Page 64 of Tempest

“I am.”

“Then do it.” Lazaros opened his robe, revealing the Archmage’s symbol on his chest.

Iason walked over to him, pausing when Lazaros flinched as he raised his hand. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, and lay his palm on the tattoo.

It was almost too easy. The magic woven into the tattoo was thin, barely enough for a spark—but a spark was all it needed to send pain lancing through Lazaros’s body. Iason pulled the magic loose and let it sink into himself, then snapped his fingers, letting the excess disappear into a simple flame at his fingertips.

“There,” he said. Lazaros frowned and pushed Iason’s hand aside to examine the tattoo. The tattoo was still there, but its magic wasn’t, and after the Library spent a good three minutes hovering around his chest, Lazaros let out a shaky breath.

“Gods. You actually did it.” He laughed. “Can you do it to the others?”

“I don’t see why not. It might take a while. I can’t overuse my magic.”

“Of course. Yes. Remarkable.” Lazaros stood up. “The children. You’ll have to remove them from the children first.”

“I know. I will.” Iason moved to intercept Lazaros as he made for the tent flaps. “But there’s something else I might be able to do, too.”

Lazaros turned. “What?”

“I know one of you—or someone in the rebellion—is keeping the Archmage below the crypts. I also know that the curse erased his memory.” Iason’s hands were shaking. This was what he’d been grappling with, those sleepless nights when the concept of eternity crashed over his waking mind. “I might be able to undo the curse. I could even… remove his magic, I think. It would be dangerous. It’s a great deal of magic, and I would need something to siphon it into. But I think I could do it, if you want.”

“He could stand trial.” Lazaros was staring over Iason’s shoulder, looking almost as shaken as Iason felt. “A public trial.”

“It might be some level of justice,” Iason said. He jumped when Lazaros gripped him by the shoulder.

“If you can do it,” Lazaros said, looking Iason in the eye in a way few submissives ever did, “then you need to speak at his trial. The son of a member of the mage circle, tortured by the Archmage—that could turn the rest of Mislia to our side. But it will mean having to tell your story publicly.”

Iason took an unsteady breath. He’d spent so long hiding his face, trying to suppress who he was, what he’d done. Part of him wanted to beg to stay in the background, to hand the Archmage over and be done with it. But Nyx had been right. For Iason to live, the killer had to die. He had to let him go.

“I’ll do it,” Iason said. “If I can take the Archmage’s magic, I’ll testify.”

Lazaros squeezed his shoulder, and a small seed of hope worked its way into Iason’s heart. He’d been alone before, isolated from anyone who wasn’t in the Archmage’s employ—but perhaps now he didn’t have to be.

“Let’s get started,” Lazaros said. “The children first. We can deal with the Archmage later.”

“Yes,” Iason said, somewhat dazed. He’d have to talk with Levi about this. “Let’s start where we can for now.”

* * *

Despite his assurances that she would be completely safe, Sophie was understandably hesitant the farther they went from the shore. After they cleared the breakers, she was able to keep up with Levi for a long while, skimming easily over the gentle swells. But she gradually grew tired and kept glancing back at the beach as it grew more and more distant.

If he were a dragon, this would be a lot less effort for both of them—Levi could simply put her on his back, and they’d be there in a matter of minutes. But they weren’t going terribly far, and even in his human form, Levi was a powerful swimmer. “Put your arms around my neck. I’ll swim us the rest of the way.”

Sophie studied him, squinting, then said, “Your skin looks green,” as she swam over to do as he’d said. “Does it always look like that, and I’m just now noticing?”

“Sometimes it does,” Levi said as she settled on his back, skinny arms around his neck. She needed to eat more. He made a note to catch fattier fish, maybe make more of that sugary concoction that tasted so good… right up until it made your teeth start tingling. “My brother who lived in a cave in the southern ocean once told me that when I was a man, my skin looked like copper after it’s been in salt water for too long. I always liked that.”

“Your brother? If you’re sort of married to Iason, and I basically adopted him, does that mean your siblings are my aunts and uncles?”

“Sure,” Levi said, swimming toward the rocky outcropping where the sirens were studying a shipwreck. “I don’t have any sisters at the moment, though. My brother Astra once spent some time as my sister Astra. And Ares has no gender. You’ll like Arwyn—he’s the one from the cave. He’ll give you presents that are either priceless or useless, but nothing in between.”

“Yeah? Cool. It’s funny. I used to live in a house with my fathers, and I loved them very much and we were happy, but I was lonely when they were gone, and they were gone alot. Then I lived with my aunt in Duciel, and I was lonelyandmiserable, and my aunt was always there. Now I surf with a god and hang out with a wizard.”

Levi looked over his shoulder at her. “You have what my brother Azaiah—the god of death—would calla bonfire of a soul,Sophie. Your life current was never going to be placid, but at least it isn’t boring.”

She giggled and pulled on his braids. “Thanks, Levi. You don’t really want to leave me and Iason, do you?”

Levi didn’t know what to say. “It isn’t a matter of whatIwant. It’s in my nature to adapt. Iason has a bit more trouble with that.”

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