Page 100 of Horn of Winter

Thirteen

Waking wasa slow and painful process. My head was on fire, my lungs burned, and my limbs were achy and bruised. It really felt like someone had spent the last few hours using me as a football and, given who now held me captive, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that was a reality rather than a perception.

I didn’t bother moving. Didn’t bother opening my eyes. Right now, neither was wise, not until I had a full grasp of the situation, anyway. Nor did I immediately reach for the wind; instead, I just listened. To the building, to the air, to the very distant storm that raged beyond the walls of where I lay. Even making that vaguest connection to the storm hurt, though not as fiercely as it had who knew how many hours earlier. It was nevertheless a warning I wasn’t yet at full strength.

I had no sense of anyone in the room with me, and the building’s wood song, while present, was as distant as the storm. This place, this room, was made of stone, and the bed on which I lay metal—something I knew because the slats were digging into my spine. Sunlight caressed my face, its warmth muted, suggesting it was late afternoon. My hands and feet weren’t tied, which surprised me a little until I remembered who had me.

Fuck... had she done to me what I’d done to Vincentia?

I tried to move, but other than an answering twitch in my fingers and toes, I couldn’t. And this time, it had nothing to do with overextending my strength. The bitch had deep-magicked me.

I swore, long and loud, and from somewhere in the room to my left came a tinny laugh.

“The betrayer learns of her predicament” came the comment. “How delicious.”

I opened my eyes and looked around. As I’d sensed, the room was bare stone and held little in the way of furniture aside from this bed. The window to my left was grimy and barred, and what little I could see of the floor from my supine position suggested it was stone. I couldn’t see any cameras from my current, somewhat limited, field of vision, but what I did spot was a small metal speaker perched on the window’s stone sill.

“Why are you doing this, Riayn? I didn’t kill Vincentia, and I didn’t betray either you or her. In fact?—”

“You possess what should have always been hers by virtue of greater suitability and skills. You stole what had been given?—”

“That is a bald-faced lie,” I cut in brusquely. “The codex was never yours, and you had no right to gift it to her.”

She didn’t tell me to shut up, which surprised me, but simply continued on, as if I hadn’t spoken. “The knives and the Eye are now mine, but the codex is missing. Where is it, Bethany?”

I tried not to answer. Fought the words that pressed against my lips with all the strength I had, but, like so many of those I’d forced to comply, it was impossible.

I ground the answer out and then swore at her again.

“The tavern upbringing has certainly gifted you with colorful vocabulary,” she said with a laugh.

“The tavern wench will have thelastlaugh, Aunt. The god who made the horn is displeased with your use of it, and he hunts you.”

“The old gods disappeared from this world eons ago. I have no fear of what does not exist.”

“Tell that to Martha. She now lies wrapped in ice, her soul forever bound to her body.”

“Using godly relics always comes at a cost.” Her reply was dismissive. “It sounds like she simply raised more than she could humanly control.”

“No, she raised that force in anger and revenge, just as you directed. It is for that reason Borrhás comes for you.”

“I think the chloroform has addled your brains, my dear niece. And I, well, I’ll worry about this god of yours no more than I’ll worry about Lugh finding you in time.”

“The wise never would underestimate my brother.”

“Perhaps that is true, but I am not located in your section of the complex, and he will come for you first, giving me time to escape. And then, of course, there is the toxin that even now flows through your veins. You have no more than ten hours, my dear niece, to find help, and even if you do, survival is not guaranteed.”

My heart began to beat a whole lot faster—never a good thing if I’d been injected with something deadly. “Toxin? What fucking toxin?”

“It’s just a little natural something Stace had in her bag of tricks before I forced her on.”

Was that bag of tricks the same one we’d found in the chamber under the souterrain? The one that had held the near-empty vial of Dearil?

“Goddamn it, you’ve magicked, so why inject me? And if you intend to kill me, why not do so now?”

I’m pretty sure I knew why—she wanted me to suffer before I died. Wanted me to know I’d lost everything I held dear, just as she had. Which probably meant she had a trap waiting for Lugh here, too.

As Mathi had said, she’d well and truly leapt off sanity’s ledge.

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