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twelve

T roi strained against the chains with all the strength he had left, drawing from his healing magic to push back the weakness in his limbs. But there was no healing in the world that could cure his Craving.

He would sit here and fall into Slumber again while Celandine faced her death.

Her distaff hummed with traces of her magic, his last link to her. Each pulse of power in the artifact was weaker than the last. He could feel her fading away.

“No,” he ground out. “No!”

What were they doing to her? How much was she suffering?

The last thread of her presence slipped away. The distaff lay on the table, lifeless and empty.

His Grace was dead.

Troi’s magic screamed out of him, a wave of raw power that shook every object in the room. Then he slumped in his chains, as if all the life had gone out of him, too.

When the Gift Collector returned, a case of tools jingling in his hand, Troi didn’t look up. He couldn’t stop staring at the distaff.

The necromancer halted abruptly and let out a string of profanities. “They weren’t supposed to sacrifice her until the morning. She must have died in interrogation instead, worthless bitch. Now they’ll come looking for you.”

It didn’t matter how Troi died now, whether decapitated by a Gift Collector, immolated by the mages of Anthros, or gradually sickened by his Craving for Celandine. His only regret was that he couldn’t take down her enemies with him.

The Gift Collector spread his leather case on the table, revealing an array of blades and spikes.

“It appears we’ll have to rush the delicate process of removing your head.

I need to get away from here with evidence of my kill before they hunt you down.

I must keep you alive for most of this so you don’t go up in a flash of light and take my trophy with you. ”

Troi imagined levitating one of the scalpels and spilling the necromancer’s guts with it. But his magic struggled, fettered as his body by the curses on his chains.

“Well, Firstblood Troilos,” said the Gift Collector, “this is the beginning of the end. You’ll be awake for this part.”

The necromancer pressed the tip of the scalpel to Troi’s throat.

Behind him, the doors of the great hall slammed open. Ancient, icy, Hesperine magic swept into the room. Troi recognized that aura before his eyes made sense of the impossible sight in front of him.

Rudhira stood in the doorway, swinging his longsword in one hand. “Try to collect my head,” he snarled.

The Gift Collector threw three blades from each hand in rapid succession.

Rudhira whipped his sword up, repelling all six with the flat of his sword. He laughed. “Cordium has grown lazy in my absence, I see. Try again.”

The necromancer drew a butcher’s knife. “The bounty on that red head of yours is the highest in history.”

“And it gets higher every time I kill one of you,” Rudhira replied with a fanged smile.

The necromancer leapt down from the dais to face the prince of the Hesperines.

The moment he turned his back on Troi, another aura emerged from Rudhira’s veil spells. Her presence washed over Troi like rain on his parched senses.

“Celandine,” he gasped. “You’re alive.”

Tears streaked the grime on her cheeks. “So are you.”

She took hold of Troi’s chains with bloodstained hands, her face hardening with determination. Without a distaff or spindle, she unraveled the malevolent magic from around him, and the chains fell to dust.

She ran her hands down his face and arms. “Did he hurt you?”

Troi shook his head, barely able to speak around his fangs. All his pain was from needing her.

The clash of blades echoed from Rudhira’s duel with the Gift Collector. Rudhira was clearly trying to drive the necromancer away from the dais, but their enemy kept circling, regaining his ground.

A flicker of light on steel caught Troi’s eye. “Celandine, behind you!”

He pushed her out of the blade’s path. A bleeding knife hurtled past her and landed in Troi’s chest. Necromancy and pain exploded across his ribs and lungs. He froze, not daring to move. How close was the cursed blade to his heart?

Celandine let out a cry of rage and snatched up her distaff, rounding the table.

The Gift Collector ignored her, sweat trailing down his face as he focused on Rudhira.

With a great heave, the necromancer swung a cursed chain at the Blood-Red Prince.

The links spun around his blade, trapping his sword.

Through the pain needling his senses, Troi felt Celandine’s aura pulling on all the magic in the room.

The Gift Collector’s chain shattered. Surprise flashed on his hardened face. Rudhira’s blade swept down toward the necromancer’s neck. He threw himself out of the sword’s path.

And right into Celandine’s reach. She rammed the sharp end of her distaff into his chest.

He stared at her, his face frozen in shock. With another scream, she twisted the staff, driving it deeper.

The Gift Collector fell at her feet. She gave her staff one last shove into his corpse.

Rudhira lowered his sword. “I’m not sure you needed my help rescuing Troi.”

Blackness was growing at the edges of Troi’s vision, but he saw Celandine appear at his side again.

“Can you heal him?” she pleaded.

Rudhira’s aura came near. Royal healing power surged into Troi’s chest, driving back his pain. He felt nothing as Rudhira slipped the blade out of his chest.

Troi’s vision cleared, and he looked up at a greater prince than himself.

Rudhira smiled. “Good moon, Troi. It’s high time you woke up.”

“It’s high time you came to rescue me.”

A shadow passed over Rudhira’s face. “We came back for you every ten years. We kept trying to get through the spells. We had all but despaired of you.”

“I had despaired of myself until Celandine.” The pain in Troi’s chest was gone, but not even Rudhira’s healing spell had diminished his Craving. Troi had never been so happy to be in agony.

Rudhira’s brow furrowed, and his magic swept through Troi again. Astonishment softened the prince’s hard gray eyes. “Troi, you have a malady I cannot cure.”

A foolish grin came to Troi’s face. “Yes.”

Celandine stood apart, watching them, gripping her hands tightly together. “What’s wrong?”

“I must let him tell you.” Rudhira pointed to the Gift Collector. “I’ll clean that up while you talk. But we don’t have much time. We need to get out of Cordium as soon as possible.”

Celandine approached the throne, still standing out of arm’s reach. Too far away. “Troi, I am so sorry. I tried to warn you, I swear, but I couldn’t get the words out before they took me away. I am the one who betrayed you, but I tried to change what I had done. I changed.”

“Celandine.” He held out his hand to her. “Please come here so I can hold you.”

She sucked in a breath. Then she flew into his arms, and he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping her close against his chest.

His Grace. He was holding his Grace.

“I thought you were dead,” he choked. “All the magic left your distaff.”

“I took my power back from it. I’m so sorry I frightened you.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you,” he said into her hair.

“You have fought for me more than anyone else in my life. I will ask for your forgiveness as many times as it takes.”

“Forgiveness is one of those infuriating Hesperine principles. I am beginning to see the merits.”

“So am I. I’ll come with you to Orthros. If you’ll still have me.”

“Oh, Goddess, the ways I intend to have you.”

She turned her face up toward him, her cheeks flushed. “No expectations, just as we said. We have time for you to decide what you want me to be to you. But if you’ll only give me a chance—”

He interrupted her with a kiss. “I don’t need time. I want eternity.” He pressed more soft kisses to her mouth. “Celandine, you are my Grace.”

She went still, her lips parted. Then something bright and wild dawned in her aura. Happiness.

Rudhira cleared his throat. Celandine rose, dusting off her dirty robe with perfect dignity, and helped Troi to his feet. He put his arm around her shoulders, leaning on her.

“Once we leave Cordium,” Rudhira said, “we cannot return. It’s too dangerous for our people here now.

I’m gathering a new force of Hesperines errant based in the wilderness of Tenebra.

A brotherhood”—he nodded to Celandine—“and sisterhood of immortals working secretly against the Orders’ tyranny.

” He looked at Troi. “A family for those who need one. I could use a combat healer and an unspinner who doesn’t hesitate to skewer a Gift Collector. ”

Troi pulled Cleandine closer. “I need to stay in Orthros for a time. I promised my princess luxuries and all the dancing she desires.”

“You do need to stay,” Rudhira agreed, “and enjoy it.”

“This time, I will.”

Celandine gave Rudhira a considering look. “I too would like to spend some time in Orthros, but after that, I might be persuaded to skewer more Gift Collectors.”

Rudhira smiled. “I look forward to that. Now gather anything you want from this house. There is no coming back.”

Celandine rested her hand on Troi’s chest, the ring gleaming on her finger. “I have everything I need.”

Troi kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home.”