2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
I sabel had been right. The king was in an apoplectic fit of rage when she slid into the throne room behind Lady Salandris hardly twenty minutes later. The Rendran ambassador had made an impressive stink to the guards when they’d first barred her way, but they’d eventually let her through, albeit reluctantly.
“How could you have let this happen?” the king railed at Idris, the captain of his guard, spittle flying from his mouth. He slumped on an ornate bronze-and-gold dais at the end of the grand hall. His red tunic pinched over his swelling gut, and his round, bearded face was already purple and turning more so by the minute.
Idris hardly flinched beneath stoic brows, likely used to tirades such as this one. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lady Salandris sailed forward, her blue skirts embroidered with tiny silver flowers trailing regally behind her, her court slippers clipping purposefully down the length of the polished-wood floor.
Her dark auburn hair was swept on top of her head in an elegant knot, and her chin was tipped in an air of determination and confidence. Isabel trailed in her wake, her gray eyes roving around the hall, keeping a vigilant watch for anything that might pose a threat to the ambassador.
“Your Highness,” Lady Salandris said brightly, an overly pleasant smile pasted to her face. She wasn’t much younger than the king, who was approaching sixty, but the years had been far kinder to her appearance. “It is an absolute delight to see you, as always.”
“Lady Salandris,” the king said flatly.
An alliance had been forged between Rendra and Medira hardly a month before. The king had been little help, demanding terms he knew Rendra would never accept. But he had finally, reluctantly signed, mostly at the expert cajoling of his nephew Arphaxad Ilin Serra, who was now married to Cassandra—their marriage had been a key piece of the alliance.
“I heard commotion outside the palace,” Lady Salandris said, dropping into a deep curtsy. “I thought Your Highness could give perspective on what was going on. You always go so out of your way to calm the fears of your loyal subjects.”
Isabel watched the Rendran ambassador with open admiration. There was the reason she wasn’t a diplomat. She could hide in shadows, sure, but she would bite off her tongue before she would give that man so much as a half-hearted compliment.
The king grunted, but he no longer seemed on the verge of complete breakdown. “It’s nothing to concern yourself about, Lady Salandris,” he said. “There was a problem in the prison, but it’s being handled.” He glared at Idris, who kept his face admirably blank.
Lady Salandris gave the king a tight smile. The woman had a will of iron.
The door to the throne room opened again, and a baby-faced soldier hurried down the length of the hall. He kept his eyes on the floor, hunching his shoulders as if that might make him less visible. When he reached Idris, he said something in a low, hurried voice that Isabel couldn’t quite catch. The captain’s eyes widened, and he turned to the king.
“Your Highness,” Idris said. “I have just had word that there is one man still in the prison who didn’t escape.”
Isabel’s heart gave a sudden thump .
“Then where is he?” the king barked. “Bring him here, and let’s sort this cursed mess out.” He glanced uncertainly at Lady Salandris, as if he had forgotten she was there. She gave him another taut smile.
“Of course, Your Highness,” Idris said. “The guards have already apprehended him. He’s right outside the door.”
Isabel’s gaze snapped to the other end of the throne room.
“Send him in,” the king said.
Isabel’s pulse sped up as the captain motioned for the doors to open. She knew who she was going to see before they even brought him in.
If I’m still here when this is over, tell the woman who gave you that dagger to get me out.
As two soldiers pushed him through the door, Isabel could see that his arms were bound tightly behind him. One of his cheeks was dark and purple, a mark that hadn’t been before, and there was an angry red gash above his left eye. Blood trickled in a dark line from the corner of his mouth. Anger surged through her as he stumbled down the length of the hall, the guards yanking him roughly by his arms. He was in far worse condition than when she’d seen him in the dungeon not thirty minutes before .
The guards shoved him to his knees in front of the king. His chest heaved as he lifted his head to stare defiantly upward, his black eyes flashing.
“What’s this one’s name?” the king demanded, peering disgustedly down at the prisoner before him.
“Karim Saad of Clan Marek, Your Highness,” Idris said. “The nephew of Darid Saad, who was part of Sethos Amanakar’s group.”
Karim jerked against his bonds at the captain’s words, his nostrils flaring. Sethos Amanakar was the bastard son of the Inetian emperor who had been behind the plot to learn the Sorothi chanters’ magic and depose his father.
“What did you do, boy?” the king said.
“I didn’t do anything,” Karim rasped. He coughed, the spasms rocking his body violently.
“Then explain to me where in the name of the archer the rest of your friends went!”
A muscle jerked in Karim’s jaw. “I have no idea where they went. As you can see, I’m still here.”
“You have no idea, or you refuse to tell us?” The king’s voice was like ice.
“Does it make a difference?” Karim met the older man’s gaze defiantly .
“Watch your tone, boy,” the guard beside him spat, giving him a quick kick in the ribs. Karim doubled over, coughing again.
“Your Highness,” Lady Salandris protested, taking a firm step toward the prisoner.
The king raised a hand to silence her, then waited until the coughing had subsided. “How did you break through the prison wards?”
Karim’s mouth twisted. “Once again, I did nothing. You know as well as I do that it was the work of one of the chanters who escaped your bloody raid.”
Isabel could see the king’s annoyance growing again. “So, they left you behind,” he said.
“I chose to stay behind,” Karim snapped. “I want nothing more to do with the Sorothi chanters and their magic. I don’t know anything.”
Isabel blinked. There it was again. He’d chosen to stay behind. But why? Surely escaping the Mediran prison and certain death was better than languishing behind based on...on what exactly? What had happened at the enclave to turn him so vehemently against the chanters?
“They have you all fooled into thinking they’re harmless,” Karim continued, his voice rising. “That they just want to be left alone. ”
A shiver moved through Isabel at his words. She knew there were men, women, and children in the enclave whose lives had been destroyed. Not everyone had agreed with the deal that had been struck with the Inetians. And from what she understood, the chanters responsible for the deal had slipped away into the night, leaving the innocent to pay the price.
“Then what do they want?” the king asked.
Karim’s eyes flashed with determination. “I can tell you everything you need to know if you grant me immunity,” he said.
A seed of respect nestled in Isabel’s chest.
“Just who do you take me for, boy?” The king let out a raucous snort. “I don’t need you telling me what I will or won’t grant you.”
“It seems I’m your only source of information.” Karim kept his shoulders square beneath the king’s gaze. “Grant me immunity, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know to apprehend the chanter behind this.”
The king surged suddenly to his feet. “I will not be blackmailed!” he roared.
“So, you’ll just let me die then,” Karim said. “And you’ll have lost your only chance to find the men who escaped. How do you think Ineti and the emperor are going to feel about that? ”
The king’s face turned white for a moment, and Isabel could see the fear plain in his eyes. He had lost the most wanted, most dangerous men in the kingdom. More than just Ineti would be furious about that.
“Get him out of here, now!” the king roared to Idris, his face turning that unorthodox shade of purple again. “Give him a good whipping and bring him back to me when he’s ready to talk! Twenty lashes at least!”
“Your Royal Highness, I don’t—” Lady Salandris started, but the rest of her words were drowned by Karim’s wild shout as he hurled himself at the soldier beside him.
The guards in the room yelled and leaped toward the unarmed Inetian, and Idris lunged in front of the king, guiding His Highness away from the mad scramble in front of the dais. Isabel surged toward Lady Salandris, pulling on her sleeve to try and keep the woman out of the fray.
“Take him out and beat him within an inch of his life!” the king shrieked as the guards pinned Karim to the floor. “I want him begging for mercy!”
“Your Highness,” Lady Salandris said, shaking Isabel off. “I must protest. He is the only lead we have on what happened to the others. A whipping of that sort might kill him. We need him for information, for leverage. ”
The king ignored her. “Get him out of here! I want him made an example of until he’s ready to talk!”
Karim was yanked back to his feet, where he hung awkwardly between the guards. Blood trickled from his mouth, dripping onto his torn tunic. He coughed, and Isabel’s heart clenched as blood splattered the floor. He raised his head, and his eyes widened with recognition when he saw her.
“Your Highness,” Lady Salandris protested again. “This is a matter that is of great concern to Rendra. We need him in one piece.” When the king ignored her again, she turned toward Isabel, fire in her eyes. “Get him out of here,” she said calmly. “In any way you can.”
Isabel gave her a nod, then faded back against the wall, allowing herself to drift among the shadows as she followed the guards who were dragging Karim out of the room. Fury coursed through her. They couldn’t do this. He might be a traitor, but he had crucial information about the chanters, the enclave, the Inetians—information they couldn’t afford to lose. And she still couldn’t get the look he’d cast her in the dungeon out of her head. And the look of stubbornness and desperation when he’d seen her in the throne room.
A strange thrumming vibrated from the knife at Isabel’s belt, and she wrapped her fingers around it, power and safety and strength flowing through her body.
She slipped along the black marble of the palace halls, the heavy gold and bronze twining up the columns a far cry from the lighter, airy feel of the Rendran palace. She kept close to the guards who flanked Karim.
She followed them around the corner and out into the courtyard behind the palace. The prison was quickly coming into view. She had to do something soon, or else they would disappear with Karim back down into the blackness.
“Hey, boy,” one of the guards said, giving Karim a quick jab in the ribs. “We were given full permission to have a little fun with you.”
Karim lifted his head, his eyes flashing. “I bet a coward like you would like that, beating a defenseless man.”
The guard lunged toward Karim again, but one of the others shoved him back. “Don’t be such an ass, Rodrigo.”
“You heard the king,” Rodrigo snarled. “If you don’t like it, you can get out. But I’m going to have my fun.” He aimed another well-placed kick at Karim’s ribs.
Isabel sprang forward, her knife in her hands, its wards whispering a soothing song to her muscles and joints as she gave a quick kick to the back of Rodrigo’s knees. He collapsed with a yelp of surprise. She allowed the full power of the knife’s wards to flow over her, drawing as much shadow around herself as she could.
She whirled, her body vibrating with energy and power, and jabbed another soldier in the throat with the hilt of her knife. He doubled over, coughing violently. She made quick work of the other four, and for a brief moment, she was left staring down at Karim, blood pounding madly through her veins.
He gaped at her, and then a grin eased across his blood-slick face. “So, you did come,” he said. “I’m touched.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Isabel bit out. “I’m certainly not doing this for you.”
Rodrigo lunged to his feet, his face a mask of rage, and before she could think, Isabel reached down to grab Karim’s arm. She was halfway through snapping “get up” when the world exploded.
Something sparked where her fingers clutched his arm, and then darkness and shadow and night raged through her limbs like a wildfire, flying out into the cold air of the courtyard and turning the world into a haze of black. It was a darkness that was thick and cloying, dripping with magic and power that mingled with the distorted energy of the crackling wards in the dungeon below .
Isabel didn’t have time to think, to understand what was happening. She just pulled Karim to his feet and dragged him out and away from the courtyard, from the palace, from the soldiers who were shouting and scrambling madly after them. She didn’t need to see or feel or hear. Movement in this space of shadow was simple, effortless, as easy as breathing, and Isabel found that she was moving ten steps for every one. She wasn’t sure if they were walking or running or flying; all she knew was that they were moving, that they needed to get away, to get to safety, far from the crackling madness behind the Mediran palace.
It was the wind that brought her back to reality, the cold whipping sharply against her skin. Her body still thrummed with magic and power and darkness, and she didn’t know how to stop, how to make it go away.
Then someone was shouting beside her, and a hand, strong and sure, was wrapping around her own. Then the darkness and shadow rushed out of her like a breaking dam, roaring and crackling from her fingertips and out into the cold air, where it swirled and eddied, then dissipated into nothing.
For a moment, all was silence and absence of shadow, and she found herself staring at Karim’s bloodied face in the middle of a swath of arching pines .
She swayed for a moment, her vision blurring, and with a cry of frustration at her dissipating consciousness, she collapsed to the ground.