Chapter Three
“Clean yourself up. I’ll deal with Niall.”
The mage’s order would have rankled Penn if the blood, dirt, and wine hadn’t combined into a disgusting crust over his skin. Back in the guest bedroom he’d shared with Valerian, before everything had gone to shit, Penn scrubbed himself raw with a cloth and chilled water.
There was a perfectly fine bathtub with hot running water not ten feet away from him.
He couldn’t even bear to look at it. A few hours ago, he and Val had made love in that bathtub.
Last night was different from the other times they’d fucked.
There was no transaction, no motivation beyond wanting to feel close to each other.
Valerian was truly vulnerable with Penn for the first time since they’d met, all doors flown wide open.
Those doors had been slammed shut again by the parasite invading Val’s mind.
Penn clenched his fist at his side and bit down hard on his lip, suppressing the curses raging through his mind.
When the mage returned, Penn would have to paste on a charming smile and play the role of willing partner.
It was his only chance to save Valerian and eliminate the threat of Alistair once and for all.
Penn slicked back his wet hair and raised his head to look in the bathroom mirror.
The face staring back at him was both familiar and strange, not quite the one he’d been born with, but also not fully the disguise Valerian had given him.
Instead of white-blond, his hair was a dull, in-between gray, slowly darkening to its original black.
The lines of his face were muddled from bruises, some fresh and some healing, but Penn could discern the mix of features—sharp cheekbones from the glamour; his original strong jawline, covered in black stubble.
Valerian loved this face in all its iterations.
That admiration lingered even with Alistair in control.
The way he gazed at Penn, traced his face reverently, as if trying to learn the secrets of every line.
How did the mage feel, seeing it beaten and bruised?
Would he want to punish the one responsible?
Can I use that to force a wedge between him and Niall?
It wouldn’t be enough to sever their master-student relationship, but it might be enough to weaken it.
Penn turned away from the mirror and dried himself off, then gathered up the clothes he’d discarded the night before.
As he bent down to grab his shirt, a glint of silver caught his eye.
Inching closer to investigate, he recognized the ring Valerian had worn on his right hand, the one that glamoured over his scars to create smooth, false perfection.
The same ring Valerian had cast aside to prove to Penn that he would no longer hide those parts of himself.
Cradling it in his palm, the cold metal felt dull and lifeless, nothing like a powerful magical tool. Penn slipped it over his own ring finger and examined his hand. Everything looked the same. Does the magic only work for Valerian?
Although the ring was too big for Penn, he kept it on. Once Valerian is free of Alistair, I’ll return it to him.
Thunder crashed outside. Didn’t the storm pass already?
he thought with a frown. He dressed in a hurry and left the bathroom in time to see a flash of green lightning through the bedroom window.
Adelaide’s magic. Summoning a storm was a method she only used to send a message, or when she was cornered.
Niall found them.
Penn ran to the bedroom door and twisted the handle uselessly.
Locked. Of course the mage hadn’t trusted him enough to leave him free to roam.
He cursed and backed up to gather momentum, then ran at the door, ramming his shoulder into it.
It rattled in the frame and creaked under his weight.
After ramming it twice more, the wood cracked and gave way.
The door slammed open and dumped Penn into the hallway.
Another rumble of thunder shook the paintings on the walls. It came from one side of the house, concentrated on Adelaide’s location. Penn raced down the hall, monitoring the rainbow flashes of lightning. As long as they remained active, Adelaide was still fighting.
The temperature slowly dropped around him. At first, he didn’t notice. Then the ring on his finger burned with cold, drawing his attention to his shaking hands and chattering teeth. He slipped on a patch of ice and crashed to the floor, sliding all the way to an open door.
Purple lightning illuminated two figures in a half-destroyed room.
Valerian stood at the center of the destruction, ice spreading from his bare feet.
Adelaide stood near a shattered window. Wind whistled past the broken shards of glass, whipping her hair into a wild mess, making her look more like the Witch than ever.
Emmaline was nowhere in sight. Hopefully, that meant she’d escaped.
Penn bit his lip to stop himself from calling Adelaide’s name.
Though both mages stood statue-still, they fought a battle he couldn’t begin to understand.
Perhaps if Adelaide had all her tools, she could have defeated Alistair in a borrowed body.
Or if Alistair had complete control of Valerian, the fight would have ended before Adelaide’s storm was more than a suggestion of clouds. As it was, they’d come to a draw.
How long would that last? If the stalemate broke, Penn would either lose his friend or his lover.
He pushed himself to his feet and tried to enter the room, only to slam into an invisible wall. He didn’t know if it was a side-effect of the magic or an intentional barrier keeping him out of the fight. “Val!” Too late, he wondered if he should have called Alistair’s name.
The mage’s shoulders twitched.
“That isn’t Valerian!” Adelaide called, her voice accompanied by another clap of thunder. “Run while I have him distracted.”
“You take one step, and I’ll kill her.” The mage’s voice was so quiet that the storm outside almost drowned it out. Adelaide probably couldn’t even hear it.
Penn scanned the room again, noting how the ice shielded the mage without encroaching toward Adelaide. Holding himself back, keeping his promise. “I’m staying right here,” Penn said, calm and quiet. “Let her go.”
The mage tilted his head to the side, showing Penn his hazel eye. Like this, he could almost believe Valerian was the one speaking. “I didn’t start this fight.”
“She’s scared for herself and her daughter.”
“And I am defending myself.” The mage turned to fully face Penn, revealing a long, reddish-purple bruise on one of his shoulders. It snaked across his skin, mimicking the lightning outside.
Penn swallowed nervously and looked between the two mages. How long until Alistair decides I’m not worth the trouble? “Adelaide, stop, please! It’s still Valerian’s body. He’s your friend, isn’t he?”
She gazed at Penn, her expression unreadable in the tumultuous dark. “I would rather mourn Valerian than fear Alistair.”
A bolt of lightning arced through the broken window, heading straight for Valerian.
“Val!” Penn forced his way through the barrier. It pressed around him on all sides, the air as thick as syrup, slowing his movements and strangling his breath.
The mage remained perfectly still, not trying to evade or block the attack at all. A foot away from him, the lightning connected with another invisible wall and spread like a spider’s web through the room, illuminating every dark corner.
The afterimages muddled Penn’s vision, and he struggled to blink them away.
Before Adelaide could ready another attack, Penn reached the mage’s side and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together. Penn expected the mage’s skin to be as cold as the ice he generated but all he felt was a steady, familiar warmth.
The mage moved stiffly as he lowered his gaze to their intertwined fingers. Then he raised his mismatched eyes to Penn’s face. “You really are quite fascinating.”
“Penn!” Adelaide cried, her voice cracking. “Have you forgotten what he’s done? To Arnsveld? To your friends? Think of Archer. And Silas. And your own family!”
Penn flinched as a happy, smiling face flashed through his mind, an older version of his own.
Someone who had died almost two decades ago.
In some ways, half of the Arnsveldian deaths from the past fifty years could be blamed on Alistair’s actions.
All of Alistair’s backend trade dealings that had led to higher prices of food and other necessities, plunging half of Arnsveld into poverty.
The mines that collapsed despite the safety regulations in place, as if they’d been cursed.
The war Alistair had spent decades instigating.
One man had almost destroyed the country.
But all Penn could think was: Not Val too. He wouldn’t let Alistair take one more person from him, not as long as he could prevent it.
“I know what Alistair has done,” Penn said.
“I also know what Valerian is capable of.” I know he’s still alive in there.
“Let me take care of this. You take care of your daughter and Archer.” He stared at her, trying to convey what he couldn’t say out loud: warn Archer and Silas about what’s happening here.
They need to know that Alistair is still a threat.
Adelaide stared at him in silence for a long time before saying, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
A red flash blinded Penn and he raised his hand to block out the light. An arm wrapped around him, pushing his head against a strong chest. He stayed that way, in the mage’s embrace, until the last traces of light faded away.
When Penn lifted his head, he sighed in relief.
Adelaide was gone.
Someone groaned in a corner of the room. Niall sat up, rubbing his head, and looked around blearily. “What happened?”