Chapter 29 #2
I didn’t answer—I was too focused on keeping up. My mother wove into a labyrinth of dark alleys with the ease of someone who knew exactly where she was going. Curpiss. If we didn’t hurry up, we were going to lose her.
A sudden flood of confusion poured through my bond with Rykr, making my steps falter.
“Where the hell are you, Seren?” Rykr’s voice was edged with irritation and grogginess.
“Good morning to you, too.” The bond between us hummed faintly, a reminder of just how much he could feel. “I slipped out with Amahle and went to talk to my mother.”
“Without telling me?”
My pulse quickened at the possessiveness in his tone. It shouldn’t have mattered, but somehow, it did.
I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the familiar rasp of it before responding again. I wouldn’t miss the attitude, but his voice? That was different. If this bond broke, would I still remember the way it wrapped around me like a spell?
Don’t get sentimental. He wasn’t mine to keep. He never had been. “You were sleeping.”
“Yeah, well, next time maybe leave me a note or something,” he snapped. “Or, better yet, wake me up and tell me.”
There was a pause before he added, softer this time, “I would have come with you.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t afford to let him come, but the offer—unexpected and earnest—tightened something in my chest.
“Sounds like you slept as well as I did. Or is the jackass within just stronger before breakfast?” I turned down another alley, no longer worried that my mother would see us. She was moving too fast to look over her shoulder for us.
His silence lingered for a beat too long. “We were being watched last night.”
The worry threading through his thoughts struck me silent for a moment. I forced myself to deflect. “Maybe try trusting me. I’ve handled myself without your help until now.”
I almost regretted the sharpness of my tone. “Be careful,” he said finally. “For both our sakes. I don’t take chances with your life.” The intensity behind his words sent a shiver down my spine.
“Do you see her?” Amahle asked as we searched the alley.
“Nope,” I said to Rykr before I could stop myself, then cringed.
“What?” Rykr’s suspicion was sharp enough to make me wince.
“If you want something to do, ask Ciaran to take you to a swordsmith.” Now I was the one starting to sound irritated. Figuring out how to control this free exchange of thoughts was crucial.
Yet another thing I needed my mother for.
But where had she gone?
As though she’d vanished, the alley ahead was empty.
Maybe she’d turned a corner or gone inside one of the buildings. I stomped my boot. “I should have just called her when I saw her.”
We slowed as we approached the area where we’d last seen her—near an old, sputtering fountain by the city walls, the stone streaked with dark water stains.
This was a dead end. The city limits pressed against the mountain walls. If not for the buildings, we’d probably be able to see clear to the eastern gate.
The only way out was the way we’d come.
Or—
I stepped closer to a circular grate in the wall. Rusted iron bars spanned its opening, large enough for a grown man to fit through if he crouched. The entrance to the sewer.
Amahle stepped to my side, eyes flicking from me to the grate. “You don’t think—”
“Mother?” I called softly, leaning toward the bars.
“That answers that question.” Amahle scrunched her nose. “The sewer? Really?” She tested the lock. “It’s locked.”
A furtive glance around confirmed that we were alone. “You know my mother is better with locks than I am.” I pulled the pin from my hair.
“Yeah, because she cheats.” Amahle crossed her arms. “I don’t know how Ibarra hasn’t taken over all of Lirien. Spellcraft seems like the most useful divine gift when it comes to ruling.”
I inserted the pin into the lock, peering closer. The lock was so large that my pin nearly vanished inside it, my fingers barely able to grasp the metal. “True, but the spellcraft that would be useful to the power-hungry is forbidden. Dark magic destroys the soul.”
“Halt. What are you doing?” a deep voice snapped behind us.
I stiffened, my heart kicking. Glancing over my shoulder, I met the angry glare of a silver-clad guard striding toward us. I tucked my pin into my palm, straightening. “Are you attempting to enter the sewers?”
“Uh—no, I was just—”
“The sewers are strictly off limits.” The guard jutted his chin at us. “Your name, rank, and tribe.”
Curpiss.
Getting arrested for this wouldn’t do me any favors.
Slipping my pin into my bracer, I pulled a pinch of spell powder from my satchel, extended my hand, palm up, whispered a sleeping spell. Blowing gently, I sent the powder toward the guard.
The air shimmered faintly, then dissipated, as if swallowed by an invisible force. My hands tingled again, stronger this time, a cold numbness crawling up my wrists.
Nothing.
Why wasn’t it working?
What in Solric’s name?
The guard’s eyes narrowed and he sneered, towering over us both. “Did you just try to put a spell on me?”
My tongue seemed frozen by the sheer shock that my spell hadn’t worked. What had gone wrong? I just made this so much worse.
Amahle jumped in. “Is this the sewer?” Amahle made a face. “Oh gods, thanks for letting us know. We were—”
“Name. Rank. Tribe. Now.”
The guard’s voice dripped with hostility.
Before either of us could respond, footsteps echoed from the sewer. A violet glow flared from the dark and surrounded the guard. He swayed, then collapsed, his head hitting the ground with a sickening thump.
My mother stepped from the shadows, her hands on the bars.
Thank the gods.
She gave us a sharp look, then waved the gate open. “What are you doing here?” she asked, kneeling beside the unconscious guard. Violet light shimmered from her hands as she pressed her palm to his forehead.
“I—” My mother rarely displayed her powers at home, and never like this. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? I was trying to find you and then—”
“We followed you,” Amahle admitted, chagrin on her face.
Mother stood, her lips set to a line. After a moment, she waved us forward, drawing us away from the guard and the sewer.
“What about the guard?” I glanced back as we hurried down the alley.
“I erased his memories. He’ll wake thinking he slipped near the fountain and hit his head.” Mother didn’t glance back at me, but irritation threaded her voice. “You never should have let her follow me, Amahle. I told you to watch over her. To keep her out of trouble.”
My jaw dropped. She had Amahle spying on me?
Amahle cringed but shot me an apologetic look. “I didn’t know there was any harm in following you,” she told my mother.
Once we were deep into another alley, I grabbed my mother’s elbow, forcing her to stop. “Wait. What’s going on? Why were you in the sewer? Why were you—”
“One question at a time, Seren,” she snapped. Then, her eyes softened, and she cupped my cheek. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to put yourself in any more danger, my love.” She gave an anxious glance back in the direction we’d come. “I thought I sensed …”
I waited, but she didn’t finish.
Amahle and I exchanged a look. Something was wrong.
My mother blinked again and frowned, as if shaking off whatever had distracted her. When she looked at me again, the vulnerability had vanished, replaced by cool disapproval. “No matter. What did you need me for?”
Amahle shifted with discomfort. “I’m going to give you two a moment.”
She walked away before my mother or I could protest.
“Glad to know you’re having my friends spy on me,” I muttered, thoroughly confused by my mother’s behavior.
My mother bristled, her face shadowed by grief and fear.
“We’re in grave danger here, Seren. More than you could possibly understand.
You’re facing the deadliest of trials tomorrow.
Esme, Madoc, Tara … I’m helpless to aid any of my children and I’m doing the best I can.
To honor my oaths, to find out what’s happened to your father … ” Her hands were shaking, now.
“I don’t know what more I can do,” Mother went on, more flustered than I’d ever seen her. “I have to do something. I have to help.”
But why in the sewers? That didn’t make sense.
I caught her by the arms, then pulled her into my embrace. She had always been so strong. So competent. I’d never been the one comforting her. Yet I understood her pain and her struggles. Her sorrow.
Maybe Tara, my mother, and I all carried the grief differently, but it had consumed us all the past six weeks. I’d been so wrapped up in my own pain, in the way I had made everything worse, that I hadn’t seen how much she was cracking at the seams.
Over Esme. Over Madoc and my father. Over all of us.
I kissed her cheek, gently, then pulled away from her. “I love you,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Oh, my darling.” My mother sounded as broken as I felt. “I love you too. So much more than you will ever know. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for any of my children—I hope you understand that.”
My powers are failing me, I wanted to tell her.
Help me.
But she was burdened enough.
“What did you need?” my mother asked, sniffling and attempting to pull herself together.
“I—” I drew a breath, then chose the safest question. “I wanted to ask about Haldron. Rykr said he’s King Magnus’s brother. In the line of succession.”
Her face darkened. “He’s right,” she said softly. “But you should be careful who you share that information with. Rykr should be careful, too.”
I closed my eyes, absorbing the information. Despite not wanting to believe Rykr, I’d known he was telling the truth.
Which likely meant everything else was true, too.
War was coming.
Rykr had to leave.
But before that, I had to face the Skorn. And my powers were failing.
My hands still tingled, the numbness now crawling up to my elbows. Emberstone’s wards couldn’t explain this—my magic had never faltered, not even in the most hostile conditions. It wasn’t just unsettling. It was terrifying.
My magic was more than a tool. It was part of who I was, part of what made me valuable—to my tribe, to myself. My secret weapon to survive.
I couldn’t rely on anyone else to save me now. Not my mother, not Rykr.
They had their own battles to fight.
Somehow, I was more alone than ever.