35. Chapter 35
Aliya
Brooks’ hands dug into her arm hard enough to bruise as he dragged her through the library. The magestone embedded in his forehead pulsed red in time to her racing heartbeat.
One of her earplugs fell out, rolling across the room.
“Let go of me!” she screamed. Some tiny part of her was still hoping Roland and the sun elves were waiting on the other side of the door, and if they heard her yelling, they’d rush in.
The only thing it did was to catch the attention of every single noble and guard in the room. A few snickered, and Lord Castegrass had the audacity to leer at her.
“That’s not the queen,” Castegrass said.
“Her body type, hair and facial structure are all wrong.” Raising an eyebrow, he managed to look down his nose at Brooks, despite lounging in a plush armchair by the hearth.
“If you don’t know that, I have serious doubts as to your ability to pull off this coup. ”
Brooks shook her. “It’s her. It’s not my fault if you can’t see past her disguise.”
Aliya’s knees locked as her blood turned to ice. He was going to tell everyone she was a shapeshifter! Her secret would be out, and she’d be hunted across the realm.
She couldn’t let that happen. Meeting the lord’s eyes, she glared at him. “You continue to underestimate me to your detriment. One day, it’ll cost you not just your position, but your life.”
Brooks tossed her into one of the wooden chairs the guard had vacated seconds before. Silver-white cuffs snapped around Aliya’s wrists and ankles, securing her in place.
Her senses dulled, as though she’d been shoved underwater. The spot in her chest where her magic lived went cold, its warm pulse extinguished.
Antimonite.
They’d chained her to the chair with antimonite.
Contorting her face in a grimace, she pulled on her bindings. They scratched the armrests, but the furniture piece was solid. She wouldn’t be able to use brute force to escape.
Clenching her jaw, she growled. Curse Roland.
Curse Brooks. Curse every single noble in this mage-forsaken castle that thought they were superior just because of her gender or position.
Forget them—she would purge the palace and start anew with people who actually cared and were willing to set aside their egos.
She would build the realm into a kingdom everyone could be proud of, even if it killed her.
Brooks put his hands over her wrists and leaned down into her face, staring into her eyes.
Something in her gut twisted at the malevolence she saw there. “What do you want with me?”
He grunted and glanced over his shoulder. “Bring me the book.” The red gem flashed, searing her retinas.
Someone whose face she couldn’t make out spun on their heel and scuttled out of view at the order.
“What’s this?” Reaching into her ear, Brooks pulled out her second earplug.
Crap. Well, judging from how many supporters he had, it was unlikely he was going to set off one of his Whisperers. Now, she could only hope the same could be said for her allies…
Clenching her jaw, she rammed her forehead into his face as he turned to her. His nose gave a satisfying crunch.
A splitting pain cut across her brow as warm liquid dripped into her eyebrows. She’d hit him hard enough to split her own skin.
Brooks tumbled backward, blood spurting down his chin in a macabre beard. “You wench!” Lunging forward, he grabbed her chair and flung it to the side, toppling her to the ground.
The armrest shattered as it smashed into the floor. The antimonite shackle that had fit so well around her arm and the wood was suddenly loose enough for her to work herself free.
Brooks snatched an oversized grimoire from one of his soldiers. Setting it aside, he dropped to his knees and leafed through the pages. Blood splattered onto the parchment as it dripped down his chin.
With a satisfied grunt, he spread the book open, bloody fingerprints staining the margins. “Umbra vael, keth-ra nu umbrak,” he chanted, his voice taking on a deep almost metallic timbre that shook Aliya’s bones. “Val saeth novis. Umbra vael, umbra vael, val saeth novis!”
The flames in the sconces and in the hearth sputtered, their centers turning black. The temperature plunged, raising goosebumps on Aliya’s skin.
Several of the nobles and guards around them cried out, their voices rising with their terror. Every shadow in the room, including Aliya’s, stretched toward Brooks, as though he was a magnet. They saturated the book and crawled up through his fingers and arms in obsidian waves.
The whites of Brook’s eyes turned to onyx, as did the blood leaching from his nose.
Oh, mages.
Aliya cowered back, as if her seat could provide her any protection from this.
Whatever this was.
A second magestone, one that seemed to be made of darkness incarnate, appeared in Brooks’ forehead.
A rippling explosion blasted from him hard enough to throw Aliya backward and extinguish all the flames in the room. She slammed into the wall, the chair she was still bound to pinning her beneath its weight.
“Ugh.” Groaning, she blinked, willing her eyes to adjust to the sudden blackness as her heart thudded, pushing a constant pulse of white noise past her eardrums.
Where was Brooks? Everything was pitch black.
With a crackle of snapping logs that reminded her of the nights she’d spent beside a fire with Elessan, the blaze rekindled in the hearth and surrounding sconces. Aliya squinted against the too-bright light.
The nobles were gone, but Brooks still loomed over her. He wiped his trembling hand down his face, brushing the leaking shadows away from his nose and mouth as one would with blood. His magestone was dim, it hardly reflected the firelight at all.
Whatever he’d done had drained his power.
Good.
They’d need every advantage they could get to counter the spell.
To Aliya’s right, the doors to the library burst open.
Wrapping her fist around the broken manacle for extra support, she sat up and punched Brooks in the forehead using all the strength and technique Zadé had taught her on the road all those weeks ago.
The gem shattered with a blast of darkness.
Her face burned as tiny fragments sliced through her skin from the force of the explosion. Her blood dribbled down her shirt, mixing with his that still spurted from his mangled nose.
Brooks howled, stumbling away.
“Aliya!”
Elessan. That had been Elessan’s voice!
She blinked, trying to clear the gore from her vision.
A silver canister flew through the air, landing between her and Brooks.
Her heart skipped a beat. No! She wasn’t wearing her earplugs!
Blood rushing past her ears, she struggled against her bonds, even knowing it was fruitless. She’d never escape before the mage-cursed thing detonated, much less get out of range.
She was dead, along with every single person in here who didn’t have ear protection. Her aunt didn’t have the plugs, either. “Shadow, run!” she screamed.
A pulse she felt more than heard ripped through her sternum as the canister quit spinning and rolled to a stop. Its cap clicked into place with a snap.
Aliya froze. She hadn’t sensed the weapon deploy when Malkov’s assassins had kidnapped her from Filathas.
Was that it? She glanced down at herself.
Her arms still moved, and based on how much the chair was hurting as it dug into her legs and shoulder, she was still alive. But she wasn’t wearing her ear plugs.
Was the Whisperer a dud? Was that possible?
Elessan burst into view, both of his swords drawn, followed by Zadé and—Aliya blinked—Jalius!
Elessan charged into the closest guard. “I thought you said it would knock them all out!” he yelled.
“I said I thought it would,” Jalius called. “I also told you we didn’t have the chance to test it!”
Elessan muttered something under his breath as he slid one blade across his opponent’s neck and moved toward Brooks. “Aliya, you okay?”
Swallowing past the thickness in her throat, she nodded. Realizing he couldn’t see her, she added, “Yeah.”
Brooks spun, drawing a sword and blocking Elessan’s attack at the last moment, redirecting its momentum to the side.
Zadé twirled, her fists crunching noses left and right. “Just means more fun fer us!” She dropped to a crouch and swung her leg out, tripping the man in front of her. “Princess! Where’s th’ rest o’ the prisoners?”
“In the back!”
The clang of swords brought her attention to where Elessan and Brooks were locked in a brutal fight.
A balding head with thin strands of frizzy hair standing up in all directions blocked her view.
“Your Majesty!” Jalius bent over her wrists and hissed when he touched her shackles. “Cursed antimonite. Let’s get these off you, shall we?”
“I don’t know where the key is,” she said as he lifted the chair off her.
Her eyes danced around the room. Knowing her luck, one of the nobles had it on them when they’d ran off.
Having little choice being tethered to it by her two ankles and one wrist, she plopped into the seat as he righted it. “We may have to smash them.”
More sun elves streamed in, adding to the chaos.
Jalius disappeared for a heartbeat then returned, brandishing the fire poker. “I think I can use this to brute-force it open.”
Aliya bit her lower lip. If he missed, or the lock broke, he could spear her hand straight through.
He winced at whatever he saw in her face. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”
An elf and human soldier slammed into them, nearly knocking her and the chair back to the ground before their momentum carried them away. If she stayed here much longer, she’d be dead. At least with the cuffs off, she’d be able to defend herself.
Meeting Jalius’ eyes, she nodded. “Do it.”
The gnome placed the poker’s tip into the keyhole and braced himself. “Be ready!” He leaned all his weight into it.
Something inside snapped as Elessan cried out.
“El!” Aliya whipped around as the manacle popped open and her wrist came free.