Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
T he man landed on his feet with Neve suspended in his arms.
Although her body reverberated with the force of the landing, no part of her touched the ground. His knees absorbed the impact, bending slightly, and the only noise he made was a grunt.
Neve tried to wrench her body from his, but she felt like she was bound to a tree trunk. In desperation, she flung her head back, attempting to connect with his jaw or nose, but her head only collided with his hard chest.
Who was this man? Was he trying to kidnap her? Kill her? Violate her on the floor of the forest? He knew her name, which meant he was targeting her specifically.
Without warning, he released her. Neve stumbled sideways on the uneven rocky ground, cursing that she wore a flimsy nightgown and had bare feet. As if she wasn’t already at a disadvantage with his towering size and strength.
Winded and terrified, she stared at him. He was dressed plainly, in a black cloak and trousers and long boots, but his clothes weren’t the robes of a mage. His sharp facial features, midnight-black hair, and piercing silver-gray eyes sent a frisson of fear through her.
That he hadn’t worn a mask or concealed his identity in any way meant he didn’t care if she could identify him. He planned to kill her.
Even in her distressed state, she sensed he was not a sorcerer. Though he was powerful, it was not in the way of a mage. She had one advantage over him, but only if she acted fast.
Gritting her teeth, she gathered the cauldron of fear and shock inside of her into something more potent. Something she could use.
He tilted his head, his pale eyes appraising her in the indigo starlight. “Your face gives you away.”
She blinked in confusion. “What?”
“Your facial expression should remain unchanged right up until the moment you attack, otherwise you forewarn?—”
His arrogance made Neve’s fear splinter with irritation, like white-hot lightning through a storm cloud. It wasn’t enough for him to kill her—he was going to lecture her, too?
Determined to silence him, she raised her hand while her magical energy spiraled up her arm in dark red tendrils. With her thoughts, she shaped the energy to repel the man in a basic yet effective defensive curse. It shot from her palm in a streak of crimson light and connected with his sternum.
The spell knocked him off his feet, and he fell onto the jagged stone with a dull thud.
Knowing she had moments to flee, she scrambled over the rocks. The walkway was far overhead, and she dared not shout for help. The only people near enough to hear her cries would be the other apprentices in their rooms. Alerting them would only put them in danger alongside Neve. For all she knew, the man was not alone.
She needed the High Magus, or Fouzia and the other Guides. Her magical energy was finite and she would soon become depleted.
A strangled cry escaped her throat as a pincer-like hand grabbed her ankle, making her fall forward onto the rock. Her wrists and hands rang with pain, but she managed to avoid smacking her face on the stone. How had he reached her already? Silently, too.
Kicking with her caught leg, she turned around. He let go of her, only to trap her by resting his black leather boot next to her waist and leaning forward. Her eyes darted from his sneering face to the pale hand he was slipping inside his cloak.
“Who are you?” she asked, panting. “Why are you doing this?”
His hand paused. “I am Eleksi. And I’m doing this because I need to redeem myself.”
She shook her head in bewilderment. “By killing me?”
“But you can’t be surprised?” The man leaned closer, his silver eyes alight with curiosity. “You must have known someone would come for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Her mind tried to land on an explanation. “Perhaps you have the wrong person?”
His face spasmed and he bared his teeth, making her shrink back against the cold stone. “I do not have the wrong person. I made sure of it. And I can’t promise your death will be painless, but I can promise to make it fast.”
Neve’s chest quaked with fear. She was about to die.
“Wait!” She put her hand out, her fingertips hovering above his chest, keeping her face perfectly impassive. “First, I need to thank you.”
Confusion crossed his angular features. “For what?”
“The advice.”
She crashed her palm into his chest, unleashing a crackling black energetic net onto him. Bindings were intended to defend against mages—to prevent an opponent from using magic—but they functioned against non-magic people, too.
The net spread instantly, encasing him. His eyes bulged and he jerked in pain. Neve had been hit with a Binding spell before—it felt like colliding with a brick wall.
The man thrashed against the magical net while Neve scooted out from under him. She turned around and climbed the rocks, her shaking fingertips grasping the dewy-damp surface. Her fatigue from casting magic was a heavy mass weighing down her body and spirit, and would only get worse. She prayed she wouldn’t need to subdue him again. If she did, she’d risk leaving herself completely defenseless afterward.
Only once she reached the top of the rise, standing on the crumbling stone walkway, did she look back.
The man had vanished.
Disconcerted, she stood on her tiptoes and scanned the black rocks. How could he have disappeared? The Binding wouldn’t have worn off yet.
Blood coursing with fear, she took off in a sprint over the walkway toward the Guides’ wing of the castle. The night noises were louder now, and seemed nefarious. Bats swooped overhead—black shadows against the purple and silver sky.
The man emerged from the inky tree line like an unholy specter, running at her. She tried to dodge his grasp, but his arm crossed her waist and picked her up before driving her backward onto the ground. Winded, she coughed while he swung his leg over her body and pinned her.
His movements were twitchy, because the remains of the Binding clung to him like a dark mist swirling around his limbs. He’d ignored the pain of the spell and fought against it to run her down.
Before she could draw her breath to scream, he put his hand over her mouth.
“Hushhh now,” he said, leaning close to her face, his silver eyes boring into hers. “We don’t want to be interrupted.”
He slipped his spare hand into his cloak once more, withdrawing an ornate golden dagger with a slender blade.
“You are somehow even more beautiful in the flesh.” His low, dangerous voice sent shivers up her spine. “I didn’t believe that was possible. The portrait your blood painted was—” A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “—breathtaking.”
Her blood?
He lifted the dagger high and her eyes widened, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Only one option remained to her and, in a way, that was a relief. She would finally release the pent-up monster that lay deep within her. Her special ability .
If she was going to die, she would do her best to take him with her. Perhaps this was the very reason she’d been given the dubious gift in the first place. The stars knew she’d need it.
But could she do it, even now? Steal this man’s soul with her magic? She’d never done it on purpose before.
Then, she’d never been moments from being murdered, either.
As soon as she decided to use the dark magic, time seemed to slow down. She saw the man’s every blink and heard the individual calls of the crickets beyond the tree line. Most of all, she felt the roaring swell of the untapped power residing in her.
For the first time, she allowed the trapdoor to the pitch-dark, forbidden part of her mind to swing open. A ravenous, fiendish blackness poured out, filling her chest and arms and legs. Something in her face and eyes must’ve changed, because the man’s brow creased in uncertainty—perhaps even fear.
Regular magic exerted a sorcerer’s energy onto the world, but this dark magic was different. It demanded that energy be taken and fed into it. It promised to make her strong.
Neve wrenched her hand from under his leg and went straight for his throat, digging her fingers into his flesh. At once, she felt his life force being sucked into her hand, to be consumed by the darkness within her.
The man’s eyes slid unfocused and his pale face turned deathly white. The knife fell from his hand. It spun a circle through the air and landed, point down, close to her temple.
Her darkness shrieked and sang with joy. Ugly black veins spread from the palm of her hand into his marble-pale neck, crawling toward his face, taking his life.
His body slackened, slumping to the side until she was able to wriggle out from under him, her hand still on his throat. His windpipe and neck muscles strained under her grip as his beleaguered system fought for life.
The thing that made her falter was the sheer intensity of the energy flowing into her hand. Was she really going to kill a person? What would she do with all the power she’d taken from him? What would become of her?
Like stepping back from a dangerous ledge, she yanked her hand away. The energy she’d stolen returned to his body. It had nowhere else to go, since she’d rejected it at the last moment.
He lay on the stone walkway, his eyes glazed and breathing labored. Her dark handprint remained on his throat, like a brand. Her own fingertips were soot-black, where they had only been tinged with gray before.
Neve was dizzy with exhaustion. The trapdoor in her mind was now firmly closed, the hungry darkness having retreated the moment she’d let go of the man. Fog now filled her head and her limbs were weak.
She crawled away from him, fighting the urge to vomit. If she had any hope of surviving, she needed to recover before he did.
But even as she crawled, the man lifted his head and blinked his eyes clear. His gaze dropped to the golden blade lying on the stone. She should have taken it or thrown it aside.
The man reached the dagger first.
In her weakened state, she couldn’t cast magic. Her only option was to run.
Breaking out in a cold sweat from the effort, she pushed herself up off the ground. If she could make it to the tree line, she could find a hollow log or tree trunk to hide in. The forest was wild and infinite and she knew it well. Staying in the open was a death sentence, and she was too far away from any residences now to shout.
The man staggered after her, ashen-faced but regaining strength by the moment.
The walkway seemed to go on forever and the air sawed at her lungs. A glance over her shoulder reassured her, because although the man glared at her with the dagger in his fist, he lost his balance when he tried to run. He slammed sideways onto the ground, hissing in frustration.
A large streak of gray appeared from a stone archway of the castle. Her heart seized. Beatrice was running with her uneven, three-legged gait at Neve’s attacker. The man raised his dagger in readiness.
“Beatrice, no!” shouted Neve, turning and running for the wolfhound.
She reached Beatrice right as the dog was about to pounce. The sorceress threw her arms around the hound’s neck, blocking Beatrice with her back to the man. Exhausted and defenseless, she waited for the dagger to strike her. She buried her face in Beatrice’s soft, shaggy fur, glad that she’d die for a reason, at least.
“You have to run,” whispered Neve to the hound, who whined and strained in protest. “As soon as I let you go, please run.”
The moments dragged on. No death blow struck. She chanced a look at the man, twisting around without releasing Beatrice.
He stood with a set jaw, staring at her in gloomy silence. The dagger hung in his hand, by his side. What was he waiting for? She was completely at his mercy.
He wiped his face and groaned. “Why did you have to do that?”
The tiniest flame of hope flickered to life in Neve’s chest. He was wavering. She latched onto his hesitation, trying to sway him.
“If you leave now, I’ll wait to raise the alarm. I promise. You can escape.” A fresh wave of dizziness hit her, making her sag against Beatrice.
“You don’t understand, little witch. I don’t believe I can bring myself to kill you. But I can’t allow you to live, either. Your life was forfeit the moment the queen decided it was so.”
Confusion pushed through the fog in Neve’s brain. “The queen?”
Her eyesight started to blur, then fade. His voice was the last thing she heard. It was closer now, as if he’d crouched next to her.
“Do you mean to tell me you don’t know who you are?”