Page 52 of A Magic Deep & Drowning

“We are more powerful thantheygive us credit for,” said one. “They think magic is the domain of their kind.”

“But we wield power.”

“Great power.”

They looked like what she imagined dragons would, their form reminiscent of the lithe and swirling beasts that adorned the porcelain her father traded from the Orient.

“She has no need of us,” one said. “She was going up, up, up.”

“Slowly,” said another.

“Too slowly. She could have been snatched.”

“Or eaten.”

A forked tongue flicked out as if hungry. She took a stumbling step back.

“Come, come. We are your friends. Friends of friends are friends.”

Her head spun as she tried to follow their words, which seemed to half occur between themselves, and half spoken directly into her mind.

“We will take you to him. To your prince.”

“We can see what many cannot. In the dark we have honed our vision, our intuition. We see that he is lovesick.”

“And so long as he is lovesick, he is useless.”

“We need our prince.”

“Need him on the throne.”

“Come, come.”

They watched, their black eyes tracking her, but made no move to touch her. The panic gradually subsided as she realized that if they had some dark design on her, they surely would have carried it out by now. Something told her that whatever their motives, their words were true. They would take her to Maurits.

Whether she wanted to see Maurits was another matter. Some of his falsehoods, the things he had told her... she did not think she could ever truly forgive him, but she understood better now. He came from a deeply scarred world, a world that had been plundered and subjugated. He carried an enormous responsibility on his shoulders, and perhaps he had just wanted to forget all of it for a little while. Perhaps she had been a pleasantdiversion. And while the thought did not exactly comfort her or absolve her of her anger, it did allow her desperate heart some reprieve to feel what she had so long been smothering. She missed him.

The basilisks were still watching her, and she had the unnerving feeling that they knew every thought that was running through her mind. Could they see that she was even now beginning to wonder if Maurits had been truthful in one respect at least? Could they feel that her traitorous heart beat faster at the realization that she wanted to know if his love was as true as he claimed? Try as she might, those drowsy mornings spent by the canal had etched themselves into her heart and her memory. His cold lips pressed to her were phantom sensations that prickled her skin into gooseflesh, and lit a fire deep within her belly.

“You need your prince too, we think,” one of them said with a sly flick of its tongue.

“We could also give you that which Thade took,” another offered.

“He is powerful, but not so powerful as us.”

“We are old.”

“And with age comes wisdom.”

“And with wisdom, power.”

“All we ask in return is a small pledge.”

“A debt to be called in in the future.”

They watched her carefully, their lazy tails flicking in the current. Helma’s stories, and Tryn and Jan’s warnings about never entering into a bargain with an Old One were ringing through her head. She pushed them aside. Raising her hand, she touched it to the throat that could speak no words, her question in her eyes.

“Yes, we can give you back your voice.”

---