Chapter Thirty-Four #2
“Good baby,” Witless chimed, getting down on his hands and knees, shaking the rattle just out of reach.
Xykeir let go of the ball and reached for the rattle.
Riven turned back to the scroll.
“It’s time,” Avice was putting her fine work away.
“Time?” Riven asked, dreading the answer.
“I hadn’t seen the child move that way before.” Avice rose, brushing her skirts. “The ceremony must be performed.”
“It’s too soon,” Riven protested, but he sounded weak even to his ears.
“No,” Avice said. “Now, before he can crawl and ruin the casting. Is all in readiness?”
She stared at him.
Riven nodded, his mouth going dry. “Yes,” he said.
“Then it’s time.” She didn’t look at Xykeir or Witless, just nodded to herself. “I will inform the Bonded.”
That night, with Nora in his arms, Riven stared at the moon and came to terms with what was to come.
Tomorrow night.
In the morning, he would begin. The floor was ready. Rubbed to smoothness, buffed white by the sandstone.
The spell components were ready. He’d not go to the butchery in the morning; he had enough power stored within.
He would start to lay out the matrix, which he could draw in his sleep by this point.
Chanting as he worked, putting his power into the pattern.
Gold and diamond dust, the special sand, the gems along the lines, he’d lay them all out perfectly, matching the scroll in every detail.
He’d burn the incense, prepare everything. He’d suggested that the Queen and the Bondmaidens not wear skirts, to avoid the fabric brushing the floor and disturbing the matrix. He’d also asked that the scroll be brought to the room for one final check.
Then, just as Satia entered, Xykeir in her arms, he’d kick the gold and diamond dust and precious gems and sacred sands all over the room, spoil every bit of it, and try to destroy the scroll with all the power he had.
He’d heard about the ability of any mage to make a final strike with the last of his breath, and so he would do so.
Perhaps it would offer partial redemption for past acts. Perhaps it would not.
At the very least, he looked forward to seeing the expression on Satia’s face.
Just before she screamed for his death.
Riven sighed. He really didn’t want to die.
Nora shifted, muttering something in her sleep, her head resting on his shoulder. It made him a bit ill, at how much he loved her, yet he hadn’t been able to say as much, even in the heights of their lovemaking.
He hadn’t dared. The dread of watching that dullness creep into her eyes as he spilled out his heart was too much; he couldn’t risk it. It would also give the Queen another tool to use against him—at least that was what he told himself.
In truth, he was afraid of rejection. From Nora herself, or from the Bond.
Nora stirred and rolled toward him, her hand on his chest.
Riven activated his mage sight, seeing the webbing of the bond covering her hand.
It was a prison, but it was also lovely, golden and glittering against her skin.
He slipped his hand over hers, letting his eyes roam over her nakedness.
The line of her long leg pressed against his, the silkiness of her breast pressed to his side.
The webbing was everywhere, following the curves of her body up to her shoulders and neck and the tiny wrinkle at the base of her throat.
Wait…
Why hadn’t he seen that before?
Riven kept his breathing regular, not wanting to wake her, and probed deeper, using a bit of his own hoarded power to see.
A flaw, a precious, tiny flaw in the net that held her.
He let the mage sight fade and forced himself to relax into the bedding. Nora’s hand was warm under his; he had gone cold.
A flash of memory hit him, then. Of him, shivering and cold, vomiting after using his mage sense. He had seen it then, but he hadn’t understood what he was seeing.
Any net can be broken if you break enough strands.
What if he could free her?
Hope washed over him, making his skin break out in goose bumps. Nora stirred, her nose wrinkling as she pulled the bedding up around them before settling down beside him once again.
Riven didn’t dare move, his thoughts were raging too far and too fast. The idea seemed so simple and yet so far outside the rational that he focused on taking in enough air to keep his brain focused.
What if he could?
Riven looked at Nora and his heart leapt.
He didn’t have enough power. Nowhere near enough, not if he’d slaughtered animals from sunup to sundown every day of the last six months. But if he could divert power from the matrix? Focus and pour it into himself, then hook that flaw and shred the bond?
He swallowed hard. It was risky. He would have to place the babes and Witless and activate the matrix. Then, right before the moment of sacrifice, all of that power would be his to command. He wouldn’t even have to turn his head, just close his eyes, hook into the flaw, and tear.
If it worked…
He’d free five and spare six. There was still a strong chance that he would die, but it was worth it. He would do it.
For her.
He glanced up at the moon, and offered up a silent prayer, to whatever powers formed the Universe.
Please.
He closed his eyes, seeking sleep, and for the first time in a long time found it deep and sweet.