Chapter 43
Forty-Three
Ivy
Iwake up to a cool breeze tugging at my hair and a warm hand on my cheek. When I blink, Casimir’s gorgeous face comes into focus in the pale light, framed by looming trees.
A smile curves his lips. “There’s our woman.” He strokes my hair back from my temple. “How are you doing, Kindness?”
“I—” The first word comes out as a croak. I clear my throat and try again. “What happened? Where are we?”
The last thing I remember is the hall in the farmhouse, Borys bleeding across the floor, my head unnervingly vacant for the first time in—
My body tenses beneath the blanket that’s been laid over me. My skull is still vacant.
I can’t find any tingle of Julita’s presence no matter how hard I strain my senses.
“We followed the locket’s signal and found you in the farmhouse,” Casimir is saying. “You must have passed out.”
Stavros’s voice carries from somewhere beyond my view. “Exhaustion and blood loss will do that.”
Blood loss. I adjust my position on the ground—padded by another blanket—and an ache ripples through my side from the spot where Borys cut me.
No wry comment from Julita. No cheer that her sadistic brother is finally, definitely dead.
I pry at my mind as if I can summon her voice through sheer will, but nothing comes.
Casimir’s brow knits at the emotion that must show on my face. “We patched you up thoroughly. Most of the blood wasn’t yours.”
Alek appears beside him, holding one of our canteens. “You should be all right, but it’d be good for you to drink something.”
I stare at them, a much deeper ache spreading through my chest. It twines around my lungs, making it hard to speak.
“Julita—she helped me distract her brother—she… she flung herself right out of my head at him so I could get his dagger—”
A sob breaks through my words.
Rheave hustles into view in an instant, his stance poised for battle. “What did he do to you?” he snarls.
“He’s already dead,” the courtesan reminds him in a mild tone, and helps me sit up with his arm around me. “Have a drink, and then you can tell us the whole story.”
As Alek hands me the canteen, Stavros steps closer as well, the four of them forming a semi-circle around me. I gulp the cool water that has an herbal tang to it, suggesting one of them has added a little supplement that’s supposed to help me heal.
It takes a few slow breaths before I think I can get through the whole explanation.
“I took down the two daimon Borys had guarding him, but he came at me too quickly, and I lost my knives. He would have killed me if Julita hadn’t intervened.
I let her take over so she could put him off balance, and like I said, she jumped out of my head at him.
I think her spirit had enough energy to smack him in the face. ”
I lower my head and rub my face. “But I guess she couldn’t come back. She’s gone.”
The ache of loss creeps up my throat, choking me.
She was already dead too, in most of the ways that count. She told me she was ready to move on.
I can’t imagine any way she’d rather have gone than by ensuring her brother never caused any more harm.
But I didn’t even get to say thank you. I didn’t get to say good-bye.
Casimir hugs me closer, and Alek grasps my hand with a comforting squeeze.
“We’ll have a proper funeral for her,” Stavros says, sounding a little awkward. “As soon as we can. She deserves at least that much. I’m not sure what exactly we’ll tell people, but they should know she’s a hero.”
I swallow thickly. “Yes. Yes, they should.”
His remarks cut through my grief enough to remind me of the other heroics we were attempting tonight.
My pulse stutters. “The battle—the Darium soldiers and the scourge sorcerers—is the royal family safe?”
Stavros crouches down so we’re eye to eye.
“It must have been as soon as you engaged with Borys—the Order of the Wild army faltered again. The remaining Darium soldiers managed to cut down a lot more of them before they retreated to their side of the channel, and the soldiers from our fort mopped up the few stragglers who hadn’t fled. ”
“And they didn’t arrest you?”
Rheave lets out a disgruntled sound. “Arrest us for fixing their problems?”
Stavros casts him an amused sideways glance. “I think they wanted to, but we were able to evade capture. They were somewhat distracted by dealing with the sacrificial accomplice we pointed them to in the farmhouse, after we’d gotten you out.”
“And we got our hands on a couple more horses, since the march didn’t need them anymore,” Alek pipes up. “So we can all ride. And we’d better soon, before the soldiers decide to get more serious about hunting us again.”
Stavros’s expression turns solemn. “I don’t know where we stand after tonight’s victory or where it’d make the most sense to go.”
Casimir offers him a soft smile. “Farther from the fort does seem like a good initial idea, in any case.”
They help me to my feet. As Stavros gathers the blankets, Rheave wraps his arms around me, keeping his embrace gentle. “You shouldn’t have gone without us, Little Vine.”
“You were busy doing something just as important,” I remind him.
He gives a dismissive huff and ducks his head to claim a kiss.
My heart skips a beat with the knowledge that this is the first time my other men will have seen such an open display of our new intimacy. But when the daimon-man eases back, the three of them are simply smiling.
Casimir has led Toast over. The stallion nickers as if expressing his own concern about my injuries.
Stavros moves to my side. “I’d better help you mount.”
Before I’ve positioned myself next to the saddle, a brisk female voice blares through the woods with an unnatural resonance. “Stavros Teodorek of Florian—on behalf of King Konram, I need to speak with you and your companions.”
I flinch and then wince at the pain that sears from my bandaged wound.
Stavros’s forehead furrows. “Whoever that is, she’s using a magical amplifier to spread her call. I don’t think she’s that close.”
We venture in the direction of the voice, coming to the edge of the patch of woods where the men brought me for shelter.
Across the nearby fields, a robed woman sits on horseback, flanked by two soldiers.
She holds her body with a stately air. A patch covers the eye she sacrificed.
I stare. “Is that… Hessild Korinya? The king’s chief sorcerer?”
“I believe it is,” Casimir murmurs. “And according to her, he sent her to us.”
Stavros scans the terrain around the royal magic advisor and her small escort. The nearby fields are open enough that any additional threat should be obvious.
“Konram knew from my message approximately where I’d be,” he says. “We should see what she wants—but with the horses, and keeping a safe distance so we can ride off if the conversation turns sour.”
Hessild makes her amplified appeal again as we clamber onto our steeds. When we emerge from the woods, she turns toward us but stays where she is, maybe recognizing that we’ll want to stay cautious.
Rheave keeps his bow at hand, his quiver over his shoulder. I scan the landscape all around us, but I don’t see any sign of a trap.
We stop right at the edge of where we can comfortably yell and be heard. “I’m here,” Stavros says, pitching his voice to carry. “What do you have to say?”
Hessild smiles. “It’s good to discover that you haven’t lost your knack for strategy, Stavros. You and your colleagues did the royal family a great service last night.”
Stavros gestures toward me. “The main part of the strategy came from Ivy. She risked her life to see that King Konram’s wouldn’t be threatened.”
The royal advisor inclines her head. “He recognizes that and regrets that he judged all of you so hastily. If you would come to Regica with me, he would like to discuss the conditions of a full pardon.”
For a second, I lose my breath. This is the outcome we hoped for all along.
Can it really be happening? King Konram is willing to let me live with my riven magic?
“Do we have official confirmation of his intentions?” Stavros asks.
Hessild retrieves a paper with a blob of wax at its bottom from her pocket and holds it out. “He has sworn it with his seal.”
“I’ll get it.” Rheave prods his horse forward and canters over.
I brace myself, but Hessild lets him take the proclamation without the slightest suspicious move. The daimon-man rides back and hands the paper to Stavros.
The former general scans it carefully. He keeps his voice even when he fills us in, but a warm glint comes into his eyes.
“It looks authentic. The seal is his personal one that no one else has access to. He apologizes—says he can’t help but honor our efforts on his behalf.
He couldn’t risk coming himself, but he sent Hessild as a gesture of trust.”
He pauses. “I’d imagine he also wants her to evaluate Ivy, but I suppose it is true that as far as they’re concerned, Hessild is putting herself at our mercy.”
Alek shifts nervously on his horse. “Do you think we can trust him?”
Stavros nods slowly. “If we don’t trust this, then we might as well commit to being outlaws forever.”
He glances at me. “But I can’t make the decision for all of us.”
My gut twists. I’m the one in the most danger if we go to the king. But how can I give up the opportunity to get at least part of the absolution I’ve spent most of my life dreaming of?
If Julita were here, she’d be saying it was about time the king saw the truth. Applauding me for showing my worth.
The ache of loss expands in my gut.
We’ll never be able to honor her if we spend our whole lives running away.
I draw myself up straighter. “Let’s go see the king.”
Stavros turns back to Hessild and her escort. “We’ll come.”
“Excellent.” She guides her horse around and sets off toward the road without expecting us to quite join her. That consideration seems promising too.