Page 20 of Heart of the Shadow King

“No,” I answer and place a hand on his forehead. “You must wake up.”

At the instant of contact, my gods-gift quickens. The echoing hum of the crystals in my bones awakens the tiny crystals in the stone floor under my feet and ripples to the walls, the ceiling. I take hold of that energy and send my awareness deep into this man’s mind, his soul. I feel the rage wrapping around him like a strangler vine. Rage that does not belong to him, no more than it belonged to the cave devils or to Vor. A parasite slowly killing as it drives its host to madness. But I know what to do. I’ve done it before. Granted I had the aid of the Urzulhar Circle the last time. But surely even in my weakened state, I can manage to help one suffering man.

Calm.

I send my gift rippling forth, down my arm, through my hand into his head. It floods him like a river of sunlit water, washing away that darkness, tearing that evil vine up from its roots. Lord Rath cries out, shocked at the suddenness of my touch. His fear and pain strike me like a physical blow. I stagger back, our connection broken just as the last of that poison in his mind is ripped away. I sway, knees buckling . . . fall . . .

Strong arms catch me from behind. “Faraine!” Vor’s voice, frantic in my ear. “Gods damn it, Faraine, what are you thinking?”

I smile even as my husband’s fear washes over me in a flood. Underneath that fear is the great bastion of his love. I look up into his fear-wracked face and lift one hand to gently touch his cheek. “There,” I breathe. “That’s done then.”

Then I sink into his love, let it wrap me in comforting oblivion.

10

VOR

“Faraine!”

Her name bursts from my lips, over and over again. Deeper Dark devour me! How could I have let something like this happen? How could I have taken my eyes off her, even for a moment? I’d thought her safe in the same room as that man so long as I stood close by. But to turn suddenly and find her standing over Lord Rath, touching him . . .

Clutching Faraine against my chest, I round on my former minister. Rath sits bolt upright, pale and drawn, his face haggard with the ravages ofraogpoison. “What did you do to her?” I roar, my voice echoing against the high ceiling. “If you dared touch her—”

Rath throws his arms over his head, squealing like a mothcat. “I didn’t kill her! I didn’t! I didn’t mean to do it!”

Though she isn’t dead, though I can feel the pulse of life in her body, a cloud of murderous wrath overwhelms me. I want to lunge at the man, to take his neck between my hands and snap it like a twig.

A strong hand grips my shoulder. “Your Majesty,” Hael’s deep voice rumbles in my ear, “your bride.”

Immediately my attention snaps back to Faraine. Her face rests against my shoulder. She looks strangely peaceful, almost content. Though I hate to admit it, her color has improved since I carried her here from the Yun Falls. Then she had looked pale as death, and I feared my bargain with the gods had all been for naught. Now she seems to be sleeping, dreaming serene dreams.

My throat tight, my heart crushed in the cage of my chest, I carry her back to the empty bed on the far side of the chamber, ignoring the watchful, wary eyes of the other sick folk as I pass. Laying her down gently, I arrange her limbs, smooth her hair, drape a blanket over her small body. Last of all, I examine her face again. Her brow is smooth. A faint smile pulls at her lips. Gently, reverently, I run one knuckle down the curve of her cheek, savoring that simple touch.

Then I turn and face Hael. “Stand guard over her. Do not take your eyes off her, not for a moment.”

Hael nods and pulls her shoulders back.

Drawing several deep breaths, I run my hands through my hair. Then I march back across the chamber to where Rath cowers in his bed, still too weak to rise. “Your Majesty!” he stammers, gripping his blankets desperately. “I swear, I never intended to do any of it. It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my choice, it wasn’t—”

My hand shoots out, grips him by the front of his shirt. I yank him partway off the bed. “Tell me what happened,” I snarl, dragging his face close to mine.

“Vor, really!” Madame Ar appears at my elbow. “I’d prefer you didn’t manhandle my patients.”

Ignoring her, I stare into Rath’s watery eyes. “Tell me what happened. Now.”

“I don’t know!” Rath shakes his miserable head, pulling uselessly at my grip. “I swear it! It was like a spell came over me. An idea, an oppression I could not escape. A thought not of my mind, but it felt as real as any thought I’ve ever had. It urged me,droveme to act! I tried to fight it, tried to resist, but I . . . I . . .”

“That’s enough, Vor!” Madame Ar’s voice cuts through the red storm in my brain, dragging my gaze down to hers. “He speaks the truth, and you know it. The man was poisoned. His actions were not his own.”

Ar is right. I too have suffered what Rath now describes. I remember how it felt to have those feelings fill me up until I was incapable of separating them from my own driving needs. Resistance felt like resisting the urge to breathe. Under that influence, I had nearly killed Faraine. Nearly violated her body and then destroyed her. And I will never forgive myself. It takes all the self-control I can muster not to bash my minister’s miserable head against the stone wall. My arm quakes with the desire to give in to the impulse. But Rath does not deserve this rage. It is my own self I should like to punish. Ifraogturns men into monsters, I was the worst monster of all. I let it turn me against the woman I love. How could Rath’s sin compare?

With a wrench of will, I release my hold, let Rath fall back onto the bed. Turning away from his sniveling form, I look at Faraine, lying there in her bed. My breath ratchets in my chest, ragged as the blows of a pickax. I must ask the question on my lips. I have no choice. If I could, I wouldn’t ask it, wouldn’t make myself hear the answer that must come. But there’s no escaping it. Not anymore.

I meet Hael’s gaze for a moment. Her brow puckers slightly, not understanding.

Then I whirl on Rath. “Tell me the last thing you remember. Before the rage struck.”

Rath lies on his pillow, his face dazed, confused. He shakes his head. “Nothing. Nothing! I was . . . I . . .” He closes his eyes, places a hand on his forehead. “Ah! Yes, I . . . remember something. It was after the . . . the execution. Prince Sul and I were together in an antechamber, discussing what had taken place.”

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