Chapter Thirty-Four – Scarlett
Chapter Thirty-Four
Scarlett
‘Save him.’
The priestesses visibly bristled. My words hadn’t been a request. They were an order.
But the high priestess didn’t seem to mind. She studied Aric, who was laid out in front of the Sorceress’s altar like an offering. He had worsened during our journey to the Wilds, and had lost consciousness when we arrived at the Temple.
‘He shouldn’t have pulled out the arrow,’ the high priestess – Velanthe – said at last, standing.
‘It’s done now,’ I retorted, ‘so that no longer matters. What matters is saving his life. Can you do that, or has Odessa overstated the abilities of your healers?’
‘There will be no healers involved,’ Velanthe said, her dark eyes capturing mine. ‘It will take my particular skills to save your friend. That is, unless you would like to resurrect him and bind him to you. He would be easier to control if you did.’
I blinked at her. ‘Pardon?’
‘The bond cuts both ways. If you decided to, you could use it to control his sister – even more fully than a blood ruby would allow you to. No doubt the brother would prove more useful.’
Velanthe sounded like she had seriously considered this. But though her voice was measured, I could sense the test in her words. She was trying to determine whether I was a threat to her queen.
I tried to conceal my unease. How could Velanthe know so much about my powers?
‘I can’t resurrect Aric without releasing Lillian from our bond,’ I said tightly, when it became clear that Velanthe was waiting for a response. ‘And I have no intention of letting her die. Aric would never forgive me if I did.’
‘You could force him to forgive you,’ Velanthe said, no inflection in her voice. She tilted her head as she studied me, her auburn hair gleaming darkly in the firelight. ‘But I suppose that’s beside the point. You’ve made your choice – now it’s time for me to make mine .’
And there it was. The price that I had been expecting.
‘What do you want?’ I asked, mentally cursing Odessa. She had made it sound so simple – that Velanthe would help without giving a thought to her own agenda. But no one was that altruistic. Especially not a high priestess.
‘I want to know what you promised Roran in exchange for your life.’
Decades of practice kept my face expressionless. ‘I convinced Roran that I could be useful to him. Then I seized my chance and escaped.’
‘That’s not the full truth,’ Velanthe said, watching me closely. Like Zandri, I had the sense that her black eyes saw more than I wanted them to. ‘I won’t accept anything less than the entire truth in exchange for Aric’s life.’
‘And you would trust me to give it to you?’ I asked, though I already knew the answer. Only a fool would trust their enemy to be completely honest with them – and Velanthe didn’t strike me as a fool.
Sure enough, Velanthe smiled. Her smile transformed her face – she had to be older than Zandri, since I knew she had once tutored my mother in blood magic, but somehow she looked years younger. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, and everything about her radiated health and vitality.
‘I’m afraid not,’ she said in response. ‘But I have a way of ensuring your honesty – and mine.’
I glanced down at her extended arm. Perhaps Velanthe was a fool, after all – or perhaps she didn’t realise that my death magic spread through touch. I was careful not to react as I grasped her arm with my hand.
But rather than death magic, something else surged between us – an unfamiliar, alien power.
Velanthe’s power, I realised as red tendrils encircled our arms. The moment those tendrils touched my skin, they sank in enough to draw blood. Just as Zandri had done to Mira during the third Trial.
‘Lying,’ Velanthe warned, ‘is now a death sentence. For either of us.’
‘What happens if we do?’ I asked, staring down at the dripping blood with morbid fascination.
‘We would bleed out in seconds. And before you think of using your death magic,’ Velanthe said, drawing my attention back to her face, ‘let me warn you that I taught your mother everything she knows. I have enough power to suppress your magic, Scarlett, which means you would die before you could kill me.’
‘That’s not possible,’ I said, ignoring the way the red tendrils tightened – as if in wordless threat. It was painful, but the high priestess didn’t react, and neither did I. ‘I’m a descendant of the Sorceress; that’s where my power comes from. But you–’
‘I am a student of the Sorceress,’ Velanthe replied, her voice level.
‘I have studied everything she has ever written. Even those texts I haven’t shown Kasmira or my own priestesses.
I might not have magic of my own, but I can channel it from other sources.
And your blood has enough power to sustain this for days. ’
I narrowed my eyes as I stared into Velanthe’s dark ones. ‘Ask your questions, then,’ I said, raising my chin. ‘But for every question you ask, I will ask one of my own.’
Velanthe inclined her head. ‘That seems fair.’ A smile twitched on her lips. ‘Aside from blood magic, what other magic do you possess?’
‘Illusion,’ I said promptly.
The high priestess tilted her head. ‘Interesting.’
‘What’s interesting about it?’
‘Magic says a great deal about the wielder, and is often influenced by our formative years. Illusion suggests that you became adept at changing to fit your surroundings. I imagine it was difficult, growing up in the Ravalian Court.’
I didn’t dignify that with a response. ‘And what does your power say about you ?’
‘I don’t have power of my own,’ Velanthe reminded me. ‘I can only channel – a gift from the god I serve.’
‘God?’ I asked warily. ‘Don’t you mean goddess?’
Velanthe smiled. ‘I mean exactly what I said.’ She paused. ‘Do you love this boy?’
Did I love Aric? I certainly cared about him – more than I should. But–
‘No.’ I hesitated, considering my next question. I settled on, ‘Tell me more about channelling – and the limits of it.’
Not strictly phrased as a question, but Velanthe answered anyway.
‘Energy exists all around us. If I touched the trunk of a tree, I could channel that energy as I wished, but if I used it up then the tree would die. The same principle applies to humans. However, some humans, like descendants of the Sorceress, possess much greater power reserves. Even a small amount of your blood can be channelled to great effect.’
‘And a god gave you this power? In exchange for what?’
‘I believe it’s my turn,’ Velanthe said, fixing me with her black eyes – as black as my mother’s. As black as mine, after I invited death magic into my body.
And a suspicion began to take root.
Velanthe’s smile widened as she watched me riddle it out. ‘What did you promise Roran in exchange for your life?’
This was the question that would determine my fate. Either my answer would result in Velanthe trying to kill me – or it would result in her saving Aric. Either way, it was a leap of faith.
Not that I had much of a choice. Even now, I felt the bonds of Velanthe’s magic tightening, blood dripping down my wrists.
‘My life – in exchange for Mira’s.’
The silence between us held. I couldn’t tell what Velanthe was thinking – her face was utterly expressionless. But she hadn’t tried to end our connection and murder me, so I supposed that was a good sign.
She waited expectantly for me to ask my question. I sensed that it would be my last.
‘Are you Zandri’s Mask?’
The bindings tightened around Velanthe’s wrists. She didn’t so much as glance down at them as blood welled, vivid against her white skin.
‘Yes,’ she said, and severed the connection.
I stumbled back from her, rubbing my bloody arms. Already the cuts were beginning to heal – at a significantly faster rate than should be natural. I felt a wave of dizziness.
‘You killed King Arioch,’ I said, as Velanthe knelt at Aric’s side.
‘I did,’ she agreed without looking at me.
‘I would have done it even if Zandri hadn’t ordered it.
Arioch abhorred blood magic – and as you have probably guessed by now, blood magic is what I and my senior priestesses truly value.
We have a symbiotic relationship with the descendants of the Sorceress – they believe they need us to learn their magic, and we need their blood in order to connect with our god.
I discovered that by accident, when the Sorceress was still alive. ’
‘You knew the Sorceress?’ It seemed ludicrous. The last reported sighting had been over a century ago; even my mother had spoken of the Sorceress more as a legend than a real person.
‘I was her first acolyte.’ Velanthe’s eyes were distant, even as she rested a hand – red with my blood – on Aric’s wound.
My dizziness increased as his skin stitched itself back together, and I swayed on my feet.
‘Her name was Selussa. I believed in her once, but that was before Fennec revealed himself to me, and I learnt of the way she had betrayed him.’ Her eyes cut to mine.
‘Did you know that Fennec was once the patron god of Kalure? That shifters were once worshipped throughout these lands as his divine children?’
‘No,’ I said stiffly. ‘I didn’t.’
Velanthe waved a dismissive hand. ‘I suppose that’s understandable, since the temples to the old gods were torn down so long ago. Casualties of the Sorceress’s vengeance.’
I had heard the Sorceress’s story before, but never quite like this. Usually Fennec was the villain in that tale.