Page 60 of HeartTorn

Kildorath’s eyes spin, horror, agony, and fury mingled into one complex emotion. “Taar!” he cries. The sound of my name rather than my title on his lips gives me momentary pause. “Taar, did you not see? Don’t you realize what she’s done?”

At first his words mean nothing. They are mere noise in my head, lost in the thundering of my pulse. But as Kildorath holds up his hands, demonstrating submission, my vision begins to clear. I see the blood on his face, pouring from his nose, matting in his hair. I see the ash covering his cheeks and my own hands, gripping his shoulders. What have I done? Not since the virulium coursed in my veins have I turned on my friends with such violence.

I release him so abruptly, he falls back and hits his head again. Hastily I get off him, rise, and stagger back. Breath ratcheting painfully in my chest, I turn. My gaze instinctively searches for Ilsevel.

She stands by the altar stone, broken chaeora rope lying in snakish coils at her feet. Her eyes meet mine, wide with fear. The expression vanishes in a blink, however, replaced with defiance. As though it doesn’t matter to her that she’s doomed Nyathri to an eternity of torment and sundering.

I exhale painfully, my ribs tight around my heavy heart. I should have known. To bring a human into the Hidden City was to invite disaster. I cannot imagine a worse disaster than this. And to think I could have spared Nyathri, had I not been weakened by this cursed bond.

For the first time the thought flashes through my head:I should have left her to Lurodos.

She seems to read my mind. Her face pales, and some of that stubborn defiance falters. Lips parting, she draws a shuddering breath. “Warlord?” she says. Then, “Taar!”

I hold up a hand. Gods, I can’t even bear to look at her. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I couldn’t let you kill her.” She comes toward me, still gripping that knife, though her hands are shaking. “She’s not lost, not yet. Not entirely. I think I can—”

“You are a fool.” The words fall from my tongue like the downward stroke of a blade. “You know nothing. Nothing about our people, about the licorneir. You know nothing about our songs, our ways, our most sacred traditions. Did you think you could thwart the will of Nornala herself?”

Her eyes are so wide, so dark. At first she doesn’t understand what I’m saying. But I see the moment when comprehension dawns. She draws back a pace, as though I’ve struck her. I almost feel as though I have. Thevelraburns my arm savagely. But I won’t apologize.

“Your life is forfeit,” I say. “You’ve broken Licornyn law and proven yourself a traitor. The elders will call for an immediate sundering of our bond.” I take a step toward her, lower my head, and snarl the last words into her stricken face. “They will slit your throat, Ilsevel. And there’s nothing I can do to prevent it.”

29

ILSEVEL

Suddenly I am a prisoner once more. Surrounded by enemies, far from all help. And before me stands a stranger. A warlord of unmatched brutality, towering over me in menacing power.

Everything which has taken place between us—every stolen moment, every tender touch, every explosion of bliss and united song—fades away. There’s nothing left but encroaching darkness and the wrath burning in his eyes.

I take a stumbling step back. Though thevelracord burns so bright I can almost see it taut in the air between us, a rush of self-preservation tells me to turn, to flee. I begin to pivot, but movement erupts on all sides of the chamber, along with a cacophony of voices speaking words I cannot understand. Taar’s voice booms above the rest, and whatever he says sounds harsh to my ears. Unicorns and riders close in on me. I look for escape and even start to dart between two of them. The riders dismount at once, catch me by the arms, and hold me in place. I scream, wordless, struggling to turn and look back at Taar, still hoping to glimpse again the protector I’ve come to trust.

But the man standing before that altar stone is someone I do not know.

Onor Gantarith appears at his side, speaking urgently. Taar answers in a series of growling words and gestures sharply with one arm. What is he saying? Is he giving orders for my immediate death? Are these my last breaths, my last heartbeats? Gantarith shakes his head and speaks again, gripping Taar’s shoulder. Taar turns away. His eyes refuse to meet mine.

Movement draws my gaze to where Tassa and Halamar appear in one of the shadowed doorways, staring into the domed chamber. Tassa’s eyes are wide with shock, while Halamar looks on with habitual stoicism.

Gantarith speaks again in a final burst. The only word I understand is,“Luinar.”Taar curses bitterly. Then, turning, he calls to Halamar, who springs forward and salutes his king. Taar’s voice is too low for me to hear, but I see him gesture to me and the two Licornyn riders gripping my arms. Halamar nods. He strides across the chamber toward us and beckons silently.

They begin to drag me away, feet scraping against stones. “Taar?” Terror bursts from my lips in a little bleat. “Taar! Where are they taking me? What is happening?”

He bows his head, long hair falling across his face. Just as my captors haul me to the far doorway, just before I’m yanked into the shadows out of sight, he looks up. His eyes meet mine across the distance. The look in them is so black, it could blot out the sun.

“Taar!”I scream. My last sight of his face is a sudden shock of pain just as his knees buckle. Thevelrabetween us flares again, so sharp and hot, I scream. But the two Licornyn riders drag me down the passage with relentless footsteps. The pain increases, like someone stabbing me over and over again. If I feel it this harshly, how much worse is it for him?

My view of the domed chamber is blocked by the bulky bodies of two unicorns, following behind their riders. Halamar leads our strange procession. He moves swiftly through a dizzying array of dark passages where only stray ilsevel blossoms offer any illumination. We step out at last into daylight on some part of the mountain I’ve not yet seen. Confused by pain and terror, I can hardly make sense of anything.

A small circular wall of stones swims before my eyes. A well—and they’re dragging me straight toward it. Halamar standsbeside the low wall. Are they going to throw me down there? Is this how they mean to kill me? To drown me in the dark?

“No!” Survival instinct jolts through my veins. I haul against my captors’ grips, writhing, twisting, little caring if I dislocate my own arms in an effort to get free. I won’t be tossed down that dark hole. I’ve spent my whole life fighting for freedom; this will not be my end. “No, no,no!”

The last word bursts from my throat, not in a shout but in a sudden flood of unrepressed song. A single note, deep, raw, and reverberating. Full of power.

That power shoots out from me, like a streak of soulfire. It whorls around me then darts out in two branching streams, straight for the two unicorns. Like lances of light and sound, those streams pierce their chests, glowing bright inside as though their hearts are suddenly made luminous. That light builds up their necks, into their heads, and bursts from their horns in two new streams of light-song, multicolored and searing with heat.

The bolts strike the men holding my arms. They drop like stones at my feet.

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