36. Freedom
Freedom
T he world had shrunk down to Luella’s broken shape, crumpled on the stone floor, and Isolde’s face as she fell to her knees beside her. She was gone; Felix knew it before Isolde reached the body. He’d seen death often enough to recognize it.
He tried to get to her, dashing and weaving around swords and bodies. Isolde’s hands were aglow with a last reserve of magic she’d somehow summoned, desperately searching for life he knew she wouldn’t find.
Three men blocked his path. More footsteps followed behind.
Felix parried and attempted to sidestep to get past them, but the one on the right moved along with him, forcing him to engage.
He didn’t have time for this. He feinted left, ducked, and buried his axe between the ribs of the first. Blood sprayed across his arm.
The second hesitated just long enough for Felix to slam a fist into his face, sending him sprawling.
He caught sight of the cruel glint of cold steel and Aetherglass from the corner of his eye.
The hawklike, severe-looking blonde mage levitated that cursed collar.
Felix watched her move over to Isolde, too far for him to reach in time, the chain floating in front of her.
She raised it over Isolde’s head, then lowered it down around her neck with a finality that seemed to suck the air out of the room.
It was so large, so heavy on her. Her face contorted into a scream of anguish when the metal touched her skin, and she slumped forward.
A smug little smile played on the female mage’s features.
Felix cursed, savagely shoved away the only mercenary still standing between him and the woman, and charged at her.
She staggered back, mouth open in fear, but recovered in time to fling a blast of force at him.
What she had not counted on was Felix shrugging it off like it was a gust of wind.
Where there had been fear before, there was terror now. It was almost enough to make him smile. He barrelled into the mage, her mouth opening in a silent scream as Felix’s dagger sank into her ribs. Her hands clawed uselessly at his arm as he twisted the blade, then pushed her away from him.
Somewhere, Kaeloth was shouting. Felix didn’t pay attention, focusing on Isolde instead.
He dropped his axe, staggered forward, and pulled her upright.
Her eyes fluttered, unfocused, but she leaned into him.
He held her around the waist, positioning her behind him as he backed toward the wall.
The mercenaries circled him warily. Across the room, a burly warrior dragged a struggling Mia back, her shouts muffled by the chaos.
Kaeloth raised both hands and clenched his fists, just like he’d done with Luella only moments before.
Felix almost tasted the magic, heavy and oppressive in the air.
The mage’s face was triumphant – until it wasn’t, and his eyes widened in shock instead.
He repeated the movement, jaw tight, but once again nothing happened.
“What is this… What are you?” Kaeloth demanded. He was seething, his teeth bared, hands balled into fists, then he rounded on the nearest mercenary. “What are you idiots waiting for?” he yelled. “Kill him! Don’t hurt the girl!”
Felix tightened his grip on Isolde. His eyes swept the room, taking in the sheer number of swords pointed at him, the grim look on Kaeloth’s face.
He couldn’t pull the chain off; he didn’t know what would happen if he touched it again; he couldn’t leave Isolde to fend for herself.
He couldn’t fight them all with one hand. He couldn’t let her go.
When it came to it, there was no other way .
He yanked Isolde forward, too roughly. He whispered a desperate apology, praying to whatever gods did or did not exist that she would hear it, that she would understand, and he pressed the blade of his dagger against her throat.
The mercenaries froze, one of them fumbling the grip on his weapon in confusion. Mia screamed from across the room. Kaeloth’s eyes went narrow and dangerous. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” he spat back, but his voice cracked.
“Spare me your theatrics, sellsword,” Kaeloth sneered. His expression was almost smug, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Felix felt a fresh surge of rage flood his mind. The mage’s sheer arrogance burned away the last shreds of hesitation.
He pressed the dagger a little closer, just enough. A thin line of blood trickled down her skin. She flinched, and he may as well have been flaying himself alive for how much it hurt.
“Step back,” he snarled. His voice didn’t shake this time. “Step back, or I swear I’ll do it.”
Kaeloth stared at the crimson streak on Isolde’s throat, his eyes calculating. Felix knew the look; he’d seen it a hundred times before. The look of a man trying to decide whether to make the gamble, to call the bluff.
“You think I won’t?” Felix hissed. “You think I’ll let you chain her here to wither and die over decades? No. At least I’ll make it quick.”
Kaeloth’s lips curled, but he did not move, and he gestured at the mercenaries to stay back. “You’d betray her like this? After all her talk of freedom?”
“Better me than you. Death is its own kind of freedom,” Felix said, keeping his voice calm even as his heart cracked down the middle. “Now back off.” There was no room for weakness here, no second-guessing.
A hundred memories assaulted his mind. Her eyes, her smile, her laugh.
The little frown on her face when she concentrated.
Kissing her in the rain. The way her fingers twisted together when she was nervous.
The way she looked at him, like he was something good.
Her body wreathed in magic and power. Her father, telling him to kill her if there was no other way.
His reply that he wasn’t an executioner.
And yet, here he stood .
Kaeloth tried to use magic on him again, to no effect. The mercenaries shifted uneasily, swords gripped tightly, their eyes darting back and forth.
“Just kill him already!” the mage barked, throwing up his hands in apparent frustration. The two nearest swordsmen exchanged looks and advanced as one.
Felix backed away, pulling Isolde closer against him. He wasn’t sure if it was for her protection or his; maybe it was both. Her hair was soft against his cheek. It smelled like lightning, and sleep, and her. He couldn’t fucking do it. His eyes snapped shut, and he tightened his hold on the dagger.
Her fingers closed around his wrist, the movement slow but determined, and squeezed. It nearly made his heart stop. Then her hand crawled further up and gripped the chain on her neck. Hope flared in him like a bonfire.
Kaeloth opened his mouth, undoubtedly to shout another command, when the sharp sound of boots rang through the hallway.
Felix spun, dragging Isolde along, just as Garren and Leif burst in, followed by Hawes and a group of mercenaries.
Felix recognized the man Isolde had healed, as well as the friend who had begged her to save his life.
They looked grim and determined. Hawes raised his voice, booming and authoritative.
“Bears! Stand down!” His gaze swept over the room, landing on Kaeloth. “This isn’t our fight.”
Kaeloth rounded on him, eyes blazing. “What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “I paid you –”
“And you got more than your money’s worth,” Hawes interrupted coldly. “But we sure as all the hells didn’t sign up for whatever the fuck is going on here.” He spat on the floor. “This ends now.”
The two men closest to Felix hesitated, then sheathed their weapons. The three remaining mages backed away slowly. Mia’s captor released her, and she fell to her knees, spouting a colourful string of curses.
Felix risked a glance down at Isolde, at her white-knuckled hand holding onto the collar around her neck. He covered it with his own, and together they pulled.