Oathbreaker

by Cara Witter

  “You should pay Buras the gold,” Jaeme said. “If you don’t, I will.”

  “Indeed. He earned it. He fought fair, unlike a startling number in our ranks.” Greghor waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll deal with trouble as it comes. It seems to find us regardless of our actions.”

  That was the truth, though Jaeme could think of a few actions of his uncle’s that had invited more trouble than was necessary.

  “You never did tell me,” Greghor said, “what Daniella’s guard was doing skulking around in the castle undercarriage.”

  Jaeme paused. It seemed Diamis hadn’t told his uncle about Kenton and the others, and Jaeme still didn’t feel inclined to proclaim himself bearer of Kotali until he had the stone in his hand. “He was on my errand,” Jaeme said. “I asked him to look into the old parts of the castle.”

  Greghor looked confused. “Whatever for?”

  “It’s something I read about,” Jaeme said. “A relic that may have been hidden here before the castle was built, from as far back as the Banishment.”

  Greghor smiled. “You had her armsman snooping about the castle in search of mythical treasure?”

  “I suppose I did. Daniella is a scholar, though, and she thinks the treasure is real.”

  “Ah,” Greghor said, his smile turning knowing. “Were you hoping to discover her an engagement gift?”

  Jaeme winced. “Unfortunately not. Things have been . . . tense, since the banquet.”

  Greghor frowned. “I hope those arrogant fools didn’t get to her too much. I would have thought she’d be used to the prattling of nobles, from living in Diamis’ court.”

  “She is,” Jaeme said with a heavy sigh. “She was upset that I didn’t defend her. We’d never discussed marriage, and that was an ill-timed way to bring it up.”

  Greghor nodded. “And what are your intentions toward her?”

  “I want to marry her,” Jaeme said. Nothing was more true than that. “But again, the timing is poor. They were right, at the banquet. Marrying her would be more than a match; it would be a political declaration. Even if she would consent, can I do that now? Or would it just bring more scrutiny on—”

  Greghor silenced him with a look, much like he’d been doing since Jaeme was a child. Yes, he clearly had his own reasons for not wanting to discuss Diamis. Jaeme wondered if his uncle felt more guilt over his actions than he’d let on.

  “The other dukes are correct,” Greghor said. “Having Daniella on our side is an asset, but it may also provoke Sevairn.” He shook his head. “But while I think it’s wise to consider the consequences, you know I’m not going to intervene in your choice of a wife. That is your affair, and whatever you decide, I’ll help you to make it work.”

  A knot in Jaeme’s shoulders began to loosen. Whatever Kenton said, whatever risks his uncle had taken, Greghor was on his side and always had been. “Thank you,” he said. “I do want to marry her. Soon, if she’ll accept. But if you think it would be better, I can refuse the birthright. Diamis never has to know you approved. The Council was already making trouble about my inheritance, and if they don’t agree with me marrying Daniella—maybe it would be better for everyone if I stepped aside, rather than draw scrutiny.”

  “No,” Greghor said. “Your father was no traitor. He was the most loyal of us all.”

  Jaeme raised an eyebrow. “Such is his competition.”

  Greghor cleared his throat and continued. “The birthright is yours, and while I couldn’t save your father from the Council, at least I can restore it to you. I’ll worry about what to tell Diamis. Marry Daniella and keep your place. After all, the Council sent you to seduce her. Can they be angry that you did it too well?”

  Jaeme wanted to smile at that, but he couldn’t. “She still doesn’t know about that. She can’t know.”

  “I’ll leave that to your discretion. As for the tension between you, have you told her of your intention to marry her?”

  Jaeme shook his head. “She said she didn’t want to talk about it. But maybe I should bring it up again. I just—”

  “Perhaps it would be wise,” Greghor said. “After hearing of all the complications a match between you could bring, I imagine it would be easy for her to feel insecure.”

  Jaeme drew a deep breath. Perhaps his uncle was right, and that’s all it was. Daniella needed to hear from him that he was committed to her, that he’d give up his birthright if she needed him to, that she was first and foremost in his life, above his duchy, above his uncle, and certainly above Kenton’s demands. The longer Jaeme continued here without word from Kotali, the more sure he was that if he’d ever been bearer of the god, Kotali had surely changed his mind, and with good reason. That unfortunately left him with no way to help the others, no way to make it unnecessary for his uncle to continue to collude with Diamis.

  “I’ll do that,” he said. “I’ll ask her.”

  Greghor smiled. “Good. I hope your offer is well received.”

  Jaeme stood, then turned back before he reached the door. “And about Buras?”

  Greghor sighed. “There’s not much to be done. I’ll give him his battalions and a post in the guard, ostensibly to focus on you and your guests. Hopefully we can blend your service with mine and fold him into the castle guard before too long. The less attention we bring to the matter, the more likely the other dukes are to let it go.”

  That seemed wise, though it went against Jaeme’s instinct to parade Buras in front of Osgoode as his personal squire and man-at-arms, which could lead nowhere good and would possibly get Buras killed.

  “All right,” Jaeme said. “I’ll talk to him and encourage him to accept the post.”

  When Jaeme returned to his bedroom, he found that Daniella had already changed into a shift and was sitting up in bed with a book, her unpinned hair falling down around her shoulders, her brow creased in concentration for that brief second before she saw him. Despite all the tension between them, the sight warmed him. She had been so stunning tonight in her ball finery—breathtakingly so—but she was even more beautiful like this.

  Even as she looked up at him warily. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Was your uncle angry?”

  “No,” Jaeme said. “Accepting fealty from Buras wasn’t the smartest thing, but I think he understands.”

  Her expression softened. “You did a good thing, accepting Buras’ service. I wish the rest had been as brave.”

  Jaeme shrugged. He’d had his motivations, but he wasn’t sure courage was among them. “It was what needed to be done.”

  “Exactly,” she said.

  Jaeme loosened the buttons on his shirt and approached the bed. A part of him wanted to ask Daniella to marry him then and there, but something stopped him. He wanted to give her more than this, more than a half-thought-out proposal given late in the night. She deserved more—an engagement gift, to start with. A bit of romance, a story she could tell their grandchildren.

  He’d go out into the city and find something tomorrow. Maybe a rare book—an illuminated copy of the ballads, perhaps, or a thick volume of history. He’d take her somewhere private, somewhere quiet, where it would be just them—to the grove of trees to the east of the castle, which Jaeme had still not yet managed to visit. It had been his place, when he was a child, the place he went to get lost in his own adventures.

  Now it would be theirs. When he thought of being out there with her, beneath the trees, of asking her to marry him with the sun dappling their faces through the scattered leaves above . . .

  Jaeme couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

  Forty-three

  Kenton hadn’t expected to return to visit the two blood mages again at all, let alone mere days after the first visit. But in the wake of the disastrous ball, something Dez had said on his previous visit had wormed its way to the front of his mind, a question nagging at
him in a way that felt worthy of pursuit. Though if he was being truthful, he was turning it over in his mind to escape from the memory of Perchaya’s lips on his, the rightness of holding her in his arms.

  The sun had barely risen by the time he reached the burned-out tavern, but already the summer heat and the trip through the marketplaces had caused him to sweat through his linen shirt. Fortunately, he wasn’t needing to impress anyone here with his superb hygiene.

  This early in the day, Kenton wondered if the mages would be awake—the last time he’d been here had been night, and even blood mages must sleep sometime—but he could pay them enough to be worth some disrupted sleep. Better than spending another moment doing nothing of use in the castle.

  The alley by the tavern was empty this time. The emaciated man who’d begged for snap was gone, though a couple empty tins littered the ground. Kenton boosted himself up through the window again, pushing aside the curtain. This time the daylight—faint as it was, especially in the alley—allowed him to verify that there was no one lying directly below the window when he dropped down onto the creaky floorboards.

  The common room was even warmer than outside. The heat hung heavy and thick, like it festered instead of cooling overnight. Enough light filtered through the cracks in the curtains or floorboards above—where part of the roof had been burned away—that he could make out a great deal more detail than he could the first time he was here. Not detail he particularly wanted, unfortunately. But as his eyes adjusted, he could see the people lying around the room as more than just human-shaped forms.

  An older man whispered to himself from a corner, his knees gathered up to his chest. Another laughed and wheezed from his position over by the hearth, his arm flailing at things only he could see. A man and a woman lay slumped against the far wall in states of partial undress, their thin limbs tangled together, but unmoving. Fast asleep or dead, he couldn’t tell. Both were outcomes of snap, and also what the blood mages might have done to them after they’d literally sold away their souls for their next high.

  Kenton went into the kitchen, which was somehow cooler than the rest of the tavern, and saw again the cages, animals, and the thick candles spilling puddles of caked wax. And Preeta, skimming her finger lazily across a bowl of dark blood. She looked up as he entered, her expression unchanging. “Don’t make any sudden movements,” she said.

  So at least one of them was awake.

  “Still haven’t found that snake?” Kenton asked, once again instinctively looking at the upper corners of the room, wondering if the thing was hiding behind that shelf of pots or that precariously tall stack of barrels.

  He didn’t see a snake, but he did catch sight of a cooling charm dangling from a hook above the sink. Apparently blood mages weren’t opposed to using Vorgalian magics where they could.

  “You again!” squealed a friendly voice, and Dez popped up from where she’d been sitting cross-legged on the floor by the cages, a book propped in her lap. She had a small dish beside her as well, and she quickly put something in the pocket of her dress. She looked as put-together as before, her plain belted dress neat, her dark hair curling perfectly around her shoulders, her blue eyes bright. Her cheeks dimpled with her smile. “So early this time. I knew you couldn’t stay away. We’ll talk you out of that drop of blood yet.”

  “I very much doubt that,” Kenton said, forcing a smile back at her. He nodded over at the wall she’d been sitting against. “Blood magic and drug dispensing doesn’t pay enough to afford a comfortable reading chair?”

  “Aren’t you sweet, thinking of my comfort like that! Isn’t he a sweet thing, Preeta?”

  Preeta blinked at him. “I bet his blood tastes sweet. Like rum and rusty knives.”

  Dez giggled, shaking her head, though whether it was at Preeta’s mention of tasting blood or her odd definitions of “sweet,” Kenton didn’t care to know.

  “Comfort makes us weak, doesn’t it, darling?” Dez said. “And we have too much to do to laze about for long—the soul arts are a demanding mistress. But so rewarding.” She spoke this last like a contented purr, and Kenton felt a chill up his spine.

  Better not to drag this conversation out.

  “I had another question since we last spoke,” Kenton said. “I thought I might prevail upon you for a little more information.” He took out another silver shield from his coin purse. This tangent was going to end up costing him more than he’d like, but if there was one thing Jaeme had been useful for, it was funding the greater part of the expedition so far. Not that acquiring money had ever been a difficulty for Kenton.

  Dez raised a dark eyebrow. “Again with the information? Perhaps you wish to learn blood magic yourself? We’ve never taken a student before, but we might be willing to make an exception.”

  “A generous offer—” Kenton started.

  “We’re generous with all our pets before we bleed them into husks of fur and claws,” Preeta said. “Eyeballs dried up like raisins.” She removed her finger from the bowl and studied her blood-darkened fingernail impassively.

  “—but I must decline. I’m a busy man, too.” Kenton kept a watchful eye on Preeta while addressing Dez, the best way he figured to get out of this with answers and hopefully unenslaved to blood magic. And, well, alive. “So perhaps I can ask my question and you can answer it and we can all get back to our . . . important tasks.” He eyed the cages in the back. The same dead birds—or at least he assumed they were the same ones—lay at the bottom of their cage. A raccoon stared at him with beady eyes from another. The cage with the cat they’d given the dead rat to last time was empty of both unfortunate creatures.

  Dez picked up the coin he set on the table and pursed her delicate lips as she fiddled with it in her manicured fingers. “All right, then. Ask away.”

  “Two things,” Kenton said. “First, do you know anything of the soul connection between identical twins?” Possibly triplets, Kenton supposed. But he’d leave that bit out for now.

  Dez’s eyes lit up. “I’ve heard rumors like that. How about you tell me all you know, and I’ll answer your second question in return?”

  Kenton shook his head. “I only wanted to know if the rumors were true.”

  Dez shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest notion. But if you ever come across a pair of test subjects, please bring them my way.”

  Kenton wondered if any blood mage knew how to work Diamis’ trick with the bodies, or if Diamis had learned that one from Maldorath. It must not work with regular people or there would be others. Many others.

  “The other thing,” Kenton said. “You mentioned experiments on animals, trying to use blood magic on them the way you would humans.”

  Dez nodded slowly, her gaze sharp, but didn’t speak.

  “You were trying to make creations of them. Is that based on something that can be done with humans?”

  Neither mage spoke for a long leaden moment. Preeta’s gaze left her blood-covered finger to stare openly at him. Dez’s eyes widened, but not in any kind of fear. More like . . . delight. The silence, though, felt heavy, like a blanket draped over the room, smothering them. Kenton felt the sweat from the nape of his neck trailing down his back, even in the cool of the kitchen.

  Suddenly one of the brown rabbits started jumping around wildly, throwing itself against its cage so hard the whole tower shook. Preeta reached out a hand and steadied the stack without taking her eyes off Kenton.

  “Oh, you’re a gem!” Dez squealed, clapping her hands together. One of her hands also had blood on the fingers, and some sort of design on the palm. “A positive gem! Isn’t he, Preeta? Most people who come here can’t form whole sentences that don’t revolve around snap, and here he comes asking about homunculi! Brilliant.”

  “Homunculi?” Kenton asked. The word felt familiar, like something he might have read in a text, but long forgotten.

  “Blood magic made
flesh,” Preeta murmured. “Flesh made of tides of blood, mists of souls, oceans of the lost.”

  The sweat at his back felt like ice.

  Dez rolled her eyes. “She likes to quote Master Kularth far too much. The man was more mediocre poet than blood mage, in my opinion.” She waved a dismissive hand at Preeta and continued on. “Anyway, homunculi. It’s been well-believed for centuries that it’s possible to create life through blood magic. Part human, part magic. Powerful beyond belief.” Her eyes lit with hunger.

  Power beyond belief. He saw in his memory a little girl, barely more than a baby, draining the life-blood from his father, turning it to mist. That same girl, full-grown, standing under a whirlpool of blood, bodies littering the floor around her.

  He tried to keep his voice even. “Believed. But never proven?”

  Dez shrugged her slim shoulders. “Humonculi have been made, but poorly. They never live past a few days, and very few show more than the basic signs of life, let alone any signs of their potential.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s a shame, really. I’m not opposed to bleeding a few children dry for the greater good, but all for nothing? Wasteful, really.”

  “Wasteful,” Preeta echoed. “I like children.” She pulled the rabbit from its cage and stroked its long ears, even as the rabbit thrashed against her grip.

  “Children?” Kenton asked, despite the way his skin prickled under Preeta’s flat gaze.

  “Oh, yes,” Dez said. “Blood isn’t all the same, you know. Different types of blood are better for different purposes. The younger the blood, the better. And buckets of it. A little vial won’t do for creation, you know.”

  “Seems like a lot of work for experimentation,” Kenton said. “People won’t be happy with you if they discover you’re draining children.”

  Dez smirked. “Yes. The Drim learned that the hard way, didn’t they?” She let out a giggle and pressed her fingers demurely to her lips.