Chapter 19
19
I waited until the evening shift guards had slowed their circles around my cell block before I stuffed my flat pillow underneath my threadbare sheets to create a lumpy look in case the guards raised a lantern to see if I was asleep in my cell. But I doubted that the guards would even look. They probably assumed everyone would behave tonight after the show in the throne room.
As I unlocked my cell door with the keys I had stolen from Callum, I wasn’t afraid as much as I was driven by my search for answers. I was guilty—just a little bit—but I needed to know what side I should be on—and the implications that came with Callum serving the King. I needed to understand what the rebels fought for—and whose side Tristen was really on, or if he truly was just a vicious monster.
I darted down stone hallways, heading into the belly of the prison. Most of the prisoners were asleep already, but I kept silent and to the shadows just in case someone looked up to see what was going on in the hall.
I knew I was headed in the right direction when the hallways sloped upward, and I wove my way around back entrances and narrow staircases to creep past quiet cells where the other prisoners snored softly.
After twenty minutes of dodging guards and climbing up the secret passageways that Callum had showed me when we had been sneaking around the prison before, I finally found myself at the top of Ashguard—at the floor that housed the most dangerous prisoners.
Except, there was only one cell that was occupied. As I crept closer, I found Tristen sitting on the floor of his cell, leaning against the back wall.
He had no cot. No blankets. Never mind that it was freezing, he lounged against the back wall as if he wasn’t affected even as I saw his face tinged slightly pink with the chill. Yet he lounged as if he wasn’t bothered by the scuttling sound of rats and insects that littered the damp cell floor.
As I approached his cell, he raised his head of dark hair, disheveled and unkept. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of me, but he chased the expression away with his signature half-smile. He cocked his head.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of such a beautiful guest stopping by my humble abode?”
I froze, trying to hang onto my courage. “I… I have some questions.”
“What makes you think I will answer them?” His injuries still glinted in the moonlight. Just as I’d suspected, the guards hadn’t bothered to call a healer.
“A bargain,” I said. “I’ll clean your wounds in exchange for information on what the rebels want, what you’re up to—and anything else that could help me in the next trial.”
Tristen’s eyes lit up. “Oh, so she’s a clever thing. Yet so eager to enter into another bargain with me when I didn’t fulfill our last?”
“I want a blood bargain,” the words sputtered out from me before I fully knew them. Blood bargain. Somehow, I knew what it was. It emerged from the recess of my mind as Tristen rose in his cell.
“A blood bargain? How do you know about that?” His voice was low. Dangerous.
“I remembered,” I said, the only explanation I had for it. Indeed, it had risen to my mind, unbidden, my intuition giving me only whispers of my past knowledge.
He studied me. “A blood bargain binds to your life. If you fail to fulfill your end, the bargain demands payment. It comes to collect its debt in the form of your life, taken from you as you die screaming.”
I shuddered but kept my expression blank. “Yes. That’s what I want.”
He cocked his head. “You know that in order for this blood bargain to work, you have to unleash my power so I can call it forth.” He lifted his hands, holding up his iron bound hands. “You’ll have to take these off me,” he challenged, goading me to enter. When I hesitated, he smirked. “Afraid?”
“You wish,” I said.
“You don’t know what I wish,” he said, his voice low and deep like an ocean’s current.
I took in this lethal killer in front of me. Even beaten and bloody and locked up, he couldn’t be contained. His handsome face belied an inner strength that radiated outward—and I knew in his cold resolve that everyone who hurt him would one day pay.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I warned. I went through Callum’s key ring, trying a few on the cell door until I found the key that opened Tristen’s cell. As I stepped inside, I quickly closed it behind me.
“Now these,” Tristen said, holding up his iron bands. I noticed a tiny keyhole in the side that faced away from him, easy to miss at first when they had been placed upon us.
I settled in front of him and tried to smother a gasp at how tightly his bands had bit into his flesh. I saw deep red gashes underneath the bands that sliced deep.
“They did this to you. Why?” I breathed.
Tristen just shrugged, but I caught a small wince as he did so. “The King and his men thought I would break. I proved them wrong. Now set me free and then we’ll make our little blood bargain.”
It made sense. So I cradled his wrists, feeling his warm skin beneath the cold iron. With my other hand, I slipped the rusty key into his iron bands and turned. One after the other, I removed all four bands—he had an extra two at both ankles unlike most of the rest of the prisoners, his power unable to be contained with anything less.
As the last iron band fell to the floor, he sighed in relief, and I felt the rippling of his power wash over me once more as I slid the key ring into the pocket of my pants. It was heady, that feeling of his power. It buzzed within me like a low rumble.
“Why does yours feel like that?” I said as he dipped his head back, filling his lungs as if he had been holding his breath the entire time the iron bands were leashing his power.
“My what?” he said, glancing at me with a half-smile. He flicked a hand, and the dark cell was then illuminated by a floating orb of his blue-green shadowfire, which made his eyes dance in its glow.
“Your magic,” I said, entranced by the shadowfire, watching the unnatural cold flames fight with each other as they tossed light around the cell. “It feels like…”
“Like what, Saffron?” he challenged in a teasing tone. His wounds were starting to heal, his skin knitting together in a way that didn’t look too pleasant. My eyes widened at that—he had healing powers on top of his shadows and mindweavying? Who is this man?
“Your magic is overwhelming,” I said, not meeting his gaze. Lost in the thrum of his power, even more strong as I sat next to him on the cold, hard floor of stone.
“It’s not my magic that’s overwhelming you, Sael ,” he said, smirking.
“You’re right—it’s the immensity of your male ego.”
“Most women compliment me on my… immensity .”
I narrowed my eyes. “Our bargain. I need answers.”
He moved in front of me, so fast I could barely track him. He captured my chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting me to look up at him. “You have all the answers you need.”
His face was inches away from me, those deep obsidian eyes drinking me in. I felt my pulse quicken, something low in my stomach tighten as his touch on my skin heated something within me. Something that buzzed and hummed, drinking from his skin on mine.
“What do you mean?” I murmured, my gaze dropping to his lips for just a second before I wrenched them back up to his eyes.
His answering smile was feline. “Thinking about something you want but can’t have?”
I yanked my face out of his grip, and reached for his left hand, shoving it in his face, his wedding band glimmering in the shadowfire. “I’m thinking of how your wife feels about you flirting with other women.”
But that dig only served to make his smile grow wider. “I think she’d approve.”
I went to throw a punch at him, but he was suddenly rising to his feet. He was lightning fast—before I could blink, he had the cell door open and had slipped outside his cell?—
— locking me in.
I whirled, feeling for the ring of keys I had just put in my pocket.
“Looking for these?” Tristen held up Callum’s dangling keys with a grin.
“You bastard!” I yelled, lunging for the keys from between the bars of his cell, but Tristen just shook his head as he held them out of reach. “I told you not to trust me, didn’t I?”
“What about our blood bargain?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be back. I just have to visit a friend. Then I’m all yours. Until then… enjoy my home.”
“You’ll pay for this!” I yelled, but he winked and strolled away as I growled in frustration, stomping around his cell. All I heard was a low male laugh and the sounds of footsteps fading down the stairs of the dungeon as he disappeared from view.
I swore under my breath, planning all the ways I would get my vengeance. If Callum found me here, he would go out of his mind and probably do something stupid.
How could I be so gullible? If I wasn’t powerless ? —
I froze. I wasn’t powerless. Not completely. Focusing my attention on the lock, I closed my eyes. Emptied my mind. Tried to pull from the tiny ripple of power I had drawn from him when I had touched his skin. It wasn’t much, just a lick of an ember I had stolen when I had brushed his wrists to remove the cuffs and then he had touched my skin…
…I raised my hands, calling it forth, begging it to rise, to burn …
Nothing.
Had I touched him long enough to pull at his power? I tried again, focusing my energy onto the lock of the cell door, thinking about his shadowfire.
Cold power flared at my palms, and my eyes flickered open. A slow screech sounded as the door opened, the lock frozen and shattered as though it had been blasted open by his shadowfire. Not much—I hadn’t touched him for very long—but enough .
I darted out of the cell and bounded up the stairs.
The Assassin would pay for crossing me .
I slipped behind Tristen as he melted through shadows and made his way through stone passageways. If I hadn’t walked these winding corridors several times before with Callum, it would have been hard to trail the Assassin. He wasn’t just a man, he was the whisper between the wind. He seemed to not just walk, but to float over the stone steps, his footfalls barely registering a sound as if his shadows cushioned the sound of him.
I kept just far enough behind Tristen that I was out of earshot. As guards and their nightly patrol passed by, I slipped into alcoves and pressed myself against the cold stone, holding my breath as they passed. Then, I darted up a secret stone staircase to catch up to Tristen as he slipped through one of the final stairways that led up to a hatch that spilled out into the forest above.
As I climbed the last set of stairs, I saw the closed flat metal doors above me.
Those wouldn’t be soundless or easy to push open. I’d have to assume Tristen had already moved on to where he was headed next, not lingering by the doors to hear me.
I hesitated. Should I wait for longer? If I did… I would be at the risk of losing him in the forest. And I needed to know what was so important for him to storm off in the middle of the night and lock me away to go and do.
No, I’d need to do this. Now .
So, without another moment’s pause, I heaved the heavy door open, and kept it pressed open for long enough to slither out, but it still made a low clang as I closed it?—
—and suddenly, strong hands were dragging me up, and I felt myself pushed flat against a tree with a knife at my throat.
“Weren’t you taught not to sneak up on the things that go bump in the night?”
It was so quick, the gasp hadn’t even left my throat as my eyes adjusted to the man in front of me, holding that glittering knife. When I recognized Tristen, I narrowed my eyes.
“I’ve forgotten everything I’ve been taught, so no, Assassin ,” I shot back.
“I love how you make my reputation sound like a dirty word,” he said, scraping his knife lightly against my neck, and even in the dark I could see his eyes drift to my lips.
“Keep dreaming,” I said, knowing exactly where his mind had gone.
“Do you have some revenge fantasy for people who lock you up in cells?” he asked.
I frowned, suddenly remembering who was likely locked up in the dungeon beneath the Saltspire Palace. “You’re going to free your rebel friend, aren’t you?”
Tristen lowered the knife, but kept his body pressed against me. I was all too aware of all the places his hard body met mine, the way he was searching my face as if trying to read between the lines of every expression I made.
“How did you get out of that cell?” he asked.
“I have my ways.”
“What do those ways entail?” he said, eyes narrowing.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I’m deciding between letting you come with me or finding another cell to throw you in. Your answer will decide that,” Tristen said.
Callum and Rachelle’s words rang in my head, and I couldn’t let Tristen know about my powers. Especially because it seemed like trustworthiness was not a quality he possessed.
“Lockpicking was evidently something I learned in my past. Maybe at the bakery,” I said with a sweet smile.
He stepped back, letting me go as if the answer had satisfied him. The emptiness between us suddenly felt vast, too large.
“My blood bargain,” I demanded.
“If you come with me, you’ll get some of your answers without having to put your pretty little life on the line.”
I glared, but decided this was going to be the best I was going to get out of him. “You lied to me.”
He shrugged. “And you think your Commander doesn’t?”
“He helps me, unlike you.” Tristen turned and started walking, and I followed. “Where are we going?”
Tristen pulled me to the shade of the forest trees. “We stick to the shadows. The palace’s dungeons can be entered through the back gardens.”
I looked around, watching the trees sway toward us. “The island?—”
“If a branch comes to strangle us I’ll rip out its roots and burn it in my eternal flame,” Tristen said, tossing a lazy glare at the darkness. “Hear that?” The island seemed to quiet in response.
“So we are going to save your friend,” I said. “Even though you’re hurt?”
Tristen’s expression glinted as he pulled me through the dark by my arm. “I’m alive. And, thanks to you, with my full power. I won’t be hurt for long.”
Suddenly, Tristen pulled me down behind a bush. I was about to protest, but his hand clamped down around my mouth. I glared daggers at him, but then I heard them.
Guards .
“… my bet is on the big mean one surviving. He’s got this crazy stare in his eye since he came back from the second trial. Looking like he can fuck some people up .”
“ Well, I’m putting my silver on the Assassin .”
“ No way. Everyone in that arena wants his head on a platter. And if he survives? Who’s to say that the King won’t just send him out on a suicide mission to the frontlines? There’s no way that the King would trust him .”
The voices disappeared down another path, passing the bush.
“Wishing you could bet on my death right about now?” Tristen asked with a smug smile as I watched them go.
I ripped his hand off my mouth. “I don’t need to bet on it if I just kill you myself.”
“I would expect nothing less from you,” he said. Was that… pride in his voice? “This way,” Tristen said, motioning for me to follow as we darted across the exposed path and into another line of trees.
“That's the spirit. We are in a giant death match, after all,” Tristen muttered.
“You thought I forgot?” I asked, sarcastic.
“You do seem to have a selective memory.”
“Even though I don’t have all my memories, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“I'd hope not with everything you’ve been doing with Callum.”
“I’m not?—”
Tristen turned away. “You can’t lie to me. I smell him on you.”
“Smell…?”
He tossed me a withering look. “Some of us wielders have… advanced senses of smell. And you have the scent of another all over you.” His expression turned playful. “Although, if you’d like to regale me about how you and Rachelle ended tangled up together?—”
“Prick,” I said, stomping away from him, but he caught me, pulling me away from the path we’re following.
“This way, princess,” he said, nodding to a narrow dirt strip of land that zig-zagged in between some tall bushes.
I huffed, following him deeper into the foliage. “I’m not a princess.”
“How would you kno?—”
I whirled on him, yanking him back to face me. “No jokes about my lost memories,” I said, and his eyes widened at the anger in my tone. “I already hear every day how I’m just some defenseless hollow without any power or substantial strength. I don’t need to be reminded that I don’t even have the basics of my humanity intact, either.”
A cloud crossed over the moon, shrouding us in deeper darkness.
“Maybe the past isn’t for you to remember,” Tristen said, his voice low.
“That isn’t for you to decide,” I ground out, my teeth clenching. What did he know about me, anyways?
“Maybe your mind is protecting you. Maybe it’s better this way.”
“Better this way?” I froze. “Do you even know what it’s like?”
“I didn’t mean?—”
“I wake up to nightmares of a giant void swallowing me whole. Being in that dark cell makes me claustrophobic because it’s what the inside of my head feels like every day. I have nothing . Nothing to give me familiarity or warmth or comfort or strength. I have my words and whispers of skills I once learned—but I don’t remember my parents. My friends. What my childhood was like. Or—” my voice cracked. “Who I was standing at the altar with when I was supposed to be married.”
Tristen’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Making fun of me or stealing me away from my village? Away from Callum?”
Tristen’s expression darkened, but he said nothing. Gave me nothing .
“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?”
A flash of sadness crept across his eyes, but it was chased away by a coldness. “I don’t have answers I can give you.”
“You’re lucky I want answers more than I want to kill you,” I shot back. I turned from him, storming down the path as we crept closer to the palace. What did I expect from the legendary Shadowfire Assassin? The one who slaughtered families and helped to stoke the fire of the rebel-led war?
I didn’t know what side I was on yet, but his did not look particularly appealing.
We didn’t speak until we finally reached the outer wall of the palace.
“Here,” Tristen led me through the gardens. Past the tall hedges and night-blooming roses. The beauty of the palace was nearly unmatched. But even amongst the stunning foliage, I found my eyes falling on Tristen. That infuriating, smug Assassin who was a thorn in my side at every turn—but he was hard to look away from. Maybe it was his rippling power or the way the moonlight poured onto his skin. Or the feline way he crept across the landscape, surefooted and strong. Maybe it was the tendril of shadows that seemed to caress me and keep me hidden beside him.
So many things about him were dangerous, and I had a hard time staying away—despite my better judgment and the warnings of everyone else. Maybe I had lost my common sense with my memories.
“Here,” Tristen said, stopping at a grate half-hidden beside flower beds. He removed the metal grate, revealing nothing but endless darkness below. “It’s a straight drop down, but I’ll go first and then I’ll catch you. You just have to pull it closed before you let go. Okay?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Or, you can wait here,” Tristen said with a shrug.
I considered it, but heard the far-off sounds of guards walking this way.
“Fine. I’ll follow,” I told him, my heart pounding. I needed answers—but I also absolutely could not let Callum or his guards see me sneaking around in the dark with Tristen. I looked around, scanning the darkness for the guards as their voices grew closer.
Tristen made the connection. “Am I your little secret?”
“Shut up and go!” I said, punching his arm.
“If you insist.” Tristen lowered himself with a lithe grace, hanging from the side of the open hole in the ground, and then let himself fall down. I peered down into the darkness, but couldn’t see him—I only heard a soft echo of his feet hitting the ground far, far below.
“Drop down, Saffron. I’ve got you,” he called up at me.
Footsteps sounded on the far side of the garden—more guards.
I grabbed the grate, and my body fell through the hole, dangling into the dark abyss as I clutched onto the slats on the metal grate, yanking them back into place above me.
“Let go,” I heard Tristen’s voice command me.
And so I did, falling in darkness, tumbling until I landed in his strong arms, wrapped with muscle.
I felt his hot breath tickle my ear. “I told you I’d catch you, didn’t I?”
“That’s at least one promise you’ve kept to me so far,” I mumbled and twisted out of his arms. Trying not to let myself feel the comfort of his strength too much.
My eyes adjusted to the dark. “Where are we?”
Tristen snapped his fingers and a small ball of his shadowfire floated before us, its flickering light illuminating a dark hallway filled with barrels and bottles.
“Wine cellar. Can’t let the poor King and his court go without their celebratory booze. This way,” Tristen continued down another hallway, and we descended deeper.
The air grew colder as we climbed staircases deeper underneath the Saltspire Palace. “Why aren’t there guards here?”
Tristen shrugged. “The King gets cocky. Thinks there’s nowhere for us to run if we escape.”
“Is there?” I asked. “A way to escape?”
Tristen quirked a dark brow at my line of questioning. “Let me guess—your commander told you that any escape attempt would be futile?”
I wanted to interrogate him more on that, but we arrived at a small block of cells, and the furthest one was occupied. At the sounds of our arrival, a lanky man with long silver hair jumped to his feet. He had dark eyes like a raven, and birdlike grace. He looked the same age as Tristen, but had a killing grace and bandaged fingertips that made me take him for an archer, not a warrior.
“Aldric!” Tristen said, striding to the prisoner’s cell. “Good to see you still in one piece.”
“Tristen! How?—?”
Tristen already had the ring of keys out. “You have to get the hell off this island and tell the others to stay away for now. I have everything under control.”
Aldric’s eyes slid to me. “Saffron…” he murmured.
I went still as I took in the rebel soldier. “How do you know my name?”
Aldric looked confused, but Tristen merely shot a glance at me over his shoulder as he finished unlocking the cell door, swinging it open. “It’s hard to forget a pretty face.”
I glared at Tristen, but Aldric was already throwing his arms around Tristen. “I’m glad that witch didn’t touch you.” Aldric pulled away and looked at me. “And you—thank you for risking your life to help him. Gods know that Tristen can be such an ass that it’s easier to let him stew in his own problem soup rather than help him, so thank you for putting up with him long enough to spring me out. I owe you one.”
My cheeks heated at the praise. “You deserve better than Cassandra and King West’s wrath,” I said, remembering the way Cassandra had drained Otto of his youth, how she had killed those other two rebels without warning in the throne room.
Aldric shifted his gaze to Tristen. “When are you coming back?”
“Are things that bad?” Tristen asked.
The rebel winced. “Worse. The King… it’s a bloodbath. We need…” The rebel looked at me again, struggling to get out his words. “We need things to get back to the way they were as soon as possible if we have a shot at holding them off. That’s why we came?—”
“I told you not to come,” Tristen seethed. “This is my battle to fight. We have contingencies in place if things don’t turn out the way I planned?—”
“Those contingencies will lose the war for us. You know what needs to be done for us to right Stormgard.”
“Wait for my signal,” Tristen said. “Only after then we will be in the position to fix this. Tell the others. Wait for my signal .”
Aldric hesitated, but then bowed his head. “Understood,” he said. He raised his head, looking around. “The best route to the beach?”
“Same as we discussed,” Tristen said.
“Good luck,” Aldric said, “to both of you.” Then, he turned on his heel and disappeared down a tunnel that seemed to dive even deeper into the dungeon.
“Wait!” I called after the rebel, but he was already gone. I turned back to Tristen, advancing toward him. “How did he know my name, Tristen? How ?”
Tristen looked hurt. “I’m sorry, I can’t?—”
“Get away from her.”
I turned and saw Callum and a whole host of guards flanking him.
Tristen subtly moved his body in front of mine, and placed his hands in his pockets. So casual, even as shadows curled at the edges of his body, tinging in him a warring mix of darkness and a faint glow of the ember of his powers.
“Ah, finally doing your job, I see,” Tristen said. “Or did you only notice I was gone because you couldn’t find her? Can’t go a day without trying to put your hands on her, right? I understand the urge.”
Some of the other guards snickered, and Callum shot them a look, the laughter dying on their lips.
“Get him,” Callum commanded. The guards stepped out, but Tristen shook his head.
“Stay right there,” he said, his voice echoing with that otherworldly power that I knew was a compulsion. The guards shouted, but remained stuck to where they stood.
Callum, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “Come here, Saffron,” Callum said to me, knowing that I was still free to move. I started toward Callum, but a bolt of shadows shot out, and Tristen once again shifted so he was between Callum and I, keeping me behind him.
Tristen clucked his tongue. “Not so fast, Commander. I have some questions for you.” And with that, Tristen fixed his gaze on Callum, who let out a shout and fell to his knees.
Callum was scratching at his head—Tristen was using his mindweavying abilities on him. I felt sick, remembering how it had felt for King West’s mindweavyr to compel me.
“Stop!” I cried, throwing myself against Tristen’s back, pounding him with my fists—but he stood steady, his eyes glassy as he flipped through Callum’s memories.
But I saw Tristen’s powers waver, as if he couldn’t hold both Callum’s mind and the guards in thrall at the same time. His power over the guards disappeared, and they yelled as they charged forward.
They were upon him almost instantly, but they were thrown back by Tristen’s shield of shadows. His other hand summoned a bright flare of shadowfire, keeping them at bay. His power… it was immense. I felt the waves of it all over my body, my mind. It was heady. Strong—but flickering under the weight of having to exert so much over so many people at once.
Suddenly, Tristen unhooked from Callum’s mind?—
—and his gaze dropped to me, eyes wide in alarm.
“What?” I whispered, my throat dry as Tristen turned back to Callum?—
“YOU BASTARD!” Tristen shouted, and every single shadow in the room lunged at Callum, going to tear him limb from limb?—
—but then Callum’s shield blasted Tristen back, and Tristen was thrown against the cell bars like a ragdoll. Tristen landed on the ground, coughing out blood as he pinned Callum with his gaze, hatred roiling there in his obsidian eyes.
Callum grabbed my arm, yanking me behind him.
“You are going to pay for what you’ve done,” Callum said to Tristen, his voice cold as ice as he stared the Shadowfire Assassin down.
Tristen pulled himself up, staggering a step toward us. Pure fury burned in his gaze, his eyes fixed on Callum.
“You,” Tristen breathed. “ You’re a fucking traitor .”
I felt my skin grow cold as bloodlust shone in Tristen’s gaze.
“You dare fill her head so full of lies?” Tristen roared, and even Callum’s guards took a few steps back. “You dare to touch her? To pretend to protect her after what you’ve done to her ?”
I took in Tristen, the wild fury in his eyes. I had never seen him unruffled, not when he was in the coliseum fighting demons, not when he was fighting his own double. “What did you see?” I demanded. I needed to know. Needed to see what he saw.
Tristen opened his mouth, but then he was suddenly choking. He struggled against some unseen force, turning away from us as he gagged on his own blood, leaning against the cell door.
“Cuff him,” Callum commanded, and the guards shook out of their stupor and surrounded Tristen, the iron bands in their hands binding to his wrists and ankles as they swarmed him. Whatever force had Tristen coughing up blood had disoriented him long enough to be imprisoned once more, his powers dampened with a heady whoosh like all of the air in the dungeon had disappeared at once.
“What did you see, Tristen?” I begged again as the guards started to drag Tristen to the far corridor.
“He saw nothing, Saffron,” Callum said. “He’s a monster who wants nothing but destruction.”
Tristen fixed his gaze on me. Something glinted there—something devilish. Tristen slackened in the guards hold, starting to fall to the floor as they cried out in surprise.
But as their hold loosened, Tristen twisted out of their grip. He went to the closest guard’s sword, unsheathing it. With a whisper of steel, he slashed with the sword?—
—turning and lunging at me with the blade .
I screamed, twisting away from his oncoming strike. But before the steel could slice through my flesh, Callum tossed up his shield, falling to his knees beside me as he held up his shield. His arms crossed above him as he channeled the magic through his heart crystal, keeping me safe from Tristen’s blade.
Tristen had just tried to attack me. Why?
But then Tristen’s deadly gaze lowered to where Callum kneeled in front of me, holding the shield. “You’re shielding a prisoner, Callum. A prisoner I’m trying to kill.”
“Stay away from her,” Callum breathed.
“You are not her guard. You are the King’s guard. And you are interfering with the trials,” Tristen said, pressing his sword against it against it. “Not to mention…” Tristen reached into his pocket with his other hand and held up Callum’s key ring. “I have your keys. It’s treasonous to give a prisoner your keys, isn’t it?”
The other guards gasped.
Callum held his shield strong. “I didn’t give you my keys.”
“No, but you gave them to her, and she gave them to me.”
Callum swiveled his head to me, and I saw devastation flash through his eyes. “Saffron…”
“I needed answers,” I begged, but I saw in Callum’s expression that the damage had been done.
Tristen pressed his sword against Callum’s shield once more, which still encircled me in a blue glowing bubble. “Drop this shield. Or else the Isle of Embermere will enforce its rules. You will choose to submit to its punishment if you keep shielding her.”
“ I will not let you touch her !” Callum yelled, his shield pulsing.
I saw what was happening—saw how Tristen was goading Callum.
“Let down your shield, Callum! Tristen won’t hurt me,” I said, but Callum wasn’t listening to me. Wasn’t hearing me.
“You’re a coward. A stupid coward at that,” Tristen said, bouncing his sword off Callum’s shield once more. “You’re interfering with The Ash Trials!” Tristen roared as he slashed at it again.
“DROP YOUR SHIELD, CALLUM!” I screamed, but he didn’t listen.
Callum was making his choice.
A rumbling started to grow beneath our feet. I struggled to stay standing as Callum kept his shield up, his arms crossed above him. The Isle of Embermere started to answer in kind, magic threading through the air.
Callum cried out as his shield splintered, shattering into thousands of threads of magic. Then, the island’s own magic—smoke-like tendrils tinged a deep green—flew right to him on a roaring wind that now filled the prison cell. I was thrown back by the intensity of it, my clothes and hair whipping around me.
“Callum!” I yelled, but my voice was muffled by the roaring sound.
Callum screamed in pain as he held out his left arm. The colors began binding to it, everyone else in the room clinging onto any surface we could as the earthquake began to subside.
As it did, I dared to lift my head. Callum raised his left arm…
…to reveal the mark of The Ash Trials inked on his trembling flesh.