Page 3 of Magick and Lead
No. I wouldn’t even think of him. Not now.
Not until I found a way to get his throat under my knife…
Focus, I told myself. There would be time later to think of revenge. Plenty of time. A lifetime more of agonizingly long, sleepless nights just like the ones I’d suffered over the past two months. But now, there was a mission before us.
The broken door revealed a tunnel. It was too narrow for dragons to enter, so we all dismounted and moved on foot toward the waiting darkness.
“Anyone bring a glowstone?” Pocha asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Sheathing my sword and reaching into the bag slung over my shoulder, I drew out the stone. It was only a small one, no bigger than a kyn cookie, and the bluish magical light it emitted wasn’t much—but it was all I’d had with me when the city fell and everything was lost.
I glanced at it, then down at the sword in my sheath. It was strange… I could go hours or even days without thinking about my missing right hand. Then, a moment like this would happen, and it would strike me again like a slap to the cheek: a simple, important task that was impossible for me. I couldn’t hold the glowstone and my sword at the same time.
Pocha, ever attentive, saw my predicament immediately and, without a word, put out her hand. I gave the glowstone to her and drew my blade again, walking side-by-side with her as we stepped into the darkness, Lure and Dagar a step behind.
Be careful, Dear Heart,Othura said in my mind.
I’m always careful,I shot back.
She snorted.No, you’re not. You’re reckless as a hatchling.
As usual, she was infuriatingly correct. I had once been careful. Fearful, even. But in the days since Issastar fell, in the days since Kit’s—Charlie’s—betrayal, everything had changed.
Maybe I was desperate. Maybe I just didn’t care if I lived or died. But being depressed had its upsides, because our little band of survivors had scored quite a few victories over the golena monsters, their Lacuna handlers, and several bands of rebel nobles over the past two months. And the villagers living nearby had taken to sharing food and information with us, eagerto show that despite all that had happened, they remained loyal to the crown—and to me.
Othura was right. I did have to be careful. Even if I hardly cared for my own life, I owed it to the people who believed in me to stay safe. I owed it to my friends, who the traitors held captive—Rohree and Ollie. I owed it to Othura. And I owed it to my mother, whom I swore I’d avenge. So, I held my sword high and proceeded slowly as we descended deeper into the blackness of the tunnel.
There was little to see. Stone walls bent inward and came to a point above us, forming a low, vaulted ceiling. A floor of hard-packed earth scuffed under our boots. All sounds of our passage died immediately, falling into a tense, heavy silence, like a stone dropping into a well.
Rohree. Ollie… please be here,I begged into the darkness. But the darkness was the void. And the void was the domain of my enemy.Prelate Kortoi.If I were truly lucky, I’d find him at the end of this passageway—trickster, traitor, dark priest. I’d find him, and I’d carve him up like a roast pig.
Torchlight flickered ahead, and with it came the mutter of low voices. Pocha and I exchanged a glance and moved ahead, quick and silent. We rounded a corner to find three men seated around a table. At the sight of us, they gave a cry and sprang to their feet. Two were dead before they even got their swords drawn, one with my blade in his belly and the other with Pocha’s knife across his throat. The third drew his sword and retreated. As I came at him, all the anger and heartbreak of the past few weeks flared up in me. My blade clashed against his once, twice, thrice. On the fourth blow, I gave a roar of fury and swung so hard my blade snapped his, its momentum carrying through until it buried itself in his neck. He went down heavily, his blood already spreading out on the floor.
I turned, catching my breath, to find my friends staring at me.
“What?” I demanded.
“I don’t know, maybe leave somebody alive next time?” Lure arched an eyebrow. “We might have gotten information from one of them.”
“Too late now…” Dagar nudged one of the already-dead men with his foot.
“Are you okay, Essa?” Pocha asked me.
At the tenderness of her question, tears almost rose to my eyes.
Was I okay?Ha.
I’d lost everything. I’d lost my mother. I’d lost Ollie, my Torouman—councilor, defender, loyal eunuch and friend. Ollie, who’d been bound to me since I was a girl and who was closer to me than a brother. I’d lost Rohree, my sprite handmaiden and dear friend. I’d lost my home. My kingdom. My identity. And I’d lost—I’d lost?—
Kit—Charlie.A traitorous, lying man who had deceived me. A man I was far better off without. A man who, if I ever saw him again, would be far worse off than the one now lying at my feet.
And Iwouldfind him.
“Essa?” Pocha said again, concern in her voice.
“I’m fine,” I told her. “You want to check on someone, check on him.”
