Page 14 of A Kiss of Healing & Honor (Darkstone Academy #4)

Jacinthe, my love, what spell were you just trying to work? Gwydion’s mental voice filled my head. He sounded concerned. Can I help?

Relief poured through me at his offer. My loss of contact with my soul-bonded friends and lovers over this past day had made feel utterly isolated.

The duke placed a compulsion charm on Mama. I’ve tried my best, but I can’t find a way to undo it. Can you help me?

His mind brushed against mine, cool and reassuring, but laced with ravenous hunger.

I felt a stab of alarm. Has he fed at all in my absence?

From experience—most of it highly pleasurable—I’d learned that Dark Fae like Gwydion needed more than ordinary foodstuffs to sustain them.

Don’t worry about me, sweet girl, he sent immediately. I’ll handle the matter as soon as we break this foul spell on your mother.

So, you can help me? Sudden hope flooded through me.

I think so. Compulsion charms can be tricky to unravel, especially if the caster is a powerful mage like the Duke de Norhas is reputed to be. Even across the distance separating us, I sensed the challenge intrigued him. What supplies do you have on hand? Anything at all with a blade would be useful, though in a pinch, your Fire magic might work, too.

I shuddered at the thought of drawing on the element of Fire while sitting in a wooden ship.

Even after months of daily practice with Fire spells, my mastery over the flames I invoked was still tenuous. Especially now, when I’d removed my Kujiranokiba pendant, which dampened my powers to a controllable level.

Thinking of my whale tooth amulet brought to mind the other item I’d hidden underneath my mattress just before my reunion with Mama yesterday morning.

I have Tama’s obsidian dagger, I sent. Can it help?

Gwydion’s satisfaction curled through our bond like wisps of winter mist. Yes, that has potential! Obsidian can absorb and dispel dark magic. I believe it may be exactly what we need to sever the charm.

Elation surged through me, heady and bright. I had a weapon. And a real chance to free Mama. What do I need to do?

While Mama continued to chant the verses of a healing spell for burns, easing the imprint of pain the duke’s collar had left on my skin, I absorbed Gwydion’s instructions, committing the ritual to memory.

“Mama, do you trust me?” I asked when she’d finished the spell.

I touched my throat. The pain was gone now. I felt the slight roughness of dead, peeling skin over the layer of new, unblemished skin.

She sat back on her heels, her long, silken nightgown billowing around her. “Of course, dearest.” Her sharp gaze examined me. “Why do you ask?”

“The duke placed a compulsion charm on you,” I said bluntly. “I want to break it.”

“A compulsion charm?” she asked in disbelief. Her finely shaped brows arched high. “Nonsense. That’s black magic. Duke Beltrán would never do such a thing. He loves me!”

“He’s controlling you, Mama.”

“I don’t know why you insist Beltrán is trying to harm us,” she protested. “You can’t believe the terrible things his enemies say about him. Please give him a chance to prove himself.”

“Like collaring me to keep me from using my powers?” I retorted.

She bit her lip, clearly unable to reconcile the charm’s influence with what she’d just seen.

Desperate to prove my point, I slid the duke’s bangle down over my hand and held it up. “Why don’t we switch bracelets? They’re identical, after all.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand. What will that prove?”

“Humor me.” I reached out and tapped the golden bracelet on her wrist. “Take this off, please.”

Mama sighed patiently. “You’re being silly. But if it will stop you from making these ridiculous accusations against my betrothed…”

Hearing her refer to the duke as her betrothed made me want to vomit.

“See?” Smiling, she tugged on the wide gold-and-garnet circle. It slid easily down her forearm to her wrist.

Then she tried to slide the bracelet over her hand. It resisted her attempt to move it past her wrist.

Mama’s smile vanished as she tugged gently on it. Then again, but harder.

But she couldn’t budge the charm’s anchor past the knob of her wrist, even when she yanked on it with all her strength.

I concentrated on her aura, and saw it flaring against the thick, ugly purple cords of the spell tightening around her head and body. The charm’s foul bonds pulsed, thickening and glowing, as Mama’s attempts to remove her bracelet became ever more frantic.

Her patrician features twisted in distress as she fought to reconcile reality with the false perceptions created by the charm.

“Jacinthe!” she gasped, as the charm’s hold over her mind wavered. “What has he done to me?”

Now! I had to act fast, before the compulsion to adore and obey the duke reasserted control.

Forcing my weary limbs to obey me, I staggered over to my bunk. My strengthless knees threatened to buckle beneath me as I groped under the thin mattress for Tama’s obsidian dagger.

The wickedly sharp black glass blade glittered like a faceted jewel in the lamplight as I brought it back to where Mama still struggled to remove the bracelet.

She gave up her efforts when I kneeled before her, and she examined the dagger with a wary expression.

“I’m going to try free you from the compulsion charm now,” I said.

She nodded slowly.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath to focus my weary mind, I called upon Wood magic.

Instantly, I felt the healing power surge through my veins, warm and wild. My aura glowed green, and the scent of fresh herbs filled the cabin.

As Gwydion had instructed me, I lay the edge of the obsidian blade against Mama’s bracelet, right above her wrist, and began the first part of the unbinding spell, the invocation of intent.

“Bonds of darkness, forged in deceit,

Hear now my voice, let this spell entreat.

From shadow to light I command thee part,

Release Jonquil’s spirit, and free her heart.”

The purple cords of the charm binding Mama responded as they had before, swelling and pulsing with deep purple-black veins.

But I noticed they retreated from the dagger, and felt a spurt of hope.

I continued to the second part of the spell, invoking the power of the remaining elements.

“By Water’s flow, and Fire’s fierce might,

By Air that dances, and Earth’s steadfast sight,

Converge your powers at my decree,

Break these chains, set Jonquil’s spirit free.”

More power flowed through me at my call, restoring me.

Now, onto the severance part of the unbinding, I thought. Gwydion had warned me that this would be the most troublesome part.

“Obsidian edge, black as night,

Cut through the fog, restore the right.

Sever now these binds, with mercy and might,

Return the stolen will, bring forth the light.”

As I repeated the verse over and over, I swept the dagger around Mama’s bracelet like a razor, cutting through tendrils of magic like a barber trimming a beard.

As the obsidian blade cut through each tendril of magic, it dissipated into puffs of foul-smelling smoke it.

So far, the spell was working even better than I’d dared to hope.

Then, unexpectedly, the bracelet pulsed with ugly purple light.

Dozens of fresh tendrils erupted from the charmed metal, threads writhing and wriggling their way up Mama’s body like demonic serpents.

Mama’s face contorted in pain.

I wavered.

“Jacinthe, don’t stop!” Mama ordered. “It’s working!”

I drew on more power and resumed the chant.

The purple cords of the charm seemed to writhe in defiance, pulsating more intensely with each word I uttered. Despite my efforts to sever them, the spell’s tendrils were now regenerating faster than I could sever them.

Then the bracelet somehow turned my power against me. The rebound made the dagger hum in my grasp. My hand cramped in sudden agony and Tama’s blade flew out of my hand.

It clattered to the floor, leaving me momentarily stunned.

Mama gasped, swaying. Her eyes, wide with pain and confusion, met mine as the charm’s cords constricted her body with renewed vigor, flowing out from that damned bracelet.

“I—I won’t let it take me,” she gasped. “Not again.”

And then I saw her invoke Wood power. Green light crept over the purple tendrils, coating them. They shrank back from the touch of her power.

“Jacinthe. Now!” Her voice cracked like a whip.

I scrambled to retrieve the dagger. With Mama still drawing on her Wood magic, I channeled my own mix of elemental powers once more.

Inspiration struck me, and I intoned a new verse as I pressed the obsidian blade against the charmed gold.

“By the unity of elements and spirit, by the bond between mother and daughter, no darkness shall prevail!”

Mama took up the chant in a reedy voice that grew stronger and louder with each repetition. The tendrils trembled and shrank under the onslaught of our combined powers.

Thank the Divine Mother that the duke was so sure of his compulsion charm that he didn’t bother lock Mama in a restrictor collar!

While Mama continued to pour her Wood magic to hold the charm at bay, I swept the dagger around the bracelet once more, and resumed chanting the severance verse.

The purple tendrils shuddered under the combined force of our magic. I dared to reach for my Fire magic. It surged up eagerly and flowed out through my fingertips.

As I fought to control it and to keep it from burning Mama—or the wooden walls of the cabin—I saw the foul tendrils began to shrink and crumble like scraps of paper tossed into a bonfire.

Renewed hope rose inside me as I moved on to the next verse of the spell.

“As this blade rends false ties that bind,

May freedom return, with peace of mind.

Surround her soul with protective embrace,

Guard her paths, her time, and space.”

The obsidian blade flared with mingled flame and emerald light. And the last of the charm’s tendrils puffed out of existence.

Mama’s bracelet loosened. She grimaced in revulsion and tore it off, then threw it against the cabin wall as hard as she could. It hit the wall with a dull clank, then rolled under the bunk.

She put her face in her hands and sobbed. I crawled over to her and took her in my arms, holding her through the storm of tears.

She clung to me, her shoulders shaking with sobs. I stroked her hair, murmuring comfort and reassurance.

Tears streaked her face when she looked up at last. But her eyes were clear and bright.

“Jacinthe,” she breathed. “Oh, my brave girl. Thank you. I’m so sorry for what I did and said—”

“No! The duke stole your will,” I said fiercely. “He forced you to adore and obey him.”

Mama shuddered, revulsion twisting her features. “The things he made me do, made me feel…”

I hugged her tightly and felt my own tears overflowing. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Mama. But it’s over now. My friends are coming, and we’re going to get away from that man.”

In the back of my mind, I felt the warm presences of my soul-bonded. Their love and support soothed a balm over my weary soul.

“When dawn comes, we have to be ready to help my friends in whatever way we can.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “Tell me what you know.”

∞∞∞

Ilhan

Tomorrow was the day. The day we would risk everything to bring Jacinthe back to the island.

After supper, I stood on the walls of Darkstone Castle, my gaze fixed on the rising moon, trying to make sense of the sudden pain and turmoil bleeding through my bond with Jacinthe.

I’d climbed up here for privacy. I needed to center myself and calm my thoughts before going to bed. We had a very early start planned for tomorrow morning, and I had to get at least a few hours of sleep before then.

I closed my eyes, reaching out through our soul bond. It felt like Jacinthe was fighting someone or something. Alarm pricked through me.

Is she in danger? Is the duke—or one of his cronies—attacking her?

“Jacinthe, what are you doing right now?” I asked out loud. “I wish I could ask you.”

It was frustrating and unsettling to only feel emotions and sensations stripped of context.

“She’s working a spell. I gave her some advice on what to do just now.” Gwydion’s voice, smooth as silk, cut through my reverie. “And told her about our rescue attempt tomorrow morning.”

I turned to find him close enough to touch, and cursed silently.

Either I was more distracted than I thought, or he walked as silently as a hunting cat. Probably both.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the twist of envy in my gut. It seemed unfair that Gwydion could communicate with her, could hear her voice and offer her comfort, while I was so limited.

I knew it was petty to begrudge him that connection. Especially when I knew how lonely Gwydion had been before we met Jacinthe.

But I couldn’t help the yearning that consumed me. I felt a desperate need to hold her, to assure myself that she was real and whole and safe.

“What kind of spell?” I asked anxiously. “Is she all right? Is someone attacking her?”

Gwydion’s expression softened. In the moonlight, I saw the deep lines of fatigue etched in every line of his face. “The duke put her mother under a compulsion charm.”

“That’s black magic!” Shock arrowed through me. I remembered the charms placed on the guards who’d nearly killed Jacinthe and the three Fae princesses, and added bitterly, “Looks like it runs in the De Norhas family.”

“If Jacinthe manages to free her mother,” Gwydion reported, “then we can rescue Princess Jonquil as well.”

“Good,” I said grimly.

Gwydion nodded, then swayed. He grabbed for one of the crenelations projecting from the top of the wall and clung to it as his knees sagged.

My worry from this morning returned. “Gwydion, what’s going on? Are you ill?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m just…” He turned his face away, as if ashamed. His voice dropped to a whisper, and I could barely hear his next words over the rush of the wind. “…hungry.”

I blinked in disbelief. Gwydion had devoured a hearty breakfast this morning during our planning session. And he’d joined us for the midday meal and supper in the Great Hall, as well.

I’d known him and worked at his side for almost two years now. Long enough to know something must be very wrong with him.

“Will you be able to work that ship spell with Princess Branwen tomorrow morning?” Anxiety zinged through me.

Gwydion sighed, his shoulders slumping further. “I don’t know. It’s going to require a lot of magical energy. I currently have very little to spare.”

A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of my stomach. We needed that ship to carry the men-at-arms Guisbald had promised us.

“What can I do to help?” I asked.

His silver gaze slid away from mine. His face twisted, marring his preternatural Fae beauty.

“Gwydion,” I said sternly. “Talk to me. Surely there’s something I can do!”

Silence stretched between us.

“There is,” he admitted finally. His voice was barely above a whisper and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “But you won’t like it. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

I frowned, confusion mingling with the worry churning inside me. “I don’t understand.”

“You know I’m one of the Dark Fae,” Gwydion said, as if that explained everything.

“Yes. And?” I wondered what in the world he was getting at.

He sighed again, more heavily this time. “Dark Fae feed on life energy to sustain our magic, our very existence. It’s why the other Fae here on the island loathe me. Until now, Jacinthe has been… sustaining me.”

I tried to remember if she’d ever appeared to be sick or weakened after spending time with Gwydion. Nothing came to mind.

Whatever he did to her, it didn’t seem to have a negative effect.

Something occurred to me. “How did you feed yourself before you met Jacinthe?”

He sucked in a shuddering breath, then raised his head to meet my gaze. “I drink in the pain and terror of our patients in the infirmary. It benefits them and me.”

I nodded warily. When I first began my apprenticeship under Mage Armand, Gwydion’s ability to soothe the injured had seemed miraculous.

“So, now you know the truth about me.” His voice and his expression were both heavy with guilt and self-loathing. “I’m a soul-sucking monster. A leech.”

I recalled the Fae princesses hurling that insult at him.

“I don’t believe that,” I said, holding his gaze steadily.

On impulse, I threw my arms around him and embraced him. “I’ve known you for almost two years now. I think you’re a good man and an excellent healer. And my friend.”

Gwydion stiffened in my embrace. After a moment he exhaled, and returned the hug. “Ilhan, Thank you. I’m truly honored.”

As his lean form pressed against me, I felt subtle but continuous trembling.

“When was the last time you, ah, ate?” I asked when I released him. None of us had had any private time with Jacinthe since her duel with Lady Erzabetta three days ago.

“Boreas let me feed on him,” Gwydion said, to my shock.

But Boreas was almost dead yesterday! Anger sparked inside me.

“On the night before the duel,” Gwydion added hastily. “I couldn’t possibly ask him for that now, when he’s still so weak from his injuries.”

Relief replaced my anger.

“Then let me help you.” The words left my mouth before I could second-guess them. “You can feed on me.”