Chapter 14 The Deal #3
At these words, a magic splices through my veins, magnetizing my arm to his.
I can’t draw away. My mouth goes slick, my insides are like trapped lightning.
The World card at my hip rises out of the pack of cards.
His draws out, too. If I wasn’t so close, I wouldn’t notice the strain in his clenched jaw, or the swallow that bobs in his throat, his forearm tendons flexing as the two cards float above our joined arms. They twist in unison until they’ve made full circles, a rainbow of light flaring out of each before they glow gold.
My forearm burns as if it’s been set on fire, until finally our Arcana cards drop to our feet.
I’m flooded with relief as we break apart and take a step back from him, shaking my arm out, the muscles locked up. We both scoop up our cards, and the desire to just sit on the ground is nearly overwhelming. I force myself to stand.
“What … was that?”
“An Immortal Pact.” He rubs his forearm as if he’s been burned by an oven.
My own stings. It must be bleeding. I roll my sleeve up and blanch at a dark symbol branded there, a raven mid-flight, the lines sharp and flawless.
He grimaces when he sees it but doesn’t reveal his own.
Maybe it matches mine, or maybe it somehow represents me.
I’m too distracted by the pain to find out.
“You could’ve warned me,” I grumble, running a thumb over the marking, but it doesn’t seep blood or fade away. It’s just there, already healed, yet beneath the surface it feels fresh as a new bruise.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve made one.” I hate how hungrily he observes me. Then as he blinks, the starvation wipes away, a passivity sweeping over him as he requests, “Tell me a lie. Anything. I want to be sure it works.”
“Fine … um.” I struggle to come up with anything creative, but I’m suddenly bone-tired and just want to go to sleep.
I can say I’m left-handed, that should work.
“I’m l— I’m lllll— I’m right-handed.” My tongue trips and half my words are slurred, but I can’t lie.
A little slice of panic slips under my skin, not as hard as when I swore loyalty to the king, but still … it’s uncomfortable.
Draven smirks. “And do you find me attractive, Rune?”
I glower at him, furious. His smile broadens the longer I hesitate, but I realize I don’t have to answer him. I just cannot lie to him. I grin as I realize my out and his eyes watch my mouth as if he wishes to draw out the words.
“What’s next?” I ask instead, and he huffs, as if I’m no fun.
“We focus on researching the Arcadian Artifacts. You also need to study harder than your peers, especially with the Arcana that will most help you in a fight if we ever get into a situation like that again.” He runs a hand through his long hair, shoulders hunched, eyes barely staying open.
“With your focus on the High Priestess, you’ve started falling behind everywhere else.
And you still need to keep working on your mental wards. ”
“How do you know I’m falling behind?” My gaze narrows and he opens his mouth, eyes suddenly skittish. He flashes me a surprisingly humble grin.
“Color me curious.” He shrugs, and my heart pounds, noting a hint of flush at his cheeks.
It clears, his movements controlled yet vulpine again.
“We’ll need to make our infatuation appear gradual but believable.
Otherwise, there’s little chance of fooling the others.
But we need to focus on fostering your power, too.
People won’t just believe you’re a force to be reckoned with, we need to show them. ”
“Right. Thanks, by the way, for not accidentally slipping a compliment into all that.” I cross my arms. “I’d hate to think you thought highly of me.”
“I do think highly of you, and not just because you hate it,” he says silkily.
“Do you think everyone knows what happened here tonight?” I swallow down my nerves, not wanting to let him know how agitated his attention made me tonight, though I suspect he noticed.
“I’m sure the Court is thriving off rumors right now.
” Draven unbuttons his collar, my eyes dragging to the movement.
“Tomorrow everyone will know I’ve announced you as my fated mate.
Hollow Fest is coming up in a few weeks, but after the festivities my father wants to send me to the elven kingdom of Alfheim, to obtain some dark crystal, zenith, along our border. ”
I raise a questioning brow.
“Zenith is an invaluable resource, it’s what powers our lights, our energy, and typically it’s been found only in our kingdom.
Only druids can move it, and make it usable through our unique magic.
That should’ve been enough to convince the elves to let us take it but the lines on the maps have moved over the centuries.
They’ve argued that because it’s within their borders that it’s up for debate, which is why a member of the royal family is required to recover it, to maintain our delicate alliance.
” He rakes me over. “But if I bring you along, it makes a statement.”
“Right.” I nod, but my heart is jolting. My brother was taken to those lands, expansive though they are. My mother likely transferred there. “Are children that were Selected more likely to have been given to lords and ladies in their courts?”
“That’s the case in Sedah, but with elves …” He shrugs. There is a tightness to the movements, a distaste to the frown he wears. “I can only assume it’s the same. Why?”
“My twin brother was chosen by them at the second Selection.” My hands clench together, thumbs twirling about themselves.
“That was, what? Fourteen years ago? Would you recognize him if you saw him?”
“I’m not sure.” I sigh. “I have to believe I would.”
“Even if he was raised in Court, it’s doubtful he was raised near the palace. King Eldarion refused to raise an heir from the Selections. Eventually he held a trial to find one. Changelings competed.”
I cross my arms and find myself glancing to the map he has on his walls. I hesitate but can’t help myself from asking, “Where would the elves put mortal prisoners? The ones taken from the prison you told me about—Destarion.”
Draven follows my gaze and clears his throat. “I’ve seen them at their Court as … playthings. Elves tend to treat prisoners and some of their Selected as more sport or entertainment than a solution for the Curse.” A hint of pity enters his gaze. “Rune, you should know … the chances of your mother—”
“I just have to know for sure.” I can’t help the brittleness in my voice.
I’m surprised when Draven’s hand reaches for my shoulder, as if scooping shattered glass. Even more surprised by the look of tenderness in his eyes. “I will find out for certain. And if something happened … I’ll make sure whoever is responsible pays with their miserable lives.”