Chapter 69 Make the Worst Deal Ever
(But She’s Worth It)
Kazimir
I kicked open the training room door. The sound echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap, but I didn’t care about subtlety. Not with Arabella unconscious in my arms and the Shadow King wearing her like a second skin.
“Fascinating,” the Alchemist murmured, following me inside. Their eyes swept across the space with obvious interest. “So this is where the great Dark Lord hones his craft. I’d always wondered.”
“Save the tourism for later,” I snapped, carrying Arabella to the center of the room. The protective circles etched into the stone floor glowed faintly at our approach, recognizing my magical signature.
The Alchemist circled the perimeter, running their fingers along the walls. “These wards are exquisite. Old Dominion design, if I’m not mistaken. Modified, of course, but the foundation work…” They paused, tilting their head. “You didn’t create these. You found them.”
“Does it matter?” I laid Arabella gently within the largest circle. Even unconscious, her face was wrong—too still, too empty of the spark that made her her.
“Everything matters when dealing with entities like the Shadow King.” The Alchemist crouched beside us, studying the Heirloom that still blazed on Arabella’s brow. “The question is whether they’ll hold what’s inside her now.”
When I’d first found Skyspire, I’d assumed the original foundation and wards were built by some forgotten warlord. Now I knew better. The Shadow King’s architecture, bone-deep and familiar in a way that made my skin crawl. But I shoved the thought aside.
I wanted to grab the Alchemist by their shifting robes and shake answers out of them. Instead, I forced myself to breathe. To think. Violence wouldn’t save Arabella any more than panic would.
“Can you extract him?”
The Alchemist’s laugh was slightly maniacal. “Extract the Shadow King? One does not simply pluck out an entity that predates the ley lines themselves. He’s not some parasite to be removed with a clever potion.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Wake her.”
I stared at them. “Are you insane? The Shadow King—”
“Is already in control whether she’s conscious or not,” the Alchemist interrupted. “At least awake, we might learn something useful. Unless you prefer to sit here and watch her sleep while he consolidates his hold on her mind?”
They had a point. I hated it, but they had a point.
I placed my hand on Arabella’s forehead, feeling the unnatural cold radiating from her skin. My dominion magic was depleted, but I had enough left for this. I found the layers of sleep I’d wrapped around her consciousness and carefully began peeling them away.
Her eyes snapped open.
“Well, well.” The voice was Arabella’s, but the inflection was ancient, amused. “The would-be tyrant and his pet Weaver. How delightful.”
I kept my hand on her forehead, ready to force her back under if necessary. “Let her go.”
The Shadow King sat up. Arabella’s body moved in a stilted fashion, as if the entity inside her wasn’t quite sure how everything worked.
There was a tremor in her left hand, and her right shoulder hitched half a second too late.
But I didn’t think the Shadow King wasn’t an accomplished puppet master.
No. Arabella was fighting.
“But we’re having such fun together,” he said. “Her mind is fascinating—all those delicious memories of you. The things you’ve done to this body…” He ran Arabella’s hands down her sides in a gesture that made my stomach turn. “She’s quite fond of your particular brand of brutality.”
“Don’t.” The word came out as a growl.
“Don’t what? Touch what’s mine?” The Shadow King stood, and the protective circle flared brighter, trying to contain him. He glanced down at it with mild interest. “Ah, the old containment matrices. I remember when these were first designed. Cute, but hardly sufficient.”
The Alchemist stepped forward, and something in their bearing changed.
For a moment, their form seemed to flicker, showing something vast and incomprehensible beneath the mundane exterior.
For a moment, I wondered if the Alchemist was more than they appeared.
But then the flickering disappeared, leaving me to question if I’d simply been seeing a trick of their robes.
“Weaver,” the Shadow King acknowledged with Arabella’s lips. Another twitch in Arabella’s left eye. “I wondered when one of you would crawl out of hiding. Still playing keeper of the ley lines, I see.”
“Someone has to clean up the messes,” the Alchemist replied mildly. “You’ve made quite a spectacular one this time.”
“Have I?” The Shadow King examined Arabella’s hands as if seeing them for the first time.
He flexed her fingers, testing each joint like he was learning the controls.
Her pinky finger spasmed. Definitely fighting.
“I’d say young Auremar deserves most of the credit.
All that blood, all those sacrifices, weakening my prison year by year.
I merely took advantage of an opportunity. ”
“An opportunity that required possessing an innocent woman,” I said.
The Shadow King laughed, and it was wrong, so wrong coming from Arabella’s throat.
“Your wife is many things, Kazimir, but innocent isn’t one of them.
She has blood on her hands, doesn’t she?
Ask her. Oh wait—you can’t. Because she’s rather preoccupied fighting a losing battle for control of her own mind. ”
Her left hand clenched suddenly, fingernails digging into her palm. Blood welled.
I took a step forward, but the Alchemist caught my arm. “He’s baiting you.”
“Of course I am,” the Shadow King agreed too cheerfully. Arabella’s natural sarcasm had a different cadence. “It’s so easy with you. All that love, all that desperate need to protect her. It’s almost touching, but it makes me want to gag.”
“What do you want?” I forced the words out through gritted teeth.
The Shadow King tilted Arabella’s head, considering. “What does any prisoner want after centuries of confinement? Freedom, of course. Complete, unrestricted freedom.”
“The prison—”
“Is failing anyway.” Her right shoulder jerked—Arabella again.
The Shadow King smoothed the motion into a dismissive gesture, but I saw it.
“Thanks to Auremar’s meddling, the anchors are already breaking down.
It’s only a matter of time before I’m free regardless.
But time is something your dear wife doesn’t have much of. ”
I felt ice form in my chest. “Explain.”
“Possession is such a violent process.” He was turning in a circle now, using Arabella’s body like a marionette.
Every third step came a fraction too late—her resistance throwing off his rhythm.
He stilled. “Two consciousnesses battling for control of one body. Eventually, something has to give. Usually, it’s the weaker mind that shatters.
Would you like to know how long Arabella has?
Hours? Days? It’s hard to say. She’s surprisingly strong, but strength only delays the inevitable. ”
“You’re lying.”
He smiled with Arabella’s face, stretching her lips into the wide, painted smile of a jester.
The muscles in her cheeks spasmed violently—not a twitch this time, but a full revolt against the expression.
“Feel free to wait and find out. Watch as she slowly loses herself, piece by piece. Watch as I consume everything that makes her who she is.”
I held back my anger, but shadows still writhed in the corners of the room. “Or?”
“Or you could release me properly. Break the remaining anchors, open my prison completely. Once I’m free, I’ll have no need for this vessel. I’ll leave her body and reclaim my true form. Everyone wins.”
The Alchemist’s grip on my arm tightened. “You can’t seriously be considering—”
“The fuck I can’t!” I shook them off, my eyes never leaving Arabella’s possessed form as I said, “Tell me another way, Alchemist. Tell me how to save her without releasing him.”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.” I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision settling on my shoulders. The world with Arabella versus the world without her. Not even a contest. “Fine. Tell me how to open the prison.”
“Kazimir, no,” the Alchemist protested. “You don’t understand what you’re agreeing to. The Shadow King free in the world again—”
“I understand perfectly.” The words came out flat, final. My gaze was still fixed on the evil that was shining through Arabella’s eyes. “I don’t care if the world burns. I don’t care if he drowns the realm in darkness. None of it matters without her.”
The Shadow King clapped Arabella’s hands together. The movement was violent enough that I heard her knuckles crack. “Oh, how romantic! The Dark Lord choosing love over the fate of the world. It’s almost poetic.”
“Tell me how,” I repeated.
“Patience,” the Shadow King chided. “First, we need to discuss terms. After all, I am nothing if not a creature of contracts and agreements. It’s only civilized.”
Creatures of contract had rules. Rules could be exploited. I forced myself to nod. “What terms?”
“Simple ones. You release me from my prison—completely and without tricks. In exchange, I leave your wife’s body intact and relatively unharmed. Everyone gets what they want.”
“Define ‘relatively unharmed.’ ”
“Well, possession does leave its marks.” Her left eye twitched violently. “She might have a few lingering effects. Nothing fatal, I assure you. Probably.”
The Alchemist made a sound of disgust. “You’re making a deal with the architect of suffering itself. This won’t end well.”
“It’s already not ending well,” I barked. “At least this way, she lives.”
“If he keeps his word.”
“I always keep my word,” the Shadow King said, and for a moment, genuine offense flickered across Arabella’s features. “I’m not some common villain who breaks bargains for sport. I have standards.”
Her fingers clenched again, drawing more blood.
I looked at her face, cataloging every micro-expression. The way her jaw clenched between words. The rapid eye movements that didn’t match the Shadow King’s speech patterns. The slight tremor in her left hand that came in waves—fighting to surface, being pushed down, fighting again.
She was still in there. Still fighting. Still mine.
For a moment—just a moment—I thought I saw a bit of her flicker in those hazel eyes. A plea. A warning. Or maybe just my own desperate hope.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
The Alchemist sighed, a sound like wind through empty halls. “Then we’re all damned.”
“We were damned the moment Auremar started his rituals,” I corrected. “This is just choosing which hell we burn in.”
The Shadow King smiled with Arabella’s lips, but her eyes—I took a shuddering breath.
Her eyes screamed a warning I was already choosing to ignore.