CHAPTER 38 JAX
JAX
The king has a plan. The king has a plan.
The words keep echoing in my head, repeating over and over again in a rapid panicked spiral until I can’t think of anything else.
I sure hope he has a plan, because this has to be more than four dozen soldiers.
It seems like four million soldiers. My mouth has gone dry, and my hands are frozen on the reins.
But whatever his plan is will likely end in sacrifice. In death. That’s the whole reason we came out here.
That’s the whole reason I followed Tycho.
You have my heart.
After that, did he think I wouldn’t ?
My breathing is so loud I feel like everyone here must be able to hear it. I try to slow it down, but it’s overpowered by my heartbeat. A cool breeze wraps around us, and I shiver.
Then I see the scraver, and I only missed it because it’s right in front of me, between two horses. Dark red- and- purple wings, one of which hangs a bit crookedly. Fierce, blazing eyes. He’s half crouched against the ground, but he’s tall enough that he nearly reaches the horses’ withers.
Xovaar.
A chain is wrapped around his neck, looped twice for good measure. From there, it drags on the ground, and my eyes follow the links until I reach the saddle of the next horse. Astride the animal sits Lady Karyl.
My eyes go wide. My thoughts stop spinning.
I don’t understand what’s happening here. I thought Karyl was working with the scraver. I thought that’s what we were all afraid of— that she and this creature would use magic against us the way Tycho used his magic to help defend us against the onslaught in the forge.
Has Karyl captured it? Has she taken the scraver prisoner?
But why?
My eyes flick past her to the armed men and women at her back.
It’s not four million, not now that my brain is working, but it’s easily a hundred.
I may not be a soldier, but I’ve spent enough time among them to know that these people aren’t anxious and they aren’t worried.
They’re ready for battle, and they’re ready to take the king.
The king has a plan.
I swallow, and my mouth feels like it’s full of sawdust. I have to remind myself— again— that any plan is going to end with his family’s safety.
Any plan is going to end in sacrifice.
“Lady Karyl,” says the king, as if we’re just casually encountering each other in the woods, not here to negotiate a surrender. “Or should I call you Lady Clarinas? You’ll have to forgive me— I was never informed which name was truly yours.”
“Either name will suffice,” she says. “Have you brought your magesmith allies here to surrender?”
“I am prepared to discuss the terms.”
“The terms.” She scoffs. “There will be no terms. You have no leverage.” Her gaze settles on Tycho. “I knew the other one would not be able to lend you power for long.” She gives the chain a little tug. “Xovaar told me.”
Xovaar says nothing.
Grey ignores this, looking past her. “You Truthbringers claim to reject magic, yet you now seem to welcome it among you.” His eyes settle back on Lady Karyl. “Am I mistaken about your intent here? As you are a magesmith yourself now, aren’t you here to negotiate a truce between us?”
Her lip curls, and a bitter wind loops through the forest. I have to bite back a shiver. “We were forced to use your methods,” she says. “I was forced to use your methods.”
“No one forced you to do this,” Tycho snaps.
But Grey lifts a hand. “Are you going to rule Syhl Shallow, too? You’ll steal the crown from one magesmith and put it on your own head?”
To my absolute shock, she looks him dead in the eye and says, “If necessary.”
Behind her, there’s a hint of unease. I don’t hear anything spoken, but there’s a little ripple through the men and women assembled there.
They don’t like this, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“They don’t want a magesmith on the throne,” says the king. “They hate magic. What will you do with this power once I am gone?” he says calmly. “Will you surrender yourself as well?”
“I will return the magic to this creature,” she says.
“You cannot,” Tycho snaps. “If we could give it back, don’t you think we would have already?”
That hint of unease rolls through the crowd a second time.
Grey lifts a hand again. His eyes flick to the chained scraver. “You have him on a chain, Karyl. It certainly doesn’t look as if you intend to give it back.”
“I will give it back,” Karyl says, seething.
“I don’t want this magic in my veins.” She gives the chain a sharp jerk, and the scraver makes a small sound.
Despite everything he’s done, a spark of pity flares in my heart.
“He is on a chain to ensure compliance.” She glares at the king. “Surely you remember, Your Majesty.”
“Grey never kept anyone on a chain,” Tycho growls.
“Tycho,” the king says fiercely, his tone full of warning.
“You didn’t. Iisak was your friend. He was my friend. You have never used magic to harm anyone—”
“Silence!” Karyl snaps.
But Tycho isn’t looking at her. He’s glaring down at Xovaar.
“I know your magic was stolen from you. I know you want it back. I know why you hate magesmiths. I understand now. But the Truthbringers are not your allies. She cannot give you back your magic. She cannot protect whatever scravers you have left. Just because they hate magesmiths as much as you do does not mean they are on your side.”
“I said silence !” Karyl cries, and wind roars between the trees, bringing snowflakes. Everyone shivers.
But not Tycho. He hasn’t looked away from the scraver on the ground, and for as much damage and heartache as this creature has caused, Xovaar hasn’t looked away from Tycho.
“I know you hated Lilith,” Tycho says, his voice straining over the wind.
It’s stinging my cheeks and burning my eyes.
“I know what she did to Nakiis, and I know why you were afraid of Grey. I do. I swear to you, I do, Xovaar. But Grey didn’t take your magic— he didn’t even want it.
Neither did I. There is not one magesmith left who stole their magic from scravers.
” His gaze narrows, and he looks at Karyl. “Well. Perhaps one.”
“The end justifies the means,” she says, seething.
“I rather doubt it.” Tycho looks past the scraver at the Truthbringers.
“You came to the palace with fire. You tried to kill the queen. Believe what you want, but if you had come to the king with your fears, he would have listened. Instead you brought threats and violence and death.” Tycho looks back at Xovaar.
The scraver’s claws flex against the ground, and he bares the edge of his fangs.
Tycho doesn’t flinch. If anything, sadness reflects in his eyes.
“You sought out help from rebels and traitors and spies, Xovaar. Perhaps you found what you wanted, but I promise you this: if you had come to the king for help, you wouldn’t be on a chain.
If you had come to me for help, I would have answered. ”
For one blazing instant, the wind stops. The sudden silence is shocking.
Then Karyl loops that chain once around her fist, as if reassuring herself that the scraver is still under her control. Another wave of unease rolls through the Truthbringers.
But my eyes are still on Xovaar, who hasn’t looked away from Tycho.
Brave, kind, caring Tycho, who somehow finds a way to discover empathy in every situation, even when he’s staring death right in the face.
“You’re losing your army,” Grey says to Karyl, speaking through the silence.
“Oh, you think so?” Lady Karyl smiles, and her eyes are so dark. “You can say what you want to this scraver, but it doesn’t matter. They hate him, too.” Her eyes narrow. “I’m done listening to you all. So perhaps it’s time to do what we came here to do.”