelt and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Brennan, believe me. There’s nothing here. It’s just you, Liam, and me.”

  His eyes darted about wildly, all around, and he remained pinned to the ground by some unseen force. He flinched, again and again, roared. “I can’t—You have to run—”

  With a deep breath, she grabbed him under his arms. “Help me,” she said to Liam, and he braced Brennan’s other side. They pulled him back to shore, and even together—Divine, Brennan was heavy.

  Inch by painstaking inch, they dragged him, out of breath and staggering, and he didn’t move at all but to writhe.