Page 50 of The Faceless Mage

Is not the ultimate freedom the ability to choose death?

When she lifted her eyes to gaze into those empty slits in his mask, her lashes were wet.

“You were right,” she said softly. “I know nothing of cages. You’ve been trapped in an existence so terrible it makes you long for death, and even that is denied you.” She bowed her head. Blotted her face with her sleeve and looked back up.

“But, you’re also wrong.” She might weep, but she still did not bend. “The ultimate freedom is to choose between hope and despair. As long as you feel you have no option but despair, you will always be a prisoner.”

Do not speak to me of despair. He lashed out across their link.Not while you have the ability to fight and choose not to. Not while you surrender yourself willingly to an alliance with murderers and thieves.

“You think I want this?” she snapped, her rage suddenly matching his own. “You think I would tie myself to that half-witted clothes-horse if His… If King Soren hadn’t asked it of me? If it weren’t vital to the safety of my kingdom?”

He sensed her leashing her anger again, corralling it and forcing it back behind the bonds of civility and deportment.

As if she’d finally accepted what he’d been trying to tell her all along—he could still be forced to report her every word to his king.

Do what you must, Princess. But if you choose to cross His Majesty, know that I will have no choice. If he orders it, I will be your death, and I will feel nothing when my blade separates your head from your shoulders.

The princess looked up into his mask and smiled.As if he hadn’t just threatened her life.

“Yes. I will do what I must. As will you. But don’t think to tell me who I am allowed to defend, let alone how. I choose who I will care about, just as I choose which battles are mine to fight.”

She tweaked death’s whiskers with a smile, and it hurt him. It hurt as nothing had hurt him in years, because she was brave and beautiful and ridiculous, and he was going to have to kill her someday.

He’d intended to intimidate her. To convince her that she should treat him as an enemy. Instead, she’d somehow decided he required a defender.

“And perhaps you’re right,” she continued. “Perhaps I am free to choose whether or not to wear the chains of this marriage. But perhaps you are wrong as well. Perhaps you are more free to choose than you admit. Because whether I have magic or not, I am familiar enough with its limitations to know that it cannot change your emotions. Love and hate are beyond its scope. So you might tell yourself that you feel nothing, but that, in itself, is a choice. A choice to bury what you feel—to embrace despair instead of hope. You can preach to me about choices if it makes you feel better, but you’ve chosen to stop fighting even for the right to your own feelings.”

His fury blasted across their link and battered the walls of her mind. But she didn’t back down. She’d done a bit more than tweak his whiskers this time—she’d kicked him in the teeth and all but dared him to kick her back.

Because she still didn’t understand. He couldn’t feel. He didn’t dare. Not with King Melger’s compulsion in place. Even what he’d done tonight was too much, because this link…

Abruptly, she seemed to realize she’d gone too far.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, lifting her chin and directing her gaze at the featureless expanse of his mask. “I should not be so quick to judge when I truly know nothing about your suffering. Nor should I have started an argument with someone who has no way to fight back. It was thoughtless of me, and I apologize.”

His fury died as though it had been cut off by a knife. How did she disarm him so easily? And what kind of princess apologized when she had done nothing wrong?

He had no idea what to say, so he retreated.

And so did she.

“I’m tired,” she said stiffly, dropping the gem as if she couldn’t bear to touch it any longer. “I think I’d best retire now. Good night.”

He didn’t answer. By the time the final word was out of her mouth, he was out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Alone in the hall, but not in his head.

There, he was never alone, and he had begun to feel the stirring of suspicion.

King Melger’s attention had been drawn to their link. And across the distance between them, the king had suddenly begun to wonder—what could have caused such an excess of emotion from his cold, passionless assassin?

Chapter 15

Leisa returned to her own room and shut the door before falling back against the wall, closing her eyes, and taking a deep, shuddering breath.

What in all Abreia had she done?

She’d just spoken to the Raven. To the immovable mage assassin who held her very life in his hands.

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