“I know.”
“You know?”
She rises to her feet, moving like water; impossibly graceful in spite of her condition. “An ancient tree told me so. Quickly now, child. Take my hands into yours. Be at ease, for I will take care of everything.”
My ears alert me to Ansar’s presence; he’s followed us out of the cage. His footsteps are loud and clumsy. I can smell his pungent blood, seeping from where I impaled him.
“Don’t move, Corvan. Step back right now, or I’ll destroy her.”
I don’t care. I pull off my glove and press my palm against Aralya’s.
He can’t do anything now.
I’ve freed the dryad.
I’m fairly certain she could crush Ansar beneath her foot like an insect if she wished.
As my skin touches hers, a frisson of energy passes between us.
“Don’t you want any more… of my blood?”
“I thank you for your offering, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t need to take your physical essence in order to draw magic from your being. I can just take it through you.” A soft snort of amusement escapes her. “Your people are very good at suppressing and destroying magic, but they know so little about it. It’s as if you’re fumbling in the dark. But never mind. I only ask that you lend me your power.”
Immediately, I trust her. I don’t know why. It’s just an instinct. “Anything.”
“Good. All will be fine now.
Through my hand, she starts to take from me. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I can feel the power leaving my body. Instantly, I become lethargic, but the feeling is pleasurable, not painful.
The glow in her eyes intensifies. Her hair writhes and swirls, tendrils flying around her face.
And as Ansar tries to stab me in the back from behind, Aralya simply turns her arms into thick, swirling vines and wraps them around my half-brother, immobilizing his arms and legs.
A blade clatters to the ground. A hoarse scream escapes him.
The red threads disappear entirely.
“His magic is useless against the true power of Hecoa. In so many ways, there was nobody more fitting than you to free me. I’ve waited so very long for you to come. Corvan Duthriss, my son, be at ease now. You’ve done enough. I’ll take care of the rest.”
And with that, she disentangles her hand from mine and steps away from me, with Ansar still imprisoned in her tentacle-like branches.
She holds him in her arms as the packed earth around her bare feet starts to crack apart, forming a gaping chasm.
Aralya’s verdant hair lifts up with the sheer energy of her magic, forming a wild halo around her face.
I stare at her in disbelief. “Where are you going?”
“Into the earth, of course. To hibernate, and regrow. And to teach this stupid child and his forebears a lesson. Then, I will go find the Baron Solisar, and give him what he deserves. I ask that you allow me to take my revenge on the ones that have wronged me. It’s the only way I’m going to assuage the anger burning inside me. Don’t fret, my son. When I am finished here, I will come and see you and my most beloved daughter. In the springtime. I can’t wait to meet my child again, and I’m so very pleased she’s found you.”
I stare at her in disbelief. Did Finley’s mother just give me her blessing?
With that, she starts to submerge. Tendrils emerge from her body; vine-like, root-like, extending toward the ground, penetrating the shifting earth.
She takes Ansar with her. He can suffocate under there for all I care.
“Goodbye for now, Corvan. You have my eternal thanks.”
All of a sudden, she’s gone, leaving me standing in a room of serpenstone and mangled iron, and above me, the castle is shaking, as if struck by an earthquake.
The curse of the necromancer is gone, swallowed by life itself.
All that remains is that terrible serpenstone cave, where Aralya suffered so much. I can feel its oppressive presence even now; it spills out from the open doorway like a toxic miasma.
I can’t wait to be out of here.
I take off like the wind, surging up the stairwells, speeding through the corridors, higher and higher until I’m back in the main castle, and I don’t really care that branches and vines are shooting through the halls of Deignar Castle, wrapping around anything and everything, and Rhaegar and Leticia Talavarra are nowhere to be seen.
I resist the temptation to hunt them down.
Aralya said she would deal with them, and that’s her revenge to take.
She deserves it more than I, and I have no doubt she’ll deal swift justice to all that have harmed her and her child.
A vengeful dryad is loose in my empire, and I don’t care.
Right now, all I want to do is return to Finley.
63
FINLEY
I’ve turned into a monster, and I can’t undo it.
I can’t believe this is happening.
These things have grown from my hands. Branches and roots, twisting and knotting together to form a massive tree trunk that’s so big it would take a dozen men to encircle it with their arms fully extended.
I’m attached to the damn thing. My outstretched arms have turned into branches that are joined to the whole. My back is against the mass of the trunk. It’s grown out of the inner garden, upwards and upwards, reaching higher than the buildings; higher than the rooftops, soaring over the Imperial Palace itself.
I can see everything from up here. The pale greenish-grey roof tiles of the palace. The ponds and manicured gardens. Spires and rooftops; walls, statues, courtyards…
People scurrying about.
Some notice. They look up in astonishment and fear. I don’t think they can see me—it’s still dark, after all—but they would see the shadow of this massive tree, blocking out the stars and the moon in the night sky.
Eventually, when the sun comes up, they will see me.
What am I supposed to do then?
All I can think is that Corvan had better hurry up and get his beautiful ass back here.
Corvan, I hope you’re safe. Come back to me soon.
I’m consumed with dread and worry. The not knowing aspect of it is pure torture.
But it’s Corvan. He’s the most capable and formidable person I know.
I just have to believe he’ll be fine.
And…
My chest tightens with hope.
“My lady!” A deep, slightly strained voice reaches me from below. I look down and see Tarron, surrounded by his men—all heavily armed and looking terribly nonplussed. “What…？”
He shakes his head in disbelief. I get the feeling it’s very rare for the Commander of the Imperial Elite Guard to be rendered speechless like this.
There are at least half a dozen men down there; big, burly, armed to the teeth, and staring up at me in the darkness as if they’ve just seen a ghost.
I sigh. “Tarron, I am fine. This is but a… temporary situation.” I hope. “When Corvan returns, he’ll know what to do. Until then, I’ll just have to wait up here.”
It isn’t so bad. A slight breeze is blowing, but I don’t feel cold. The tree has wrapped itself around me, and it exudes gentle warmth.
“Er, right. Ordinarily, I’d go seek out someone from the Magical Research Tower to try and help us make sense of this, but His Highness has ordered us to keep the situation here contained until he returns. Tell you what…” he glances at the guard closest to him, a small, wiry man with long golden hair tied in a ponytail. “Rhylin here is pretty good at climbing. I’ll get him to go up there with an axe and cut you down.”