Page 17 of A Kiss of Healing & Honor (Darkstone Academy #4)

My chest contracted in horror as I witnessed the Duke de Norhas brutally behead Lady Margitts with a swift stroke of his sword. I felt torn between revulsion and a shameful sense of relief. The duke had intervened in the nick of time to save Mama from being stabbed.

My relief hadn’t lasted long.

Moments ago, my heart had leaped with wild hope and joy to see Boreas alive, Ilhan unharmed, and my other steadfast friends mounting another daring rescue attempt.

But now, my initial joy at my friends’ appearance had vanished as this new rescue attempt once again took a dark turn. An invisible force closed around me, squeezing cruelly, and flung me high into the air.

I gasped and tried to invoke an Air spell to cushion my inevitable fall. And realized that my mouth didn’t work. The same force that held me also prevented me from speaking… or chanting a spell.

But I didn’t fall. I simply hung in the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alondra suspended next to me, trailing torn leather straps from a now-useless safety harness still buckled around her waist.

“Call off your attack, boy,” the Duke de Norhas snarled at Ilhan, far below.

Alondra and I currently hung suspended high above the ship’s deck, our limbs entangled in invisible strands of magic that felt as unyielding as steel cables. The duke’s spell held us fast, like moths caught in a spiderweb.

Experimentally, I tried moving my hands, and found them locked tightly against my thighs. Should I risk invoking a counter-spell while Ilhan and Mama were still in danger?

Only the most experienced mages could control a spell without the use of words or gestures. And I was anything but experienced.

I’d learned the hard way that I had a difficult time keeping my powers from running amok without the aid of my whale-tooth amulet.

Most dangerous of all, my Fire magic was always seething just below the surface, seeing any avenue to escape.

I couldn’t risk calling on my magic. Not with Mama and Ilhan here on the ship.

Beside me, Alondra let out a small whimper, her blue eyes wide with fear as she, too, fought against the unnatural restraints keeping us floating in mid-air.

Angry at my helplessness, I surveyed the tense standoff below between Ilhan and the Duke de Norhas.

Even with Boreas and Captain Ondine and the men-at-arms who’d accompanied my friends, how could we possibly prevail?

The duke had six ships filled with loyal men and over a dozen cannons. Two days ago, they’d almost killed Boreas.

Then I looked around. And noticed that the duke’s flagship rocked on the dark waters, alone except for the shining Fae ship that had ferried Ilhan and the men-at-arms, and three floating carpets piloted by Prince Arslan and his two sisters.

All the duke’s other ships had vanished during the long hours of darkness while Mama and I waited for rescue.

How?

My question was answered a moment later. I saw Tama’s bright silver head break the surface below. Then a dozen other dark-haired Sea-People popped up all around the ship. They must’ve separated the duke’s flagship from the rest of his fleet.

Fresh hope sprouted in my chest. Maybe I could find a way out of this stalemate, after all. All I had to do was wait for the right moment.

The duke’s gaze swept the deck. “Ilhan of Parrish,” he repeated in a commanding tone. “Call off your men! I have a proposition for you.”

Ilhan stepped forward, his stance defiant, his hand resting on the hilt of his Fae sword.

Despite my precarious situation, I couldn’t help but admire the gallant figure the young Frankish nobleman cut, standing tall and proud against the duke.

Ilhan looked every inch like some bold knight from the old ballads. The wind whipped his black cloak around his broad shoulders, and his mail shirt gleamed like silver in the first rays of the sun.

“You’re outnumbered, Duke Beltràn,” he said in response to the duke’s demand. “Surrender to me and save the lives of your men.”

Boreas roared his support and wheeled in a great circle around the ship. A few sailors on the duke’s ship cried out in terror and dived for the deck.

As Boreas flew across my limited field of vision, one of the armored men on his back lifted a crossbow and pulled the trigger. An instant later, a bolt embedded itself in the deck’s planking between Ilhan and the duke.

“And release Princess Jacinthe and my sister at once!” Ilhan finished.

Instead of appearing intimidated by this impressive show of force, the duke merely smiled. “What, and give up all my bargaining chips?”

He folded his arms, exuding confidence. “Here are my terms, Lord Ilhan. Surrender yourself to me as a hostage and order your allies to abandon this foolish rescue attempt. In exchange, I will spare the lives of your sister and the half-breed princess. Refuse, and I will let them fall to their deaths.”

I tensed. Surely Ilhan doesn’t believe the duke’s empty threats… does he?

To my relief, Ilhan threw back his head and laughed.

“I don’t believe you,” he responded coolly. “You need Princess Jacinthe because she’s second in line to the imperial throne. You can’t justify ruling the Dominion without her.”

“Oh?” The duke snapped his fingers.

Alondra and I both yelped as we abruptly dropped a few feet before jerking to a halt. I saw Ilhan and Mama both recoil at the duke’s display of power and control over Air.

“Don’t test me, boy,” De Norhas said sternly. “As the Duke of Frankia’s heir, you have some value to me. But your sweet sister is disposable. So is Princess Jacinthe, for that matter.”

The duke looked over at Mama, contempt written in every line of his arrogant face. “My dearest highness, you have three other daughters, do you not? Pure-blooded daughters, untainted by Dragon blood?”

“You’re a monster, Duke Beltrán!” Mama spat. “And a black magic user!”

It was the worst insult you could give a mage, but the duke just shrugged.

His gaze flicked back to Ilhan. “Frankly, Lord Ilhan, I think Princess-Royal Jonquil and I would be much better off if I rid us of her troublemaking half-breed spawn. Better if my son Fernan wed Princess Talisa instead and fathered future rulers of pure human lineage.”

White-hot anger surged through me at his threats.

“What say you?” the duke continued. “Surrender yourself to me, and I’ll let Princess Jacinthe and your sister go free in return for your word of honor to abide as my hostage. You know I’m a man of my word.”

I saw Ilhan waver. I prayed he wouldn’t be stupid enough to take the duke’s bargain.

“So, what will it be, Lord Ilhan? Your freedom, or their lives? Choose swiftly, for my patience wears thin.”

Ilhan looked up. I met his agonized gaze and saw the conflict raging within him. The desire to protect Alondra and me warred against the knowledge that becoming De Norhas’ hostage would hand the duke yet another powerful political weapon.

Closing my eyes, I reached through my soul-bond with Ilhan and the others.

Gwydion! I shouted silently. Tell Ilhan not to surrender! Rescuing Mama is your priority! I can take care of myself.

Below me, I saw Gwydion’s posture stiffen on the deck of the Fae ship. He broke off the spell he was chanting and stared up at me, his expression a mix of anger and fear.

Jacinthe, sweet girl. No! His mental voice was sharp with alarm. We can’t abandon you! Ilhan will never agree—

He has to. I cut across Gwydion’s protest, trying to project confidence. Gwydion, please. I know I can handle this. I only need a distraction, an opening. Can you do that for me?

How I wished I could speak mind to mind with Boreas or Tama like I did Gwydion! A Dragon would be the perfect distraction right now.

But Boreas was circling high overhead, and I couldn’t move my head to signal him.

Gwydion hesitated, clearly torn. I could feel his anguish, his desperation to protect me, warring with his trust in my abilities.

All right, he said finally.

“You won’t get away with this,” Gwydion shouted, his voice ringing with conviction. “Threaten us all you like, but in the end, I swear I’ll balance the scales between us!”

The duke chuckled. “Bold words, Fae boy,” he spat. His gaze swept Ilhan, his lips curling. “Well, Lord Ilhan? Choose, or I will choose for you.”

Silence fell, taut and strained. I held my breath, my heart thundering against my ribs.

Please don’t do it, Ilhan, I pleaded silently.

I watched Ilhan’s throat work as he swallowed hard.

My heart plummeted as his expression hardened with stubborn defiance. “I won’t let your hurt my sister or Princess Jacinthe,” he declared, his voice ringing with conviction. “If I must surrender to save them, then so be it.”

Oh, Ilhan. You brave, noble fool!

I wanted to scream in despair.

The duke’s thin lips curved in a cold, triumphant smile. “A wise choice, my lord.” He flicked his fingers at his men-at-arms. “Seize Lord Ilhan and clap him in irons.”

“Father, wait!” Fernan strode across the deck, a determined set to his jaw.

The duke turned his head, and scowled. “Joining the party, late as usual?”

The sun glinted off the dagger in one hand and loops of braided golden wire he clutched in the other.

What in the seven hells is he doing? I wondered.

Fernan’s gaze flicked to me, then to Mama, still standing frozen next to Lady Margitts’ blood-soaked skirts.

I held my breath, hardly daring to hope. Was Fernan truly going to keep his promise to help us? Or had he just been playing on my hopes?

“Glad you brought the restraints,” the duke snapped, jerking his chin at Mama. “The princess-royal first. She’s too dangerous to leave unfettered.”

Fernan hesitated, his gaze darting between Mama and me.

Quick as a striking asp, Mama lunged for Fernan’s dagger. Strangely, he made only a half-hearted effort to resist her. Then he stood motionless in surrender as she pressed the blade to his throat.

“Don’t move or say a word,” Mama warned, her voice cold as midwinter. “Or your son dies.”

The duke froze, genuine shock contorting his aristocratic features. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he scrambled to adjust to this unexpected turn.

Mama’s lips moved, uttering a spell I couldn’t quite catch. She snapped her fingers and the duke and his two mages crumpled to the deck, deeply unconscious.

I’d heard about sleeping spells, but they required a great deal of power and finesse, and weren’t taught until the final year of the mage-healer program at the academy.

Then the bonds holding Alondra and me aloft suddenly vanished.

We plummeted. Terror seized me as Alondra’s scream rang in my ears.

Reaching deep inside myself, I grabbed hold of the power that thrummed in my veins.

Finally free to cast a spell, I shaped the air with my will, casting a net around Alondra and myself.

Our fall slowed. As gently as thistledown, we drifted down to the blood-slicked deck.

My knees buckled as I landed. Mingled relief and exhaustion swept over me. But I was alive. We all were.

As for the duke…

Fernan moved swiftly, darting forward to bind his unconscious father’s hands and feet with the golden cords. Then he pulled a roll of cloth bandages from his pocket and gagged the duke.

Next, Fernan bound and gagged Mage Ysandre and Mage Maksim.

“Now they won’t make any more trouble,” he said smugly when he’d finished.

Mama walked across the deck to stand over the duke’s sprawled form. She looked down at him, her beautiful face taut with anger and distaste.

I tensed as Fernan slowly drew his sword.

Then he sank to his knees before Mama, balancing his blade on his palms. He bowed his head and offered his weapon to Mama in the ancient gesture of fealty.

“Most esteemed Princess-Royal Jonquil,” he said in formal Court Capitolan, “I, Fernan de Norhas, Count of Lutèce and heir to the Duchy of Norhas, do humbly pledge my unwavering loyalty to thee. With a heart steadfast and true, I vow to serve thee with all my might and main, honoring thy grace and wisdom as the rightful heir to our imperial throne.”

Mama solemnly took the sword and lifted it high, letting the morning sun catch the polished metal before touching it lightly to the top of Fernan’s bowed head.

“Count Fernan de Norhas, thy words this day have reached mine ears and heart with great solemnity,” she replied, using the same formal phrasing. “In accepting thine oath of fealty and pledge of loyalty, I, Jonquil, Princess-Royal of the House of Severieri, do affirm thy place as a true and faithful servant to our imperial throne. May thy valor and fidelity shine as beacons of hope and strength for our realm. Together, let us endeavor to uphold the peace and prosperity of our empire, guided by wisdom and fortified by honor.”

I let myself believe our ordeal was finally over. We had won.

Mama offered Fernan his sword back.

“Thank you, Most Gracious Highness.” Fernan accepted the weapon and rose to his feet.

Then he turned to address the gathered sailors and De Norhas men-at-arms with the authority of a man born to command.

“Men of Norhas, hear me!” he shouted. “Your duke has fallen, and with him, his treasonous plot against the throne. As his heir and your new liege lord, I order you to stand down and surrender your weapons.”

A tense silence fell over the ship as the crew and Norhas men-at-arms exchanged uncertain glances. I held my breath, my hands tingling with the power I’d called up.

Would the duke’s men obey Fernan, or would they fight to the death for a lost cause?