Page 47 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)

Cathrynne

W hen the beatings failed, the White Foxes tried threats.

They said she would spend the remainder of her days in this dark cell, with a ceiling too low to stand and walls narrow enough to touch.

They said Gavriel Morningstar was dead. No one would come looking for her.

They said Mercy was being held in another cell, and she would die too if Cathrynne didn’t cooperate.

But they were lying—about the last two things, at least.

She’d overheard them talking about how Mercy had escaped in the woods. And she knew Gavriel was alive because she dreamt about him. He was in a majestic city of snow and ice that could only be Mount Meru. He had been unconscious, but now he was awake.

Yet she saw a sword dangling above his head and knew the danger had not passed.

She had to get out of this prison. For herself, and to keep Gavriel safe from harm. She was still his bodyguard.

When she heard footsteps and saw the faint glow of a lantern under the door, she curled into a ball, muttering incoherently.

“Pick her up.” Kane’s deep voice.

From the corner of her eye, Cathrynne saw Ash crouch to enter the tiny room.

The White Foxes never wore projective gems. There was no metal in the cell, either.

But there was metal in Ash’s face.

They thought Cathrynne couldn’t use it. Cyphers didn’t learn to wield receptive magic.

But they had forgotten that she’d been raised as a full-blood witch until the age of eleven. And she had nothing to do between beatings except comb through her early memories and dig out the things she’d been taught.

Projective magic used conscious will . Receptive magic used subconscious need .

Mastery was a far more complicated endeavor, but that was the gist.

Ash bent down and roughly grabbed Cathrynne’s bruised arm. The moment she made contact, Cathrynne opened her mind to the resonance of the silver piercings.

She saw a moon reflected in water. Silver was connected with divination. It was also, as she had told the young cypher class, an element of protection.

Mighty Minerva , she begged, please help me.

Ash gasped as the ley flowed from her own jewelry into Cathrynne’s shaky control. It flickered, then held steady, forming a shield. Cathrynne threw an elbow to her face, ducked past Kane, and got out the door.

She sprinted barefoot down the narrow corridor. Light flared ahead, and then someone unleashed a projective spell. It washed over her, but she could feel the protective magic dwindle. On the next blast, the shield wavered and popped.

Kane’s huge bulk grabbed her from behind. Cathrynne screamed as they dragged her back to the cell and threw her inside. She lay there, panting. She knew they wouldn’t come back for a while. Maybe days.

A heavy despair came over her.

But they did come back, only minutes later. As she heard their voices in the passage, the darkness faded and she saw . . .

. . . the lid of a car trunk slams down. Ash is driving down a long gravel road, headlights spearing the fog. Marsh reeds whisper in the night wind. A splash and a bundle wrapped in chains sinks into black water.

They were coming to murder her.

Cathrynne’s eyes snapped open in the darkness.

Well, of course they were. She wouldn’t give them the sweven and they couldn’t let her go. Even cyphers had rights. Kidnapping and torture would bring trouble with the High Council.

A sick thrill of terror went through her. She stood, hunching awkwardly under the low ceiling. The door swung open. Light flooded in.

It was her usual tormenters: Berti, Kane, and Ash, who had taken out her piercings. Kane had also removed his silver bridge. There was a gap where his gleaming front teeth used to be.

“Turn around,” Berti ordered.

“Listen,” she said, licking cracked lips, “I changed my mind. You can have the sweven. Of my own free will.”

Berti’s expression didn’t change. “Then give it to me now.”

And you’ll kill me the moment it’s done.

She shook her head. “I’ll give it to Markus.”

“You have no leverage to dictate terms.” Berti’s gray eyes were pitiless. “Last chance. Give me the sweven.”

“I swear I’ll give it to Markus?—”

Berti gestured to Ash and Kane. As the red-haired witch and her huge partner stooped to enter the cell, Cathrynne saw their hands around her throat. Saw the life drain from her eyes.

Blood trickled from her nose to her lip, but she barely felt it.

“Wait!” she cried. “I can be of value!”

Berti looked bored of it all. “How?”

Cathrynne swallowed hard, beyond terror now. Secrets meant nothing anymore.

“Ash killed Durian Padulski,” she said in a rush. “I don’t think she meant to. It was an accident. She was trying to stop him from running, but her spell hit him too hard. It stopped his heart. He was dead before he fell into the river.”

Ash looked stunned. “How could you possibly?—”

“Shut up,” Berti said. She was watching Cathrynne intently.

“You’re here to kill me,” Cathrynne said. “Strangulation so it’s cleaner. No blood. Then you’ll drive my body to the marshes and let the tides take it.”

The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of Kane’s uneven breathing.

“We’ll bring her to Markus,” Berti said after a long moment.

Cathrynne started shaking. She thought her knees might give out and braced a hand against the wall. The three of them backed away to give her room as she crouched down and stepped out of the cell.

No one touched her. It was like she suddenly had a contagious disease.

She walked with Ash in front and Berti and Kane behind.

Just standing upright was a gift. She had no idea how long they had kept her in the cell, but when the cramped darkness gave way to wide, carpeted halls, tears blurred her vision.

They took her back to the bedchamber where she’d first been held, which now seemed like a palace.

“Sit,” Berti commanded.

Cathrynne obeyed, moving stiffly to the bed and perching on the edge.

Ash and Kane watched her from their old post by the door.

Berti left without another word. After a few minutes, she returned with Markus.

He wore black tie like he was on his way to a party, not a silver hair out of place.

He paused when he saw her, pity and disgust on his face. Never had she loathed him so much.

“You’ve been keeping secrets,” Markus said.

“You didn’t ask the right questions.”

He studied her. “You’re a seer, yet the madness hasn’t consumed you.”

Cathrynne smiled. “I’ve glimpsed the future and it isn’t rosy, Markus.”

“You mean the Dark-bringer.”

She couldn’t hide her surprise. “You know?”

“I know he will bring chaos, that is all. Have you seen his face?”

“No.” She leaned forward. “But I can tell you this. When he comes, not even kaldurite will save you from him.”

She sensed that Markus was unsettled, though he tried to cover it.

“The end of an age?” His tone was patronizing. “I heard the same from seers at the kloster in Arjevica.”

So others besides Julia Camara were having the same vision. A chill went through her.

“But if you give me a name,” Markus continued in the maddeningly reasonable tone he always used with her, “I promise to keep you under my protection.”

Cathrynne didn’t laugh aloud at the absurdity of this statement—only because it hurt too much to laugh.

“I want my freedom,” she said.

“That might be possible, depending on what you know.”

Berti stepped forward, her mouth an angry slash. “You can’t seriously consider letting her go!”

Markus rounded on her. “And you went well beyond the bounds of what I approved for her interrogation,” he snapped.

“Because you didn’t want to know,” Berti shot back, “but your mother approved it. She has more backbone.”

His jaw tightened. “My mother is not the head of the White Foxes. I am, and you will do well to remember that.”

The two witches stared at each other.

“She’s doomed to go mad anyway,” Berti argued. “It’s obvious she knows nothing worthwhile. All this is just a ruse to postpone the inevitable. We’ll be doing her a favor.” She glanced at Cathrynne. “Wouldn’t you prefer a clean death now that you’ve had a taste of the kloster life?”

Cathrynne didn’t bother to answer.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Markus protested, but his voice was weakening.

Ash watched her like a caracal about to pounce on a wounded rat. Kane stood slightly apart from the others. He was pale and sweating, as though he was in discomfort.

Maybe it was because she had just worked her first receptive spell, but Cathrynne sensed something. Muffled, but there. A faint resonance of metal.

Kane had removed his silver teeth. Ash had taken out all her piercings. Cathrynne knew there was not a single pin in this room. Neither Berti nor Markus would be so careless as to wear anything she could use to work lithomancy.

The vision flashed before her eyes. A silent gunshot. Red blooming against the white of Kane’s coat.

Was it possible that Kal Machena’s bullet was still inside him?

Yes, it was . She’d spent enough time at the infirmary to understand basic medicine. If the bullet had lodged near his heart or lungs, the doctors might have left it there rather than risk removing it.

That bullet was the last piece of metal she might ever touch.

Her last chance to walk out of this house alive.

But how to get hold of it? The bullet was inside him.

Cathrynne had been taught never to cast the ley in her own body. Doing so would kill her.

Well. She had nothing left to lose, did she?

She closed her eyes and felt the blood coursing through her veins—half from her angel father, half from her witch mother. She drew a thread of ley from it. Pain gouged her bones, bright and vicious.

Her focus narrowed to a single point: the bullet in Kane’s chest. It was composed of copper, lead, and antimony. The first two were receptive. But antimony was projective. Fire element.

“What are you doing?” Kane took a step forward, rage twisting his face.