This Dark Mirror

by Tricia Owens

  This Dark Mirror

  By

  Tricia Owens

  Copyright

  ©2020 Tricia Owens

  All rights reserved.

  An altered version of this book was previously published under the title The Forgotten One.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Read more from Tricia Owens

  Chapter One

  The wind was brisk as it whipped around Fetching’s Point, cutting through Hadrian ni Leyanon's damp clothing and encouraging a violent shiver to wrack his limbs. Dressed head to toe in mourning black, he wished he could be the shadow he resembled. A shadow couldn’t touch, but it also couldn’t hurt. A shadow could disappear completely without leaving any damage behind. These were things he could not do. Not while he remained the infamous Scourge of Rhiad, hated sorcerer who was worth more dead than alive.

  His body rocked from side to side in a jarring rhythm. In front of him, the mercenary Caled rowed their little boat with a silent determination that served better than any stone wall to separate the two men. The blond’s eyes were fixed on a spot beyond Hadrian’s right shoulder as if in concentration on the physical task, but Hadrian doubted Caled existed in the present moment. Hadrian knew it was likely— far more likely—that Caled was reliving what had just occurred between them...and wishing it never had.

  Caled fought the vicious headwind and currents for hours, his powerful body finally beaching their little boat on a rocky patch of gravel at the base of a collapsed face of cliffs. Stiffly, Hadrian climbed out and stood on the beach without much motivation to do more. He was tired sore both mentally and physically, and at any moment he expected Caled to shove him back into the sea and drown him.

  "I’d wager we’re just east of Hannah-by-the-Sea," Caled said as he ran a hand down his spray-dampened face. His golden hair was matted and stuck up wildly around his head, but the look in his eyes was subdued. His physical weariness was evident: the powerful muscles in his arms and shoulders visibly twitched and quivered, and he favored one leg slightly. But Hadrian suspected it was the weight on Caled’s mind that exhausted him.

  "Hannah-by-the-Sea," Hadrian said. "Right."

  Rather than admit his ignorance of the land, he accepted the mercenary’s estimation of their location without question. All he knew was that they were at least two days out from where they’d left their companions, the Council mage Manix and his apprentice Syellen. Hadrian must rely on Caled to successfully lead them back to the others.

  They climbed the cliffs, battered by the relentless wind, knees banging into the sharpened edges of fallen rock. Gaining the top was little relief until they reached the forest, which cut the wind. But in the absence of wind the darkness between the trees felt thick and claustrophobic, as if a hood had been drawn over their heads.

  Hadrian rubbed at his skull and winced. He swiftly lowered his hand when Caled glanced back at him. He was reluctant to reveal a weakness to a man who frequently proclaimed his intentions to make Hadrian’s life miserable, but Caled only frowned.

  "You were struck by a rock. Two of them."

  Hadrian looked pointedly at the mercenary’s knee. "You were hit as well. You’re limping."

  "The Dimorada might be insane, but no one can fault their aim," Caled said, his mouth twisting. He paused, something in his manner suggesting a deep discomfort. “Are you hurt elsewhere?”

  It took Hadrian a terribly long moment to comprehend, and when he did, he flushed with mortification. “I told you I’m fine.”

  “I wasn’t kind.”

  “I’m fine,” Hadrian insisted through gritted teeth. He probably came off as though he were angry, which he should be. But in truth, he was ashamed of himself for savoring the soreness between his buttocks from Caled’s rough use of him. It was proof of their intimacy, something he might never feel again.

  “Then keep up,” Caled muttered and continued forward.

  His figure was a tall swathe of shadow moving confidently between the trees despite the faint limp. Hadrian was not as sure-footed. He had spent his entire life on Shard’s Point Isle, sheltered not just from the mainland, but from the reality of harsh travel, the harsh reality of life. He tripped over tree roots and twisted his ankles on unseen rocks. Within an hour he was staggering, his gloved hands protecting his palms as he pushed off from one tree to the next.

  After he had crashed through waist-high brush only to clip the toe of his boot on a fallen log, Caled whirled.

  "By the gods! You’re as graceful as a blind fieran, Hades! Do I have to carry you?"

  "Would you?" Hadrian shot back, too tired to be intimidated by the larger man.

  "I’d pick you up and toss you off the nearest cliff!"

  "Except if you do, you die, too," Hadrian said between heavy breaths.

  The tall shadow ahead of him was silent.

  "Keep going." Hadrian squared his shoulders. "I’ll keep up with you. I have no choice."

  But the dark figure that was Caled remained unmoving.

  "Caled?"

  "It’s not necessary that we rejoin the others."

  Hadrian swallowed, his aches fading from awareness. "Of course it’s necessary. The Council sponsors us."

  "The Council—Manix—has us on a leash. We don’t need them to find your father. You’re all we need for that. You’re our bait."

  Hadrian couldn’t argue the logic. Gavedon was no fool: he would know Hadrian was his one obstacle to freedom. Hadrian was the only sorcerer strong enough to resist him. It was why the Council had recruited Hadrian for this mission in the first place. They didn’t care about helping him redeem himself for his crimes; they wanted him for his power. If Hadrian were killed, the Council couldn’t hope to defeat Gavedon, not unless every one of the Elders left their high tower and engaged him personally, which they’d never do.

  "I can’t stand up to Gavedon," he said distinctly.

  "Can’t or won’t? Shards Point tells me you’ve done it before."

  "I can’t." Hadrian rubbed his gloved fingers together. “I’m incapable of it.”

  "We’ll see about that."

  Saying nothing more, Caled resumed his trek. Wary but relieved, for he didn’t know how he would endure Caled’s presence without the protective buffer of Manix between them, Hadrian followed him.

  A day and a night passed this way. Hadrian’s headache faded but Caled’s limp became more pronounced. Hadrian was concerned, but refrained from commenting as he watched the mercenary rub at the injury each time they stopped for a break. Beyond basic conversation regarding food and the like, he and Caled didn’t speak about what had happened in the Fang Hook Cliffs or about anything which occurred afterward. As Hadrian sat huddled beside the fire Caled had built them for the night, he tried to determine if the silence between them was an uncomfortable one, or merely born of weariness.

  "You bite your lip when you think."

  Hadrian brought his head up. Caled was watching him from where he reclined on the grass on the other side of the fire. The mercenary’s injured leg was stretched before him. "I had no idea the effort required such concentration from you," the mercenary said with the hint of a smile curling the edges of his lips. "Don’t injure yourself."

  Hadrian let his bottom lip slip from beneath his teeth. He looked away from Caled into the fire, even though the dancing flames reminded him too much of what they’d just escaped. “I’m pleased to amuse you. I should have expected that when entertainment became scarce you’d start in on me again."


  "It was merely an observation. Relax, Hades."

  Hadrian looked at him again. The firelight was inconsistent. It cast Caled’s face into demonic shadows and highlights. Caled had attempted to hurt or kill him multiple times. But Hadrian wasn’t afraid of him.

  Maybe it was because he sensed something was on the other man’s mind despite his careless tone. He’d caught Caled studying him from time to time when he thought Hadrian wasn’t looking, his sapphire gaze inscrutable but intense. Hadrian, battling turmoil over what he’d allowed to happen between them, had been reluctant to meet the mercenary’s eyes. The Dimorada had drugged them with an aphrodisiac. Or at least, they had drugged Caled. Hadrian had taken it upon himself in a moment of lustful impulse to scrape himself with the same tainted implement that had drugged Caled. But it had been a ruse. There hadn’t been enough of the aphrodisiac left to overcome his will.

  Did Caled know that Hadrian had faked his drugged response? Was Caled angry at being deceived for real this time?

  Hadrian wished he could tell him the truth—that he’d wanted Caled, even if the mercenary’s taking of him had been violent and absent of affection. Hadrian had wanted it. All of it. He thought he was pathetic for that, but he refused to deny the truth to himself.

  "You’re not disappointed that we didn’t encounter your father." Caled flexed his knee experimentally and failed to suppress a wince. "I remember how you trembled when we were watching his face in the smoke. You were frightened that he would appear."

  "Why are you bringing this up?" Hadrian banished the memory as far as he could force it. He didn’t want to remember how he had felt while standing before the fire with the Dimorada’s herbs clouding his senses and the drums deafening his ears.

  "Were you afraid he’d appear?" Caled persisted.

  Hadrian glared at him. "Yes, I was afraid. Gavedon is a powerful man. He’s done things I never thought him capable of doing. I don’t—" Hadrian frowned, disliking what he was about to admit. "I don’t know what more he might do."

  Caled watched him steadily. "To you, or to the land?"

  Hadrian dropped his eyes to the fire. He half-dreaded seeing his father’s face again in the flames. A shiver wracked him, which he tried to disguise by shifting his position. "To the land," he muttered. "My life is forfeit. But I’m beginning to see that he has ambitions."

  "Such as forming a sorcerous army?" Caled’s tone was sharp.

  Hadrian shook his head. "Not quite that, but I think he has designs on the Council of Elders and any other governing body which might oppose him." Hadrian smiled bitterly at him. "He doesn’t like to be refused in any manner. Gavedon is The One. The One doesn’t answer to mayors or kings or even to death. If he grows the Order large and powerful enough, he won’t have to."

  "You believed him. You followed him willingly."

  "I’m his son," Hadrian reminded him irritably. "What son disobeys his father?" But his voice faltered as he spoke the words, and he knew Caled had noticed.

  "A son disobeys when a father asks him to commit a crime. Being a son doesn’t mean you’ve become deaf and dumb to morality."

  Hadrian’s head began to hurt.

  "Sometimes it’s simpler and easier not to fight."

  "And most times you don’t get what you want unless you do," Caled countered.

  Hadrian kept his eyes down. He didn’t think Caled was picking a fight, but Hadrian wasn’t in the mood for a debate. Not over this. There were some things Caled didn’t know about him, and if Hadrian had his way, the mercenary would never know them.

  "Not everyone can wield a sword as you do," Hadrian pointed out. His gaze flicked briefly over Caled’s body. "Nor are all men built as you are—"

  "It’s not always about physical strength," Caled cut in, his voice low. "It’s about having a backbone. It’s about standing up for what you believe is right and fighting against what you think is wrong. It’s about being a man, Hades." The mercenary sat up. "I saw you in that cavern. You were afraid, but you didn’t run away. Why only then, Hades? Why not in Rhiad, when it could have made a difference?"

  Hadrian licked his lips nervously. Caled seemed in a mood to listen. It was a rarity and Hadrian didn’t understand the change. He said hesitantly, "Perhaps I was brave in a way that hasn’t manifested itself yet. I made a choice that I believed was the right one. Maybe it still is."

  He considered telling Caled about the prophecy that the seer Midagon had shown him, the choices he’d been given—and taken. The destruction of Rhiad hadn’t been an accident.

  Caled’s lids dropped halfway over his eyes. "You made a choice to murder innocent people. How can you claim that was right? I kill for money, it’s true, but I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it for one reason or another. What you did was different. It’s inexcusable."

  "You’re certain—"

  "I am."

  Hadrian fell silent, staring at the flames. After a long moment of waiting for him to speak, Caled sighed loudly in apparent disgust and settled back on his elbows. He moved his legs to find a comfortable position and hissed as his heel caught in the grass, jarring his knee.

  "You need a poultice for that," Hadrian muttered, though he wondered why he bothered. Caled could be a stubborn arse. But still, the mercenary was the only one who could guide them back. Reluctantly, Hadrian motioned toward Caled’s injured leg. "It’s swelled, isn’t it? You should take care of it, otherwise you may not be able to walk in the morning."

  "It’s fine," Caled mumbled. "I’ve ridden miles with worse wounds."

  "But have you ever walked with one?" Hadrian berated himself for what he was about to do. "I must be a glutton for punishment," he said beneath his breath as he stood up and rounded the fire to Caled’s side. He kneeled beside the wary mercenary. "Let me see it."

  Caled regarded him thoughtfully. "Which would you prefer: that I pull them up or push them down?"

  Hadrian blinked in confusion before he realized the mercenary was referring to the breeches he wore. He gritted his teeth. "I’ll push this leg up." Ignoring Caled’s chuckle, Hadrian bunched the other man’s pant leg up until it gathered just above his knee.

  Thankfully the joint was only mildly swelled. Mostly it was bruised purple, with yellow radiating outwards. Not a sprain, but it did look painful. Hadrian found himself admiring the golden hairs covering Caled’s calf and the strong muscles beneath, muscles which had carried him to safety.

  "You saved my life," he said.

  Caled shrugged. "I reacted instinctively."

  Hadrian liked that answer and what the mercenary had unwittingly implied. Hadrian traced the edges of the bruise, trying to keep his eyes on Caled’s knee and not let his gaze rise upwards, where more interesting things lay.

  "Still, you saved us both even though you were hurt. I couldn’t do that," Hadrian pointed out.

  "Why the sudden compliments?" Caled’s voice carried amusement. "Has looking at my knee given you an itch that needs scratching? I would have thought you’d gotten your fill in the boat."

  Hadrian kept his mouth shut and his eyes lowered. Humiliation burned along his spine.

  "Things haven’t changed, Hades."

  Hadrian stiffened. "I didn’t think they had."

  "What happened in that boat was because of the drug. I would never—"

  "Dirty your hands with a murderer, I know."

  Strong fingers suddenly caught his chin, pulling his face up despite his resistance. Caled’s eyes were narrowed. "What are you saying? That you deserve to be treated as if you’re anything else?"

  Hadrian’s smile was empty. "No. I’m well aware that I deserve nothing at all."

  Caled scowled. "I refuse to feel pity for you. I refuse to."

  "I don’t want your pity. I know what I did." He met Caled’s eyes. "I know better than anyone. I’m reminded every time I look into your face."

  Caled lips parted, but he didn’t speak. Hadrian considered pulling free of the other man’s grip, but for som
e reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Caled’s fingers were warm on his chin. They didn’t press, they held him.

  "In the boat," Caled began, his eyes roaming over Hadrian’s face. "I thought I saw—did the aphrodisiac work on you?"

  Hadrian’s heart thundered. "You saw. I scratched myself with the stick. The stick had the drug in it."

  "I know that," Caled said impatiently. "But did the drug enter your blood?" His fingers tightened on Hadrian’s chin. "Did you feel it, Hades? That’s what I’m asking. Did the drug make you feel the way I did?"

  No. What you saw was me living out a fantasy. What you saw was me being what you fear I am: someone who would deceive you in order to satisfy my own needs. It wasn’t the drug that overwhelmed me—it was you who did.

  "Yes," Hadrian said, holding Caled’s eyes, holding the lie. "I felt it. The aphrodisiac made me lose control just as it did you. We have nothing to feel guilty for." He forced himself to continue. "Under different circumstances, that wouldn’t have happened between us." He hesitated. "Would it have?"

  Caled released him slowly. Hadrian’s skin went cold immediately in the void. Something was on Caled’s face which Hadrian had trouble reading. It was difficult to decipher the mercenary’s expressions when Hadrian’s interpretations served his own needs. He wanted to believe Caled was warming to him, but to believe that was to invite heartache. And when Caled spoke, Hadrian was glad to be so cautious.

  "No, of course it wouldn’t have happened." Caled’s mouth dragged up into its familiar smirk, but his expression was tinged by weariness, as if Caled’s heart wasn’t behind it. "What happened in the boat was beyond our control. It won’t happen again." He glanced down meaningfully at Hadrian’s hand, which still rested upon Caled’s knee.

  Hadrian retracted his hand. "No," he said stiffly, "it won’t happen again."

  But secretly, he wished that he could possess that illicit drug. Right or wrong, he wanted to feel what the aphrodisiac had made possible between them, just one more time.

  ~~~~~

  Midday of the second day, Hadrian began to recognize their surroundings.