In the Veins of the Drowning(72)
“The spell should have made you ill.” He narrowed his gaze, contemplative. “Would you feel unwell after performing the ritual?”
“No.” The night was settling over us, taking the last of the day’s warmth with it. “I didn’t feel much of anything up in those mountains. I expect if I perform a spell at sea level I will.” I wrapped myself in the knit shawl that Antonia had gifted me. “Do you have books on magic back at the palace? Anything the Great God Jesop wrote.”
“Yes. There are quite a few,” Theodore said carefully. “But they’re not allowed to be accessed.”
“You mean by commoners?”
He dipped his chin and looked at me with a sheepish eye. “No, not even I am allowed to take them from the lower study.”
A harsh wind cut through the vineyard, prickling my skin. I could feel his attention linger on me. “Who dares to tell you no?” I gave him a sardonic smirk. “I’d like a lesson from them on how it’s done.”
His chuckle was dark as the twilight shadows. “There’s a very tightly wound hermitess down there that does not let me—or anyone—enter.”
“Well, Your Majesty”—I straightened in my saddle—“your hermitess has not met the likes of me. I’m rather an expert at making people do what they don’t want to, aren’t I?”
He gave me a smoldering look, the barest edge of a smile on his lips. The warmth of his quiet laugh cut through the night’s chill. “May the Great Gods go with you. The hermitess carries a very knobby stick that she would swing at me when I was little and tried to sneak in.”
I laughed, but soon that awful, strained quiet that we had begun our journey in settled back around us. He picked up our pace, riding at a gallop through endless vineyards. It must have been midnight when my eyes were finally growing droopy. A thundering sound rocked the air, jolting me fully awake. Horse hooves.
Theodore pulled on his reins. “Whoa.”
I slowed my mare too. “Is that coming from up ahead or behind?”
Before he could answer, a horn sliced through the night.
“Soldiers.” Theodore called out into the darkness. “Slow up ahead! This is your king. Slow your mounts!”
The retinue came into view and slowed into well-ordered rows. Bringing up the rear was a small carriage. “Your Majesty?” called a familiar voice. Lachlan rode toward the head of the group, fully outfitted in his gold armor. Even in the moonlight, I could make out the strain on his face, the worry strung through him. “I thought you’d still be with the Mage Seer. We were coming to find you.”
“What’s happened?” Theodore asked, bracing himself for the reply.
But Lachlan didn’t answer. He looked to me with derision in his gaze instead. “You’re looking surprisingly well for being in the middle of a severing ritual.”
“I…” I bristled in my saddle. “We didn’t—”
Theodore cut me off. “I asked you what happened, Commander.”
“Ammos was sacked,” Lachlan said, grimly. “So was Notos on the west shore. Nemea’s doubled the size of his fleet with mercenary ships. More than we anticipated. He shouldn’t have the money for it.” Lachlan gave me another withering glare. “The empress isn’t pleased. She’s sent a missive for her own fleet to come and aid you. She’s demanding you rally Sirens and force them to use their power to bolster the navy. Sink the fleet so that her daughter becoming queen need not be delayed. Tell me you performed the severance, and that Imogen is just uncommonly resilient.”
Theodore was stoic as ever, sitting tall and unmoving. But I could sense that what Lachlan had just shared ripped at him.
“Your Majesty?” Lachlan’s gaze darted between the two of us.
“We didn’t do it,” I said. “Not yet. We… There was—a complication.”
“A complication?” Lachlan gave an angry laugh. “What was it? Like a ‘you lost the draught’ type of complication? A ‘didn’t quite feel like going through the trouble’ type of complication?”
“Enough,” Theodore snapped. “You won’t speak to her that way.” He dismounted and made for the carriage at the back of the line. Called out to the riders in a barking command, “Back to the palace.” He glared at me, then Lachlan. “With me. We need to talk.”
The carriage was small and tight, jostling Theodore and me into each other’s sides as it raced down the North Road, back toward Genevreer Palace.
Across from us, livid on the narrow bench, sat Lachlan. His dark brows were lowered, menacing eyes on Theodore. “What happened to you, Theo?” The question was withering, accusatory.
Theodore stiffened. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you have been so tightly fucking wound for years. You’ve been perfect. Always in line—to the point that I started to wonder if there was something wrong with you.” Lachlan raked his fingers through his short hair. “And now—since her—you can’t make a sound choice to save your life. What complication could possibly have prevented you from unbinding the second you got that draught?”
Defensiveness, shockingly, rose up in me like hackles. I spoke before Theodore could. “King Nemea is my father,” I said, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “I share a blood bond with Eusia—with all the nekgya. If I want true safety for myself and Sirenkind, I need to find and kill Eusia. Theodore wanted to remain bound because doing so would offer me additional safety from the danger I’ll face.”