Page 144 of Of Serpents and Ruins
His arms closed around me as he cradled me closer, his chin pressing against the top of my head. "It is amusing how swiftly matters can become so clear. I’ll never forget the expression on your face after you pushed Cahji toward Hoard and the vortex’s current seized you. The way it pulled you down. Letting go of that sword was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. That vortex sucked you so far down—you couldn’t shift any more. It took the last of my strength to drag you up."
My eyes shuttered. That scene played out in harsh detail. The cold. Such deep cold. And then his heat. The way he had wrapped around me.
I paused. When the dark waters had engulfed me, I had been convinced that that was my end. It had certainly felt like it. The toxic tendrils wrapped around my leg. The crushing ice of the waters. The burning pressure in my lungs.
And all I had seen then was death as well.
I was always looking for the fulfillment of visions and foresight. Sometimes even trying to force it. And it was easy to spot patterns when I was looking for them. My sight—myintuition could provide aid, but it did not give the full picture. It never gave the full picture. I was not omniscient.
"You could have died too," I murmured. The steady rhythm of his heart beat against my ear.
"It was worth the risk if I could have saved you," he whispered. "And I would have if not for our friends. I had nearly spent all my strength by the time I broke free of the vortex and dragged us to the surface. But they helped us from there. And during that time, our sages and arcanists managed to erect walls at each end of the chasm to trap the toxic waters inside. That’s what you see here." Brandt gestured toward the marbled wall.
"I didn’t realize our magic was that powerful." I stared at it, awed to think that it had been created by our people.
"Sepeazia boasts many strengths. We were once warring nations who then became closer than blood and stronger than steel. But we’re a long cry from that strength now. The Gola Resh has siphoned so much of our magic that even a dozen sages and arcanists would struggle to create a hundred-foot barrier, and it certainly would not endure as this one has. We are but a shadow of what we once were. I suppose we should count ourselves fortunate that the draining of our magic has not resulted in famine and disease, but we have been lessened all the same."
Something else troubled him.
"What is it?" I nudged him with my head.
He shifted his weight. When he spoke, his voice took on a lower and more dangerous tone. "I already spoke with Kine about this, but Elias may not be the only traitor close to us. In fact, I am all but certain of it."
"What do you mean?"
"The Gola Resh said—well—to be clearer, she suggested that Hord was involved. That he would do it to save Cahji."
"Hord?" I stiffened. "No!" I shook my head fiercely. "My memory may still be funny in some parts, but I will never believe Hord—"
"Would you have believed it of Elias?" His gaze cut into me.
I flinched. "Not easily," I admitted reluctantly. "Maybe. I don’t know. But that was because of the life bond. I didn’t think someone would fake it. I didn’t know someone could. But when I looked at Elias, I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t know him. Hord? I felt like I knew him, and you have years of history with him."
Brandt’s upper lip curled. "He loved Tanusa. Nothing can ever bring her back, and her death was wrong. It was tragic and senseless. Just because the Gola Resh and the Babadon chose to be cruel. And if the Gola Resh offered to spare Cahji, how could Hord refuse? He loves his son more than anyone."
I shook my head, pinching my lips. "No. Hord is a good man. He wouldn’t betray his people for that. Let’s wait until we know more." Turning, I placed my hand on his chest, peering up into his eyes. He returned my gaze, his expression pained and solemn. If Hord had betrayed us, it would be a far more grievous blow to him than Elias had been to me. "I can’t imagine that Hord is a traitor. It just—it doesn’t sit right with me. I admit I missed the truth about Elias. I could have missed it with Hord too. But Hord…he feels different."
His jaw worked. His gaze shifted back to the sparkling blue waters. A shark’s fin skimmed the surface a short distance away before disappearing into the dark depths. "I can’t imagine that it is true. But…if he is a traitor, then we have another problem. He is getting the Great Axe. He is to meet us at the Ember Lord’s Crest. Candy is bringing the Peace Goblet. The Gola Resh needs the same items we require. And if she gets to the axe first, then—"
I placed my fingers against his lips. "Then we’ll just get it back from her." Listening to the powerful and incredible fireof old Stella did not have me feeling especially confident about myself. I was nothing like who I used to be. A woman who could hear a lost child and seize the child to rescue them from the flood waters and sacrifice herself? Sure…I could sacrifice myself. But could I actually do something worthwhile to help on the way?
Even if I had shown significant progress in my shifting, I was lacking. I struggled to grip and aim. With Lorna's help, I might be able to keep my clothes on the next time I shifted, but that wasn't nearly as helpful as being powerful. Even worse, we were out of time. Him, on the other hand? "You are brilliant and clever and magnificent," I said, keeping my fingers against his lips.
He grunted in response, his eyes narrowing at me.
I lifted my eyebrows at him. "I mean it, Brandt. Look at all you have endured. All you have come through. Just because the Gola Resh has gotten a few over on us doesn’t mean she’s going to win. She’s going to lose."
His expression softened as he nodded. "I would give my last breath to make it so."
Though I nodded, I prayed it wouldn’t cost that. Even as I feared that it would.
We stood there in silence as the crew drew the ship farther away from the ruins of our capital. More memories seeped into my consciousness, some good, some bad. That was where Brandt and I had first met. I’d strode into that throne room full of confidence, eager to confront him. A brash seer—that’s what he’d called me. And I’d called him an arrogant king.
But he wasn’t.
Not in the end.
He’d listened. In more ways than one. Then he’d saved me.
