Page 69 of The Faceless Mage

Except… He could not leave her like this. Even if his heart had allowed it, he would not have been able to disappear. He owed a debt. Everything within him rebelled at the idea—it was just another form of chains—but that did not change what he must do.

She would probably never understand what she had done. What a gift she had given. Even if he could fully explain… he never would. No one else should ever be forced to face the horror of that prison.

Knowing full well what he owed her, he knelt beside the woman who’d freed him and reached out with his magic. But it did not obey. It lay within him, a raging furnace of power that he could neither touch nor command.

He tried again, and met with failure. And again, as if beating himself against a door that would not open.

Fury swept through him as he acknowledged that it must be the bracers. The last remaining piece of Melger’s insidious spell, the workings on them must be what contained his magic. The mask had chained his will, but the bracers chained his power.

So he was now doubly bound once more. Even if he’d been willing to abandon his debt and his concern, he could not leave the woman yet. Whether or not she awakened healthy and whole, he was tied to her as surely as he’d been tied to the king, and the knowledge flayed him like a knife.

He didn’t want to need her, but he did. Desperately. He needed her magic if he was ever to truly be free. Whatever she asked or demanded, he would do. He would even beg if he had to—offer her anything she desired if she would agree to finish what she’d begun.

That is, if she didn’t faint in terror the moment she laid eyes on him. King’s Raven. Specter of terror. Harbinger of death.

But no. He need not be those things ever again. Raven was not his name, and he vowed to erase it from his memory as he bent and carefully cradled the unconscious form of his savior.

He would stay with her. Aid her, if she would allow it. And perhaps, if she was not too afraid, there might be some way he could convince her to free him from the bracers.

There must be a way. There had to be. For the first time in ten years, he dared allow himself the luxury of hope that he would someday be free to return to his own land and see the ones he loved once more. He finally had a reason to fight, and he would let nothing stand between him and his home.

Chapter 21

It was the fire that drew her back to consciousness—the fire, and the illusion it presented of warmth and safety.

Leisa searched for her last memory and found pain. Panic. The certainty of death.

Eyes. Eyes that glowed beneath the shadows of a hood.

Hands. Lifting her, carrying her, brushing the hair from her face, and holding a cup to her lips.

A voice that soothed in deep, quiet tones.

Was she home? How long had she been unconscious?

She sat up. Or at least she tried, but her muscles weren’t ready yet, so she ended up merely falling back to the ground with a groan.

The ground was hard, and there was a rock under her right shoulder, so that pretty much ruled out her being home. Not to mention that the ceiling over her appeared to be nothing but trees and stars and cool night air.

Leisa turned her head and looked across the campfire.

A familiar hooded figure sat there, arms draped over his knees, looking utterly relaxed. Which seemed wrong, somehow.

It was the Raven. And yet… not the Raven. Something was different, even beyond the obvious.

What had happened in those last few moments before everything went dark? She’d tried to use her magic in a way she’d never attempted before. The effort had drained her completely, so obviously, she must have donesomething, but her memories were too hazy to know whether it had worked. She might not have accomplished anything beyond angering her captor.

For all she knew, he could have dragged her hundreds of miles back towards Garimore by now.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking around into dark woods not much different than the ones she last remembered running through.

“Eddris.”

Her eyes jerked to the figure across the fire. That voice hadnotbeen in her mind. It was the voice from her memories. Quiet and deep and a bit hoarse, but not threatening.

“What did I do?” she whispered, almost to herself, but the other voice answered anyway.

“The impossible.”

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