Page 55 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Taking a deep breath, I push to my feet, blessedly pain free. Looking around the chamber, I search—for what, I’m not quite sure. A hand circles my wrist and I spin to see Vaeril has followed me, his limbs shaking more violently now.

“What are you doing?” Confusion, frustration, and anger line his words, but I ignore him. The Great Mother wouldn’t have come to me if it wasn’t possible, right?

“We need to escape.”

He laughs, waiting as if I’m going to deliver a punch line to my joke, but his face drops when he realises I’m being serious. Anger takes over and he grabs my other wrist and shakes me slightly.

“How are we going to do that? I have these, remember?” Roughly releasing my wrists, he shoves the stone cuffs into my face. I know the disgust in his voice is not aimed at me but at the cuffs, yet the words still sting.

Instinctively, I reach up to grab his wrist to stop him from hitting me, and a shock wave runs through me the moment my fingers graze the stone. My mark starts to glow again, flaring so brightly I have to close my eyes. I want to let go, but I can’t, a wave of power rolling through my body.

“What are you doing?” Vaeril asks in awe as he watches. Opening my eyes, I see his cuff glowing, more so than the usual gentle light they usually give off. A draining feeling comes over me, and as I watch the light in his cuff simply disappears.

Falling back, I stumble to keep my footing before sinking down onto the ground, my body weak and shaky all of a sudden. My brain takes a moment to catch up and I stare dumbly at the now magic-less cuff.

“How did you do that?” Vaeril questions, suddenly in my face as his expression turns to distrust. “You have magic?”

“No! Why does everyone keep asking me that? I can sense and amplify magic, it was a gift from the Mother,” I explain, exhausted. The cuff is still attached to his wrist, but the symbol is gone, leaving behind a simple stone band.

“Can you do it again?” he demands, holding out his other arm, the urgency in his voice scaring me. Holding my hands up in front of me, as if I can fend him off, I shake my head weakly.

“I don’t even know what I did the first time!” I protest, and he seems to pause, his eyes taking in my exhausted expression and my slumped position on the ground.

“You don’t just sense and amplify, you can break spells too,” he explains, but I don’t understand what he’s saying. Break a spell? Like, unwrite it? “I can feel it, the pull to work haslessened, and I can already feel some of my strength and power coming back.”

We both look down at his now plain stone cuff. The implication of what he’s saying suddenly hits me. I can free him. He could help me escape—Icould be free. But can I release my enemy? Is he really still my enemy, though, after everything that’s happened today? I can’t think, my thoughts are too tangled.

“I—”

He cuts me off, placing both hands on my shoulders, and he leans in to press a kiss against my forehead, whispering something against my skin. That strange pull between us flares to life and I know I can’t just let him die, even if freeing him would condemn me in the eyes of my people. I’m not even sure if I have the strength to break the spell on the second cuff right now.

I wish I could ask Grayson about this.

Grayson. Can I really leave without saying anything to him? Can I run away without saying anything to any of them?

They would understand. If it’s your life on the line, then they will understand that you did what you had to.I repeat those words over and over in my head. Who am I kidding, I can’t leave until I know my friends are okay. It was a massacre in that courtyard, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t check? That tingle I'm starting to associate with the Great Mother runs through me, and I know that whatever I’m doing, it’s what she wants me to do.

Staring at the elf, I go through my plan in my head. He’s still kneeling in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, waiting for my answer.

“Okay, I’ll help you.”

“You can get us out of here.” His voice is full of awe, a smile gracing his face, and I realise how beautiful he is when he smiles.“Alina,” he whispers, the word sounding beautiful with his lilting accent, and I feel something settle over me. “In my culture, that means ‘my salvation.’ The name is fitting, for that’s exactly what you will be.”

I feel overwhelmed. I’ve gone from having no name to having more than I can count. The pressure of what he’s implying threatens to break me, but I can’t let it. Taking a deep breath, I lean back a little, needing some space.

“I will help you, but we can’t leave. Not yet.” His face darkens and his hands drop from me as I continue, “There’s something I need to deal with first, and I’m going to need your help.” I hope he can feel how earnest I am, feel the truth in my words. “Do you trust me?”

There’s a long pause and I can’t tell what he’s thinking, his expression a blank mask. Trust is not something either of us do easily, so I know what I’m asking of him. When he leans forward again, it’s with an expression of steely determination.

“What do you need me to do?”

This is only just the beginning.

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