Текст книги "In the Veins of the Drowning"

Автор книги: Kalie Cassidy

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

The day was dying. I stroked Theodore’s shoulder. “I wish you could tell me if this is the right place.” Quickly, I dismounted at the garden gate. With some force, the rusted latch gave, and I led the horses into the clearing beyond. On the large, covered porch dozed an older man. The tight coils of his white hair were stark against his black skin. A small pipe dangled in his loose grip.

I glanced back at Theodore, slumped over the horse’s back. The sight alone sent a shot of worry through me. I cleared my throat. “Excuse me.”

The man sucked in a startled breath. Sat up on the edge of his chair. “Yes?”

“Are you Hector?”

The man’s jade-colored eyes were kind, edged in a soft crosshatch of wrinkles. They narrowed on me. “I am.”

He took in my appearance. The soaked, dirty clothes. My knotted tumble of dark, wet hair. Those kind eyes turned hard when they landed on Theodore’s unconscious body.

“Who do you have there?”

“Theodore, king of Varya,” I answered, softly. “He’s sick.”

Hector’s eyes bulged. He moved quicker than I expected him to, stepping off the porch and coming to Theodore’s side with long strides. He set a knobby hand to Theodore’s wet cheek. “Let’s get you warm and dry, my boy.”

Together, we lowered him from the horse, set one arm over each of our shoulders. We started slowly toward the cottage through the mud. “And who are you?” Hector asked in a strained voice.

“I’m Imogen.” I ignored the weight of the severing draught in my pocket. I ignored the shame that made me want to admit all the things I truly was. “I’m Theodore’s wife.”

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Hector’s footing fumbled for a moment before he righted. “Wife?” He shook his head and yelled toward the open door. “Antonia!” He spoke to me. “Theo would have told us if he got married. He would have sent a letter.”

“It was a quick binding. Surprised the both of us.” We reached the porch and heaved Theodore’s impressive weight up the small step. “He told me of you two. That I could find you up the road.”

“You went to the Mage?” Hector craned around Theodore’s broad chest, bewildered eyes darting over me.

“Yes,” I said, carefully. “It was merely a prophecy we needed. The ritual brew made him ill.”

The man nodded too quickly, clearly concerned. At the door, we sidestepped over the threshold. I dripped onto the ornate rug that nearly filled the entire floor of the main room. It was finely made, at odds with the simple lines and rough-hewn woods of the house, and I wondered if Theodore had gifted it to them. The entire home, in fact, was a mix of rustic wildland wares and pieces that looked like they belonged in a palace.

The warmth of the home surrounded me like an embrace. I gripped Theodore’s solid middle more firmly. The scents of herbal tea, cut flowers, and a stew simmering over the fire all wove around me, and I blew out a long breath.

This. I wanted this. And I’d never have it.

“This way,” Hector said, guiding us toward a door on the far side of the room. “Antonia?” he called out again. “Where is she?”

A tall woman, lean and strong for her later age, pulled open the chamber door. Her lovely olive skin was dappled with sun marks. Her white hair was piled high atop her head, braided and pinned. “Turning down the bed,” she said in a thin voice. Her troubled eyes were only for Theodore, tripping down his sodden body, taking stock. “He doesn’t look good.”

Together, we got him into dry clothes and tucked into the bed. He’d mumbled and moaned as we jostled him and bent his joints. His skin was still too cold. I dragged my fingers through his hair, combing the knots from it as best I could. I wiped the black sand from his forehead and cheeks as Antonia brought tea and Hector boiled water for a bath.

“There are clothes in the wardrobe there,” Antonia said, finally looking at me. She watched where my hand lingered at Theodore’s temple. She noted my ring. “Nothing too fine, I’m afraid, but it looks like we were close in size. They should fit you nicely. Your Majesty.”

I winced at the title. “Please call me Imogen.”

She gave me a cool look. “I’ll be in later with broth for him, and stew for you.”

I had no energy to try to make her like me. I barely managed a pleasant “Thank you.”

When she closed the chamber door, whatever force had been holding me upright disintegrated. My shoulders slumped. I pulled the severing draught from my pocket and set it next to the pain tinctures on the table beside the bed. Looking at Theodore made me ache, so I made my way toward the tub.

I peeled off my wet clothes, stepped into the steaming water, and cried.

You are so much better together, Rohana had said.

Of all the words she’d spoken to me, those were the ones that played through my mind in a steady, deafening beat. There was no telling the pulse of my heart from the pulse of the bond we shared. They both echoed a similar rhythm—keep him, keep him, keep him.

Take what you want while you can, she’d said, for someday you will be like me.

I shivered despite the hot water and pressed my hands over my face. I wanted to scream, wanted to rip everything to pieces.

“Any room in there for me?”

I jumped at Theodore’s groggy voice. He had turned his head on the pillow and watched me through heavy lids.

The tangle in my chest began to unfurl. I gripped the tub’s edge and set my chin upon my knuckles. Gave him a half smile. “I think sharing baths with men has lost a bit of its appeal since the last time I tried it.”

His chuckle sounded painful, like the Mage Seer’s smoke had congealed in his chest.

“How do you feel?”

“Everything hurts,” he managed.

“Antonia left some nepenthe. I’ll get it for you.” I searched for a bath linen and found them on a stool—beyond my reach. Theodore watched me with a hint of bemusement in his tired gaze. “Close your eyes.”

A mischievous smirk tried to lift one corner of his mouth. “You’re joking,” he mumbled. “That wet shift you barged into my chamber wearing was worse than seeing you bare. I think about it all the time.”

“Do you? Then it sounds like you need no reminders. Eyes shut.” He gave a weak groan and all I could do was laugh. “You’re quite amorous for a man with such a limp and aching body.”

He fixed me with a steely gaze, all humor leaving him in a rush. “Tasting that brew again reminds me of death, Imogen.” He pushed back a burgeoning emotion. “You remind me that I am alive.”

For a moment I was lost, swarmed by longing and hope, stilled by how he looked at me. I shook my head. “Damn you, Theo.” The water whooshed as I stood in one quick motion and reached for the folded linen.

He made an aching sound deep in his chest at the sight of me, but I wrapped myself in a rush, trying to ignore the way his attention sent a torrent of heat through my middle.

“Imogen.” His voice was suddenly severe. “You’re bleeding.” I looked down at the small red bloom of blood that had soaked through the towel. “Why are you bleeding?”

I stepped out of the tub with a glower. “I had to pay the Mage Seer. Thank you for telling me in advance that she charges in flesh.”

“She was supposed to take payment from me,” he said, his brow lowering in anger. “You stopped her?”

“Yes, of course I stopped her, you dolt. You expected me to let her slither up your body and feed off you while I watched? I nearly ripped her apart for trying.”

“Fuck.” He managed to raise his hand to his face and press at his temple. “Come here.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Will you come here?” His fist hit the mattress with a dull thump. “Please.”

We stared at each other across the room, the air between us crackling.

Slowly, I crossed to the side of the bed and perched on the edge. I managed to keep my face serene, but within me sat a violent clash of feeling. I scooted closer, pressing the side of my body to his, selfish for the comfort of his touch. He draped a heavy arm over my lap and his fingers played with the corner of the towel I wore. “What happened?” he asked. “What did she say?”

I didn’t want to speak any of it aloud. I wanted to lie, to barricade what I’d learned behind my teeth, and keep us locked away from the rest of the world for a little while longer. I looked to the filthy severing draught on the table beside us and shame upended my want. “She can’t sever my bond with Eusia,” I finally said. “I have to do that myself somehow. And I need to do it quickly. Every day that passes with her connected to my power sees more Sirens hunted and killed.” I picked up the draught. “This is for us.”

He said nothing. Only stared.

“When you’re well enough…” I had to concentrate past the anxious twist of our protesting bond. “… I’ll ask Hector and Antonia if we can do the severance here. The sooner it’s done the better.” The words rang hollow in my ears.

His jaw ticced, and he swallowed hard, but his face remained impassive as ever. “Tell me the prophecy.”

I pulled in a deep breath. “There is a crown. Ripped, ripped, ripped from the head. There is a bond. Cut, cut, cut from the blood. The queen lies drained of her divinity. The king sits wrecked and ravaged beneath her wing.” I paused. And left out the final line.

What they have made will decimate the order of all things.

His brow creased, but some tension within him seemed to unspool, like he’d resigned himself to a certain fate. “I’m the king, aren’t I?”

My stomach fell. I shook my head and spoke with conviction that I did not feel. “No. Not you.” I replaced the severing draught and took up the tiny vial of nepenthe. The cork gave a hollow pop. “For the pain.” I pressed it to his lips, my fingers cradling his stubbled chin, and tipped it back. “She meant Nemea.” I relished the way he looked at me—with hungry, admiring eyes—and readied myself for that look to change. To color with disgust the way Evander’s had when he saw what I truly was. “He’s…” I set my hand in the middle of his chest and focused on the thump of his heart. “He’s my father.”

His fingers gripped my thigh. His eyes rounded, but not with the look of disgust I’d anticipated. They were wide with concern. “Bloody Gods, Imogen. Are you… how are you?”

My mouth gaped. His reaction stunned me. “Fine.”

“You’re not.” He searched me, then took my hand and tugged me forward until I lay over the top of him. My surprise made me pliable, and I melted into him as he wrapped me in his arms.

“What are you doing?” I whispered with my face tucked below his chin. “Aren’t you… Aren’t I repellent to you now—”

He gave an amused snort. “I’m sorry, Immy,” he said into my hair. The use of my name, sweetened and short, had me lifting my head in surprise. His stare was reverent, warm, steadfast. “You are far, far from repellent.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and rested back upon his chest. My relief was complete.

“Let’s decide together,” he said, softly, “that our fathers have no power over who we are and what we become.”

I managed a slow, grateful nod. The pace of his heart soothed me. Reluctantly, he finally loosened his hold, and I settled onto the mattress beside him. My head on his shoulder, a leg draped over his.

His thumb stroked my bare knee. “Did Rohana say anything else?”

A rush of bitter tension moved through me. I hadn’t the strength, nor the courage, to tell him the whole of it. To tell him that I would bring ruin. That he might abandon everything he held important because of me. His kingdom wouldn’t survive a war with the continent of Obelia, and if I tried to keep him, as Rohana said I should, it would certainly mean war. Earning Theodore’s resentment would grind me to dust.

I burrowed in closer to him, knowing I shouldn’t, but unable to stop myself. “My mother’s wing hangs on Nemea’s wall. I wonder if it’s his crown Rohana saw ripped from his head. The familial bond between us cut. I wonder if I—”

“Your mother’s wing—” Theodore’s grip on my knee tightened. “He hung Ligea’s wing on his fucking wall?” He twisted to meet my eye. “You’re thinking of going after Nemea, aren’t you? Absolutely not.”

“When our bond is severed, you’ll care far less about where I go and what kind of danger I’m in.”

His gaze sharpened. “Do you really believe that?” His voice was harsh, but his touch gentled as it coasted up my leg. He gripped my hip through the thin towel, spoke soft and close. “If you are hurt, then all Sirens continue to suffer. My people. And yours. You need to keep yourself as safe as you possibly can. Climbing back up that mountain to face Nemea in the name of revenge does not see your bond with Eusia broken. We need to do that first.”

My breath shook at the way he touched me, at the intensity of his stare. There was desperation and longing in it, like he’d been sucked under a vicious tide for too long and was now taking his first gulp of precious air.

“What do you mean we?” I asked shakily as his hand slipped beneath my towel. His fingers traced delicately over my bare hip and every thought in my head turned to shimmering vapor. He played over the curve of my backside, the dip down into my waist. The color rose on his cheeks and his movements seemed to come easier. The nepenthe was working.

“You need to rest,” I whispered.

“Not now.” He coaxed me over the top of him and guided me with strong hands, so I straddled his stomach. I kept my towel tight around my body, breaths heavy, and met his eyes. They were smudged dark, drooping, but more ardent than ever. So gently, his fingers traced the line of my thighs, then slipped beneath the towel, where they grabbed onto my hips and held me tight.

This was foolish—I knew it was—but the outside world had turned battering, and touching him blunted my hurt, it stifled my fear.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice was like embers. Heat filled his palm as it skated around my hip to the bleeding spot on my stomach. When he finished closing the wound there, his hand inched up, slowly, slowly, until it rested between my breasts. Over my ragged heart. “Your wildest dreams.”

I could hardly breathe. “I don’t know.”

“You do.” When his fingers moved to trace the underside of my breast, he let out a dark groan that set me alight. “Tell me.”

My eyes fluttered shut, back arching as he slowly dragged his hand up to hold my breast. “I want a home, where it’s quiet and lovely.” My face warmed to speak something so trite. “Where I’m safe. I want to know others like me, so I feel less alone.” My body loosened, towel slipping down around my waist, as his fingers teased the tip of my breast. Slowly, Theodore sat up and wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing our chests together.

I gasped at the sensation, at the heat and hardness. I held still as he brushed his lips over mine, just barely.

“Immy,” he groaned into my mouth, forcing a decadent thrill through my body.

Then he kissed me. It was so fervid. So laced with want and promise, I thought he was trying to undo the impossibility of my desires with it. Each swipe of his tongue felt like a declaration, I will give you all that and more. I wove my fingers through his damp hair, letting the strands snare me. I’d never felt more wonderfully divine with my body wrapped around his, eagerly taking and taking and taking his lavishment. And it was more than I deserved, considering everything Rohana had revealed.

Chaos. Ruin. Death.

Theodore’s soft lips pressed to my chin, my jaw, down to my neck, and for a moment the terror of the prophecy burned away. Frenzied, I pulled at his buttons, then peeled his shirt down his shoulders. He rolled us and pressed me back into the pillows, only to grunt in frustration when his body ached too much to let him come over the top of me as easily as he wished. “I’ll curse the Gods for this until I die. I finally have you naked in a bed and I can barely move.”

I laughed, pressed my lips to his. He was nothing if not determined. There was an urgency to the way he kissed me back, to the way he ravished every inch of me. His teeth scraped over my nipple, and then he pulled it into his mouth, banishing the pain with a swipe of his hot tongue. His large hand hooked around the back of my knee and splayed my leg wide as he kissed between my breasts.

“Where’s the severing draught?” he mumbled against my stomach. He kissed lower, lower.

I blinked, trying to think clearly enough to answer. “It’s there.” Breathless, I pointed to the table, to the little bottles on top. “The black one.”

A deep, breathy moan left him as he slid a finger inside me. My head fell back as he curled it perfectly, as he took it out and back in. He pressed a second finger inside me and said, “Throw it in the fire.”

My head flew up off the pillow. “What?” I was gasping.

He looked up at me, flushed and bewildered, fingers still making my stomach coil with pleasure. “What?”

“Wait a minute. Stop.” He did and I was struck with a pang of regret. “Why on earth would I throw it in the fire?”

He looked at me like I’d spoken a different language. “Because we’re not unbinding.”

“Why not?”

“Because if we do, you can’t keep yourself safe. Finding Eusia and unbinding yourself from her is too dangerous without our combined power.”

I fought to catch my breath and stared at him agape. “What happened to you? You would never have said that a few days ago. You would never have even thought it. You’re getting married in less than two weeks. Our bond makes us sick. How will I go searching for Eusia if we can’t be more than ten paces apart?”

His face bent with confusion. “Did you think I’d make you go alone?”

I sat all the way up, hiking the sheet over my naked body. Rohana’s words suddenly rang loud in my head once more. He would give up his throne for you. “I don’t need to explain your duty to you, do I?” I snapped. “What about the empress? Your fiancée?”

Muscles flexed as he pushed himself onto his knees. He rolled his jaw. “Seeing that my people are safe is honoring my duty. And I’ve signed none of the empress’s contracts.”

“But you’ve given your word. What damage will it cause if you go against it?” I pressed my hands against my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m trying to convince you to marry her.”

He looked overcome. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Your head is muddled from the Mage Seer’s smoke, and we’ve been too close.” Our cheeks and bodies were aflame, our hair tousled, the bedding all twisted and half on the floor. “I’m just an itch you need to scratch.”

His swollen lips twitched. “An itch.” Sarcasm coated his words. “It was you who said that I needed a Godsdamned fuck, wasn’t it? Maybe after, I’ll be able to think clearly again.”

“Theodore, that’s not what I—”

His chest flexed, and he winced as he moved to the opposite side of the bed. “None of this is ideal. None of this is how I planned it to be.” He lay down, giving me his back. “Don’t let your stubbornness kill you, Imogen.”

“My stubbornness? That’s not fair—”

Three quick knocks came at the door. I jerked the sheets all the way up to my chin and sank back into the pillows. “I have stew,” Antonia called from the other side of the door, “and broth.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as my stomach hollowed. Both of us sounded equally disgruntled when we called back in unison, “Come in.”

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By late evening, Theodore felt well enough to sit before the fire in the main room. His eyes were still shadowed underneath, his skin was still wan, but he reclined with his feet up. His head leaned against the chairback, a cup of cooling tea in his hand.

We hadn’t spoken save for a few terse words since the moment we’d had in bed.

I sat on the floor before the hearth, staring into the flames, remembering. Theodore’s touch lingered over my body, inside it. As if his kisses, his hands, were but an extension of his power, taking root despite our tumult. I adjusted my skirt and wished that I could go back, wished that I could have kept my mouth shut and let him take me with him into the oblivion we’d both wanted. The unfinished memory wouldn’t be enough to suffocate the horror of the tasks ahead.

Find and kill Eusia. Sever our bond. And find some way to make Nemea pay for every lie and cruelty. I let my gaze slide toward Theodore. He watched me with heavy lidded eyes, chest rising and falling just quickly enough to make me think he was remembering too.

Hector pushed through the front door with a large bundle of firewood in his arms. “Ahh, you’re both up!” He set the wood next to the hearth, then took in Theodore’s reclined form as he clapped the dirt from his hands. “You’ve looked better.”

“I’ve looked worse.” Theodore chuckled weakly.

Hector laughed alongside him, the sound ringing and bright. He gave me a broad smile that I couldn’t help but return. “And you—you’re looking far better than you did all soaked from the rain.” He pointed to the dress I wore. I’d pulled on a simple linen gown of Antonia’s from the wardrobe. It was studded with the smallest embroidered flowers in shades of lavender and periwinkle. “I recognize that gown. Looking as lovely as Antonia used to in it.” His gaze moved toward where she stood in the kitchen, preparing a platter of fruit, bread, and boiled eggs.

He shuffled toward her and kissed her on the cheek before pouring himself a cup of tea. “Did you hear, Theo? About the attack on Ammos?”

Theodore tensed. “What?”

“I was talking to the baker’s son traveling the road there.” Hector looked to me. “Ammos is just an hour up the coast by foot, if you don’t know. Three ships sacked it. Lit it aflame. Two were unmarked. Mercenary ships, he said, but one was Serafi.”

I gasped around the fear that lodged in my throat. Theodore sat up, spilling his tepid tea onto the ottoman.

“When?” He stood so quickly, he swayed. I jumped up to steady him.

“Two nights past,” Hector said, jade eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe that was why you went to the Mage. Getting guidance.”

He shook his head. “No. I had no idea.” Theodore looked utterly adrift, his attention darting around the room helplessly. Finally, he strode toward the front door, closed it, and barred it with the wooden beam.

“What are you doing?” Antonia asked, a nervous hand at her chest.

“It’s not safe.” He moved to the window and began securing the shutters. “They’re looking for her.”

Hector and Antonia stared at me with twin looks of astonishment. “Who is?” asked Hector. “What do they want with the queen of Varya?”

I shook my head, my stomach all the way at my feet. “I’m not the queen of Varya.” I swiped at my brow at their growing confusion. “I mean, I am, but not by choice. His choice. He didn’t choose me to be queen, per se. I just—I don’t know what I am.”

Antonia crossed her arms and glared at me. “Are you married?”

“Yes,” Theodore and I answered at the same time.

He secured the next window. “She’s a Siren. We bound ourselves when I helped her escape from King Nemea’s fort where he’d been abusing her. I’ve been skirting a war with him for years. Taking her set it into motion.”

“Oh, Theo.” Hector shook his head. “Why’d you do it? Why not plan for something like this?”

Theodore stopped, shoulders perking in offense. “I did try to plan.” I felt a punch of shame for my lack of patience, for not accepting how he’d told me to wait when we’d been on Nemea’s mountain. He looked to me then, but I saw no prickling of conscience in his gaze, no regret in it. Only a tormented certainty. “But I couldn’t leave her—” He cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious. “She’s the daughter of the Great Goddess Ligea and King Nemea. She can kill the monster that hunts the Sirens.” He looked to Hector and Antonia and said quietly, “In truth, it did not matter who she was… I couldn’t bring myself to leave her behind.”

Warmth rose to my chest, my cheeks. He would give up his throne for you. Rohana had been right. He’d already done it.

Hector and Antonia gawked at me. She bobbed into a quick curtsy, to which I only opened my mouth like a stranded fish.

Renewed determination filled Theodore. He piled a plate with fruit and bread and eggs. He gave Hector and Antonia each a kiss on the cheek. “It’s likely those ships left and took all their men with them, but sleep with your sword at the ready regardless. With your door and windows barred. We’ll leave at first light.”

Antonia held up a finger. “You’re still too sick—”

He shook his head and gave her a smile. “Your broth healed me completely.”

She swatted at him, still concerned. “I’ll pack food for your journey,” she said, reluctantly. “And Hector will see that your horses are ready in the morning.”

My heart thundered. My terror was weighty, keeping my feet stuck to the spot.

Theodore started toward our shared bedchamber, hands full of food. He stopped at the threshold and looked toward me. Everything sat in his gaze—the heat and hurt of the moment we’d shared. The fear and uncertainty of the days to come. His voice left him like a lure, like he’d used my own power against me, if such a thing were possible. “Come to bed with me?”

The request all but turned my bones to water with how weak it made me. I gave Hector and Antonia a quiet Good night and followed.

Only a few candles were lit within the chamber. The small fire in the hearth was down to coals. Theodore set the food on the small desk in the corner. I closed the door, slid the lock. When I turned to cross into the room, Theodore was before me.

His attention bore down. The news of Nemea’s ships, the residual sickness from the Mage Seer, it all morphed into barbed words and piercing eyes. “Tell me again,” he said, gruffly. “Tell me again that you want to take that severing draught. That you want to move ahead through war and uncertainty without each other. Without the ability to heal yourself, without me there to help keep you safe.”

My lips parted. I wanted no such thing. I wanted to keep him. The thought of parting from him filled me with the worst sort of anguish. But I couldn’t bring myself to ruin him further. To watch his kingdom fall simply so I could have what I wanted. I had to make my own safety. And if my life was forfeit because I tried to go it alone, at least I wouldn’t take him with me.

In my silence, Theodore pressed toward me, making my back bump against the door. “If you truly think I just need to get you out of my system, that you are merely an itch that needs scratching, then let’s. Let’s spend the night seeing ourselves satisfied and then unbind so we can move on.”

He raised his hand to my chin. He tipped it up and let his lips hover over mine. “Say it, Imogen.”

I opened my mouth, trying to get the words to form on my tongue. I knew the whole of the prophecy. Keeping one another was an utter impossibility, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

He waited, gaze locked with mine, and then he lowered his mouth until our breaths became one. “Tell me that this—what’s between us—is just our bond.”

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Finally, I shook my head. “There’s too much against us,” I whispered. “This—what’s between us—will end, and it will end terribly.”

“You can’t know that.”

I can. I do.

My eyes fell shut, chest crushing, and still, I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words I should. “Let’s get to the palace first,” I finally said. “Then we can decide.”

He let go of my jaw. Took a wide step back, so we each stood on one side of the rift that sat between us.

“We should eat,” I said, flatly. “And sleep.” He nodded, slipping behind a stern mask. “We need to get back as soon as we can.”

The next morning, the sky was a deep gray, low and thick with yesterday’s storm clouds. I fed my horse an apple as Theodore said his goodbyes. Last night, we’d eaten in silence propped up against the pillows. We’d fallen asleep almost instantly on our respective sides of the mattress. When we woke, we were so knotted together, it was as if we’d tried to climb into one another in the night.

We mounted and started down the muddy road, the air between us strained and misshapen. The horses’ hooves squelched. The sky released a light misty rain over us in fits and starts.

“Rested enough to try to ride through the night?” I called up to him.

“Yes.” His answer was cold and concise.

We made good time, and as we rode, my mind scrambled for a plan. When we finally did reach the palace, Lachlan and Agatha would make Theodore see sense. We would perform the severing ritual, free ourselves of our compromised blood bond, and then I could leave and sever the one I shared with Eusia. Only, I had no idea where to find her.

The day darkened, the sun a shocking spill of red over the horizon. The horses drank from a storm-swollen stream while Theodore and I perched on two rocks, eating the bread and cheese Antonia had packed us. “What do you know of magic?” I asked, picking at the crust. “Of the Mage Seers’ spells.”

Theodore shook his head, his dour gaze somewhere off in the distance. “Not much.”

I gave an annoyed huff. “That means you know some.”

He finally deigned to look at me, only to give a scowl.

“I’m tired of your snit,” I spat at him. “You’re mad at me. You think I’m being illogical and absurd to even suggest we unbind. I get it. Be big enough to help me come up with a fucking plan regardless.” I ripped off a bite of bread and chewed. “If I can understand how magic works, then I can possibly narrow down a way to find and end Eusia. She uses magic the way Rohana does, I expect.”

Angry color had risen high on Theodore’s cheeks, but he kept a hold on himself. “I don’t know where she would have learned it,” he relented. “It’s highly regulated. A Mage Seer is permitted one apprentice ten years before her tenure is done.” He rose and went to his mare, guiding her from the stream and back to the road.

I followed, thoughts churning. “How long is a Mage Seer’s tenure?”

“Four hundred years.” He put his foot in a stirrup and mounted. “Rohana is two hundred and seventy-eight years into her tenure.”

“So if I’d killed her, like I nearly had, Varya would have been left without a Mage Seer indefinitely.”

“Correct.”

I groaned as I pulled myself up into my saddle. “Where did Rohana learn magic?”

“None of them are old enough to have been taught by the First Mage, I don’t think. I can’t remember when she died. Spells are passed down, but Rohana and all the other kingdoms’ Mage Seers create a lot of spells that are entirely their own too.”