Page 84 of Court of Treachery

“I can even ask her to takeyourlife. Oh, I am so tempted,” Saradon murmured to Aedon.

With an unspoken order, Harper moved to Aedon. Her hand found his, pulling him to his feet. She tried to warn him, her eyes widening even more, that she did not act of her own volition. Only the tears streaming down her face were hers to control. She saw the moment Aedon realised—when the cold steel touched his blackened and bruised bare chest. Aedon’s green eyes flickered to it before returning to hers, capturing her attention. They had never looked more serious. The light and sparkle of his laughing gaze was gone. Now his eyes were the colour of the brooding winter forest. Hard and cold. Not toward her, she realised, but toward the fate that might be his at her hands.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said in a voice so quiet that she thought she imagined it.

“I cannot defy him,” she breathed back. Not in any meaningful way. With all her might, she uncurled her fingers, one by one, from the dagger. It clanged to the floor between them.

Saradon barked with laughter at her defiance, then yanked her leash tighter, forcing her to stoop and pick it up. This time, he made her press the point into Aedon’s chest.

I’m sorry, she tried to tell him as the tip nicked his skin, but her mouth was not her own, and not a sound emerged except a whispered breath. He grimaced and pain flashed through his eyes before he masked it, gazing at her calmly and reassuringly. He flinched as she pressed harder. Yet Aedon did not push her away, did not blast her with his magic. Her heart hurt so much she would have screamed if her mouth were hers to command.He will not defend himself no matter what I do?

The dagger carved into his chest in a slow, lazy circle. Aedon’s jaw clenched. He shook with the effort of keeping in the pain, not letting it show to Saradon, who watched keenly, nor Dimitri, who lurked behind them all, yet could not stop watching, pacing like a caged beast. “I forgive you,” he forced out between flinching. “I know it is not you who acts.”

I’m sorry, she managed to mouth. His words did not alleviate her guilt. This was all her fault. If she had been less foolish…

“You are not bound to him as fully as you think you are,” Aedon hissed, breaking into her mind. “Your blood binds you to him, it is true, and you gave your word, of a sort, but in that ambiguity you can find escape.”

“What do you mean?” she dared to ask, even as her hand pulled back the dagger to start a new line, a wave across his chest.

He grimaced in pain. “Your magic is yours, and no one can ever truly control that but you, Harper. Think on it. You harness that which the world gives you. It does not come from within you, and thus, no one can shackle that.”

Gratitude welled within her at his solid friendship, his faith in her, though she wondered at his words. Was there a part of her that was free from Saradon? She had managed to throw off his control before, if only fleetingly. Could she escape his thrall completely somehow?

Before her, Aedon sagged in pain, but Saradon’s magic held him aloft. Horrified, Harper realised what she had done. She stepped back, even before she realised she could move, and her hand, which had clutched the dagger tightly, loosened on the handle, almost throwing it away before she halted herself.

Saradon momentarily lapsed in his control of her as he admired her handiwork. She had carved his own mark, the Riven Circle, upon Aedon’s once beautiful, bare chest. With a rush of grief and anger, her magic rushed up within her, raging to burst forth. In a chink of clarity, she touched Dimitri’s mind, and he opened his walls to let her in. She communicated her thoughts in an instant. Dimitri rushed into her mind then, protectively encasing it in his own adamant wall against Saradon’s control. It would not last long, but she hoped it would be enough.

“Go!” she screamed into Aedon’s mind with every fibre of her being. Aedon’s eyes widened—but he acted at once. He blazed with magic, despite his broken body and tired heart, the dragonfire still slumbering deep within him.

Harper launched the dagger at Saradon. Caught entirely by surprise, he did not have time to move before it buried itself in his side. Yet, Saradon was far more powerful than all of them combined. As Aedon ran to the doors, blazing fire at any goblins in his way, Saradon pulled the dagger from his flesh, like a knifefrom butter. He would heal himself in a moment, Harper knew, but she hoped it would be distraction enough.

Valxiron’s darkness grew as Saradon channelled his master’s power to him. The true brunt of it took Harper’s breath away. She was lighter and more inconsequential than a feather, pummelled by a storm of storms as he turned on her, rage visible in every line upon his snarling face. The hall doors slammed open—but this was not Saradon’s doing. Aedon bolted for them immediately. Harper’s heart stumbled and fear flooded her veins as a tide of goblins swept in. The goblins overran the hall as Aedon fled, but their shrieks were of fear, not predatory glee, and Saradon whirled to them as thepaschahimself barrelled in amongst them.

“The dwarves are here!” Dimitri said into Harper’s mind, his tone high with shock. “Come. This may be our only chance!” With that, he leapt to her side and grabbed her around the waist, disappearing into the ether as he spirited them away. Seconds later, they came upon Aedon. Dimitri grabbed the elf—who protested vociferously—by his arm, then once more took them into the nothingness.

A breath later, he set them down in a quiet hall. They heard the din not far away. When Dimitri grimaced, Harper knew why—because she felt it too, like a tug around her navel. His arm around her relaxed, then stiffened again. Saradon summoned them, as he did all those in his control. It was a summons they could not resist. The goblin horde would hurry to do his bidding, to meet the tide of dwarves flooding their ancestral home, determined to take it back. She hoped they would number enough, but against Saradon, who could triumph? Despair filled her.

“Go,” Dimitri snarled at Aedon. “Get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving without her. Harper, come with me!” Aedon reached for her. She saw exhaustion in him before, but onlydetermination and desperation fuelled him now. She longed for nothing more than to go to him. For him to take her away from dark and brutal Afnirheim, for a breath of fresh air, a fine meal, and the company of friends whom she had taken for granted and now missed.

Tears pricked her eyes as she realised it would not—could not—be so. She stepped back, further into Dimitri’s arm. “I cannot go. He calls for us. My very bones ache to go to him,” she admitted. Shivers racked her, but not just from cold. From resisting his order that called for her body to leave at once.

Aedon gaped and glanced between them.

Dimitri’s visage was serious yet tinged with sadness. “Aedon, I know you bear me much enmity. We cannot leave. I will protect her—Ipromise.” He grimaced as the summons came again, stronger, and Harper blanched, too. He looked at her, and she met his gaze. “Come,” he said softly to her. “The sooner we heed, the less the punishment will be.”

“No!” Aedon leapt forward to grasp Harper’s wrist, trying to tug her away from Dimitri.

But she pulled herself free, curling away from Aedon—and stepping backwards, into Dimitri’s chest. He curled an arm around her—and the relief of the security she found in his arms was overwhelming for a second. With him at her side, she did not feel consumed by the dread that prickled in her belly. The blood drained from Aedon’s face.

“Aedon, I cannot. Please, trust me. You must leave before the opportunity wastes. They are coming.” Already, she could hear their infernal shrieks as they scrabbled up through the halls, even as the other end of the vast space started to fill with dwarves forming ranks to sweep through the city.

“Take Brand and Erika if you can.” She sent him a flood of memories of their maltreatment at the goblins’ hands.

He paled at the sight, then growled at her with a grimace. “Damn it!” They all knew none of them had any choice. “We will return for you. I swear it!”

“Go,” she urged him again. “I am Saradon’s blood. He will not harm me. I am safe, for now.” She said it with far more confidence than she felt. But if it meant her friends were saved, her remaining was a small price to pay. She would remain—so they had a chance at freedom. She could not think what that would mean. She had seen her friends suffer most terribly at Saradon’s hands. Could she endure the same? It was too terrifying to imagine what her punishment might be if she could turn his ire at their escape onto herself.You must, she urged herself.Be brave.They had had no choice but to suffer it.Ragnar, Brand, Erika, Aedon… They had all suffered at Saradon’s hands. She had escaped lightly thus far. If that was the price she must pay to save them, then so be it.

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