Chapter Fourteen
Halfway across the bridge, the ice softened under Penn’s feet.
One step it was hard as granite, the next, his boot sank two inches deep.
He stumbled and threw his arms out wide to catch his balance.
“Fuck, it’s melting!” He glanced over his shoulder at Valistair, hoping the mage could regain control over his spell before they had to run across the failing structure.
Valistair had stopped dead in his tracks, his hands limp at his side. The pupils of both eyes were blown wide, overpowering the hazel and blue with pure black. Blood trickled from his nose, staining his shirt and plopping down onto the ice.
“Val?” Penn called, momentarily forgetting the danger as he reached out to steady the mage. His hand closed on empty air when Valistair’s eyes shut, and the mage slumped to the side.
Straight into the icy water.
“Valerian!” The ice had grown slick under Penn’s feet. After two steps, he slid over the edge of the melting bridge and into the river.
The current that had initially slowed because of the ice dam now burst through the weakening blockade.
The water flowed over Penn’s head, pushing him down to the riverbed.
He kicked hard against the rocky bottom, pushing himself back up.
When he broke the surface, he gasped in a ragged breath, then closed his mouth as the water splashed over his head again.
The second time he surfaced, he managed to stay above the water as he searched for Valerian.
Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of blond hair, a body being carried downriver with no signs of a struggle.
From that distance, Penn couldn’t tell if Val was face up or face down.
He swam toward Val, every frantic stroke accompanied by a desperate plea.
Please don’t be dead. Please, please, do not be dead.
That wasn’t how Penn wanted to save the world from Alistair—not at Valerian’s expense.
You’re a damn mage! You can’t let something a stupid as drowning kill you!
The last image of Val filled Penn’s mind, the vacant stare, the bloody nose, and a new fear filled him. Was Val dead before he hit the water?
Penn finally caught up to Valerian and wrapped his arm around the mage’s chest, then turned his attention to the shore.
Swimming against the current was harder than swimming with it and only having one arm didn’t help.
They were quite far downriver before Penn’s feet finally touched the riverbed, and he could stand up and haul Val out of the water.
Penn laid the mage on his back and pressed an ear against his chest, listening for a heartbeat. Fearing there would only be silence, he was surprised to hear a heart beating like a loud, angry drum. As if the mage was fighting for his life even as he lay immobile on the ground.
Penn cupped Valerian’s cheek. “Come on, Val,” he whispered.
“I know you’re fighting him in there. You can win this.
You can survive. And then we’ll defeat Niall together.
” The last time he witnessed Valerian fighting Alistair, before he ever understood what was happening, he had Val’s bag of spells to intervene.
Now Penn had nothing and no idea what to do.
He could only watch Val’s face and desperately cling to the man as he awaited the outcome.
“Valerian!” a voice shouted across the bar.
For a split second, Valerian’s vision hitched and wavered. An echo followed, someone else calling his name in desperation rather than anger.
The moment passed in a blink and Valerian sipped his ale, pretending he couldn’t hear Everett stomping toward him.
A heavy hand gripped Valerian’s shoulder and jerked him around. Ale sloshed over the side of his mug and splattered against both of their shirts.
“Hello, Ev,” Valerian greeted with a lopsided grin. With ale on his breath and soaking his front, he’d have an easier time playing the ignorant drunk. “Want a drink?”
“No, I don’t want a drink,” Everett said, plucking the mug from Valerian’s hand and slamming it on the bar.
When the barkeeper scowled at him, Everett shifted his position to show the blade hanging from his side.
The barkeeper turned away and pretended not to notice the trouble.
“I want,” Everett began, turning his ice blue eyes onto Valerian.
No, that’s not right, his eyes should be brown.
“—my wife.”
Valerian blinked and the eyes were brown again. Am I really drunk off half a pint? Exhaustion and magic use could lower his tolerance, but he didn’t think his reserves were that depleted. “Your who?”
“My wife,” Everett repeated through clenched teeth. “Where is she?”
“You got married? Congratulations! Barkeep, another round on me!” Valerian called, pulling a coin pouch from his belt. He gave Everett a disappointed look. “Who’d you marry, anyway? The nice village girl you saved during our last mission?”
The barkeeper didn’t move, probably concerned that any drinks he served them would end up all over his bar, the floor, or each other. Either way, it was a mess no sane man would want to clean up if he could avoid it.
“I’m talking about Adelaide,” Everett snarled. “Where. Is. Adelaide?”
Valerian gasped dramatically and pressed his hand to his chest. “You two are married? And you didn’t invite me? I thought we were friends.”
“Stop the act, Valerian. I know you aren’t actually drunk.”
Valerian let the facade slide from him like a discarded cloak. He straightened in his chair and cleared the slur from his voice as he said, “And I know you and Adelaide aren’t married. Not in any legal ceremony, at least.”
Everett stilled, his blue eyes—wrong, that’s wrong—narrowing on Valerian. “We will be as soon as I find her.”
“The bride running away doesn’t bode well for a happy marriage.”
Everett lunged for him, punching Valerian square in the jaw. He fell backwards, crushing the stool beneath him.
“Outside!” the barkeeper shouted. “Take it outside!”
Valerian looked up at Everett. “You heard the man.” Then he reached down and touched the mark already carved into the wood beneath him. “Let’s take this outside.”
The floorboards shifted and rolled at Valerian’s command, dumping Everett on his ass.
His eyes widened and he scrabbled at the floor, trying to get a grip as it dragged him through the bar.
Chairs and tables moved out of the way, carrying people with them.
Startled screams filled the air, covering up Everett’s shouted expletives.
Valerian pushed himself to his feet, left a few gold coins on the bar to cover the damage, and walked outside to meet his former friend.
Thrown facedown into the dirt, Everett continued to curse as he shoved himself upright. He yanked his sword from its sheath and turned toward Valerian. “You will tell me,” he snarled, “one way or another.”
“Everett, Everett, Everett,” Valerian tsked. “Do you think you can do any worse to me than what I’ve already experienced?” Usually, he wore an enchanted ring to hide his scars, but now he pulled it off and tucked it into his pocket, allowing the other man to glimpse the horrors of Valerian’s past.
The only bit of skin left unmarred was his face. He never let anyone get close enough to scratch it, let alone leave their mark.
Everett thrust his sword toward him, and Valerian sidestepped. The sword didn’t even graze him, yet he still heard a rip, like something cutting through fabric. Valerian frowned, but before he could determine the source, he had to sidestep the swinging blade again.
“I don’t want to kill you, Valerian,” Everett said between strikes.
Valerian laughed at the man’s arrogance.
“You think I’m worried about you killing me?
I’m not using any magic, and you can’t even get close.
” He caught movement out of the corner of his eye as he dodged another blow.
Despite his taunts, the blade came within a hairsbreadth of him.
If he didn’t start fighting back soon, he might actually be in trouble.
He and Everett had known each other for almost five years. They’d defeated villains, rescued damsels, and collected rewards together. They may have been ruthless mercenaries, but there was a time when they would have gone to the ends of the earth together.
When Everett had met Adelaide and fallen desperately in love with her, Valerian was happy for them, even with his own heartbreak still fresh in his mind.
Adelaide had joined them on missions, offering magical support and healing their wounds, and she’d reminded Valerian so much of Olivia, with her bright smile and love of adventure.
Except she hadn’t baulked at Everett’s wounds or run away when the work proved too dangerous.
She stayed by his side and studied harder to offer more help in the field.
Then the bruises started to appear. First, Valerian mistook them for common injuries from their missions.
A black eye after one. A red ring around her throat after the next.
He couldn’t remember when she’d sustained them, but the fights grew so chaotic that he often lost sight of her in the tussle.
The larger the team, the harder it was to track everyone’s movements, and Ada had proved herself capable enough for Valerian to stop worrying about her.
Until the purple handprint appeared on her upper arm.
They hadn’t been on a mission in over a month.
Peace was a bad thing for a mercenary, it meant the jobs dried up and funds ran dangerously low.
It should have been a good thing for a happy couple—should have given them time to enjoy each other’s company.
When Valerian had been with Olivia, he’d loved those quiet times the most, even if it meant they had to tighten their belts a little.
But Everett was always a wild man on their missions.
A fierce fighter who thrived on spilled blood.
He took missions as much for the thrill of the kill as he did for the money.
When peace stretched on for too long, all that rage and hunger boiled inside of him until it spilled over onto the people around him.
It didn’t take much encouragement for Adelaide to explain the bruises to Valerian. How one of her potions had exploded in the kitchen, and when Everett saw the mess, he’d grabbed her arm and dragged her to the sink. “You aren’t leaving until every goddamn speck is cleaned.”
Five minutes after hearing the story, Valerian had already begun plotting. For her to successfully escape Everett, Valerian needed to keep him occupied for as long as possible.
Valerian stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a tiny blade, the size of a needle. It expanded in his grip, growing to the same size as Everett’s longsword. Sparks flew when the blades met, and the scent of hot metal filled the air.
“Let her leave,” Valerian said.
Everett wordlessly continued his assault. His eyes flickered between blue and brown. Valerian’s mind raced, trying to understand why that seemed so wrong. Even as his mind was occupied, his body continued to block and parry Everett’s moves, as if playing through a familiar script.
Another rip of fabric distracted Valerian, followed by a needle-sharp spike in his mind. Why, hello there, little intruder, he thought, finally understanding Everett’s game. “Which mage was stupid enough to take this job?”
Everett stumbled, surprised by the question.
“You won’t find her that way,” Valerian said. “Better retreat now before it’s too late.”
Another needle stabbed at his brain, hunting for an opening into the secrets hidden within.
Valerian heaved a sigh. “I warned you.”
A wild, pained scream tore through the air. The mage stumbled out from his hiding spot behind one of the buildings, clawing at his own face. “Stop, stop,” he begged as his fingers dug too deep into his skin. “Please.”
Everett’s sword fumbled and Valerian knocked it from his hand. Instead of following through with a final blow, Valerian lowered his blade. Both men turned to watch the doomed mage, one in horror, one in pity.
“I can’t stop it,” Valerian told him, honestly wishing he could.
Skin sloughed off the mage’s face, exposing first the bubbling red muscle beneath, then the white hint of bone. He continued to beg for his life even as his words became a garbled mess, his throat melting with the rest of him.
A dagger swung toward Valerian’s face. He tried to duck but the blade bit into his forehead and cut downwards, barely missing his eye. Blood blinded him. He expected Everett to follow up his advantage and stab him again. Instead, he heard footsteps retreating.
“That’s right! Run!” Valerian shouted, the words burning his throat. “You’ll never find her, you bastard!”
The memory ended and Valerian tumbled out of the tree trunk. Alistair fell next to him with a harsh thump.
Valerian had been through this process enough times that he could shake the disorientation off while Alistair was still reeling. Valerian pushed himself to his feet and kicked Alistair’s head, making sure the mage stayed down.
Before he could finish the job and boot the mage from his mind, Valerian’s eyes snapped open, and he stared into Penn’s sapphire blue eyes.
“Val?” The name was a question the first time. The second time it was full of relief. “Valerian!”
“Penn?” he croaked.
“You’re awake. Oh gods, you’re finally awake,” Penn cried. Tears plopped onto Valerian’s face, hot against his cold skin.
“Go.” He didn’t want Penn to stick around and fall victim to Alistair’s schemes. It would be better if he got far, far away from Valerian.
Penn’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Leave … me.”
“I’m not leaving you!” he exclaimed. “I’m going to save you. You’re awake, so now we can—”
A hand grabbed the back of Valerian’s shirt and yanked him backwards. The last thing he saw before his vision went black was that fucking forest.