Chapter 11
“M y spell will clash with yours.” I glance at Quin, his lazily shifting fingers. “Can you hold steady?”
Quin laughs and the air hums with restrained power, the kind that suggests there’s so much more where it came from. I shake off a shiver, but I can’t shake off Quin’s gaze, daring me to match his magic.
I summon my spell and funnel it through Quin’s. The two merge smoothly, Quin’s blazing hot and gold while mine flows cool and calm.
His makes my own feel supported, stronger...
My pulse hitches and with it my magic jolts, a painful collision that lances through me. I almost drop my spell. Quin’s magic flares like a pocket under mine, lifting it, holding it in place. “Focus,” he says. The punch of authority steels my resolve; his keen scrutiny has me rising to the challenge. I needle the spell under the abscess on the dog’s back. Our magic slides seamlessly together until I pull out and it repels. “You’re overpowering,” I mutter.
He just laughs. “That’s nothing.”
The abscess finally bursts and dissolves. “Pull back,” I grind out, trying not to let the strain show in my voice.
“I’ll be gentle,” Quin retorts knowingly. Or is that mockingly?
The dog whines softly, its pain easing as the last of our spells release. I feel a strange sort of emptiness when it’s done, like Quin took energy or lightness away from me.
I shake off the eerie feeling and collapse into Akilah’s waiting arms, my legs trembling with exhaustion. She presses sugared ginger to my lips, a sharp sweetness, and Frederica ushers us inside to eat and rest. Quin follows, gaze a hot prickle at my back; I look over my shoulder sharply to catch him in the act, but he’s snapping off into another room, calling for his aklos.
Herb-stuffed chicken is the main event at dinner, and between it and the bone-broth, my energy is restored. Akilah, seated next to me, leans in and whispers under the chorus of conversing guests. “Where did that haughty man go?”
I shake my head.
“What’s wrong with him, do you think?”
I lift a silver spoon between us. “Grew up with one of these in his mouth?”
She snickers. “I meant, why does he need the cane? He only uses it half the time.”
I tap the spoon against my mouth, frowning. “I sensed pain. He’s clearly powerful and can use magic to support himself without a cane, but that’s not possible all day long, is it?” Also... the potency of his power reminded me of that evening, in the royal belt. All those branded redcloaks, dead... “Anyway, he’s clearly agile despite whatever it—”
Frantic banging echoes through the bones of the manor. Our hostess rises from the table with apologies; I flash my teeth at Akilah, who sighs and follows me.
Around a corner on the way to the foyer we collide with Quin. He halts, blocking the narrow corridor, filling it with his presence. There’s a weight in it that has Akilah lurching back a step.
I, on the other hand, follow the impulse to push on. “We’re making sure the mistress of the house isn’t bothered. Again .”
Quin’s eyes flash and I glare. He snaps towards the source of the ruckus, and we sneak along beside him.
Frederica stands on the threshold, her hand resting on the head of a young akla kneeling in the pool of light falling from the open door. “Deep breath. Tell me what the matter is.”
“My master, he fell—we found him alive, but he won’t wake up. We’re all so scared. Please, he’s like a father to me. Master Hrafn has tried shaking him and yelling but—”
“Don’t shake him.” The akla looks around Frederica’s skirts to me. “You need a vitalian.”
She shakes her head and shuffles towards me.
I’m already gesturing to a sighing Akilah to grab our belongings.
She doesn’t move though. Instead, she moves closer and whispers in my ear. “After the earthquake, they’ll be patrolling.”
The threat of that has my stomach tightening.
I look at the distraught akla. I could never leave a person to die. “I’m not a vitalian,” I say, offering her a sympathetic smile. “But I can try.”
Quin’s brows lift and he catches my eye.
I level him a look. “Are you going to tell on me?”
He tips his head and laughs heavily.
I look over at Frederica; her gaze darts rapidly between Quin and me. “Do you have any powdered frostbloom?”
Quin cuts in sharply. “I have everything you need.”
* * *
We go by boat to the house of the akla’s master. The cottage is small, surrounded by fields of lavender; the rich scent mingles with the metallic tang of blood.
We’re greeted by a tall, fair-headed man with the forever-beauty of those hailing from the kingdom of Iskaldir. But while it’s beautiful, it’s also contorted with worry.
“Wait,” he says between sniffs, “you’re not linea?”
I pat a fist over my heart, in Iskaldir respect. “I’m not an official vitalian, but I could help your...”
Master Hrafn clears his throat. “My cousin.”
I scan the cramped room, my gaze lifting to find Quin strolling the shadowy space, watching me intently.
Master Hrafn’s expression pinches. He shakes his head. “I can’t let a par-linea treat Bjorn.”
Quin snarls, and I cut over him, “May I ask why, sir?”
“The luminists say par-linea spells are curses,” he says, hushed.
I ought to have expected this; I’d assumed Master Hrafn would care more that there is someone who could save his... cousin.
“You might cure one thing for a time,” he carries on, “but inevitably the patient dies.”
“Inevitably, we all die.”
Master Hrafn sucks in a sharp breath; I lower my gaze and try a less cutting approach. “What you are referring to are baseless folktales and preachings, propagated by official vitalians to ensure their authority doesn’t take a dive, and luminists who are afraid of being demoted in their next life. Don’t let your Bjorn suffer because of them.”
“You want me to trust you? We left Iskaldir for Lumin’s spiritual superiority. How can I risk his life on your word alone?”
“You’re not the only one afraid. I am the first anyone will blame if he does not survive.”
Master Hrafn frowns; Quin lounges against a beam, watching me shrewdly. He gives a commanding swish of his hand.
Apparently, an exquisite summer cloak and finely tailored clothes are enough to trump a luminist’s preachings.
Hrafn leads me to the next chamber. Bjorn lies on the narrow bed, his pallor waxy, his breaths fragile. The luminist threat still lingers in the back of my mind, but I push the thought down. This man doesn’t have time for my fear.
I take his pulse. Slow, unsteady.
“Close the windows,” I order. “Too much lavender’s making him drowsier. I need clean water—boiled—immediately. And Quin—” I glance over at him, lounging with infuriating calm against a doorframe. “Have Akilah bring in your apothecary chest.”
Quin raises an eyebrow but gives a sharp nod to one of his aklos outside the door.
“There’s a physic’s treasure-trove in there,” Akilah whispers as she sets the chest down with a puff. “Who is he exactly?”
“Someone,” Quin drawls, “who could buy your master and make him my personal aklo.”
I pull out frostbloom and thornwort. “Save your money.”
“Trust me,” Akilah adds, pushing herself up against my shoulder, “this one is shameless. He’ll only get you into trouble.”
The mention of trouble has Master Hrafn tensing. I find his gaze and hold it.
He hesitates and steps back with a short nod of permission.
Akilah moves out into the yard—no doubt to play sentinel—and I kneel before Bjorn. The wound at his side weeps, the torn flesh sluggish to respond even as the spell takes hold. Blue light swirls at my fingertips, faint and unstable, and I grit my teeth. This spell demands focus, but the tight knot of unease in my chest only grows. The luminists can’t know I’m here, but my magic must be making the whole cottage thrum and glow.
“Will you finish anytime today?” Quin’s voice cuts through the tension. He’s still relaxed, but he watches me with an unsettling intensity, as if he’s cataloguing every movement.
“If you’ve got capacity to insult, you can make yourself useful,” I snap, not looking up. “Stand guard and make sure no one interrupts.”
“Apparently you see me as your own personal aklo,” he replies, his voice dry. But to my surprise, he straightens, and canes towards the door.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
As the spell stabilises, Bjorn’s pulse improves under my fingers. Relief floods through me, but it’s not over yet. There’s another spell to go. First, though, my body needs to absorb enough of the idleflower nectar I just drank.
Master Hrafn stays at Bjorn’s side, holding his hand, murmuring to him softly. I leave him a moment of privacy, returning to the front chamber where Quin is stationed at a crack in the shuttered window.
He stands like a statue carved by a master’s hand, the flicker of lantern light glancing off his sharp angles and smooth lines. His gaze is rooted on the outside, but his expression is distant, as though he’s deep in troubled thoughts.
There’s a stillness about him that makes me want to lean in and prod him, see if he can still move. I don’t try. I watch, and the silence stretching between us feels taut and prickly.
“Something you want to say?” he asks, turning his head sharply.
I yank my eyes away from him to the shutters and then around the room in a frantic search for Akilah.
“Do you refuse to speak, or are you afraid?”
I snap my gaze to his. Afraid! “Thank you for your escort here, and for the frostbloom.”
“Don’t think this means I like you,” Quin says, his lips twisting wryly.
I laugh. “If this should turn to friendship, I’d have a lot to explain.”
Sound approaching the cottage pulls our gazes apart. Quin checks out the window, his sharp eyes narrowing.
The first chime of a luminist’s handbell freezes me in place. My blood chills.
Quin’s gaze moves between me and Hrafn as he comes into the room, eyes wide with panic.
The bell chimes again, closer this time, its steady rhythm like a funeral march. Possibly an omen of my own to come. Quin moves to the door, his cane snicking the floor at measured intervals. He pauses at the threshold, his broad frame blocking the view outside.
“Awaken Bjorn,” he commands.
“Not yet,” I hiss. “I just delivered the first spell. I’m still—”
“You don’t have time. Either he wakes, or the luminists will drag us all to the capital for judgement.”
The air thickens with fear as I bend over Bjorn, channelling the spell’s final layer, my hands trembling. I pull at every bit of idleflower nectar in my system and press it into him, willing the magic to hold, to be enough.
“Come on,” I whisper to Bjorn—and to myself. “Come on.”
The sound of the bell stops. Muffled voices. Quin steps back into the bedchamber, his expression unreadable.
“Akilah,” he says, calm despite the crackling tension. “But she won’t hold them long.”
Bjorn stirs, his lashes fluttering, and I sag with relief.
“He’s waking,” I tell Hrafn, who falls to his knees beside the bed, tears streaking his face.
A sharp knock at the door cuts through the moment.
Quin’s gaze snaps to mine. “Finished?”
“Barely,” I admit, my chest heaving. “But if they see me—”
“They won’t,” Quin promises, his voice firm. He glances at Hrafn. “Get rid of them. Say whatever you must. Send Akilah back in here.”
Hrafn stammers, his fear palpable, but he obeys, stepping out to greet the luminists.
Quin’s calm facade falters for a moment. He grips his cane tighter, his knuckles whitening. “Take Akilah and go,” he orders. “The back door leads to the river where we left the boat.”
“What about you?” I ask, my voice low.
Quin fixes me with a look that’s equal parts annoyance and something I can’t quite name. “Think I can’t handle a few luminists?”
His self-assurance is infuriating, but the weight of his tone has me ready to follow orders.
Before I can respond, Akilah bursts into the room, her face pale. The luminists must have frightened her.
“Not just luminists,” she says, reading my mind. “Frederica sent an aklo after us.” She trembles as she holds the paper. “Your niece—Lucetta, she was injured in the earthshake.”
The air leaves my lungs. My mind reels back—just last week, her bright eyes were laughing as she staggered through the courtyard with a basket far too big for her little arms. “Look at me! Picking herbs like Uncle Cael.” She was so proud, even though her basket held only grass.
“She’s alive,” Akilah says quickly, snapping me back to the present. “But your father... I’m not sure...”
I squeeze my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. My father would do what he could, but simplex spells might not be enough. Especially if the injury is severe.
My mind spins, but Quin steps forward, cutting through my panic.
“Take the boat,” he says steadily. “Go.”
I hesitate, my gaze flicking between him and Akilah. He strides to the back door, opening it to reveal the flatboat at the bank.
His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment, something unspoken passes between us. And I’m somehow more... confident.
“Thank you,” I murmur, stepping past him.
He doesn’t reply, but his gaze lingers on me as I help Akilah onto the boat, my mind already racing ahead.
* * *
Akilah and I yell over one another, trying to navigate the narrowing canal.
“Left.”
“Other left!”
We’re barely holding it together. A low-hanging branch scratches across my cheek, and I let out a frustrated laugh. My limbs feel heavy from manoeuvring the boat, from the night’s chaos, from the fear that I’ll be too late to help...
The trees along the banks deepen the dark with their shivery silhouettes. A breeze stirs, colder than the night itself, rustling the water’s surface and pricking at the back of my neck. Akilah glances behind us, her brow furrowing.
“Did you hear that?” she whispers.
I shake my head, though my pulse quickens. The uneasy stillness around us feels almost...
Before I can dismiss the thought, the boat rocks violently; Akilah stumbles back, and I lurch forward, my heart hammering. Daggers flash before us, glinting in the moonlight.
“Stay back!” I shout, and grit back frustration as I throw down the contents of my pockets. “Take it. Just take it and go!”
One scoops up my meagre fortune while another says urgently, “This isn’t—”
“They’ve seen us now.” He tucks my coin into his belt and scouts the boat for more.
He grunts, grabbing at Akilah and dragging her toward the side of the boat. My heart seizes as I reach for her—but she doesn’t need me.
She drives her elbow into the man’s stomach, spins free, and snatches a pole. With a sharp swing, she cracks it against his ribs, sending him and our money sprawling into the canal.
“Next!” Akilah shouts, whirling the pole, her gaze on fire—and I’m rather impressed.
The other two hesitate, their daggers still raised. One lunges toward me, but Akilah sweeps his legs out from under him. “Hands off!” she snaps.
The final—the youngest—steps back, his knife trembling.
I pause, squinting at him in the moonlight.
His eyes widen, his pale face illuminated by the faint glow of the lantern on our boat.
It’s the boy who stole the tithiscar, who hid with me and lured the luminists away.
Before I can say more, a gust of wind sweeps across the canal and another boat glides into view.
A figure shifts at the bow. His form is strong and confident, and his hair whips around him with lingering magic.
I blink, heart stuttering as his form takes more precise shape. Could it be...?
But there’s no cane, no stiffness. This magic is soft, almost sweet, like the calm that comes after a storm.
And then I see his face. My breath catches. “Silvius.”
His gaze focuses, then widens in shock. With a graceful leap, he crosses the gap between boats, propelled by a gust of air.
He eyes the boy and Akilah and laughs. “A reunion, I see.”
Akilah regrips her pole, like she’s not sure she won’t need it again. I pat her arm and she lowers it slowly.
Silvius smirks at this and then confiscates the boy’s knife, wagging it at him in gentled reprimand. “What’s your name, boy?”
The boy gulps and stammers, “River.”
“You grip it like this, see?” Silvius shows him and lowers his voice. “And you only point it at your enemy.”
River gulps again, and Silvius pats his head and turns towards me with a half-smile. “Amuletos. I feared I’d drag you into my mess.”
Mess. This isn’t . Had they been meant for Silvius, but jumped too early?
The lurch of the boat under me snaps me back to more pressing matters. “I’m sorry. I have to— My niece...” I swallow.
Silvius reads my urgency without a word. He signals to his aklos, and they leap onto our boat and spring into motion, gripping poles and cutting through the water with practised efficiency.
He smiles kindly at me. “Let me get you there faster.”
I sag against the side of the boat on a shivery wave of relief. “Thank you.”
Silvius refocuses on River. “Keeping company with vespertines, boy?”
River drops his gaze with another apology. “They took me in after my family died. I thought I owed them... I didn’t know...”
His sick family. He’d stolen the tithiscar for them.
I whisper to Akilah, then move to the boy’s side, feeling his rapid pulse. The grief this boy must suffer. He’s only a child, who’d been so brave to help me before. I’d promised if I got the chance, I’d help him properly too.
Akilah hands me a half sack of herbs she found inside the boat. With them, I cast a spell to warm him up and ease his mind. “They took advantage of your plight. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
I rise to Silvius watching us with some kind of appreciation. When he realises I’m looking back at him he gestures around us. “Did they take anything?”
My stomach churns.
I gave them everything I had.
Silvius hums like he’s read my expression. The sympathy is kind; I don’t want to come across ungrateful. I smooth on a smile. “It’s a borrowed boat,” I say and change the topic. “Why are you here?”
His eyes shift to the moon-silhouetted trees passing gently by. “Not all my family gets along. I had a falling out with my uncle; my brother thought it best I leave for a while. I’m on my way back.”
“Your uncle’s cooled down?”
Silvius’s hollow laugh cuts through the tension. “My mother’s ill. I need to be by her side.”
“I hope she recovers swiftly.”
“And I hope whatever happened to your niece, she will be well.”
As Silvius’s aklos steer the boat, he and I discuss River. The boy huddles, tense and anxious, in a corner of the cabin. River has no family, no place. He’s young and vulnerable, and Silvius seems... especially prone to being attacked. My experience of Silvius is... not encouraging, not when considering the welfare of a youth barely out of childhood. But there’s no denying he has resources, and I... my situation in life... Finally, it’s decided.
“Consider him adopted, Amuletos,” Silvius says, beckoning the boy over. Something about the ring of my family name on his tongue spills sharp shivers into my stomach. He seems, somehow, more familiar than our acquaintance really warrants. But perhaps it’s only that he’s mysterious—
Akilah clears her throat.
I blink at her.
“You have hearts in your eyes.”
“I’m just grateful! Who wouldn’t be?”
She huffs.
I’m still smiling when the boat bumps up to the jetty, but the tang of home in the air quickly has me coming to my senses. I grab Akilah’s wrist and we hurriedly disembark—
“Wait,” Silvius calls. I turn around on the bank.
In one smooth motion, he pulls a pouch from his waist and tosses it to me. I catch it against my chest and start to protest but he shakes his head with another kind smile.
“We’ll meet again, Amuletos.” His voice lingers as I clutch the weighty pouch. He is kind, indeed.
Father’s forgiveness... There could be enough in here.
But that will have to wait.
What matters most is healing my little Lucetta.