Chapter 60 Make It Look Convincing
(with Fists and Blood Magic)
Kazimir
I’d always found the smell of stone, iron, and despair in the dungeons comforting. Tonight, however, I was in no mood to savor it.
“You’re certain you want to be here for this?” I asked Arabella as we descended the spiral staircase.
“I’m not letting you have all the fun,” she replied, her voice steady despite the shadows playing across her face. The orbs floating above us cast her features in sharp relief, highlighting the determined set of her jaw. “Besides, he’s my father. I should be involved in his release.”
The way she said “release” made it clear she understood exactly what we were doing. This wasn’t mercy. This was strategy wrapped in cruelty—my favorite kind.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and navigated the narrow corridor that led to the isolation cells.
I felt the shadow wolf still pacing just inside Evenfall’s door, its forms rippling slightly in the dim light.
It bowed its head as we approached, then melted into the walls, returning to the shadows from which I’d summoned them.
I placed my hand on the heavy iron door, feeling the wards hum against my palm. “Last chance to change your mind.”
Arabella’s eyes met mine. “Open it.”
The wards recognized my magic and dissolved with a faint sizzle. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing the man who had imprisoned his own daughter.
I hadn’t forgotten my earlier threat to her father. I figured I’d still get my chance. He was a sniveling whiny bastard, and those types often ended up living through some scheme or other.
Lord Atticus Evenfall sat huddled on his cot, eyes filled with terror. His hair, which had been meticulously styled when we first brought him in, hung in greasy strands around his gaunt face.
“Come to gloat?” he asked.
I smiled, letting my dominion magic curl around me. “Actually, we’ve come to release you.”
Confusion flickered across his face. “What?”
“You heard me.” I stepped farther into the cell, enjoying the way he pressed himself against the wall. “We’re letting you go.”
Evenfall’s gaze darted between Arabella and me, searching for the trap. “Why?”
“Because you’re no longer useful to us,” Arabella said, her voice cold. “And keeping you fed is becoming tedious.”
I had to admire her performance. The casual cruelty in her tone was perfectly calibrated—believable enough to convince her father, yet still a performance. My little villain was learning.
“Stand up,” I ordered, infusing my voice with just enough dominion magic to make his muscles twitch in response. He rose shakily to his feet, still pressing himself against the wall as if he could melt through it.
“What’s the catch?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“The catch,” I said, moving closer until I could smell the fear on him, “is that if you ever return to Skyspire, I’ll skin you alive and use your hide to bind my grimoires.” I let my magic flare, the runes carved into my bones heating beneath my skin. “Is that clear?”
He nodded rapidly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
“Good.” I turned to Arabella. “Shall we?”
She nodded, her expression impassive. I opened a portal in the center of the cell, the darkness swirling like ink in water.
Through it, I could see a stretch of forest at the edge of Solandris—nearly at the capital city gates and close enough that he’d reach Auremar in time to deliver our false intelligence.
Evenfall stared at the portal, then back at us. “Just like that? You’re letting me walk out?”
“Would you prefer to stay?” Arabella asked, arching an eyebrow.
He shook his head quickly.
“Then go,” I said, gesturing to the portal. “Before I change my mind.”
Evenfall took a hesitant step toward the portal, then another. As he passed me, I grabbed his arm, my fingers digging into the thin flesh. “One more thing.”
Fear flashed in his eyes. “What?”
“We need to make this convincing.” Without warning, I slammed my fist into his face. The crack of cartilage breaking was immensely satisfying, as was his howl of pain. Blood spurted from his nose, spattering across his already filthy shirt.
Before he could recover, I hit him again, this time in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping. I followed with a blow to his ribs that sent him sprawling to the floor.
“Kaz,” Arabella said, her voice soft but firm. “He won’t make our deadline if you injure him too badly.”
I stepped back, flexing my fingers. The runes beneath my skin were thrumming with pleasure. “Just making it look like he had a difficult journey.”
Evenfall pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, blood dripping from his nose onto the stone floor.
He looked pathetic, broken—how a man might look after escaping a villain’s dungeon and traveling for days through hostile territory.
I was tempted to make it even more convincing, but we didn’t have time.
“Get up,” I ordered, drawing a knife from my belt.
He struggled to his feet, swaying slightly. His right eye was already swelling shut, and his breathing came in ragged gasps that suggested at least one broken rib.
I glanced at Arabella, silently asking if she wanted a turn. She considered her father for a moment, then shook her head. Her restraint impressed me—I wouldn’t have shown the same in her position.
“Now,” I said, turning back to Evenfall, “there’s one more detail to address.”
I raised the knife and slid it across my forearm, following the path of an old scar that had been reopened countless times.
Blood welled in the shallow cut. Evenfall tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.
He sagged against the wall, and I held him there with shadows and let three drops of my blood fall onto his forehead.
They soaked into his pale skin, leaving no trace behind.
His eyes were wide with fear, the whites showing all around his irises as he strained against the shadow bindings.
“This will hurt,” I said, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in my voice. “I’d apologize, but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”
The rune at my throat warmed as I activated it, feeding power into the incantation I spoke.
Blood magic was crude—effective, but inelegant compared to my dominion magic.
Still, it had its uses. I wanted Evenfall to eventually remember what he’d done, to know he’d been merely a pawn in the villain’s game.
Evenfall screamed as the magic took hold, his back arching unnaturally. The shadows binding him tightened, keeping him from thrashing too violently. Then more shadows shot forward, wrapping around his head and sinking into his eyes, nose, and mouth. He made a choked sound, his body going rigid.
This was the delicate part. Memory alteration was complex magic, requiring precision and control.
I couldn’t simply erase his memories—that would make him useless as a carrier of false information.
Instead, I had to modify them, creating a convincing narrative of escape and hardship that would explain his condition when he reached Auremar.
I sifted through his recent memories, finding the ones of his imprisonment.
I left those intact but added new ones: picking the lock on his cell door with a piece of metal stolen from his food tray, sneaking past guards, fighting his way out of the citadel.
I created memories of days spent hiding in forests, stealing food from villages, narrowly avoiding patrols of shadow warriors.
And then, most importantly, I planted the false intelligence: overhearing me discussing plans with my generals to stage a diversion outside Sunspire—something flashy and threatening enough to force Auremar to recall his army from the north and avoid a battle.
The memory needed to be convincing but not too obvious.
Auremar had to believe it was real intelligence, even if he suspected it might be a trick.
The magic was invasive, violating—and I enjoyed every second of it. Making him believe he’d fought his way to freedom when in reality he was nothing but our puppet felt like poetic justice.
When I finished, I withdrew the shadows. Evenfall collapsed to his knees, gasping and clutching his head. His eyes were unfocused, his expression dazed as his mind struggled to integrate the false memories with the real ones.
He mumbled something unintelligible, but his eyes were glassy, already somewhere else—stumbling through forests, picking locks, running for his life. The new memories were taking root.
I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him toward the portal. He stumbled through, disappearing into the forest beyond. The portal remained open, allowing us to watch as he looked around in confusion, then began limping in the direction of the palace.
“Shadow warriors?” Arabella asked.
I nodded, summoning two of my shadowy servants and speaking to them in the harsh language of my youth. “Follow him. Make sure he reaches Auremar.”
The shadow warriors bowed and slipped through the portal, their forms immediately blending with the darkness of the forest. I closed the portal with a flick of my wrist, the darkness collapsing in on itself until it vanished completely.
Arabella and I stood in silence for a moment.
“How do you feel?” I asked, studying her face.
She considered the question, her expression thoughtful. “Relieved, I think.”
“Not upset about the memory alteration?”
She shook her head. “He allowed mages to alter my memories for years. There’s a certain justice in it.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. My little villain indeed.
“Besides,” she continued, “it serves a greater purpose than mere revenge. Though I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy watching you rough him up a bit.”
I leaned in, offering her my arm. “I was holding back.”
She took my arm, her fingers warm against my skin. “I noticed. I was expecting something more creative from the Dark Lord.”
“Believe me, I had ideas.” We left the cell, making our way back up the staircase. “But this plan serves our needs better than indulging my more elaborate fantasies.”
“Such as?”
I glanced at her, noting the genuine curiosity in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
I considered for a moment, then decided honesty was the best approach. “I thought about turning him into one of my shadow warriors—binding his soul to my service for eternity. Or perhaps feeding him to Nyx, piece by piece, keeping him alive to feel every bite.”
Arabella’s expression remained neutral, but I felt her grip tighten slightly on my arm. Not in fear or disgust, I realized, but in consideration.
“Those do have a certain appeal,” she admitted as we reached the top of the stairs. “But I think I prefer this. Using him as a tool, then discarding him. It’s fitting. Do you think it will work? The false intelligence?”
“Auremar is desperate and paranoid. He’ll believe Evenfall because he wants to believe he’s caught us planning something to take his ten thousand soldiers away from the northern outpost.” I opened the door to our chambers, ushering her inside.
“And even if he suspects a trap, he can’t afford to ignore the information.
He won’t recall his entire army, but he’ll have to commit his remaining forces to defend Sunspire, where he thinks I’ll be staging some sort of villainous trick. ”
“The irony is that even if he were to recall the army, it wouldn’t be there in time to defend him. I like the way you think, Lord Blackrose.”
I smirked. “Among other things about me.”
Our chambers were warm and inviting, the fire in the hearth casting an inviting glow. It struck me, not for the first time, how different this space had become since Arabella arrived. What had once been a utilitarian retreat was now a safe space.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that was both mine and not mine whispered that I should tell her the truth before it was too late. That I should confess everything.
But as I pulled her into my arms, I pushed the thought away. Tomorrow would bring enough challenges without adding that particular confession to the list.
Besides, there would be time after our victory.
Time to figure out what to do about the darkness inside me.
I pulled off her clothes and made good on my promise to scandalize the servants one more time with her.
My magic mingled with Arabella’s as I brought her to release, and we didn’t try to contain it as we usually did.
Our mingled light and dark tangled and lit up the chamber brighter than any sun.
Anyone looking toward Skyspire would see the exact moment when I shuddered inside her and she screamed my name.
It would be seen as a bright star all to the way to Azroth’s Claw and the sea to the east. To the northern wastes and the southern reaches.
Solandris. Valmont. Maybe even Meridian Isle far to the southwest.
All the places I had conquered and would conquer. The tower rumbled with the force of our joining, with what was to come. I sagged down beside her and pulled her close.
Time to find the right words to tell Arabella.
Sleep took me before I could complete the thought, dragging me down into dreams of ancient battles and a power that hungered for release.