Chapter 13
The sky looks gray, not black. Dawn’s already here. My body aches and my neck is stiff. But my clothes are dry to the touch and even though I should be cold, I’m not.
“You have to,” Roiven snaps. His voice is faint, hard to hear. He’s talking to the dragon. And he can’t do it in his head anymore, because of the command I gave him.
There’s a pause. Sava must be speaking. Slowly, silently, I push myself up and tilt my better ear, the one that didn’t burn, toward him.
Roiven’s back is to me. The dragon doesn’t even look like she’s paying attention. She’s flexing her wings, stretching like a giant cat.
With the pale light dawning, I can see the entire island.
It’s a sorry place. Low black rock stretches around me, just big enough to hold the three of us.
There’s no sign of life except barnacles and a few weak, struggling thistles and weeds whose seeds were probably carried in by birdshit or the wind.
There’s barely any dirt clinging between the large rockfaces; without plant roots to hold it in place it would have blown away decades ago like it did on the Bluff.
“Because they need you to protect the hatchery. If I die, you can just bond to a new….” Roiven hisses.
Another pause.
“She could make me turn on them,” Roiven growls. “I don’t care who she is, you've seen what they made her into. So you can’t bring me back there… Not like this. I’d rather die than…. Kill me or don’t, but you have to get back home before those devils attack.”
The assault on the Gray Tower. He knows it's coming.
I should kill him before he can return, War-Father’s orders or not. But from his words, Roiven doesn’t seem to care if I gut him.
Roiven throws up his hands, then turns and strides toward me. His clothes still look damp from the ocean, unlike mine. The thin rags cling to his body, showing his muscular form in far too much detail.
He sees I’m awake, and his uncanny orange eyes glare straight at me. My hand closes around my swordhilt.
Sava’s legs bunch under her, and then the dragon launches straight up into the air.
Her wings snap out, blasting a gale so strong I stumble and fall back onto my ass.
With a wince, I pick myself up and try not to look embarrassed.
She circles as she climbs higher. The dragon coasts out over the ocean. Is she leaving us, or just stretching?
“She wants to bargain with you,” Roiven growls, stopping ten feet back from where I stand.
I squint at him.
“What?”
“Free me from this enchantment and she’ll spare your life.”
I can’t help but laugh, which makes Roiven scowl at me all the harder. Everybody knows witches can’t be trusted. What kind of idiot does he take me for?
In the morning light I can see that his arm isn’t bandaged anymore. There’s no blood. There’s only a pale mark on his skin where the arrow punched into his arm.
It should still be a mess of an open wound. It shouldn’t be a shiny scar of pale knit tissue.
“Tell me how you healed so fast.”
“Did you hear anything I said?” he snaps. Then my command must kick in, because he scowls and answers me. “I’m a witch. We heal fast. It’s through the familiar bond. You should already know that.”
I take a step back and drag a deep breath through my nose. I refuse to let my own memories surface. I refuse to think about how healed I was when I washed up on shore. Surely it was his own trickery. Not…
The truth slithers beneath my mind, curling around my thoughts like the tentacles of the beast in the water. A sharp pain lances through my temple, shattering my thoughts like breaking glass. I shake my head.
“I don’t negotiate with witches.”
“You’d rather die?”
“Your word’s meaningless. My command is the same: take me back to the Bluff. On dragonback,” I add quickly, before he can grab me and throw me into the sea again.
Roiven’s jaw clenches.
“I’ve already told you I can’t force her. If you free me, she’ll fly you back. Assuming we can still get in.”
It will be days before the barrier is fixed and the dragon can no longer cross over, not that I want him knowing that. If I freed him from the enchantment, he’d use the opportunity to kill every civilian in sight.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then Savasaeirn says she’ll kill you, pick me up, and carry me off, no matter what you’ve ordered.”
I tap my fingers against my swordhilt as I think. The Witch King might not know how to remove the enchantments on him, but if I figured it out, surely anybody could. The other witches would free him. I’d be dead, and he’d go defend the Tower against the War-Father’s attack.
“I need to think about it.” If only because it means he’ll be stuck here longer while he waits for me to make up his mind.
“You don’t have long, imperialist,” Roiven warns me. He points to the right. “There’s a crater over there with rainwater in it.”
I spit on the rocks, to show him what I think of him. Roiven’s eyes stay on me as I trudge in the direction of the water. The pool is wide, but shallow, the water almost sweet. I cup my hands and let it soothe my throat.
Surely Harfor’s orders to protect this cockroach no longer apply. I should gut him while the dragon’s too far away to stop me, then die in honor. But the idea of facing the dragon’s fire again makes me break into a cold sweat.
Am I betraying the War-Father if I choose to live, to do as the dragon wants? What would Harfor think of me?
In the distance, Sava skims low over the ocean and rises back up with a massive reaper fish struggling to escape her claws. It thrashes, fighting with everything it has. But it’s as helpless as I am.
My boots are still damp, so I walk a lap around the island barefoot as I think, torn between finally killing the man I hate, and wanting to survive this.
The black stone is deliciously warm underfoot.
Heavy, low clouds streak the sky, promising another storm.
All I can see, in any direction I look, is the Wild Seas.
The waves roll like they’re begging me to come in, but the sight makes me nauseated.
I wish the island weren’t so flat so I could escape the view.
I can’t swim to freedom, and there’s nothing on this barren spit of rock to use as a ship or raft.
The witch and his dragon are my only way off, and they know it.
I’d like to keep them away from their people for as long as possible, so they aren’t there to defend the Tower when our Hellions strike.
But I don’t want to die out here. And if I kill him or refuse to work with him, I will die.
So we’re going to have to come to an agreement.
I punch the rock with my metal fist hard enough that pain rings through my shoulder. I would rather literally any person back me into a corner than the King of Witches. But he’s done it quite neatly. If there’s another way out, I’m not clever enough to see it.
It’s past noon when I finally give in. Roiven sits on the highest point of the island, legs dangling over the black stone lip, staring at the horizon. I approach from behind, each step heavier than the last.
“Have you decided, knight?” he asks without turning. Wind stirs his dark hair.
“You’ll need to strip so I can see the rest of the enchantment.”
He turns slowly over his shoulder and gives me a disbelieving look, dark eyebrows raised.
“Believe me, witch. I’m not interested in seeing any more of you than I have to. But I need to read the enchantment.”
“And then you’ll help me?”
“And then I’ll decide.”
That seems to make sense to him. He nods sharply, stands, and strips the shirt over his head in a smooth movement.