Chapter 2
Ivy
Lothar keeps the carriage curtains drawn. I know when we’ve reached the city of Regica because he stops to step out briefly and speak to the guard at the gate.
We’re crammed tightly onto the cushioned benches within, my sorcerer puppet master sitting close enough that our elbows knock together when the wheels hit a bump. But I’m not sure I’d rather have her shrouded sacrificial accomplice or the riven-hating, lopsided magic advisor pressed up against me instead.
It’s bad enough feeling Lothar’s haughty gaze evaluating me from the opposite bench as the carriage rattles onward.
Zaneta may be able to keep my magic locked down, but she can’t control every automatic bodily reaction. My heart has been hammering since Lothar revealed his instructions for me, and my stomach churns harder with every passing minute.
I guess she can stop me from outright vomiting. Although I wouldn’t mind puking my guts all over the man in charge right now.
Maybe then he wouldn’t be able to waltz right into Regica’s royal residence and arrange his murderous audience with the king.
The Order of the Wild member steering the carriage guides us through the city streets with occasional turns. It feels like a long time before the vehicle halts again.
My pulse stutters, but Lothar turns to the sacrificial accomplice rather than me. “You’ll be staying safely out of sight as you continue to help. Our friends will look after you while you offer your talent to Zaneta.”
“It’s my pleasure to serve the All-Giver,” the accomplice mumbles.
After they’ve stepped out of the carriage, I attempt to flex my muscles. Searching for any weak point in Zaneta’s hold over my body.
How well can she draw on the accomplice’s magic from a distance, even a short one? It’s got to be harder, and she already looked as if the effort was wearing on her.
For now, it still isn’t straining her enough for me to resist her magic. The only difference I can feel is a sharper jitter of my own power within my chest, as if it senses some tiny loosening of our invisible prison that I can’t exploit yet.
I have to keep trying. I have to stop myself from giving in to her demands before we reach the royal family.
I’ve spent months putting my life and my sanity on the line to protect King Konram and his family’s reign over Silana. Fighting to ensure that the scourge sorcerers don’t gain the upper hand and impose their brutal brand of leadership over the entire country.
He was just about to pardon me. He finally believed I wasn’t a monster.
Gods smite me, I don’t want to be one. I don’t want to see the world we’ll be left with if the royal family falls to these villains.
Although by the time Lothar’s done with me, my mind might not be sound enough for me to even care. My grip on reality was already starting to fracture every time I called on more of my magic.
All too soon, Lothar climbs back into the carriage. He doesn’t say anything as the horse tugs us forward, but we’ve got to be near the palace already. He’d want the accomplice as close by as possible.
My assumption is confirmed when the wheels rasp to another stop no more than a minute later. Lothar nods to Zaneta. “Let us see our purpose through.”
My skin crawls at the import of those words.
My limbs shift, pushing me to my feet. I climb out of the carriage in contradiction to every personal intention.
But as I wrench at my body, willing it to refuse, a faint quiver runs down my arm. When the sorcerer directs my hand to drop to my side, my fingers twitch toward my thigh in a soft tap.
Hope jolts through my veins. That was my act—I’m almost sure about it.
I try to wiggle my fingers again, but now that my arm is still, they won’t budge. I can’t turn my head, can barely adjust my gaze beyond staring straight in front of me.
There was a tiny opening. I have to find another one.
We’re standing in front of a high wall of polished stone. A gilded but heavy wooden door fills the gate.
Lothar walks up to the Melchiorek crest carved into the doorframe. Flanking him, Zaneta directs me to tug my hood farther forward to shadow my face.
As I lift my hand, I manage to flex my fingers again. But as soon as they reach my hood, they close around the fabric, ignoring any command I’m giving them.
I can’t stop myself from lowering my arm, so I put all my will into propelling it a little faster. Would I be able to make a jab with my elbow?
The joint bends slightly with a brief twitch. Hmm.
Lothar has pressed a token against the crest and murmurs words I can’t make out. The gate swings open to admit us.
Several guards in royal sapphire-blue uniforms stand on the other side of the gate. King Konram has clearly ramped up security after seeing absolute proof of the Order of the Wild’s intentions.
Just last night, a horde of hundreds of Order members marched within a couple of hours of this city, intending to kill him.
It’s only because of me and my men—and a risky plan that required manipulating the Darium soldiers on the other side of the Seafell Channel—that the scourge sorcerer army never made it here. I can hardly celebrate that victory if I let myself become the king’s murderer in the aftermath, though.
I wrench at my neck in an effort to turn my head toward the guards, strain at my face to make some expression they’ll take as a warning.
None of my efforts produce any result. I just keep walking straight ahead, following Lothar alongside my puppet master.
When I managed to move by my own will before, it was when I was merely extending the motion the scourge sorcerer had already forced rather than pushing against her control. It would make sense if it’s easier to slip in a little of my own intention when I’m leaning into her commands.
Cautiously, not wanting her to realize I’m testing the limits of her hold, I focus on flicking the toe of my boot against the hem of my dress. After a few steps, I succeed in giving it a soft tap.
That’s something. A small fragment of control I can reclaim.
Now how can I use it to prevent this assassination attempt? If I overplay my hand and fail, Zaneta will tighten her grip on me even more.
I’ll only get one chance.
The Regica palace towers over us—not quite as grandly imposing as the palace I’m used to in the capital city of Florian, but an impressive work of architecture all the same. The marble walls gleam, and carved figures of Creaden, the godlen of leadership, peer down from either side of the main doors.
Four guards are stationed at the top of the broad steps leading up to those doors. One holds up her hand at the sight of us.
“Advisor Lothar,” she says. “The king is expecting you—but he isn’t allowing any unvetted parties into the palace. You’ll need to continue from here alone.”
Lothar frowns. “These are my assistants. I’ve vetted them myself. They have key information to impart for the meeting I’ve arranged with King Konram.”
The guard shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Advisor Lothar. Considering recent events, he’s put in place a policy that only people he’s specifically approved of may enter. I’m sure you can discuss that with him during your meeting.”
The magic advisor sighs as if this is all a ridiculous precaution. Never mind that Konram’s wariness may save his life tonight.
Unless Lothar can use his gift to force the issue.
Please, let this murderous mission end here. I’m too keyed up for any real hope to penetrate my queasiness, but I pray silently with all my might.
The lopsided man offers the lead guard a smile that makes me want to shudder. “Surely you can at least admit them into the outer halls. It’s a rather chilly evening. I’d imagine King Konram will approve of their presence as soon as I’ve spoken to him.”
The guard shows no signs of budging. “If they’re cold, they can wait for approval in the carriage, Advisor. I have to follow my orders.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lothar says with a tone full of acid, and makes a sharp motion toward Zaneta.
I don’t even have time to cry out in protest, as unspoken as that cry would be in my present state. The scourge sorcerer’s magic yanks at my body—and has me propelling my own power forward in an instant.
Against every particle of my will, I hurl lances of my magic at all four guards at once. The supernatural force slams through their skulls.
My magic shatters their minds before they can raise any protest either.
Four bodies crumple outside the palace doors. With another jerk of Zaneta’s control, I’m dissolving those bodies into dust that whips away in a gust of wind.
My magic reverberates eagerly from my chest, but the rest of me is screaming in vain. The bottom of my stomach has completely hollowed out.
I just eviscerated four innocent people—four people who were only trying to protect the leader of the realm. I tore apart their corpses so no one will even realize what happened to them.
Gods only know what consequences echoed out in exchange for those acts.
And this is only the beginning of what Lothar wants from me.
He’s already shoved open the palace door. “Make sure no one sees enough to raise the alarm,” he snaps at Zaneta under his breath.
He marches down the main hall draped with tapestries and hung with gold-framed paintings. My feet stride after him over the intricately woven rug.
My thoughts scramble in my frantic attempts to figure out how to defy him. I might be able to throw myself faster forward, right into him.
But I have no weapons, and Zaneta is containing my magic again. What would bumping against the magic advisor accomplish other than pissing him off and making her even more cautious?
Maybe when Zaneta pushes my magic out of me again, I can launch at least a little of it toward my captors instead?
I won’t have much time to find out. Lothar wants me to destroy the royal family the second we reach them.
I have no idea how deep into the palace the audience room lies. Lothar veers down a side hall, picking up his pace even more, and Zaneta forces me to match it.
Lanterns flicker on the walls, casting their golden glow through the opulent passage. Then voices echo off the vaulted ceilings from somewhere in the distance—an urgent shout.
My heart leaps with the thought that our intrusion has already been discovered. But Lothar and his underling don’t react.
My gut knots tighter with sickly understanding.
The shout wasn’t a real sound. That was my mind acting up, inventing hallucinations. Cracking more as my magic tears at my sanity.
And there’s nothing I can do about it.
Nothing yet. With every step, we must be getting farther away from the sacrificial accomplice Zaneta is drawing strength from. I test the boundaries of her control and find I can swing my arms just a little with my strides.
Somehow I don’t think a swish of my sleeves is going to save me or King Konram.
I reach toward the power coiled inside me. It’s whirling in my chest with a sense of anticipation after being called on once already.
If I can crack Zaneta’s control over my magic—if I can shatter her concentration for long enough to break free?—
Two guards hustle toward us from farther down the hall. One of them hesitates, looking us over. “Advisor Lothar, I don’t think?—”
Lothar doesn’t even need to gesture this time. Zaneta knows what her orders are—and my body jerks to follow them with the squeeze of her magic around me.
Two more spears of power spring from my hands. Both of the guards collapse, their eyes rolling up, their forms totally limp.
Lothar points to a side room, and Zaneta has me heave the corpses inside. I grapple with my power, willing it to careen farther to the side, to smack into her, but it stays melded to the strict course she’s given it.
I still can’t deviate too far from her control. She’d need to be right in the way of where she’s having me direct my magic, and it’s unlikely she’ll be that careless.
Lothar lets out a hiss of his breath through his teeth. “Come on. Before anyone else can interfere.”
We hurry to another corner and turn toward a door carved with crowns and leafy branches. Zaneta has me cut down the two guards stationed outside before they can so much as speak.
Another scream builds at the base of my throat, but I can’t even look away from their lifeless bodies.
As we hurtle onward, she compels me to disengage the door’s lock with my magic. More power balls behind my sternum, ready to shove the door wide so I can spring inside and smash through every person waiting beyond it.
No. I can’t let this happen. I can’t.
My pulse thunders in my ears. My thoughts flail in my head.
And as we reach the door, I see my opening.
In the same moment as my first blast of magic hits the door to fling it open, Zaneta throws me forward alongside it. She wants me to charge inside before the royal family has time to react.
So I fling myself even faster in the direction she’s already pushed me.
I hurl myself into the edge of the opening door, managing to duck my head just slightly at the same time. My forehead slams into the hard wooden corner with all the force I can bring to bear.
Pain explodes through my skull for a fleeting second. Then my mind spirals into darkness.