Cyprian clenched his hand over the hilt of his sword. He had half moved towards the door before he stopped. He had no way to undo what Will had done: James was long gone, on horseback with a head start, and he was too powerful to subdue even if Cyprian did catch him. Will felt the battering emotions as Cyprian realised that it was too late, the decision made without him.
‘We agreed. We agreed to use it to stop Simon.’
‘I never agreed to that,’ said Will. ‘I listened to Gauthier, and I made my decision.’
‘James,’ said Cyprian, as though the name was dirt. ‘He used you. He fooled you into feeling sympathy for him, and you fell for it.’
‘It was the right thing to do,’ said Will.
‘Did he hook you like he did Emery? You’re in love with him too?’
‘It was the right thing to do,’ Will said steadily.
‘It wasn’t the right thing to do!’ said Cyprian. ‘He held my brother captive for months, keeping him alive until he turned. And then he set him loose to slaughter the Stewards. How do you think Marcus felt, knowing the shadow was in him, but not being able to stop it? James said Marcus begged, do you remember that? And now Simon has the Shadow Stone—’
Will said, ‘This isn’t about Marcus—’
‘No, it’s about Simon,’ said Cyprian. ‘Simon is going to release the Shadow Kings, and they will rain down death and destruction on this world. Nothing can stop them. No power alive is strong enough.’
‘I know the stakes. I know what Simon can do.’
‘We had one chance to defeat him. We had it in our hands and you gave it up! You heard the Elder Steward. Once the Shadow Kings are free, Simon can raise the Dark King. And when the Dark King returns, he’ll bring the dark past with him, returning magic and subjugating our world! We could have used that Collar to stop it.’
‘Used it the way the Stewards used the Cup?’ said Will.
Cyprian went white, as if the flesh on his very bones marbled. He looked as if he’d been cut but was so drained of blood that the wound was bloodless. Silence rang; everything stopped, the only movement the drift of small motes of dust in the shabby room.
‘It’s not the same.’
‘Isn’t it?’ said Will. ‘Which part? Enslaving your enemy? Believing you can use a dark power without becoming what you fight?’
‘It’s not the same,’ Cyprian said again. ‘Using the Collar doesn’t put anyone at risk—’
‘It’s the Dark King’s will!’ said Will. ‘He’s everywhere, can’t you feel it? His artefacts. His power. The Stewards are dead because they drank from his Cup. They never had a chance; the Dark King was inside the Hall the whole time, inside their bodies, inside their minds. Did you think that was an accident? A twist of fate? He planned it! Just like he planned this! He wants the Collar on James’s neck. And you want to do his bidding.’ He didn’t relent. ‘Just like the Stewards.’
Cyprian’s hands became fists. ‘The Stewards weren’t doing his bidding. They were good people standing against the Dark. They held the line for centuries. They were fighting long before you came to the Hall. And when the shadow came, they gave their lives to stop it!’
‘Look.’ Will grasped Cyprian by the arm and dragged him around to face the old man rocking in his chair. ‘Look at Gauthier. The Collar twisted his entire line until they were unable to do anything but keep it close and deliver it across the centuries to this house – to us – to James.’ Looking at the old man, Will could feel it, the stifling influence of the Dark King, spreading out over everything, so thick that it almost choked him. A thousand dark tendrils, reaching out from the black pit of the past, seeking hold. ‘The Stewards thought they were in control, but they weren’t. He was. He wanted them to drink. That’s how his objects work. You think you’re using it, when it’s the one using you.’
‘Then what can we do!’ said Cyprian. But in the agonised look in his eyes Will could see that he knew already that this path was the right one. ‘Without the Cup, without the Collar … It’s just the three of us. The three of us against the Dark. How can we fight when a single shadow killed every Steward in the Hall?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Will honestly. ‘But we’re outside of his plans now, maybe for the first time. You’re the last Steward left. And you’re the first Steward beyond his reach. You’re a Steward who hasn’t drunk from the Cup.’