by K. A. Linde
“Oh, it was… nothing really. I wasn’t even there long.”
“Don’t downplay it. It sounded amazing.”
Kerrigan laughed. “Thanks. What brings you my way?”
“Helly,” Valia said as if it were obvious. “She said that she received a missive regarding you and to fetch you. Any idea what that’s about?”
Kerrigan winced. She certainly did. It had been two weeks since she’d been back. She’d been back to flying every day, and she’d had no other blackouts. But she should have gone straight to Helly about what had happened at court. She’d just been so busy.
“Afraid I do.”
“Well, let’s go then. She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Kerrigan looked longingly back at her history assignment. She’d be up all night to finish this, if she went to see Helly now. But if she didn’t go to see her, it would only be worse.
She sighed and nodded. “All right.”
They chatted about the holiday as they trekked through the mountain. Training had taken time away from all of her friends. She’d be glad when it was over in a matter of months and she could start seeing people again. It wouldn’t be easier, but it would at least give her a less strict schedule. She could only hope.
Valia left her at the door to Helly’s healing office. It was open, and Kerrigan knocked as she strode inside.
Helly glanced up. “Oh good, you’re here.”
“You sent for me?”
“Correct. And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you had told me what happened at Geivhrea.”
Kerrigan winced. “Yeah, sorry. It slipped my mind.”
Helly arched an eyebrow. “Blacking out and having depleted magic slipped your mind?”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m on probation and trying to stay in the Society.”
Helly waved a hand. “Yes. Yes. Sit. Let’s look at you.”
Kerrigan came over to the table and took a seat. Helly examined her eyes, ears, and nose before checking her heart rate. Then, she ran a few additional tests and shrugged. “You seem perfectly healthy to me.”
“Sonali said that.”
“So,” Helly said, crossing her arms, “did you have a vision?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Hmm… but these are the same symptoms, yes?”
“They are. And it happened once before too.”
“When?” Helly asked, taking notes on a parchment.
“After I was arrested.”
“And what were you doing right before you blacked out this time?”
Kerrigan swallowed. Helly was Lady Hellina, First of the House of Stoirm. She would know what it meant if she and March were arguing. She might even understand the political ramifications that Kerrigan had never been aware of.
“Well?” Helly asked.
“March and I were arguing about our betrothal.”
Helly sat across from her and crossed her arms. “I see.”
Kerrigan glanced down and offered a half-truth. “My dad offered me my dowry to give to him to break it off. He didn’t mention that House of Medallion wouldn’t see that as enough for a debt paid.”
“Your father is woefully uninterested in politics. I suspect someone like Ashby March would have taken that very poorly.”
“Yes,” Kerrigan managed.
“So, you were in deep distress.”
“Yes.” Kerrigan glanced up at her. “Do you know what’s happening to me?”
“For all intents and purposes, it looks like magic sickness.”
“What?” Kerrigan gasped. “That makes no sense, Helly. Magic sickness only happens to the really old Fae who refuse their magic all their lives. I’m only seventeen!”
“I’m aware. However, what we know from Gelryn about your spirit magic makes me think that it’s accelerating the condition. It could even be why spiritcasters inevitably go mad and die. Magic sickness does the same to those who are untrained in the arts of their own magic. They spend their lives ignoring what was given to them, and their magic poisons them.”
“It’s that accelerated?”
“You’re a unique case,” Helly said.
“I don’t want to be a unique case,” she said, flopping backward. “I want to just figure this out.”
“I know. I’ll try to get a message to Zina. I thought she’d already be back by now.”
“Me too.”
Helly touched Kerrigan’s arm. “We still have time. I’ve made some improvements for those with magic sickness, and I can reach out to others who have had more contact with it in the south. Bastian might be able to help. Just try not to stress.”
Kerrigan burst into laughter. “Try not to stress while I’m on probation and have Lorian breathing down my neck?”
“Let me deal with Lorian.”
She sighed. “Right.”
“It’ll all be fine. You’re doing well in your training. You and Tieran are a great pair. Work with him and focus on the bond.” Kerrigan forced herself not to recoil at the words. “I’m sure it can only help in this situation.”
Kerrigan nodded. Another problem that she couldn’t voice. Another stressor she couldn’t get rid of. No wonder her magic was trying to poison her.
47
The Symptoms
Over the weeks, Helly’s diagnosis of her illness became clearer.
She’d had three more blackouts since the ball, each one connected to a stressor. One after a particularly grueling water-magic exam. Luckily, she got back to her room before it completely took her over. The second time, she wasn’t so lucky. She collapsed after a formations flying lesson, which she’d bombed—hard—and she fell over right on the dining table. Audria thought it was exhaustion. Kerrigan knew better. The last time, she received a letter from March, explaining that he would be in town for the spring Season event and he expected her to go with him. She took a handful of steps as her anger built, and everything dissolved. Fordham had found her on the ground, hanging out of her doorway.
“You can’t keep doing this,” he said. “You need to figure out how to fix it. The others think you’re losing your mind.”
“I am,” she groaned.
“Don’t say that,” he snapped at her. “You give no one reason to doubt you. Not after all the work we’ve put in.”
And it had been “we” since Fordham had been helping her pass much of the flying exercises by feeding her the answers.
“What am I supposed to do? Every time I get upset, I black out. I can’t fix it. I don’t have a spirit magic teacher, and no matter how much I scream into the spirit plane, I can’t find Zina’s signature. I can’t reach her to tell her to come back. Helly hasn’t heard anything.”
“What about Dozan?”
Kerrigan balked. “Are you suggesting Dozan Rook?”
He paced away from her, running a hand through his hair. “I hate him, but he’s useful. He has that healer, remember?”
“Amond,” Kerrigan said. He’d healed her after she was stabbed by Isa, and he’d done it in a couple minutes rather than hours. Not to mention, he hadn’t drained off an ounce of her magic. It had connected them somehow, but it had been safe and quick. “I hadn’t thought of him.”
“If he knows healing beyond the bounds of what Helly knows, then it’s worth a try.”
“Dozan won’t do it for free.”
“Then, give him whatever he wants,” Fordham growled. “Your life is on the line.”
Kerrigan crossed her arms at the words. They both knew what Dozan Rook wanted from her. It was something she could no more give him than she could give Fordham at this point. She wouldn’t put it past March to know of her affiliation with Dozan as well. He might even have spies in the Wastes.
“Only one problem: I’m still on probation.”
Fordham blew out a breath. “Well, you’re not banned from leaving the premises.”
“I’m sure that doesn’t mean I’m supposed to go traipsing around the Wastes.”
“Then, don’t let a
nyone see you.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to him,” Kerrigan said.
Fordham visibly relaxed at her words. As if he’d been imagining an argument about the whole thing. But she couldn’t argue with him, not about this. He’d found her on the floor. Things were escalating, and she needed any solution to what was happening to her.
She shucked on her favorite black cloak and forced Fordham to be her lookout as she took the back way out of the mountain. She inhaled deeply as she walked the streets of Kinkadia. The mountain was home, but the city belonged to her in its own way. She hadn’t really been out of the mountain since her arrest, except for the errand to Parris and flying into Rosemont. That certainly wasn’t the same as being anonymous in the city.
She wove through the crowded roads, crossing over the divide from Central and into the Dregs. Taverns lit up the night, and music belched onto the streets. She wanted nothing more than to dive into them all and forget all the stressors on her. But first things first. Getting these blackouts under control was the main priority.
Crossing the threshold into the Wastes felt like coming home. Kerrigan had spent countless hours here. She hadn’t realized she’d missed it.
Kerrigan kept her cloak hood up as she headed toward Dozan’s private residence at the top of the Wastes. He lived and worked from on high. No one could be higher than the King of the Wastes.
“I’m here to see Dozan,” she told a guard.
He grunted, “He’s not taking visitors.”
“Tell him Red is here, and he’ll see me.”
The guard’s eyes bulged. “Red? The fighter?”
“Indeed.”
“Man, I’m a huge fan.”
Kerrigan laughed. She had fans. It was beyond surreal.
“Miss seeing you in the Dragon Ring.”
Kerrigan missed it too. But that time was behind her. “So, can I see Dozan?”
“Yeah. Let me introduce you,” he said, stalking up the stairs ahead of her. He knocked on the door, “Boss, Red is here.”
An audible sigh on the other side of the door. “Let her in.”
Kerrigan pushed past the guard and entered the dimly lit space. Dozan Rook sat behind his enormous mahogany desk and stared down at a set of throwing knives in front of him. Kerrigan had only made it two steps inside when one of those knives was poised at her throat as someone grasped her from behind.
“Red is a clever moniker,” a woman rasped behind her. “I believe you owe me a debt.”
Dozan didn’t even look up. “Clare, release her.”
“I told her the next time I saw her, I’d kill her,” Clare Rahllins crooned.
This was easily one of the last people Kerrigan wanted to meet in Dozan’s office. During the tournament, she and Fordham had infiltrated Clare Rahllins’ weapons deal when they were trying to figure out who had killed Lyam. It ended up being Basem all along, and Clare was caught in the cross fire. After Clare’s men finished torturing Kerrigan and Fordham, Kerrigan had managed to free them by using her spirit magic, and they’d walked away unscathed.
Kerrigan reached for calm. The last thing she needed was to black out right now in front of both of them. “Release me.”
“You deserve this,” she spat.
Dozan finally lifted his head. His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth twisted into a smirk. “If you damage her, Clare, then you will pay for it in pounds.”
Clare gritted her teeth and then shoved Kerrigan away. “Fine. What is she doing here?”
Kerrigan clutched at the small trickle of blood that ran down her neck. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m glad that you’re here, Kerrigan. It saves me the trip of sending Clover to retrieve you.”
“For what?”
“Clare has generously agreed to help me find evidence about where Basem’s magical artifacts were being delivered to,” Dozan said, steepling his fingers.
“What does it matter?” she asked.
“Who can afford Tendrille steel with illegal magical artifacts embedded in them?” Dozan asked.
Kerrigan hadn’t been thinking about Basem Nix at all. She had been so worried about so many other things. THe question of who had the kind of money to throw around on that had never occurred to her. “Someone rich.”
“Exactly. There aren’t that many people in the city who could afford it, which narrows it down immensely. And with that kind of wealth, who would you guess was working with Basem before his death?”
“Lorian Van Horn,” Clare grumbled.
Kerrigan’s eyes rounded. “Seriously?”
“It appears Venatrix tribe is arming themselves with illegal objects. Think that should be enough to point the finger his way for Basem’s death?” Dozan asked.
“I don’t know,” Kerrigan said. “Lorian holds immense influence.”
“Which is where you come in.” He waved his hand at Clare. “You’re dismissed.”
Clare looked like she wanted to launch herself at them both. She’d been brought low, and she clearly didn’t like to be beholden to the King of the Wastes.
Dozan stood from his desk, stepping around it to lean back against the front. He crossed his arms and studied her. “I’ve been gathering the intel while you played faerie dragon rider. I have the means, and you inspire the crowds. It’s time to take it public, Kerrigan. Not to the council, but to the people. They deserve to know what’s happening and what the Society is willing to cover up.”
She shook her head. “No way. It’s too soon. It’s not enough proof, and even if I did that, I’d be out of the Society. They’d kick me out.”
“Then, your part is over,” he said easily. “You don’t have to continue on with the Society as one of their puppets. You can change the world from the outside.”
“We’ll have a better chance once I’m in.”
“And then what obstacle will they put in front of you?” Dozan demanded, slamming his hand on the desk. “Then, what will they say to keep you quiet?”
Kerrigan squared her shoulders. “I can’t do it. It isn’t safe.”
“And you think it’s safe for humans and half-Fae to wait until you’re ready?”
“It’s not enough, Dozan,” she snapped, getting heated. “It’s just not enough. Knowing that Lorian hates us and had me arrested wasn’t enough. Accusing him of orchestrating the massacre wasn’t enough. A human admitting that he worked with Basem will mean nothing to them.”
Dozan launched across to her, grasping her shoulders. “Which is why we don’t go to them. We go to the court of public opinion. Turn the tide, princess.”
She felt her magic building inside of her. The first signs of blackout hitting at the edges as the panic rose at the thought of what he was asking. She couldn’t do it. She certainly wasn’t ready. She’d never asked to be a symbol.
“I need to sit down,” she whispered. “Or I’m going to black out.”
She pulled out of his hands and sank into a seat. Her vision dipped around her. Placing her head in her hands, she rocked back and forth, counting backward from a hundred. She had to get this under control, or she wouldn’t be able to do anything.
“What’s wrong?” Dozan asked. He didn’t precisely sound concerned, but it was as close as she’d heard him since she was twelve—when he’d carried her away from a brutal beating and taken care of her. Back before he was King of the Wastes. Back before everything.
“I’m having blackouts. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to see if Amond could figure out what’s happening.”
“Your precious Helly can’t figure it out?”
“She said it’s magic sickness.”
Dozan scoffed. “You’re seventeen.”
“That’s what I said. But we don’t know enough about my magic. It seems to be triggered by stress, but I can’t exactly stay away from stress right now. So, I wanted a second opinion.”
“Fine,” Dozan said.
Her head whipped up. “What? Just like that?”
; “Did you expect me to say no?”
“I expected to bargain.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to help me take down Lorian Van Horn, yes?”
She nodded. She wanted nothing more.
“Then, you’re going to need to be well enough to do it. I’ll fetch him.”
Kerrigan gaped at him as he disappeared from his office. She’d never in a million years thought that Dozan would just allow her access to his personal healer. Not without a fight and enough sexual innuendo to cloud the room with lust.
A few moments later, Amond stepped into the room. He still wore the red vest and black shirt that marked him as one of Dozan’s men. His light-brown skin was glossy and serene, and he had sharply pointed ears and full lips. She knew that he’d given up his tribe affiliation to work for Dozan, but she never found out why he’d done it. Or where he’d learned this sort of magic.
“Hello, Kerrigan,” he said soothingly.
“Hi.”
“I heard about your dilemma. Shall we get started?”
She nodded, and he gestured for her to lie down on the divan against the far wall. As soon as she was seated, he drew a blue ball of glowing light into his hands. Her eyes widened. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to that. Healing magic didn’t work this way. It was supposed to be a bridge between the magic of the healer and the magic of the injured. It would take time and energy to fix things, but with Amond’s light, he could heal injuries that normally took hours in a matter of minutes. She had no idea how he did it.
First, he drew the glow down her body, scanning her for injuries. He frowned when he reached her center and then continued.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong,” he said thoughtfully.
“Oh,” she whispered.
“Except…”
He paused and then returned to where he’d hesitated. He pushed the glowy ball down into her gut. Just as the last time, it felt as if bugs were crawling around under her skin. It didn’t hurt, but it was unpleasant.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
“Tell me about it,” she said with a soft laugh.
“It appears you have magic sickness.”