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

At the stroke of midnight, I slipped out of my new quarters. I wore my woolen cloak, my plainest gown, and sensible shoes.

As commanded, Mage Ysandre was waiting for me in the corridor outside my apartment, along with the pair of guards loyal to the duke who’d been stationed at Jacinthe’s door.

Each of them had a sack bulging with their personal belongings slung over their shoulders.

As the guards disappeared inside the apartment to retrieve the chest I’d packed earlier, Ysandre handed me a small glass vial.

“That old fool Armand was drunk and fast asleep,” she whispered. “Thanks to the key you gave me, it was easy to get this from his pharmacy.”

As the castle’s chatelaine, I now owned a copy of every key in the castle.

I swiftly soaked a handkerchief in vial’s contents, taking care not to breathe in the fumes. Then I dropped both the vial and the handkerchief into the pocket of my traveling gown.

Then I cast a nervous glance down the corridor, toward the castellan’s apartment. But no light showed under Guisbald’s door. My new colleague was no doubt snoring away in Lord Roderigo’s old bed.

Relieved, I set off.

Mage Ysandre and the others followed me over to the narrow stone staircase that spiraled through the center of the donjon. Though I’d been calm earlier, my heart began pounding crazily as we climbed up a floor and walked down the narrow corridor to the door of my old apartment.

In a few minutes, we would either be victorious… or doomed. Guisbald wouldn’t let me live if he discovered my betrayal.

I was so close to getting what Duke Beltràn desperately needed for his cause. I couldn’t afford to fail, not now!

When we arrived at our destination, I unlocked the door, then slipped inside the darkened apartment.

With Mage Ysandre close on my heels, I tiptoed across the sitting room and went inside my old bedroom.

At my signal, Mage Ysandre kindled a tiny mage-light. It floated above her palm like a star. In its cold blue glow, I spotted Princess Jacinthe slumbering peacefully, a thick red braid snaking across the pillow.

I couldn’t help the surge of annoyance at the sight of that flame-haired trollop in my old bed.

Yes, I’d been the one to suggest moving Jacinthe here, but it still felt like the half-blood creature was usurping the room that had been mine for the past two years.

With an effort, I stifled my emotions. I had to focus on the task at hand.

Mage Ysandre slid around me and approached the bed. Standing at Jacinthe’s side, the mage’s hands wove in the intricate gestures required for the sleeping spell.

I watched, holding my breath, as she murmured an incantation. I had no talent for magic, yet I could feel Ysandre’s power prickle across my skin. It raised goosebumps and made my hair stand on end.

But instead of falling into a deeper slumber, Jacinthe’s eyes snapped open. Her vivid green-gold eyes stared at us in startlement.

Her mouth opened in a panicked gasp. Before the princess could scream, Ysandre hissed something, and power tingled in the air once more.

It froze Jacinthe before a sound could escape her lips.

I retrieved the handkerchief drenched in sedative lethe-flower extract from my pocket. All-too-familiar with magic’s fickleness, I’d prepared for a situation like this.

With a quick step forward, I pressed the cloth against Jacinthe’s mouth and nose and held it there until her eyes rolled back and her body went limp against the mattress and pillows.

Relief surged through me, mingled with an exhilarating rush of power. “Now she won’t wake up anytime soon,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Mage Ysandre whispered back. “I think it was her Dragon blood that resisted my spell. Mixed blood can play havoc with charms.” She grimaced.

“I know how unreliable magic can be.” I couldn’t keep the acid out of my voice. “That’s why I asked you to bring me the lethe-flower extract as a backup. Now, go fetch the guards.”

She nodded jerkily, clearly upset by her failure, and scurried out of the bedchamber.

When she returned, I ordered the guards, “Wrap Her Highness in the coverlet and follow me.”

They complied without a word, their movements efficient as they bundled up the unconscious princess and lifted her from the bed.

“Let me lighten your load,” Mage Ysandre whispered before invoking another charm.

This time, her magic worked. I felt the brush of air against my skirts and saw the bulky, fabric-wrapped bundle of our prisoner float gently up.

“Now, all you have to do is steer her,” Ysandre told the guards.

I lit an oil lamp and led them out of my old apartment and down the winding stairs to the donjon’s cellars.

With luck, Jacinthe’s absence—and mine—wouldn’t be discovered until the breakfast bell rang.

By then, the duke’s fleet would hopefully be long gone from the island, with all of us safely on board.

With no ships of his own, Guisbald would be stuck where he was, impotent to do anything but stew in his failure to protect the princess.

I stifled the urge to laugh.

∞∞∞

The inky blackness of the moonless night stretched out all around us as we emerged from the escape tunnel a short time later and walked towards Harbor Cove.

The air was calm and the skies clear. Above us, countless stars glittered like tiny diamonds set into black velvet.

As we approached the beach, I spotted the lights of the Duke de Norhas’ flagship at anchor out in the cove, surrounded by the five other ships of his ragtag fleet. A jolt of excitement raced through me.

At the water’s edge, I slid up the metal shield on my darkened lantern and swung it back and forth in a coded signal.

In response, I heard faint voices drift over the water before an answering lamp signaled, Coming. Stay where you are.

The wait seemed endless as a group of sailors lowered a dinghy from deck and rowed it from the ship to the shore. As it approached, I saw armor glinting silver in the starlight from a man sitting in the bow.

I glanced down at the blanket-wrapped body of Princess Jacinthe, suspended and motionless in the air between the two castle guards who’d helped us. Mage Ysandre stood next to our prisoner, ensuring that the floating spell remained active.

The dinghy beached with a dull grinding sound. I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder, wondering if the sound would alert the castle guards a half-mile away.

A man-at-arms wearing Duke Beltràn’s badge alighted from the dinghy and strode over to our little group.

“Who are you?” he demanded, low-voiced.

“I’m Baroness Amella Margitts, chatelaine of Darkstone Academy,” I informed the man. “Here with Mage Miray Ysandre, Guard Penta, and Guard Vorhel, all of us loyal to His Grace the Duke de Norhas.”

The newcomer’s gaze slid to the suspended bundle hanging in the air between Penta and Vorhel.

“And what’s that?” Suspicion darkened his tone.

I bristled at the man’s lack of honorifics. “A gift for His Grace,” I said, in my coldest voice. “Something he’s wanted for a very long time.” I smiled at the insolent fellow. “I’ve brought with me Princess-Royal Jacinthe di Severieri, eldest daughter of Princess-Royal Jonquil.”

The man’s eyes widened. I saw his attitude shift from supercilious to respectful. “My lady! Please come aboard.” He gestured at the dinghy.

After Mage Ysandre and my guards settled Jacinthe’s unconscious body into the bottom of the dinghy, I lifted my skirts and I stepped gingerly into the small boat.

When I’d settled myself next to Mage Ysandre, the guards loaded my chest and the sacks containing the others’ belongings onto the dinghy. Then the sailors pushed off from the beach and rowed us toward the black silhouettes of the ships anchored in the middle of the cove.

Upon reaching the flagship, Mage Ysandre cast another charm and lifted our prisoner, me, and herself aboard.

As my boots touched the deck, I found myself standing face to face with Beltràn de Norhas.

In the lamplight, I saw the duke was still the handsomest man I’d ever met, tall and athletic-looking, with curling dark hair lightly touched with silver, and a firm jaw.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a shiver of shocked delight run through me.

“Lady Margitts,” he said, his voice smooth and deep, “after you rebuffed my messenger so thoroughly, I doubted your loyalty to my cause. I see I was mistaken.”

I sank into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace, my most sincere apology for the necessity of denying you admission to Darkstone Castle earlier. It was imperative that I maintain a facade of loyalty to the current government to ensure the successful transfer of Princess Jacinthe into your custody.”

He looked at the long, shapeless bundle lying on the deck, and smiled. “You did well. I commend you. But where is my niece Erzabetta?”

“My most sincere condolences, Your Grace. Lady Erzabetta perished while dueling the princess yesterday. It was a most grievous surprise.” I bowed my head in sympathy. “Please know that both Lord Roderigo and Lady Erzabetta worked tirelessly to fulfill your wishes.”

“They will both be sorely missed.” The duke heaved a deep sigh. His brow creased in sorrow. Then his dark gaze found me once more. “However, you were clever to make yourself the new chatelaine after Erzabetta’s tragic demise.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” I replied, breathless at the sight of him and giddy with happiness from his praise. “I was only doing my part to serve our cause.”

“Indeed, you have done well,” the duke continued, his gaze shifting toward the unconscious form of Jacinthe lying on the deck. “And now, with Princess Jacinthe in our custody, our plan can finally come to fruition. My betrothed, the Princess-Royal Jonquil, will be most relieved and happy to be reunited with her daughter. And my son is eager to meet his betrothed.”

The tall, dark-haired young man standing at the duke’s shoulder craned his neck to look down at Jacinthe.

The youth’s mobile lips twisted in distaste, though he couldn’t see anything of the prisoner except for a lock of red hair peeking out from the wrapping of blankets.

At Duke Beltràn’s praise, I couldn’t help smiling like an infatuated schoolgirl. “I live to serve our cause,” I said modestly, and sank into another curtsy, this one fit for a dominus.

“And I appreciate that more than you know.” Then the duke’s smile faded. He sighed heavily. “I only wish you hadn’t left behind Lord Ilhan of Parrish and his sister, Lady Alondra. It never occurred to you that we needed them to ensure your brother’s continued goodwill after his release from prison?”

My heart dropped. The warm glow of accomplishment abruptly evaporated.

In my haste to deliver Princess Jacinthe to the ship, I’d completely forgotten about my nephew Ilhan and niece Alondra, also exiled to the island as political hostages.

“Your Grace!” My voice trembled with shame. “I-I apologize profusely for my oversight. I didn’t think… Shall we go back for them? I’m sure no one’s noticed my absence from the castle yet.”

The duke studied me for a moment before shaking his head. “I think not. Let’s not risk a clean getaway. Thanks to you, I now have custody of both heirs to the throne. I won’t gamble with what we already have. But it would have been useful to have the Duke of Frankia’s heirs here as well.”

“I’m so sorry!” I clutched my skirts. Stupid! How could I have been so thoughtless?

Duke Beltràn watched me coolly. “Now, now, Lady Margitts. We all make mistakes. However, know that I expect better from those who serve me.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” I replied, desperate to regain his favor. “I swear I’ll strive to be more diligent in the future.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His gaze softened, and a smile touched his firm lips once more. “Once we defeat the domina-regent, I promise to reward you richly. Margitts Castle and your other estates will be restored to you, along with guardianship of your daughter.”

I sank into another curtsy, overwhelmed by a mixture of relief and longing at the prospect of seeing my sweet little Mirabella again. She’d just turned eight a few weeks ago. I wondered if she was growing tall like Alondra.

Has she been tested for magic yet? I wondered. I didn’t have any mage-talent, and neither had Arnau, but it sometimes sprang up unexpectedly in old families like ours.

Fae blood from living so close to the border, some dared to whisper. But that was the vilest slander. The House of Parrish was, and would always be, one hundred percent fully human!

Cahill had written me to express his dismay when both Ilhan and Alondra unexpectedly tested with strong mage potential, disrupting his carefully laid plans for their futures.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” I murmured, bowing my head in gratitude. “I’m honored by your generosity. And I won’t disappoint you again.”

“I trust in you, Amella,” the duke replied, his tone warm once more. A thrill shot through me to hear my first name on his lips. “Now, get some rest. Someone will prepare a cabin for you and your companion.”

He turned to Mage Ysandre. “My thanks to you, also, Mage Ysandre. My ducal court is always in need of resident mages. I will appoint you as my Chief Court Mage when I claim the throne.”

“Your Grace, you’re too generous,” Ysandre breathed, sinking down in a curtsy even deeper than mine.

With a last nod, the Duke de Norhas turned away from us and began issuing orders to have Jacinthe brought below decks.

∞∞∞

Jacinthe

Something’s very wrong.

I drifted slowly awake from a murky haze of half-remembered nightmares. Mage Ysandre hovering over me, her features glowing eerily blue in mage-light… Lady Margitts rushing forward to smother me with a pungently scented cloth.

I was lying on something hard, but felt a rocking sensation. My head pounded and my stomach churned with nausea from the concoction they’d used to knock me out.

Lethe-flower. After making endless batches of extract from the crushed stalks and roots, I’d know that pungent scent anywhere.

Blinking blearily, I raised my head and tried to make sense of my new surroundings.

I found myself squeezed into a narrow wooden bunk, a thin mattress beneath me. A railing enclosed the side, presumably to keep the occupant from tumbling out in rough seas.

My gaze drifted around a small, spare ship’s cabin. A simple wooden table and chair were bolted securely to the floorboards.

My heart lurched, then began pounding wildly. Is it too late to get out of here? Are we still anchored in the cove?

Scrambling out of the bunk in an undignified tangle of nightgown fabric, I staggered over to a small round porthole. Through the thick glass, all I saw was the endless expanse of ocean and the pink blush of dawn.

And the cabin’s swaying, rolling movement wasn’t my head spinning with the aftermath of the lethe-flower.

Thanks to the long voyage from my home in the Western Isles to Darkstone Academy, I was all-too-familiar with the sensation of a ship under full sail.

Mother of All, preserve me! I crossed to the door and yanked at the handle. Locked, of course.

I drew in a shaky breath and fought the urge to throw up. No problem, I told myself. A simple unlocking cantrip will get me out of here in a moment.

I reached for my magic, for the comforting well of heat and light that always burned inside me, and tried to direct it into the cantrip.

Nothing happened. I tried again, fighting rising panic when my powers failed to respond.

I’d only felt like this once before.

Lifting a shaking hand, my fingers brushed against something hard and cold encircling my throat. And then I knew.

Someone had locked a restrictor collar around my neck, cutting me off from my abilities.

I turned back to the porthole and looked at my faint reflection in the thick glass. Jewels sparkled mockingly from a golden circle around my throat.

Rage surged through me, replacing the cold shakiness of panic and the aftermath of the lethe-flower.

I clawed at the cold metal and tried again to summon the full force of my magic. Lord Roderigo and Lady Erzabetta had tried to collar me once, and I’d shattered it.

All I had to do was channel enough magic and this collar, too, would fail.

Except it didn’t.

Not even the full fury of my Wind-Walker Fire magic did more than make this collar buzz angrily and grow warm against my skin.

Unlike the cheaply made government-issue collars used at Darkstone Academy, the Duke de Norhas—for my abductor could be no other—had used a quality product.

A sob tore from my throat as the enormity of my situation crashed into me. Without my powers, I was utterly helpless.

Collared and imprisoned, being transported Mother-only-knew-where, cut off from my soul bond with Tama, Boreas, Gwydion, and Ilhan…

None of them knew what had happened to me. And I had no way of letting them know where I was, or even that I was still alive.

Terror rose like bile in my throat. I had to find a way off this ship. And I had to remove this damned collar before it was too late.

Tears pricked at my eyes, blurring my vision, but I blinked them back savagely. I wouldn’t give the Duke de Norhas the satisfaction of seeing me break.

I was a survivor. I’d endured so much already. I would not let this break me.

This collar can’t bind me forever. I’ll defeat it. Somehow.

But for now, all I could do was wait, conserve my strength, and pray to the Mother and any other god who would listen to give a chance to escape.

The creak of the cabin door jolted me from my spiral of despair.

I fumbled for Tama’s obsidian dagger, which hung around my neck under my nightgown, next to the carved whale tooth amulet that helped me control my powers. Since my ordeal at the hands of Lord Roderigo and Lady Erzabetta, I’d worn both items day and night under my clothing.

I hastily pulled them over my head and shoved them under the thin mattress of my bunk, within easy reach. Then I braced myself for whoever, or whatever, was about to enter my prison.

A pair of guards wearing the double-mountain badge of De Norhas stepped into my cabin, their faces impassive beneath their helms.

But it was the person who entered behind them that made the breath freeze in my lungs.

She was a ghost. A cruel trick of magical illusion. She couldn’t possibly be real.

“Mama?” The word escaped me in a strangled whisper.