Page 89 of Magick and Lead
I nodded. I could have stayed there forever. Bantering with her. Teasing her. Kissing her. But every warrior has a clock inside them, and mine was ticking down. Danger was coming, and we were almost out of time.
“Wait an hour,” I said. “That should be time enough for me to get there, get airborne, and start leading them away from you. Then go. I’ll meet you in Maethalia.”
I squeezed her hand one last time, then turned and pushed out the screen door. I chose a steed from among Bo’s refurbished motorcycles, fired it up, and blazed off into the night.
40
ESSA
Isat at the dining table across from Prelate Kortoi. Though I wasn’t hungry, I realized I was feeling lightheaded, and Skrathan tradition held that it was bad luck to cross the sea on an empty stomach. So, I’d rummaged in the icebox and found some food and a dusty bottle of Koratainian Red. Now, a plate of cold chicken, a biscuit, and some leafy greens sat before me and another before Kortoi. I poured the wine, then forced myself to take a bite, though at the sight of Kortoi’s smile, the food went tasteless in my mouth.
It was dangerous to be alone with a mage of Kortoi’s caliber. Though, I reminded myself, I wasn’t really alone. Charlie had left, and Bo had already gone off down the road in search of his pint, but Othura’s shadow passed by the window periodically as she paced outside—and the gods knew she’d smash through the wall to protect me if Kortoi tried anything.
Othura wasn’t entirely herself, though. Occasionally, I’d feel pain shoot through her, along with an alarming interruption in our connection that I’d never felt before. And earlier, when I’d dismounted here at the farm, I’d seen something in the glowing orange orbs of her eyes. A flickering wisp of shadow. Something was definitely very wrong with her. And it was getting worse.
“Now that we’re seated here together, breaking bread like a couple of civilized people,” I said to Kortoi. “I’m going to ask you again. Release whatever hold you have on my dragon.”
The prelate sipped his wine.
“I’d love to. Truly. But if we were to do that now, what’s stopping you from taking that dagger of yours and burying it in my chest?”
“If you don’t release her, I’ll definitely bury it in your chest,” I countered.
“Thatisa conundrum,” Kortoi said, tearing at a chicken leg with his teeth. “Here’s what I propose. We fly back toward Maethalia as we planned, except instead of taking me back to your rebel camp and?—”
“You’re the rebel,” I snarled. “I am the rightful queen of Maethalia.”
He tilted his head. “You haven’t been crowned yet, Your Majesty. Regardless, rather than taking me back to your people and torturing me or whatever you had in mind, simply drop me off at Dorhane so I can visit my Lacunae generals. I’d planned to stop at The Front anyway, on the way back. Do that—release me on Dorhane unharmed—and I’ll give you the antidote for Othura.”
I knew enough about dealing with the Gray Brothers. They never offered a deal that wasn’t one-sided and decidedly to their advantage. But I had very little leverage. Much as I wanted him dead, I needed Othura alive more—and Kortoi knew it.
“I’ll think about it,” I said at last.
The prelate gave me that smile of his that could have curdled milk. “That’s all I can ask, Your Majesty,” he said.
After that, we ate in silence, the only sound the heavy ticking of the necromancer clock on the wall.
In that drawn-out stillness, I was aware, more than anything, of Charlie. How the distance between us was growing momentby moment. We’d never spent as much sustained time together as we had the past couple of days, and I could feel his absence shifting something within me, the way a moon shifts a tide.
Kortoi’s dark eyes danced over my face. “You know, there’s an easy way to see if you can trust him or not,” he said. Apparently, his appetite was fine, because there was nothing but bones left on his plate.
“Trust who?” I shot back.
Kortoi’s rings glinted as he dabbed a napkin over his mouth. “You might fool yourself, Essaphine, but you can’t fool me. We both know who I’m talking about.” He sat up straighter, swished the wine in his glass before taking a sip. “The two of you make a handsome couple. I’m not much of a romantic—none of us Gray Brothers are. Still, I can see the appeal of love. The carnal pleasure. The security of knowing there is at least one person in the world you can rely on no matter what.”
“I don’t rely on Charlie,” I said.
“No?” he said. “Well, perhaps you could. Wouldn’t it be nice to know for sure?”
I put my hand on my dagger. “You’re talking about scrying.”
Pleasure permeated his too-smooth face. “You know, I taught your mother to scry.”
At these words, I fought the urge to draw the dagger and plant it in Kortoi’s forehead. How many hours of my young life had I spent trying to get my mother’s attention while she was lost, staring into that cursed bowl of hers? She always thought there was something important she’d see in those black waters. Some critical piece of knowledge she’d gain that would allow her to win the war. Save her kingdom. Find peace. We’d lost weeks, months, years together while she stared into that bowl of hers, looking for answers, while I wandered the castle, a child, alone.
And what had all those hours spent scrying gained her? In the end, the betrayal had come out of nowhere. She hadn’t seen it coming. Or at least, she hadn’t learned enough to prevent it.
“Much good it did her, all that scrying,” I said. “Ollie says the only thing more toxic than listening to the words of a Gray Brother is staring into their water.”
