Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (43 page)

“Are you going to bring me down with a clever illusion?” Langley asked, and laughed. “Lovely trick, that.”

“No.” I turned my focus inward and attempted to capture what I’d felt when I played with the water.

That feeling of power and control clicked into place. A grin spread over my face, baring my teeth at the man who had taken so much from so many. “You knew. All this time, all those deaths…You knew. You’re the king’s adviser. You could have stopped all of it. And yet you continued the lies, the killings.”

“I did, and with pleasure. We do have standards to maintain.” In a lightning-quick motion he swung his sword at me. I darted back, but he caught the front of my shirt, and the tip of the blade raked across my ribs. He kept moving, ready to swing again.

No.

Langley drew a sharp breath as his muscles became rigid, halting his motion. I caught sight of Aren hurrying toward us, and I held up a hand to stop him. I could handle this. And I would.

The air grew cold, and water droplets beaded on Langley’s skin, soaking into his clothes. Not sweat, but the water from within his body, called by my magic. I directed it toward the ground, where it gathered in a hollow in front of him. The tiny puddle frosted over as the temperature dropped, a consequence of my experimentation.

Control
, I reminded myself, but found I no longer feared the effects of my magic. I would deal with them as they came.

A vein throbbed in Langley’s forehead, and his limbs trembled as he drew several sharp breaths. He tried to lunge at me again, but his skin tightened so that he could hardly move. The puddle grew.

I stepped away from his sword and walked in a circle around him. His eyes rolled to follow me, and he fought to turn his head.

You are becoming what you fear. There’s no turning back from this.

I forced the thought away and focused instead on my anger, which fueled my power.

“I don’t know whether I can give it back,” I told him, and nodded toward the puddle. “I could try. You might survive if you ride away now, get back to your doctors in the city. Leave us. A day is coming when magic will return to Darmid. Do you feel it?” He didn’t answer. I leaned closer to speak into his ear. “I have no desire to kill you, in spite of everything. But I leave it up to you.”

That was a lie. A massive, terrifying part of me wanted him to die.

“Go to hell,” he gasped.

“After you.”

“Rowan,” Aren said behind me, in a low, calm voice. “I’d be pleased to take care of this for you. One more life on my ledger is nothing.”

“Thank you, but no. I owe him this, on behalf of my people.”

Langley’s eyes still moved, absorbing the sky and the mountains, straining to take the world in.

I called the water. Pain shot through my muscles, perhaps reflecting a portion of what he felt, but I didn’t stop. Sir Dorset’s once handsome face pulled in on itself, and his lips stretched back over his teeth. His eyes sunk into his face as he pitched forward, landing with a splash in the shallow pool at his feet.

Dead.

The silence of the forest was broken only by the sound of Nox retching into the bushes. My stomach turned. I felt feverish. Numb. The strength drained from my legs, and Aren stepped in to let me lean against him.

“Sorry,” Nox said as she approached. “I didn’t expect that.” She nudged the body with her boot. “Bastard deserved it. You okay?”

I nodded. “Go find the others,” I told Aren. “We need to get out of here.”

I sank to my knees, and Nox sat beside me.

“I’ve never killed anyone on purpose before,” I said.

She rested a hand on my shoulder. “I did, once. It wasn’t like I thought it would be.”

“No?”

“No. It was easier.”

I couldn’t turn away from the body.
You did that
, my mind whispered.

He deserved it,
I replied, emotionless.

No one deserves that.

I couldn’t bring myself to shed any tears for Dorset Langley. There would be time for reflection later, for second-guessing. For guilt. At that moment all I wanted was to leave that mess behind me.

I forced myself to look away, and rested my face in my hands.

"You did what was necessary," Ulric said. Nox and I both turned, and he stumbled toward us. He crouched and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You saved us. You’re a warrior, Rowan. Be proud.” He frowned as he said it, but his words sounded sincere. “You did well.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

T
he magic
around us grew stronger as we rode through forests that lay outside the reach of Darmid’s magic hunters. Aren grew stronger with it, seeming to come back to life as we rode. He spoke quietly with his father, and laughed with his friends. I had never seen him so relaxed. His work was far from over, and there was still danger all around, but he was alive, and grateful for it.

Ulric rode Dorset Langley’s horse, returning Nox’s to her. The north end of the isthmus required us to ride up a steep incline as the cliffs reached to the water’s edge, but Florizel found us a good route, and we made the passage more quickly with her help than we ever could have without it.

I tried not to think about what I’d done. Survival was the thing now. That, and gratitude for my life and my freedom. Even that seemed dull, though, and I plodded through the days hardly speaking to anyone. They didn’t try to force me. Not even Kel, who always seemed to be up for conversation. I woke frequently from nightmares of Langley’s withered face and my countrymen’s hate-filled stares. I slept next to Aren, who woke with me and ran his fingers through my hair until I slept again, but even he couldn’t save me from this.

Still, the horror eased as time passed. While I couldn’t let go of my conflicted feelings about what I’d done, I began to adjust, to feel more like myself.

Once back in Tyrea, we left the mountains behind us and rode south and east toward Luid. I’d never noticed the ambient magic when we were in Tyrea or Belleisle before, but now I felt my body taking it in like a beggar at a king’s feast. Spring had begun to unfold in earnest, turning the forests greener seemingly by the minute. Birds flitted through the trees, calling out and fighting their tiny battles over nesting space.

On our third day in Tyrea we found a deep lake where Kel and Cassia could swim and the rest of us could wash the dirt and sweat from our bodies and our clothes. I laughed when Kel splashed me with his flukes. The world began to feel right again—at least, until we dried off and I started thinking about what lay ahead.

Cassia rode beside me later that morning, silent. I realized that it was the first time she’d approached me since the border. I’d been too distracted to notice.

“Do you hate me now?” I tried to smile at her as though it were a joke, but I knew how they felt about people using magic as a weapon.

“No. Do we hate Aren for things he’s done that we can’t condone?”

“I suppose not. But you think it was wrong of me to kill Langley.”

She tossed her wavy hair over her shoulder. “You did what you felt you had to do. You were protecting the rest of us, and he was an enemy who had hurt you before and intended to do so again. I would never say you were wrong to defend yourself, and the rest of us. I hope you don’t feel guilt over that.”

“So it’s only the magic that bothers you?”

“The magic.” She seemed deep in thought, and I left her to it.

“It’s difficult to explain to someone who didn’t grow up in our world,” she said at last. “Magic is a tool. It’s a part of us, as much as it is for you, but we only use ours on ourselves. It heals us, and allows us to change our form, but that’s all. We don’t manipulate the world around us. More importantly, we don’t use it against one another. We believe magic is a blessing, not a weapon.”

“So you think I was right to defend myself, but not to use magic to do it? He would have killed me otherwise. I had no weapon. No fighting skills.”

“I know. Rowan, I can’t tell you that I approve of what happened back there, but I never want you to doubt my friendship. We just...My people see things differently. Aren learned years ago that we have to agree to disagree on that, even as we try to open each other’s minds to different ways of thinking. We don’t try to force him to change, and he doesn’t use his power against us. Ever. No matter what.”

“I wouldn’t, either.”

She smiled. “I know. It’s awkward though, isn’t it? Disagreeing on something so vital?”

“A little.”

“We—our people, not just me and Kel personally—we fear death by magic more than anything. Call it superstition, call it self-preservation, it makes no difference. Have you heard stories about what happens when a mer dies?”

I thought back through the few stories I’d read about them. “Something about turning to sea foam?” I asked, feeling stupid for even saying it.

Her smile warmed. “That’s how it appears to land-bound folk. In reality, our physical form disappears when we die. It’s how we know our spirit has been set free. But when we die by magic...” The smile vanished. “Our bodies don’t disappear. It’s as if they’re anchored to this world by the magic. We can’t tell whether those that die that way have had their spirits released, or whether they’re trapped there in a rotting body. It’s dying with a curse on you. It’s—” She saw my horrified expression, and reached out to take my hand. “It’s not the same for your people. I wanted you to know why it’s hard for us to see things like what happened back in Darmid, why our elders are so wary of Aren. And I want you to know that you don’t need to feel guilty on our account, whatever our views are. Kel and I are more open-minded about these things than some, and we’re not going to judge you for it. Not yet, anyway.” She winked, but tension remained between us.

“That makes no sense. But thank you.”

“Thank
you
. It’s good to have you back, and I’m glad you’ve got your magic now. And everything.” She gave me a half-smile and rode ahead to speak with Kel.

Aren took her place. “Everything all right? You seem better today.”

“Pretty near. Every time I push one concern aside, another one pops up to take its place. Nothing that’s your problem.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m worried about my parents and Ashe.”

“Aah.” He thought for a moment. “Well, Nox was confident that her herbs would help him, and we told them to leave town.”

“You said that. I hope they listened. My father might not be so keen on the idea. I can’t help wondering what will happen to my aunt and uncle and the others at Stone Ridge. Maybe nothing, but I can’t know.”

He winced. “Please don’t say you’re going back to check.”

I swallowed back a lump in my throat. I wanted to go. My family at Stone Ridge—Ches and Victoria, Della and Matthew—had raised me. My parents had a warning to flee, but what of the others?

“I suppose I need to let go and accept that I don’t belong in Darmid anymore. I just wish I knew where my home is.”

Aren smiled, broad and warm. “Your home is with me.”

My heart stumbled over itself. “Sounds like a good plan. Speaking of plans...Where to now?”

“We’ll try to get to my uncle. If we can’t make it there, we try for Belleisle and regroup. My father has never been welcome there, but Albion’s not a fool. He’ll see that having Ulric back on the throne is the best thing for all of us.”

The road curved away from the foothills, through a grassy plain and into a thick forest. Branches crowded overhead, and bushes tangled beside us, forming a loose tunnel as we rode. Ulric slowed his horse and waited for the rest of us to catch up. He looked to Aren, who had a familiar, eagle-sharp look in his eyes.

“I don’t feel any people,” Aren said, “but something isn’t right.”

Ulric sat up straighter. “Severn?”

“No. I’m not sure what it is.”

“Stay on guard. Aren, Rowan, no magic if we can avoid it. It’s best no one knows who we are if we meet thieves, or even other travelers. We can’t trust anyone.”

We kept to our previous pace, though it was difficult for me not to urge my horse into a gallop. The woods could have come from a storybook, one of the dark, haunted places where witches and wolves dwelt. Branches rubbed together in the wind, creaking and groaning. Though it became darker as the afternoon wore on, no one mentioned making camp.

As we came around a bend in the road, a dark-clad form dropped from the canopy onto Ulric's horse, landing behind Ulric. The horse reared, but the man held on and produced a knife, which he held to Ulric’s throat.

“Quiet him!”

Ulric steadied the nervous horse and turned it to face us. “You don’t want to do this, friend,” he said. A bead of blood appeared at his throat. “This will not end well for you.”

“No?”

At least two dozen men materialized from the trees around us. Cassia gasped, and Nox pulled her dagger. Florizel reared, kicked out a forefoot at the man closest to her, and took off into the sky before anyone could grab her.

My magic boiled up inside me, but I held it quiet. I felt Aren’s power crackling in the air as he fought his instincts. If these people had magic in them, they would feel his if he tried to read them or control them, and I suspected there were too many for him to handle alone. He looked to Ulric, who gave his head a tiny shake. Aren frowned, but his magic quieted.

A lanky, bearded fellow in an incongruously jaunty cap stepped forward and grabbed the reins of my horse and Aren’s.

“What brings you our way?” the stranger asked. He spoke calmly, obviously not intimidated by us.

“Just passing through,” Aren said. “We have nothing of value.”

“Ah, of course not. We’ll have to check, of course.” His men began sorting through our bags. “I’ll like your friend to drop her knife, lest we have an accident with the old man.”

Nox seemed to consider her options, then growled and dropped the dagger onto the road. One of the men scooped it up and tossed it to their leader. He examined it and nodded his approval as his companions came back with Nox’s herbs, the food we’d gathered along the way, and what little else we had.

“I thank you,” the leader said. “And lest you think us common thieves, please know that you are contributing to a worthy cause.”

“Really.” Aren hardly sounded convinced.

“Oh, yes.” The man tipped his cap, twirled a finger through his beard, and drew a long sword that could only have come from one of Severn’s soldiers. He held it steady and looked down the blade, meeting Aren’s eyes as he pointed it at him.

A few of the others laughed, but their leader remained serious. “Our mission is simple,” he said.

“And what’s that?” Aren asked.

A slow grin spread across the lead thief’s face. “Death to the monarchy.”

Aren and his father exchanged another look. “An impressive mission,” Ulric said to the thief. “We wish you well.”

The thief straightened his cap and motioned for us to dismount. “Perhaps your horses wish to join our ranks, eh? Perhaps you will move on without trouble. And if not...” He shrugged and wiggled the sword again.

“Wait!” A child’s voice called out from the woods.

The thief winced. “Go home!”

A small, whitish-haired form stepped out from the bushes. “It’s okay,” she said, and the crew’s leader lowered his sword. “I know those two.”

“Patience,” I gasped. I barely recognized the girl. I’d last seen her when Aren and I had first traveled to Belleisle, back in the autumn. Then, she had been leading the other Wanderers’ children in games and organizing a play to entertain us, carefree and lively. That child had disappeared. She seemed older now, and far more serious. Her hair had been cut to her shoulders in a ragged line, and she walked with a slight limp. She came and stood beside my horse and looked from me to Aren with one blue eye. The other was gone. Only a sunken mass of scarred skin remained.

Her lip trembled, but her voice remained firm. “You guys had better come with us. I have a lot to tell you.”