Shadow & Flame

by Mindee Arnett

  “Your highness,” she said, bowing.

  Corwin inclined his head. “You drugged the brandy?”

  “Yes,” Bonner said, matter-of-fact. It was eerie to see him talk, the way his expression didn’t change, no hint of humor or happiness or any of the emotions Corwin used to associate with the man. Even after his father had been brutally murdered by Rendborne, he hadn’t been quite this . . . hard. “It’s not a terribly powerful sleeping agent, but it’s a reliable one. We were prepared to revive you if you drank it as well. Nadira is a healer, of sorts.”

  “How did you even get up here?” Corwin glanced between the two of them. “I thought all the wilders were under Gavril’s control.” The man had bragged of such to Corwin several times.

  “Not anymore,” Bonner said, and Corwin noted the way his fingers curled into fists. “We found a way to break his hold a few weeks ago, not long before you were discovered.”

  Corwin breathed in, hope filling him at this news. Here was the escape he needed. “That’s wonderful.”

  Bonner grimaced. “Don’t get too excited. We’ve pretended to remain under his control as we’ve been working to free all the wilders we can, but it’s slow and dangerous. I don’t think we’ll have enough turned to change the outcome of the invasion. Not on the Godking’s timetable.”

  “How many do you have? How many do you need?”

  “Only a handful, and we’d need half to even consider it.”

  The woman beside Bonner added, “Maybe even more than half, your highness.”

  Corwin couldn’t help but scoff. “Why so many? I saw you fight those daydrakes. With such power surely we can count you as more than double.”

  “You don’t understand, Corwin.” Bonner pursued his lips. “All of us have enhanced powers. It’s this nenath Gavril forces us to drink. It makes our magic stronger than ever before.”

  At the mention of nenath, Corwin felt the blood drain from his face.

  Bonner didn’t seem to notice as he went on. “But those of us who are free will be able to escape once we reach Rime. Then once we’re strong enough, we retaliate.”

  Corwin’s hope returned, albeit in a smaller measure. Right now, all he needed was a chance—and breaking free of Gavril’s control was the first step. “Even late is better than never. But for now, if you can break Gavril’s hold on me, that will be enough.” Once free, he might be able to escape. If he could get to Rime before the invasion, he could warn them, and maybe that would be sufficient to turn the tide. At the very least, he could escape this marriage before Gavril forced his hand.

  “We can break it.” A grim smile appeared on Bonner’s face, and the sight of it made Corwin shiver. He’d never seen anything colder or more frightening.

  “All you have to do to get free,” Bonner said, “is die.”

  13

  Kate

  KATE HAD NEVER BEFORE BEEN inside the dungeon of Mirror Castle. The closest she had ever come was the barred door at its entrance. When her father had been arrested for attempting to assassinate King Orwin, she’d pounded on this door, begging and pleading to be allowed to see him. She’d been denied—first by the guard captain, and then by Corwin.

  The inside of it was worse than she could have imagined back then, and she didn’t want to think of her father inside such a place. Dark and damp, the thick stone walls seemed to veer inward, making every inch of it feel cramped and ominous, like a mouth closing around you, swallowing you whole. Kate found it hard to believe such a place could exist beneath a structure as grand and beautiful as Mirror Castle. It was like biting into a ripe red apple to discover the inside rotted and worm-ridden. Even the Hellgate hadn’t been like this. That place had been large and open and heated by the ever-present exhale of the Hellgate itself, the vast, fathomless hole in the middle of it. Here, the chill seeped into her bones.

  The prisoners had been placed in individual cells, tall enough to stand in but barely long enough to lie down. Tira was in the cell next to her while Signe, Dal, and Laurent were opposite them. At least the hallway was narrow enough that they could talk easily.

  And they had plenty to talk about.

  “What happened?” Kate asked Signe, focusing all her attention on her, anything to keep her mind off what was happening in Farhold this very minute.

  She shook her head, lips pressed together.

  The gesture pricked Kate’s anger, giving her tumultuous feelings an avenue to vent. “Where did they find you? How did they find you? You were wearing your disguise, right?” Signe hadn’t been wearing the magestone earring when they brought her to the Horned Crow, but given that Kate’s had been removed after she’d been captured, that didn’t mean anything.

  Again, Signe shook her head.

  Kate smacked the bars of the cell with the heels of her hands. “Damn it, Sig. You can’t use the excuse of Seerah this time. We’re all involved now.”

  Signe’s stare pierced her, sharp enough to cut, her mouth a razor-thin line. Kate braced for another denial, or worse, one of her tall tales, but then Dal reached through the bars toward Signe and touched her hand.

  “Were you looking for your mother?” He spoke so softly Kate barely heard him.

  Signe turned to look at him through the bars separating them, her gaze sharper than ever. Then, abruptly, it softened, and she nodded. “I knew she was here the moment I saw the doll. That she’d found me at last.”

  “How?” Dal gently prodded.

  Kate pressed her lips together, afraid he would scare her away with his questions, like startling a skittish cat.

  Signe exhaled, her gaze sliding off Dal and onto the stone floor. “She left her mark on it, a signature she knew I would recognize.” Her expression turned wry, dark and cynical. “Her message was clear. Either I come to Norgard, to her, or she would kill Dal.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kate said, wounded by the deception. How can you not trust me, after all we’ve been through?

  Signe raised her gaze, meeting Kate’s without flinching. “Because you never would’ve let me go. Not if you knew.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” Signe shook her head. “There’s no reasoning with you these days. Ever since the Mistfold. When it comes to the welfare of someone you love you believe you know best and that’s the end of it. You think keeping us safe justifies any actions you choose, no matter how wrong.”

  Kate opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, Signe’s words cutting to the quick. Was she really that way? Signe made her sound like a tyrant, a ruthless dictator. And maybe it was true—she was willing to do whatever it took to protect her loved ones—but was that really so bad? Unbidden, the face of Jonathan Bailey rose in her mind, the way he had looked in those few seconds before she’d executed him, the fear rising off him like heat from a fever. She’d pulled the trigger with no hesitation. It had been easy.

  I did it to save them, to save us all.

  But it hardly seemed to matter now.

  Scooting back the scant few feet to the rear of the cell, Kate folded one arm around her waist, the other resting on her shoulder where the hidden tattoos seemed to burn beneath her fingers. How many more would she have to add if Farhold fell?

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” Signe said with a loud sigh. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but things with my mother aren’t . . . easy.”

  Kate cocked her head. “You mean like things weren’t easy with my father?”

  Signe had the grace to flinch, even as she nodded. “And you’re not wrong about the Seerah either, so I will tell you what I may.” She straightened up, as if braced for battle. “My mother is Synnove Leth, the Arch Mother of the Wrensfell Furen Mag. Only the queen of Wrensfell holds more power in our island. As her only daughter, there was no question that I would follow in her footsteps.”

  This revelation shocked Kate to her core. Signe had always seemed too free of spirit and independent to have been born into such a rigid lifestyle where her very desti
ny had been determined at birth.

  “The moment I was old enough, I became an initiate,” Signe continued. “The idea of me ever being anything but one of the Furen Mag was unthinkable. That was, until I betrayed our greatest secret.” She swallowed, the tendons in her throat flexing like some unwilling instrument.

  “Black powder,” Kate said, and Signe tilted her chin in acknowledgment. It wasn’t a surprise. Kate, and anyone else familiar with both the Furen Mag and Signe, knew what their most valuable knowledge must be. “But what did you do?”

  Signe shook her head, gaze dropping to the floor again. “It’s too shameful to tell.”

  Dal reached through the bars to touch her once more. “You don’t have to. Not until you’re ready.”

  Kate’s frustration slid away from her at the sight of her friend’s misery. Whatever this secret, it was a heavy weight upon her shoulders. Besides, Kate didn’t have much room to talk. In the search for the truth about her father, she’d done several questionable things. And in her heart she knew her anger was nothing more than fear over what was happening in Farhold.

  “Dal’s right, Sig,” Kate said at last. “Whatever you might’ve done . . . it doesn’t matter to us.”

  Signe started to reply but broke off at the sound of a door opening. They all turned to look at the small room adjacent to the cells, one fitted with shackles on the walls next to instruments of torture. Two guards appeared, followed by King Edwin; Grand Master Storr, head of the Mage League; and a woman wearing the black cape of one of the Furen Mag. Kate understood immediately how Dal had known she was Signe’s mother. They were alike enough to be versions of the same person, one old and one young.

  Kate recognized Synnove from Signe’s thoughts as well, but just barely. It seemed Signe’s feelings for her mother had clouded the truth of her appearance, recognizing only the differences between them and none of the similarities.

  Beneath the cape, the Arch Mother wore all black, except for the crimson sash at her waist. Reedy muscles lined her arms, bare in a fitted sleeveless jerkin, and her white-blond hair was pulled back from her face in an elaborate braid that allowed not a single strand to escape. The four red jewels around her lips, one on each corner above and below, winked dully in the torchlight.

  “Bring the Eshian out,” Edwin said to one of the soldiers, who came forward, key in hand. He undid the lock to Signe’s door and motioned her out into the hallway. She went without protest, her shackled wrists held in front of her. They hadn’t bothered shackling her feet, likely because of her limp.

  “Hello again, Miss Signe,” Edwin said, patronizingly cheerful. “How glad I am to see you, and even more to place you in your mother’s care.” He faced Synnove. “That is, once the Arch Mother has fulfilled her end of the bargain.”

  Signe’s mother fixed a cold stare on the king, her back as rigid as a spear. Whatever relationship there was between the two, it wasn’t an easy one. Synnove turned her gaze onto Signe, her expression unchanging. “Signe Malina Leth, daughter of my body, I command you to tell me the secret to your black powder, the one that makes the revolvers possible.”

  Kate felt a wild urge to laugh. This woman must not be Signe’s mother after all, not if she thought she could get an answer so easily. Then the meaning of Synnove’s words struck her. It wasn’t just that Signe possessed the knowledge of black powder. It was that she had concocted her own version of it, one so special it seemed even the Furen Mag weren’t able to recognize it. How was that possible?

  Then to Kate’s shock, Signe bowed her head. “The secret . . . is kaiolah,” she said.

  The Arch Mother’s gaze sharpened, and she went utterly still, not even drawing a breath.

  “What is this kaiolah?” Grand Master Storr said, stepping toward the woman. It was the first time Kate had seen the head of the Mage League in more than a year, and his ragged appearance surprised her, as if he’d aged ten years in that time. His skin seemed to hang from his face, revealing the prominent shape of his skull and nose. In stark contrast, though, his eyes seemed to blaze as if lit by some fire from within, his expression eager for the knowledge.

  The Arch Mother didn’t look at the man, but kept her gaze fixed on her daughter, as if Signe were a snake—venomous and ready to strike at any moment. Only to Kate’s eyes, she’d never seen Signe look so subdued. Not even after Rendborne had tortured her, leaving her face scarred and the bones in her foot shattered.

  “Your Eminence,” Edwin said, “what does she mean?”

  Synnove shook her head. “Apologies, your majesty, but I can’t explain it. There are no words that a garro would understand, and even if I had them, the laws of Seerah would forbid speaking of it. But it’s no matter—what she is saying is not the truth behind the black powder, I’m certain.”

  Edwin’s brows drew together in a scowl. “That is a shame. But I’m afraid until you are certain, your daughter must remain here under my protection.” He motioned to the guard, who stepped toward Signe.

  “Wait.” Synnove raised her hand, and at once the guard fell still, obeying the command without hesitation. Synnove inclined her head toward Edwin. “If you give me time alone with my daughter, I’m sure to learn the truth, and I will share it with you the moment after.”

  Edwin ran his hand over his chin, stroking the fine wisps of blond hair there, not quite enough to be called a beard. He glanced just once at Storr, who nodded. “Very well. I will have a chair brought in for you.”

  “Not here, your majesty. There is room for her at the Hellgate, and I shall speak with her there.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Edwin scrunched up his nose.

  Synnove glowered at him, nostrils flaring as if affronted. “She was raised to be Furen Mag and knows well the arts of deception. Questioning her will take time.”

  Again, Edwin glanced at Storr, who nodded a second time. Ever his lap dog, Kate thought, watching the exchange.

  “I suppose now that Farhold has fallen, the need for the black powder is less urgent,” Edwin said. “Very well. Take her to the Hellgate then, and do what you must.”

  Synnove bowed, and a few moments later, she left with Signe trailing behind her, escorted by the soldiers. The Grand Master came after them.

  When Edwin made to follow, Kate called out, “I know the truth, Edwin.” He stopped but didn’t turn around, not until she added, “about the uror sign.”

  Slowly Edwin pivoted toward her. “I would be careful about telling lies, Kate. By law you cannot be executed until after you have been given a fair trial, but further acts of treason will do you no favors.”

  “It’s not a lie. I saw the imposter steed you’ve been parading about on. But tell me, where is the real uror sign?”

  Edwin’s teeth clicked together as he shut his mouth, a flush rising up his neck. Then his jaw relaxed. “I know what you’re hoping, my dear Kate, but it’s foolishness. Corwin is dead, and never coming back.” He smiled, his manner smug once again. “Don’t worry. You’ll soon be joining him.”

  Kate watched him go, a chill inching down her spine. Edwin was deceiving everyone with the fake uror horse, and yet just now he’d seemed so certain about Corwin’s fate, cocksure and arrogant. Could there be some other reason he was so convinced Corwin was dead? Desperately, she longed for her sway, for some way to learn what he knew. But it was no use with the collar around her neck.

  “What will they do to her?” Dal said, once they were alone again.

  Kate’s mind leaped to this new worry. “I don’t know.” She wished that Signe had shared more of her life with them before now. As it was, she had no idea what to expect. Hardly anything was known about the Furen Mag, other than their fierce reputation for secrecy. They might execute Signe the moment they learned the truth, or they might simply ship her back to the Esh Islands to spend the rest of her life in chains.

  “Surely nothing too awful,” Tira said. “That’s her mother.”

  Dal shook his head. “That doesn’t count
for anything.”

  He would know, Kate thought, remembering his family’s sordid history. His father hadn’t wept or cared at all when Dal’s brother was killed by daydrakes. And Kate’s own mother had been equally as cold, abandoning her for a life of comfort and ease. Love was not a universal parental trait.

  “Well, at least Harue and Wen are still out there,” Tira said. “Between Harue’s knowledge and Wen’s cleverness, maybe they’ll conjure some way to get us out of here.”

  “Maybe,” Kate said with no real conviction. The truth was, without Signe, everything felt hopeless. She’d been Kate’s rock to stand on for so long that it now seemed as if the ground had given way beneath her feet and she was in free fall. There’s no reasoning with you these days, she heard Signe saying once again. Ever since the Mistfold.

  “Do you think it’s true?” Dal said. “About Farhold.”

  “There’s no telling,” Tira replied. “But I have a feeling we’re going to find out sooner rather than later.”

  Tira was right—except for the part about it being soon. More than three weeks went by with no word from the outside. They saw hardly anyone except each other and the guards who came in to check on them, escorting the poor maids sent to bring them their food and change out the chamber pots.

  Kate lost track of herself in all that time, retreating into her mind to escape the torture of idleness. The worries cycled over and over in her thoughts. Where was Signe now? What happened at Farhold? Who was still alive and who dead? What about Corwin and the uror and Edwin and Rendborne and every other thing wrong with this world?

  The others seemed to do the same, talking little at first. But slowly, boredom started to overtake them, the worries growing dull like an overused knife blade. They began passing the time with stories and songs, anything to keep themselves engaged and feeling like human beings instead of rats trapped in a cage.

  Then finally, something strange happened one morning when they broke their fast. The servants came in twice a day to feed them—porridge in the morning and broth at night. With the light unchanging in the dungeon, Kate had used the meals to count the days and to let her body know when to sleep and when to rise. This morning, she dug into the porridge with something close to enthusiasm, the act of eating making her feel alive for however briefly it lasted.