Page 15

BETRAYAL AND RESISTANCE

A fter the melee, Kazik stood beside the grand duke, aching in every muscle, bone, and sinew. He longed to rush to Helena, but first he had to observe the tournament’s closing program. Once it finally ended, he and his father hurried to see off important guests from the castle’s front steps.

At some point during these activities, something in his father’s manner tipped Kazik off. Maybe the spark in his eye? The man was hiding something, and it could not be good.

Fears kept rising as he stood on the castle steps, waving blindly to departing dignitaries.

He assured himself that his father could not afford to offend the royal family of ?yrardów.

King Ryszard had been the grand duke’s most trusted advisor, not to mention his faithful friend, for many years.

Surely, his father wouldn’t double-cross and insult his oldest friend by breaking the betrothal.

Would he?

When the last carriage neared the end of the castle’s long sloping drive and exited through the ornate gates, his father turned to Kazik with a glow in his amber eyes. “Son, you have one hour to clean up, dress in your finest, and report to my privy council chamber.”

Kazik didn’t ask for an explanation. Entering the castle, he charged up the spiral staircase of the northwest tower to his chambers, where he requested a bath and clean clothing. His efficient servants filled a tub for him within minutes, then filed out of his chambers.

He soaped and scrubbed before his rinse water had time to cool, then poured pitchers of it over his head and body.

Spurning the frilly clothes a new valet had laid out, he dressed in his usual practical clothing.

After all, every garment he owned was handsome and well made.

He disliked frippery as intensely as his father loved it.

Above all, he urgently needed to find Helena before reporting to his father, to assure her that he would marry none but her.

Thanks to all the military folderol, he had already kept her waiting for hours.

He couldn’t sense her anywhere nearby, but that could mean she was safely in Geoffroi’s pocket world.

Come to think of it, his father had set up those pocket worlds . . .

When Kazik flung open his chamber door, he found a contingency of stone-faced guards and mages waiting to escort him.

This could not be good.

Without protest, he fell into step. Certain of an imminent crisis, he began to draw on his magic to form a defensive mind barrier—advanced magic that he had only recently learned from good old Ludwik. Sometimes he wondered if his mother could predict the future.

More likely, she simply knew his father very well.

Whatever the reason, thanks to her foresight, he had allies in the castle. However, he sensed none of them nearby..

His escort waited in the corridor while he knocked on the door to the grand duke’s privy council. “Enter,” his father said, his voice deep and rich.

Kazik stepped alone into the familiar room, stopped just inside the door, and instantly sensed the presence of fay magic.

He thought first of his golden friends, but this presence was unfamiliar.

Hello? He silently queried. No response, but also no threat.

He had no time for further analysis before his father looked up and set aside whatever work he’d been pretending to do.

“Excellent,” he said. “Your performance in the lists today was outstanding, though in future I would like to see more aggression in your attacks.” Despite his words, his amber eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

“Now, I have wonderful news to share with you, my son. Come and take a seat here.” He indicated a chair facing him.

“You might as well be comfortable as we talk.”

Kazik took two steps, stopped short, and without twitching a muscle flung up every magical defense he possessed to block an intense mind compulsion. Although the suddenness of the attack startled him, he somehow managed to maintain a calm expression.

At least, he hoped he’d succeeded.

“Come closer, my son.” His father beckoned.

Bracing himself, he took two more small steps.

His father’s smile brightened as the invisible pressure increased. How was he doing this? As far as Kazik knew, his father was a low-level mage at best.

“Ah, Kazimierz, my son!” Leaning back in his thronelike chair, the grand duke heaved a satisfied sigh. “I’ve been in communication with your grandfather the archduke for the past several months regarding your marriage.”

The prince did his best to hide his dismay. “Does he plan to come to my wedding?”

His father continued as if Kazik hadn’t spoken, but the compulsion deepened. “Angelika Zamoyska, your second cousin once removed, is a handsome young woman, as you must recall.”

Once removed, eh? Kazik would prefer her to be permanently removed from his life. The misnamed Angelika could petrify a basilisk with one glance.

His father rambled on: “Her father is a shipping magnate who also owns vast properties. A splendid match for you, indeed!”

If Kazik blenched, his father was too busy talking to notice. “A lovely young woman and heir to a fortune. Your grandfather is arranging your betrothal—a tremendous honor—and the marriage ceremony will occur two weeks from today in his presence at the Great Cathedral.”

While Warin Lisiewicz babbled about plans for his son’s future, Kazik’s magic nullified the compulsion magic aimed at him. Yet he gradually became aware of more magic in the room, including power that seemed to flow into the grand duke.

What was it Ludwik had taught him the other day about tracing magic in both directions?

While maintaining his respectful-listening expression, he mentally followed the magic upstream from the grand duke to the lackeys and guards waiting out in the corridor. His father was siphoning their magic! Did they know? Had they consented to this magical larceny as part of their employment?

Kazik’s gut knew better. His father, Warin Lisiewicz, was a parasite. A magic leech.

Why hadn’t he realized what his father was doing all this time? How had the grand duke, a burvis -level mage at most, managed to conceal his magic theft from everyone?

Probably the same way Kazik hid his own magic: instinctively. If not for Ludwik’s tutoring, Kazik wouldn’t have known anything about what was happening to him and around him, let alone how to prevent it.

Was his father aware of his own crimes? Was that freeloading magic really his ? What if the archduke was controlling him . . .

But believing the best would be rank foolishness in this case. His father’s expressions and tone of voice clearly revealed that his desire for wealth and advancement had overtaken his honor, his integrity, and his love for his family.

When his father finally finished praising Angelika, Kazik remained silent, still longing to be proven wrong. The grand duke frowned. “Have you nothing to say? You must be greatly pleased! Such a marriage will set you up for life.”

Kazik spoke in his most respectful and grateful tone: “I am already set for life, betrothed as I am to Princess Helena of ?yrardów. We exchanged sacred promises months ago.” As if his father didn’t know. “King Ryszard is your faithful adviser and lifetime friend.”

Shock, then anger flashed through his father’s eyes, but then he—the Grand Duke Warin Lisiewicz—assumed a regretful yet resigned expression.

“My son, those of us born into positions of authority are frequently obligated to place the greater good above our own desires. The royal family of ?yrardów—my former advisor and his daughter—chose to return to their little kingdom. Their coach left at least an hour ago.”

As his father spoke the last word, what felt like a lightning bolt zapped Kazik’s mind, but his shields deflected the blunt-force attempt to destroy his free will.

He refused to blink, his confidence rising.

No one would control him with magic, much less force him to break his betrothal vows to the girl he loved.

“Did Helena and her father agree to cancel the betrothal?” he asked. “I did not.”

All pretense vanished. Fury contorted his father’s face. “Kazimierz, you will marry as the archduke chooses.” His voice was a nearly unrecognizable whine. “He has already invalidated the former contract.”

“But I have not.” As Kazik turned and walked to the door, another flash of magic attacked his mind and body, tunneling his vision and attempting to turn his own will against him.

Resisting it felt like knives plunging into his brain, but once he opened the door and stepped into the corridor, the stolen magic snapped with a loud crack.

Even as he was freed, the waiting guards and mages crumpled to the stone floor, groaning, and a shrill inhuman howl emanated from his father’s study.

“Excellent work!” A frighteningly cheerful and unmistakably fay voice spoke from nowhere. “I’ll take it from here.”

More than freaked out, Kazik sprinted back to his chambers, his feet scarcely touching the floor and stairs. Once there, he barred the door and scrambled to prepare for physical battle, assuming his father would send his entire guard and who knew what else to destroy his son’s rebellion.

But instead, he sensed that he was somehow safe for the moment. All was quiet. Too quiet.

He sat on his bed long enough to gain control and slow his breathing. At the same time, he did his best to weigh his options and come up with a plan.

He must chase down King Ryszard’s coach—all the way to Castle Valga if necessary—and convince Helena’s father to let him marry her. That was it, his one goal.

He kept his magical guard up, but no further attacks occurred. Still, he felt watched as he slipped into the kitchens to procure bread, dried meat, and fruit.

The stables were equally quiet. He found a stable boy asleep just inside the door, and he could barely keep Iga from dozing off while he tacked her up and tied his pack behind the saddle.

Once on the highway toward ?yrardów, his mare shook off her lethargy and settled into a smooth jog.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a longer rest,” he told her.

“But I need your company. Just tell me when you need to stop.”

He had all the time in the world to worry.

Starting with the realization that he hadn’t seen his mother all day.

Thinking back, he realized he hadn’t seen or even sensed her or her magic.

All. Day.

He’d been so focused on the melee and then Helena that he’d simply forgotten to think of his mother. Where could she be? And what kind of son forgets his own mother?

One thing he knew: Madame Euzebia wasn’t at Mnisztwo Castle. But where could she be?

Next, he worried over that magical battle in his father’s study. In hindsight, he knew that a third party—a fay—had been in that room. The voice he’d heard was decidedly male.

Where had the fay mage come from, and why?

But now he must focus on the main goal. He would marry Helena in the chapel at Castle Valga as soon as he arrived . . . if she and her father were still willing.

But he had no proof of their betrothal. Could they marry by some kind of special license? He might have to take her out of the country, maybe even off the continent, to marry her.

Ugh. Why couldn’t he know something for sure?

He’d intended to ride through the night, but Iga began to falter a few hours before nightfall—after all, she’d worked hard in the melee. He really shouldn’t have ridden her . . . but he’d wanted her company. “I’m so sorry, girl! We’ll find an inn soon.”

They stopped at a small inn. The innkeeper was gruff until Kazik handed him two gold coins, after which Iga graciously accepted a thorough rubdown, a large box stall with a deep straw bed, a generous serving of grain, and a manger of sweet-smelling hay.

His own quarters weren’t half bad, and he slept well despite all his worries.

After a hearty breakfast, Iga was in fine fettle, and so was Kazik. The innkeeper provided clear directions to the royal palace and a blessing on their way. Today, Kazik thought, I shall see Helena, and perhaps we will be married very soon!

The terrain included both farmland and forest, with forest prevailing as the mountains grew more rugged.

Iga took all in stride with her smooth jogtrot.

After only a few rest stops, Kazik caught his first glimpse of Castle Valga’s tiny conical towers above distant treetops on the mountainside—the first time he’d seen them since Geoffroi and Solara brought him to visit Helena. That memory made him smile.

This time, he would be confident and suave. He would take her in his arms and hold her close. Maybe even kiss her—he was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind.

His smile widened, and he heaved a happy sigh.

Once Helena and he were married, they could relax and make plans for a future together. He was certain King Ryszard would be helpful.

“We’ll be climbing soon, girl,” he warned Iga. “I promise to be patient for your sake.”

Kazik glimpsed a waterfall upstream, just as he remembered.

Dusk was falling by the time they rounded a curve and approached a drawbridge over a rushing river.

The castle’s towers suddenly loomed, and its gates stood wide open.

However, Kazik saw no guards on the perimeter walls and no movement in the outer courtyard.

No torches had been lit. A fire somewhere in the courtyard sent up a thin stream of smoke.

“Well, let’s cross, girl.” Snorting quietly, Iga stepped onto the bridge. No problem. But as soon as her hooves struck earth on the far side, Kazik detected that unknown fay magic, exactly as he’d sensed it in the corridor outside his father’s council chamber.

Iga stopped short, nostrils flaring. “Do you feel it too?” Kazik addressed his companion, mostly to calm himself. “Did it follow us here? Should I be concerned?”

Iga’s ears tipped back, then snapped forward.

She wasn’t breathing hard, but it had been a grueling day even with multiple rest stops.

Nevertheless, she was so restless that Kazik, with an arrow to his bowstring, guided her with his legs.

“This magic feels otherworldly but not evil. It helped me at the castle, so maybe it will help us here.”

Iga was unconvinced, and it was purely out the goodness of her heart that she sidled through the gateway and stopped short with a low squeal.

Bodies lay scattered across the courtyard, and that otherworldly magic was everywhere.