by Alana Serra
“You don’t have to do this,” he told her, still whispering as if anyone else would hear them.
“I do.” She gave him a sad smile, then headed out onto the sandbar.
The wind had picked up, and despite the fact that the form Wesley had chosen for her wore a shirt and trousers, she could feel her skirts blowing against her legs. Karak and Liam were wading through the water, running toward the last row of huts to intercept the adventurers. Wesley was taking the other side, the water bubbling near him, dark tentacles writhing beneath its surface.
She had to trust them to follow her orders and not kill anyone, because if she lost sight of her goals here, she would quickly be overwhelmed.
“Paladin!” her voice rang out clear but accented, sounding nothing like her own. “Tell your men to stand down. You’ll find no threat here.”
Sky blue eyes set upon her, harder and colder than she’d ever seen before. She strode closer, unafraid of him, even now. Desmond would see reason. He’d never been one to attack first and ask questions later.
“If you’re hoping to distract me long enough to hex me, it won’t work,” he said, walking toward her. “I’m immune.”
“I don’t want to hex you. I just want to talk.”
The tip of his sword was pointed toward the sand, but she had no doubt he could turn his wrist just so and thrust the blade into her chest if he wanted. She’d seen him do it to training dummies. As much as she wanted to go to him, touch him and see him up close, Rhia kept a respectful distance.
“Then talk, witch. And don’t think I can’t see your brutes chasing down my men.”
She glanced out of her periphery, catching Karak slamming the butt of his axe against one of the adventurers, dropping him cold. It wasn’t the direction she would have preferred, but he wasn’t dead.
“They’ve been instructed not to kill them,” she said, trying to keep herself from looking directly into Desmond’s eyes, afraid of the answers she might find there.
Especially when his lips twisted in a crude estimation of a smile, nothing like the dazzling smiles he’d given her before. “That’ll make my job easier.”
“And what is your job? Why are you here? These people haven’t hurt anyone.”
“They’re peixos. They drag fishermen into the sea and drown them. The poison from their bite can kill a man in less than an hour. They’re ruthless savages.”
“Old wives’ tales,” Rhia scoffed, knowing she would have believed the very same thing before speaking to them. “I’ve talked to the high priest myself. They haven’t bothered anyone. At worst they might be competing with fishermen for food.”
“I would expect a sea hag to side with them,” he said, giving her a look of such disdain and derision, as if she were some lowly insect he could crush under his boot.
It cut deep, but Rhia steeled herself against it. He was just doing what he believed was right. Following the righteous path laid out by Belisan. If that path was wrong, it wasn’t Desmond’s fault. He just needed to be made aware.
“Look at these people. They couldn’t even hold their own against untested adventurers,” she pointed out, gesturing to the carnage on the beach. “How could they possibly be a threat to anyone?”
“These grunts are meaningless. Just a distraction to keep us from getting to the real threat. Your high priest and his kin stole powerful artifacts from the guild. Were you aware of that? What do you suppose they wanted to do with them? Enchant their fires to boil tea a little faster?” He scoffed, dismissing her in one simple gesture as though she were some naive girl. “Call off your dogs and stand aside. I’ll let you leave this place with your life—for now.”
He started to walk past her, his stride determined, gaze fixed on the temple. On reflex, she reached for him and called his name, desperate. “Des, please.”
Desmond whirled on her, his eyes wide and lost for a moment before his expression hardened, his lip pulling back in a near snarl. “I gave you fair warning, witch. I won’t be playing your games.”
The sun glinted off of his blade as he raised it in such a way that the downward arc would surely cleave her head from her neck. There was no time for Rhia to think about what she was doing. She visualized him being sent sprawling away from her, and suddenly Desmond connected with an invisible barrier that shot him backwards into the sand and surf, his sword skidding some distance away.
Before she could even blink, her old friend was being wrapped in thick, inky-black tentacles. They caged him to the ground, binding his arms and legs. Even still, Rhia cried out.
“Don’t hurt him!”
“He tried to kill you,” came Wesley’s desperate reply.
But the tentacles didn’t tighten any further, even when Desmond struggled against them. He was secure, unable to hurt himself or anyone else. Unable to bear looking at him and seeing the hatred in his eyes, she scanned the beach. Liam and Karak were both rushing toward her.
“I’m fine,” she managed. “Are all the adventurers down?”
“The ones who weren’t interested in running, yes,” Liam said, sheathing his blade. “I expect they’ll all have nasty headaches in the morning, but they won’t be dead, so I suppose the world is better for that.”
She wasn’t in the mood for his sarcasm right now, but she didn’t fight him on it. He’d done as she asked, as had Karak and Wesley.
“Sit him up,” she instructed the warlock, “and then… change me back.”
Some part of her knew it wasn’t going to make a difference, but there was some tiny, foolish shred of hope left that believed he’d see who she was and listen to her. Understand everything she’d been through and all she’d done for him. Something truly naive in her thought they could part this beach with a better sense of one another, maybe as friends again.
“Absolutely not,” Liam growled, cutting through her flimsy reasoning.
“I agree, it’s too dangerous, Lady.”
“And yet it’s what I wish to do,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
She looked to Wesley, expecting that he absolutely would argue. He met her gaze, dark blue eyes housing the depths of the sea. There was an understanding there, a strange kinship, as if he recognized the position she was in.
He gave her a single nod, and that feeling of water washing over her form took hold again, the spell shimmering across the surface of her skin. She held her breath, looking down at Desmond who was staring right at her.
She heard him gasp, saw the way his eyes widened and his mouth went slack. Genuine surprise adorned his features, and she waited with bated breath to see what he would do now that she stood before him as herself.
His golden brows drew together and he stumbled to find his own voice before two scratchy syllables left his throat. “Rhia…?” He tugged against the tentacles that bound him, but he couldn’t budge. “It can’t be. This has to be another trick. Rhia died in Esrinas. She’s dead, do you hear me?”
The insistent pain in his voice broke Rhia’s heart. She stepped closer, feeling the tension in the men around her ratchet up dramatically. Crouching before him, she resisted the urge to reach out and touch his cheek.
“No, Des. I’m not.”
There was a slight sheen to his eyes as he looked up at her, and Rhia felt her heart clench in her chest. She waited, unable to breathe, hoping against hope that he would see it was really her. When recognition finally sparked in his clear blue eyes, she let out a shuddering breath.
“Rhia… it… it really is you…”
He moved his shoulder, trying once more to break out of his bindings. Rhia looked to Wesley and nodded. She saw him draw in a breath, his gaze piercing through her, but the tentacle let up enough to release one of Desmond’s arms.
Her best friend lifted his hand so hesitantly, with such caution and disbelief that Rhia was sure he was going to be spooked again. Find something in her that told him she was possessed; taken over by some darkness he needed to cleanse. But finally his f
ingers brushed her cheek, then his palm rested fully against her skin.
She choked on a sob, her eyes closing as she leaned into his touch. As kind as her guardians had been, as much as they’d helped acclimate her to this world, it was this familiar gesture, this small comfort that proved just how starved Rhia had been for some semblance of normalcy.
Sudden fatigue washed over her, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse, her emotions taking a toll. But Desmond wasn’t content to just exist in the moment. She knew he wouldn’t be. He needed answers. Some logic and reason to pin to these strange circumstances.
“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “I was sure they’d gotten to you. Used you as a puppet to try and sway me to their side. I saw a vision of you casting some kind of horrible spell on me…”
A sudden, stabbing pain lanced through her heart, realization settling in with bone-chilling clarity. He did still believe she’d been taken over by Aeredus and his forces. And now she had to explain that his assumption wasn’t completely untrue.
“Rhia…” Liam’s voice came out in a low rumble, his fingers flexing around the pommel of his blade.
“Who are these men?” Desmond asked, looking around at her guardians. “Why are you… why are you working with an orc, Rhia? And a warlock? Goddess…”
“They saved me,” she said softly, not relishing the conversation she knew she needed to have with him. “They’re my guardians, Des.”
“Guardians? I don’t…”
His face was contorted in confusion, his brows drawn close together, his eyes searching hers for answers. Rhia knew he wouldn’t like the ones she had to give.
“I’m… the new Dark Lady,” she explained, her heart breaking at the look of horror that crossed his features. “It was the price Aeredus demanded for saving you. I wouldn’t have been able to do it otherwise, and I couldn’t let you die, Des.” Her voice became so quiet, so feeble, wracked by tears, choked by emotion. “I couldn’t.”
“Rhia…”
It wasn’t the quiet, compassionate understanding she’d hoped for. There was something in his eyes that told her exactly what was coming. But she wanted so badly to believe that he just needed time to process. He just needed to come to terms with it, see that she was the same old Rhia. She hadn’t changed, and she didn’t intend to fulfill Aeredus’ designs.
That distant, foolish hope blinded her so much that she was too slow to react to Desmond’s movements as he flung himself toward his blade, his freed hand reaching out to grab it.
Karak was there in an instant, tackling her to the ground. He grunted in pain and she felt his muscles seize against her as Desmond’s blade connected. Wesley and Liam were just as quick to act, with the former binding Desmond again and the latter pointing his sword right at the paladin’s neck.
“Say the word,” Liam growled through gritted teeth.
“No,” she pleaded, trying to get ahold of herself even as her lip quivered.
It’d hurt to be rejected by him once. She’d always assumed if she ever felt that kind of pain, it would be because he didn’t feel the same way about her as she did about him. But in that brief, shining moment when he’d recognized her, she’d known he had. Some part of Desmond loved her as she loved him. And that made his reaction so much harder to bear.
It only became worse when Desmond began to speak.
“What did he seduce you with, Rhia? Was it the power? The ability to change your circumstances with just a thought? Or maybe it was having three men at your beck and call, willing to do anything you tell them to do?” There was something cruel in his words, but not unexpected. He was like a wounded animal, lashing out because he was in pain. She could see it in his eyes. “I should have known. I should have seen this coming. You were so eager to get into the academy. I foolishly believed you had earnest, noble intentions. I even thought…”
The way he was looking at her was ripping her apart. She knew what he wasn’t saying, a memory of their last good moment together surfacing in her mind. Before the Dark Lady had attacked. Before her life had been torn from her by Aeredus and his minions. Tears blurred her vision, her jaw clenched so hard to keep from sobbing that her whole face hurt.
“It’s clear to me I didn’t know you at all, if this is what you’ve become,” he said, the words slicing through her like shards of ice.
“Clearly you don’t, if this is what you think of her,” Wesley said, his tone low and dangerous.
All three of her guardians were on edge, just waiting for her to give the order. Logically she knew there was no talking to Desmond. Not here. Not now. The best she could hope for was that he might one day understand, but it seemed just as likely that he’d hunt her down and kill her before that happened. Even still, she couldn’t hurt him. And she wouldn’t force him.
“Let him go,” she said, willing her voice not to shake.
“What?”
“Are you insane?!”
“He’ll kill you!”
The chorus of incredulous responses was met with a hard stare from Rhia. She looked at each of them in turn, not flinching away from even Liam’s scrutiny. She’d given her order, and she wasn’t backing down from it.
Liam crouched beside Desmond, his words coming out in a growl. “I suggest you run as far and fast as you can. If I catch you anywhere near her again, I’ll end you.”
“As will I,” Karak promised.
Rhia looked to Wesley, who reluctantly withdrew the spell, releasing Liam. The paladin went to reach for his sword again, but Liam kicked it away. Glaring at the four of them, Desmond seemed to seriously consider taking them on unarmed. There was a tick in his jaw, something she knew was him being insanely, irrationally stubborn. But he finally relented, and Rhia was able to breathe again.
“Next time I see you, Rhiannon… I’ll do what I must.”
His tone was resigned and so very cold that it shook through her, battering the last of the resolve that kept her standing. Rhia just barely managed to hold on by a thin margin… until he turned around and walked away. As she stared at his retreating form, at the back of the man who’d once been her best friend—the man who now saw her as little more than a monster—Rhia sank to her knees and sobbed anew.
Chapter 19
Rhia had entered a state of numbness Wesley knew all too well.
It happened sometime during the second day, after her tears had dried and she had no more emotion left to give. He, Karak, and even Liam had tried to comfort her as best they could, but she was distant, not wanting to engage in conversation about Desmond or anything that had happened. Even when Karak tried to remind her that they’d done good.
They’d saved the high priest and his council. Rhia had even managed to heal a few of the peixos who were clinging to life. The village would have been completely decimated if not for her intervention, and she’d done it without killing the adventurers and earning the guild’s ire—something Wesley wasn’t sure he wanted to laud, but a clear choice to stick to her own moral compass. He could respect that, and so he’d kept his mouth shut about it, unlike Liam.
As they rode back to Ebonhold, though, she wasn’t even in a state to argue with the oathbreaker. That lack of engagement was palpable, and Liam reined in his own behavior without hesitation, his expression showing genuine concern. When they stopped to make camp that second night and Rhia curled up in her bedroll without a word, it was Liam who approached Wesley and Karak.
“We need to do something. She’s…” He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t like seeing her like this.”
“Neither do I, but I’m not sure there’s anything we can do,” Karak said. “It’s obvious she cared for this man. She needs time to process what he’s become and the way he views her.”
“We should have killed him where he stood,” Liam muttered.
Wesley, who’d been quiet through much of the exchange, finally spoke. “And what would that have accomplished? She’d hate whoever delivered the deat
hblow, and she’d never trust any of us again. We’d be cast out, and she’d be killed within a fortnight.”
As competent as Rhia was, there was nothing a single Dark Lady could do against Belisan’s forces. If they bound her magic—which they would surely do—she would be utterly defenseless. And the fact that Desmond would likely be leading the charge would just be the final nail in the coffin.
“What have we accomplished in letting him go?” Liam hissed, trying to keep to whispers and nearly failing. “He knows what Rhia is now. He’s going to muster every paladin he can find, every adventurer, and lay siege to Ebonhold.”
“Then we’ll prepare ourselves as best we can. Fortify the keep, set up traps and sentries. If he’s stupid enough to come to us, he’ll get what he deserves,” Karak said, even his voice taking on a low, murderous quality.
On some level, Wesley agreed with them. Desmond was a liability. He would be her end if they gave him half the chance. But he was also someone Rhia cared for. Deeply. If Emma found out what he was, if she reacted so poorly… Wesley’s eyes closed as he tried to suppress the thought, but it seeped through to his consciousness anyway.
He would have let his sister kill him rather than raise a hand against her. He would have died in shame, knowing he’d become something she didn’t recognize anymore. Knowing that, for as much as he didn’t regret his choices, they would never be accepted by the world he’d come from and the people he loved.
If it was the same for Rhia, then telling her to simply put Desmond out of her mind wasn’t going to help. Neither was the discussion of what they would do when he inevitably showed his face again. She needed the compassionate ear of someone who truly understood, and she wasn’t going to find that with Liam or even Karak.
Wesley was the only one who knew what it was like to turn to darkness to save a loved one. He was the only one who knew the pain of that loved one’s rejection, who feared the inevitable confrontation every day. So as the other two guardians spoke of fortifying Ebonhold and keeping the Dark Lady safe, Wesley focused on what he could do specifically, and just what he would say when he finally spoke to her.