Page 19 of Ties of Death

“Why haven’t you gone after them before?”

“I didn’t know about them. My magic is something that’s been spoken of in rumors and conjectures, but I haven’t actuallytoldmany people about it. With what you did…”

My stomach lurches with the now-familiar guilt. “It’s not such a secret anymore.”

“No,” he agrees quietly. “It’s not. I didn’t tell Jakob until I brought you back and had to explain why I wanted a sudden, private wedding. Jakob approached me this morning and told me of these bracers as a potential solution, now that the risk has escalated.”

I nibble on my lip as I think about it. “And do you really think they would work? Would this help wake my victims?”

“I honestly don’t know if this will help Eskil and the others.” He says it bluntly, but his understanding gaze softens the words. “But it would stop any others from being struck down. As for the bracers themselves… They are designed to pull the magic from a person.” Somehow, despite his calm tone, his relaxed manner, I sense a hesitance. There’s something he’s worried about, something he’s not telling me. Some reason Jakob didn’t think they were a potential solution until the ‘risk escalated,’ as Daenn put it.

“What are you leaving out?”

His gaze jerks up to mine, and his surprise is palpable. “What?”

“What are you so concerned about that you’re not sharing?” I enunciate the words, almost hurt that he’s surprised that I noticed. I used to be able to read him better than anyone.

No, I mentally correct myself, that’s not something to be surprised about. I used to be able to readmyDaenn, which this man is not.

“There’s some risk involved,” he admits slowly. “Many of the legends say instead of stripping him of his magic, the bracers stripped him of his life.”

My chest tightens.

“But unlike Mundil and Teletha, we are linked. It shouldn’t be an issue. It might just take my magic, or it might take both of ours. But between the two of us, there should be enough life and spirit that no one need die.”

I can’t deny that I am a little relieved at that. Unlike Daenn, I’m not a murderer. Maybe he does deserve death for his actions, but I don’t want to be the one who kills him.

I try for a moment to imagine what it would be like to live without my magic. It’s always been there, subtle but present, made it easier to escape social interactions, made people like me even when they didn’t know me. I also suspect it’s the only reason Tolomon was never violent withme. Irate, yes. Condescending and patronizing and critical. But I only ever heard stories of his violent outbursts or saw them directed at others. He never hurt me directly, a blessing in my otherwise unhappy existence with him.

I tried to get rid of Daenn’s magic and failed—horribly. If I truly want to go find a new start somewhere, it would be easier to do with my magic in hand, but I can’t find a new start until this problem is solved, and if this is the only way...

“Very well. Let’s find these bracers.”

He nods, determination settling over him. “Jakob says it’s in an old temple to the south, near the northern edge of the Bompurak Jungle.”

“The Bompurak Jungle?” I say with alarm. The jungle is full of deadly flora and even deadlier monsters.

“We shouldn’t have to enter the jungle,” Daenn assures me. “We can fly over it and reach the temple before dark.”

I nod reluctantly. I have no interest in encountering even a glimpse of the jungle, but what he’s describing sounds harmless enough.

“We can leave in a few days, after you’ve had the chance to finish recovering.”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly. Now that we have a plan, I’m eager to enact it, jungle or no. The sooner we can fix this, the better. We will protect the clan from our new horrible magic. And I hope somehow using the bracers will help Eskil and the others too. I’m not sure that line of logic works, but I have nothing else. It will at least free our attention so we can focus on finding someothersolution for our friends. “After a good night’s rest, I’ll be well enough to travel. Let’s leave tomorrow.”

His mouth sets in a mulish line, and I can tell he’s about to argue.

“Spending hours talking and socializing was more wearying than anything today. Unless you plan on talking my ear off, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem while we travel.”

“Fine,” he relents. “We’ll leave tomorrow.” He rises from the bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll go give the order for preparations to be made.”

He slips out the door without waiting for my response.

Suddenly I’m alone in the dim, quiet room, and I refuse to acknowledge how the emptiness echoes a little louder without him here. We had an entire conversation, a civil one, where he wasn’t acting like a heartless tyrant and I wasn’t throwing barbs of hatred at him. I lay back down and allow myself to savor that. To wish for what could have been. As I’m drifting off to sleep, it almost feels like that longing expands, going deeper, and echoes back at me.

12

Stolen by the Wind

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