The day passed without a single sound or movement from Raith’s cell. He simply lay there curled in a ball on the damp, hard floor. None of them could tell how extensive his injuries were, although Kate reasoned if he’d survived the trip from Farhold they couldn’t be life-threatening.
Raith at last stirred around the time the guards arrived with the evening meal. He remained lying down until the maids retreated, and they were alone once more. Then he slowly sat up, arms trembling from the effort.
“Raith,” Kate said, drawing his gaze to hers. “What happened?”
He shook his head, and to Kate’s dread she saw tears in his eyes. She couldn’t bear to see him like this, so . . . so broken.
“Why don’t you eat,” Dal said. “The broth is about as flavorful as soggy socks, but you’ll feel better.”
Raith didn’t seem to hear him, not at first. Then, slowly, he reached for the bowl and started eating. Kate ate too, hoping with each bite to find another message from Harue, but there was nothing but the thin, colorless soup.
When Raith finished eating, he set down the bowl, eyes still fixed on the ground before him. It occurred to Kate that he hadn’t looked at any of them, not directly, and the realization unnerved her.
“Please, Raith,” Kate said, “tell us what happened. We have a right to know.”
“I suppose you do,” he finally replied. “Even more than you realize.” He raised his gaze to her at last, and she felt something hollow expand in her chest. There was no anger in him, she could see, not even at her. There was only guilt. “You were right, Kate,” he said. “I never should’ve trusted Master Janus.”
She drew a breath, eyes widening with horror. “What did he do?”
“What did I do to enable him, you mean.” Raith shook his head. “I didn’t know he was a spy, and like the worst fool, I gave him a room in my house, giving him easy access to all the information he needed. The guard rotations, the location of the black-powder stores. He had everything right at his fingertips, even the keys to the city. I never saw it coming.” Raith broke off, choked by emotion.
“I’m sorry,” Kate said, “so very sorry.” Never in her life had she wished more to have been wrong. Despite their differences, she loved Raith like a father, a mentor, a person so admirable she could only aspire to walk in his shadow. And yet here he was, brought low, exposed to be as fallible as everyone else she had ever known. And yet somehow that made her love him more. She wished her arms were long enough to bridge the space between them.
“Don’t be, Kate.” A tired smile stretched across his bruised lips. “I should’ve listened to you. I usually do, you know, even when it seems like I don’t. But this one time, I let my feelings cloud my judgments. I will regret it for the rest of my life.”
Kate shook her head. “You’ve always let your feelings determine your judgments, and they’ve never failed you until now. Just the opposite. Without your feelings the Rising would never have happened.”
Raith refused to be consoled though. “Yes, but now it’s gone, thanks to me.”
“I don’t accept that,” Dal said, his expression stern. “It seems to me that you were tricked by a cunning and formidable opponent. Anyone would’ve been taken in.”
“Dal’s right,” Kate said, desperate to spare Raith some of his pain. “Master Janus is an old man. Magist or no, how did he manage to do so much without help?”
“I wish I knew,” Raith replied, and Kate was relieved to hear that his voice sounded closer to normal. “None of us ever saw him do anything suspicious. Not once. It was as if he could make himself invisible. I’ve never known him to possess such powers before. By the time we realized what was happening it was too late to stop it. We were overrun in just a few minutes, helpless with the sun down and all the black-powder stores destroyed. The Mage League must’ve spent months preparing all the spells they used. Their barrage was devastating.”
Dal’s knuckles were bloodless as he gripped the bars. “But how did they get so many troops near the city without being seen?”
Raith sighed in defeat. “Who would’ve reported their movements to us? A city full of traitors? No, I’m sure getting close to Farhold was relatively easy. Our guards can only see so far, and there are plenty of areas near the city where they could’ve hidden.”
Kate nodded. “And the League has been busy creating new spells as well.” She described for them the device she’d seen Edwin use to communicate with his commanders all the way in Farhold. “This was well planned, and in motion for a long time.”
Raith leaned back against the wall of his cell, knees raised to his chest, arms resting atop them. He dropped his head into his hands, overcome by grief once more. “I should’ve suspected something. Should’ve been more careful.” He coughed, the gesture a sad attempt to disguise his tears. “So many died. Most of the council are gone. Talleen was killed in the first wave, and Jiro was taken prisoner along with me. Genet and Deacon might have survived, but I can’t be sure. Francis surely perished as well—the soldiers set fire to the governor’s house, and he went in to save Anise. Neither of them came back out.”
At least they died together—or so Kate hoped, trying to draw comfort from the idea. But there was little of it to be had.
“Did any manage to flee?” Tira asked.
“A few, perhaps.” Raith sighed. “We sounded the retreat not long after the attack began, once we knew what we were up against. Genet and Deacon were overseeing it, along with most of the magists. If any did make it out, they should have protection against the drakes, but there’s no telling how long they’ll last with nowhere to go.”
Kate heard the truth in his voice. Even if they had survived, there wouldn’t be enough to mount a resistance. Her stomach twisted at the thought. With the Rising destroyed, the Inquisition would surely resume. Wilders would be hunted down one by one—their kind purged from the earth.
“I never should’ve left,” she said, the admission a self-inflicted wound to her heart.
“Perhaps that’s true, Kate,” Raith said, “but they attacked at night. Even if you’d been there you could’ve done little to help.” With that, he retreated to the back of his cell and fell silent once again, leaving the rest to their private griefs and fears, not just at what had happened but at what tomorrow would bring.
Kate woke to the sound of a storm outside, loud peals of thunder that were soon followed by rain trickling down the walls of their cell from the runoff on the ground above.
The guards and maids arrived shortly after with the morning porridge. The food no longer held any appeal for Kate, not now when so much was lost. Even if Harue could get them out of here, what then? Where would they go? What would they do? There were other countries they could flee to in an attempt to find a new life, but Kate couldn’t forget the way she had felt in Seva with her magic gone, as if a part of her had been carved out. She didn’t know if she could live like that for the rest of her life. If she could give up her sway. Even these last few weeks with the collar on had left her feeling like a mere shadow instead of flesh and bone.
“Are you not going to eat, Kate?” Dal said around a mouthful.
She shrugged and picked up her bowl, not interested in a lecture. And at least it passed the time. There was nothing worse than a long wait for something dreadful.
As she took the first bite, though, she felt something hard and heavy form inside her mouth, clanking against her teeth. Spitting it out, she heard Dal gasping across the way. She looked up to see his face turning purple.
“He’s choking!” Laurent tried in vain to reach Dal through the bars.
Next to Kate, Tira was also spitting out her porridge. Kate looked down into her bowl. A key lay there, looking as out of place as a beetle in a drinking glass. Realization was instant, and she plucked it out, rammed her finger through the bars, and started to frantically work the lock. Next to her Tira had caught on and was doing the same. Kate got through first, and she dashed to Dal’s cell, usi
ng the key once more and wrenching the door open a moment later. His face had gone from purple to puce.
“Bang him hard on the back,” Raith said, demonstrating uselessly.
Kate slammed her open palm against Dal’s back as hard as she could. Tira appeared next to her a moment later, and they took turns beating him, until finally the thing lodged in his throat shot across the cell and clanged against the bars. Another key.
“Damn that Harue,” Dal croaked, hands rubbing his throat. “She could’ve warned us.”
Tira put a hand on one hip. “Or you could try not eating like a hungry goat all the time.”
Dal made a face. “What’s the sense in sending us so many keys? One would’ve done the trick.”
“Harue likes to be thorough,” Kate said, brushing past them both to unlock Raith’s cell.
“Good thing, too, if you’d managed to swallow yours,” Tira added, as she unlocked Laurent’s cell.
Despite her earlier feelings about just giving in, Kate felt electrified now, hope pulsing through her veins. She was a survivor, and she would survive this, same as all the other hardships she’d endured. There were still wilders out there who needed help, and this was their home. She would rather die fighting than surrender and live.
“Will this work on the magestone collar?” Kate said, shoving the key into Raith’s hand. He shook his head. “We’ll have to make do without then.” It would be hard, but Tira and Dal were two of the best fighters Kate knew, and Laurent had received some training as well. Besides, they might get lucky and be able to sneak out undetected.
The corridor beyond the door was deserted when Kate went to check it, although she could hear the sounds of a disturbance far away, muffled but audible enough to set her nerves on edge. It wasn’t the storm. That had stopped abruptly sometime before. Something was wrong here.
Kate eased down the corridor toward the exit, Tira, Dal, Raith, and Laurent following just behind her. She kept her hands fisted, ready to strike at any enemy that appeared and hoping she came across some sort of weapon. Even a broomstick would do.
Ahead, the doorway creaked open, and Kate hissed between her teeth, motioning at the others to get ready. But the figure that appeared was tiny, hardly more than a child.
“Wen! What are you doing here?” Kate rushed toward the girl, panicked at the sight of her. She had no business taking such a risk, sneaking into Mirror Castle. If she’d had access to her sway, Kate would’ve ordered the girl to flee right this moment.
Wen pressed a finger to her lips. “This way.” She didn’t wait for confirmation, but spun soundlessly on her heels and headed back through the door.
Teeth gritted, Kate followed after her. She would throttle Harue for this. Once she thanked her for getting them free, that was. Wen led the way with the ease of someone familiar with the place. They took the stairway up and made a left down another corridor. The sounds of disturbance grew louder, the discordant clang of steel, the shrieks of people fighting, dying. Kate knew the symphony well.
“Wen,” Kate said. “What’s happening?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “The city is under attack.”
“What? Who’s attacking?” For a moment she pictured Genet, leading the remnants of Farhold against Norgard. It was absurd, but the object of hope so often was.
“Seva,” Wen said, not looking around this time.
Seva. Every hair on Kate’s body stood up at once. The Godking’s wilder army. They were here, at last. She couldn’t fathom it. All this time, she’d allowed herself to put other worries first, to forget about what she’d seen in the Mistfold, and the danger that would surely be coming one day, one that the Rising had never been in a position to do anything about. Damn Edwin and his prejudice. If he’d only listened . . .
“The Godking’s army arrived with the storm,” Wen continued. “They’ve already breached the city walls and will be here soon. We must hurry.”
Questions crowded into Kate’s mind, but she held them back, trusting Wen and whatever plan Harue had devised to get them out. They made their way up several more flights of stairs, at last arriving in the corridor outside the throne room.
“Through here.” Wen opened the door to the throne room itself. It was deserted, the Mirror Throne dull in the murky light, the sky ashen beyond the windows lining the edge of the vaulted ceiling. Wen raced across the chamber, heading to the far door in the opposite corner. She waited, checking for noise outside, then pushed the door open.
They continued on, and soon realized that they needn’t worry about finding cover as servants came running past on some unknown mission, and a gaggle of courtiers rounded a corner in search of a safe hiding place. No one noticed them, and the air felt charged with panic, the sounds of battle growing ever louder. Kate hoped the chaos would give them cover to escape unnoticed, while the castle guards were focused on the invaders.
Sometime later, Wen came to a stop by a window facing the west side of the bailey. Heavy drapes hung from each side of it, the navy-blue velvet tied by a silver sash. Wen undid the sashes on both sides, letting the drapes fall closed and obscuring the window behind them. Then she uttered a word beneath her breath.
“What are you—” Kate began, but broke off as a bright light flashed around the edges of the drapes, the telltale sign of a magist spell activating. When Wen pulled the drapes back once more, the window had been transformed into a doorway, a secret mage entrance.
“Wen, I owe you a puppy.” Dal patted her on the head. A rare smile scampered across the girl’s face as she motioned them through. Kate went first, hands balled into fists once more, wishing she had her sway or any kind of weapon at all.
The space between the buildings she emerged into was as deserted as the corridor before. Once all of them were through, Wen again took up the lead. There was a turn ahead, and just before they reached it, someone stepped around the corner toward them.
Kate skidded to a halt, her mouth falling open as she recognized Master Janus. He looked the same as he had in Farhold—impossibly old and spent, back bowed with age and head bald and liver-spotted. At the sight of him, Wen plucked a magestone out of her pocket and threw it at him, shouting the spell of invocation as she did so. Momentary light burst around them, but when it cleared, Janus was still standing there. Kate gaped at the sight of the magestone cupped in his hand and him unaffected by the spell’s power. Janus examined the stone, as if curious, then closed his fingers around it, turning it to dust. He shook the remnants away then stared back at them.
“Janus, please.” Raith moved in front of Wen and Kate, holding his arms out to shield them with his body. “Let us go.”
Kate watched from around Raith’s shoulder, unnerved by Janus’s eerie calm. It was true that without access to their magic, neither Raith nor Kate were much of a threat to him on that front, but there were six of them against one old man. Magic or no, he would be hard-pressed to stop them if they attacked en masse.
Janus shook his head, lips parting into a black, toothless smile. “I’m afraid letting you go is out of the question.”
Raith sighed, the sound a desperate plea. “I don’t want to hurt you. I owe you my life, but you’ve betrayed my loyalty, everything I stand for. Things you once stood for too—goodness and love, not oppression and hate. But it’s not too late to right that wrong. Just let us go.”
Janus only smiled in response, a look of madness in his eyes.
Kate balled her hands into fists, pity squeezing her chest at Raith’s desire to redeem his old mentor, even now. “It’s too late for that, Raith.” She glanced at the others. “We take him down together.”
With a grim nod, Raith stepped aside. Kate lunged at the old man first, Dal right beside her, along with Tira and Laurent just behind them. Wen, too, reached into her pocket for another magestone. But before any of them could get to him, Janus raised a hand and a fierce gust of wind shot out from it, knocking them all back. Kate stumbled and fell hard on her rump, teeth clangin
g together. Cursing, she scrambled to get up, only to feel an invisible force holding her down.
It was a sensation she’d experienced only once before, inside the Hellgate a year ago when she’d foolishly attacked Rendborne, the Nameless One. This was impossible. Janus shouldn’t have such power. Control over the air was a wilder gift—no magestone could conjure it, and no person alive possessed both.
None save for Rendborne.
The truth dawned in her mind slowly, bringing unspeakable darkness with it.
Janus approached Raith, the latter pinioned to the ground by the same invisible force that held the rest of them. Squatting down next to him, Janus shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Consider it a mercy that the real Janus didn’t live long enough to see you beg like this. He surely didn’t beg. Not even when I peeled the skin off his face.”
Raith stared up at the man, mouth falling open and brow furrowed. “Who are you?”
In answer, Janus raised his hands to his neck and slowly began to pull away the skin on his face. No, a mask, one hiding his real face beneath—Rendborne. He looked unchanged from the last time Kate had seen him, his golden eyes ablaze and his features refined and handsome—the regal features of House Tormane, to which he once belonged.
“You,” Raith said in a faint whisper, the quiet, trembling sound belying his horror.
“Me.” Rendborne stepped even closer to him, the mask wriggling in his hand. A wrench went through Kate’s stomach as she realized the mask wasn’t some illusion like that wrought by the magestones Harue fashioned for them; it was made from actual skin, the underside of it veined with red striations.
Struggling, Kate tried to throw off the magic holding her. She had to get free, to escape. The sound of footsteps echoed nearby, and Rendborne glanced over his shoulder as a squad of soldiers rounded the corner toward them. All wore the red and gold of Seva, the Godking’s bull emblazoned across their breastplates.
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