Chapter Thirty-Five
THE SPY
Our attic space seemed small due to the sloped angles of the roof.
The bed was large enough for two. If two people lay like sardines.
A table and two chairs were positioned in the back corner of the room, near a frosted window.
A small fireplace at the end of the bed released just enough heat to combat the chill creeping in from the outside.
I pulled out the piece of paper that had crunched beneath my boot in the tavern.
The words leapt off the page, punching me in my gut.
It was a recruitment poster for dreki. Nolan was spreading his tentacles to the furthest reaches of the realms in an effort to create more scaled fighters. That meant some were already here.
I startled at the knock on the door. A young boy brought two buckets of steaming water; apparently the pipes didn’t make it to the attic floor.
I shoved my unease about the dreki aside.
Two trips later, the tub was filled and I stepped in the bath, luxuriating in the warmth.
My muscles eased as I used the jasmine-scented soap to clean my hair and body, careful to wash around the gash on my thigh. It was deep, but it wasn’t infected.
The walls of my world were closing in around me. I wanted to make sure Dom could find his cure, and apparently, I was the foretold guide. I needed to get Delah out of Haluma before she became a Vestal Anchor.
Water sloshed up the sides of the tub with my anxious movement.
Nolan would not stop hunting me until he found me.
The truth of that broke something within me.
I would never get away from who I was before.
I put everyone around me at risk. Whatever future I’d envisioned crumbled.
I would do what I could to give the Liberation the best chance at defeating the king.
I would do whatever it took to protect my general.
I leaned back in the tub, submerging my face beneath the surface. The dull fuzziness of sound did nothing to mute my grief. I exited once the water had dropped to an uncomfortable chill.
The soft shirt and loose pants provided by the inn marked a refreshing change from the cold restraint of my leathers. I fished around in my satchel for a cherry candy, grateful I thought to protect them with my magic while visiting the Nereids.
As usual, focusing on the texture and burst of juicy flavor served to anchor me and still my thrumming heart as I thought about next steps, including the most immediate one: sharing a room with Dom.
My jumbled mind raced with conflicting thoughts and desires, fears and hopes.
Once I had Dom’s cure secured, I could get Delah out.
I didn’t want to think about what might happen after that.
But I understood what was required of me.
The door to the room opened and Dom entered, sniffing at the air. He subtly stiffened as he eyed me, then quickly turned away. The same boy arrived behind him to replace the water in the tub.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d prefer to be clean before falling asleep tonight.
I’ll keep the door shut.” I nodded, fighting back a vision of Dom’s chiseled abs.
He half turned toward me, hesitant. “There was a small selection of books downstairs. I thought maybe you would enjoy reading one on”—he held the book up to read the title—“Legends of the Gods.” He shifted on his feet, seemingly nervous. “Or I can take it back.”
“No. It’s great.” I reached for it as he offered it to me, stifling my grin.
“Good. Good,” he mumbled. Then quickly shut himself into the bathroom.
My smile refused to be restrained as I curled up on the bed in a nest of sheets and blankets, settling in to read the first few pages.
The whisper of clothing being removed and splash of water brought awareness to my body.
I closed my eyes to drown out the effects such sounds had on me. This was going to be a long night.
I turned the pages, most of the sentences breezing through me as I attempted to refocus on the words in front of me.
It was a story about the beginning of all things, how an ancient god punished his second-in-command for trying to take the god’s power for himself.
My nerves buzzed as the words “Astral” and “Nokt” jumped off of the page.
All noise fell away as I leaned closer, greedily reading every bit of lore.
In all stories there are grains of truth, even if cloaked in embellished myth.
The story went on to describe Astrals as heavenly creatures, whereas Nokts were borne of darkness.
Each type of being had a base magic, and each had the ability to attain a higher magic.
I reclined among the pillows as the words sank in.
Questions billowed forth like the blossoming sails of an armada. I turned page after page.
It discussed how no magic could survive in its host without a link—it must always be fed.
The importance of a consistent source in order to maintain higher magic was a non-negotiable.
I knew that when magic was wielded now, it had to be reabsorbed somehow; otherwise, it would drain the wielder, the source being the wielder’s own body.
Basic magic was linked to physical organs or bodily processes.
The energy from the wielder fed the power used.
It was essentially a process of recycling the magic.
The book described how when the use of sound went unreplenished, then hearing loss ensued, my own water magic caused dehydration, prophesy led to memory loss, and land manipulation resulted in vertigo and confusion.
These were common understandings that all people knew about. But I had never heard of higher magics. Did that even exist anymore?
My reading sped up in my excitement, devouring the words. With higher magic, a living source is required. A couerdiae. I paused at the phrase, clearly derived from the gods’ ancient language. I had never heard of it before, but it resonated as my own water magic zipped inside me.
A couerdiae, the book described, was a bond made in blood.
The bond becomes the source of the higher magic.
If a bond does not exist, or is broken, there is no source to prevent the body from being drained from higher magic’s use, leading to an agonizing death.
Higher magic cannot exist apart from its source.
The question was, could one access higher magic now?
And if so, then how do you establish a bond?
A creak of the bathroom door and a spill of light interrupted my thoughts. Dom stood in the doorway, a towel slung low on his waist. One hand held the towel as the other slicked back his damp hair from his molten eyes. “Did that boy return with some clothes for me?”
My cheeks flushed as I tried unsuccessfully to look away. My mouth opened, then closed, suddenly dry. I took a breath and tried again. “He did not. I can go find some.” I jumped up right as Bowen knocked on our door.
Dom called from behind me, “Bowen, could you grab a change of clothes for me from downstairs?”
“Of course, I’ll be right back.” He handed me the vial before descending the stairs.
The contents of the glass could have easily been water, the liquid inside a simple clear tonic. I handed it to Dom. My eyes strayed to the V at his hips, his abs flexing with each intake of his breath. Dom’s gaze narrowed on the vial. “I grabbed my tonic before I came up here,” he muttered.
He retrieved both vials and opened the bottle he had grabbed from downstairs. A song, sweet and delicious, flooded our room. I swallowed hard; my hands gripped the fabric of my pants, twisting at them. Dom’s pupils blazed and his breath stuttered.
“Cork it.” I forced out the words. He moved in slow motion, blinking away the power that swallowed us. The stopper silenced the spell, but the effects lingered heavy between us.
A wave of lust engulfed me.
Bowen blew back into the room, tossing clothes at Dom.
He caught them deftly, then retreated back into the bathroom with leaden steps.
He emerged in a loose-fitting top that cut deep at the neck.
The sleeves had been shoved up to the elbow revealing his honed forearms. He looked way more delicious than should be humanly possible.
I wanted to rip the clothes off. I licked my lips.
“Are you sure the vial you brought me is my tonic?” Dom directed at Bowen.
Bowen quirked his brow. “Of course. Let me see it.” Dom handed it to Bowen. Bowen released a tendril of magic to test it. “This is yours.” He handed it back, confused.
“Then this belongs to Evander,” Dom pressed the other vial forcefully in Bowen’s hand. “Do not open it.”
Bowen looked from Dom to me. If a whole body could wince, then Bowen’s just did. He pointedly addressed me. “Do you need my help?”
Dom tensed, and something almost inhuman snarled. “Leave.”
The door shut behind Bowen before I could exhale.
Dom stood motionless, his muscles taut in a fight against the siren-song between us.
The spell seemed to strip all pretense and filters.
My mind hazed with its potency. Only raw, unfiltered emotion remained.
Guilt at my choices convulsed into pain.
Grief at Dom’s curse bent into rage. Anger conflicted with consuming desire.
Determination flashed in his honeyed eyes.
“You need to know I want you, Liora. I’ve been pulled to you since the day I stepped into Maripol.
Even as a child I felt connected to you.
When I lost you, I never once stopped searching.
I would easily burn this whole place down for you.
I stand, even now, with a match to light the flame.
This tonic only makes the truth of it crystal clear. ”
I became very aware of a sizzle in the air, a growing intensity in the breath between us. My heart pounded in my chest.