Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)

Chapter Fifty

‘ Y ou’re getting stronger,’ Daethie said, skating her fingers over my scalp, persistent in her attempts to heal me and undo the damage I’d done to myself. ‘Some of the inflammation is moving.’

‘Do you think it’ll heal?’ I’d begun to hear voices in my head sometimes, hissing and urging me to do things I couldn’t and shouldn’t. And sometimes, my vision seemed to slip. I would see faces in the walls, or the stone floors would slither like snakes. It seemed to be slowly getting better, but it was unnerving.

‘Perhaps.’ She crossed the room, appearing before me to stand by a low counter where she’d been crushing together another of her noxious concoctions to fortify my organs. ‘But not if you keep using magic.’

She must have repeated this to me several times every healing session, and I’d had several days’ worth of them now. She turned back with a cup of something that greatly resembled swamp water. I pinched my nose against the foul taste and swallowed it without complaint. Not that anything she gave me seemed to alleviate the perpetual weight on my shoulders, my chest. My heart. If she could fix that, I would have gladly swallowed all the swamp water she could make.

‘Goras is getting stronger,’ Daethie said as she collected the cup and turned back to the bench. ‘The time between attacks seems to be getting longer.’

Immediately, I was plunged into the depths of guilt. I hadn’t seen Goras since I’d struck him. He had refused to see me. Daethie fed me tidbits of news about his recovery, which she always seemed to do right after she’d delivered me a warning about using magic. He’d been gripped with random attacks of debilitating pain since the strike. I didn’t understand why the two of them hadn’t revealed what had happened at the harbour to everyone else. It made me feel like I was living with a sword poised above my head, ready to drop.

‘But he still can’t access his magic,’ she continued. ‘He can’t even feel it anymore. I’m beginning to think he never will again.’

I slumped, the guilt intensifying. She had tried to explain what I‘d done to him. My lightning hadn’t just struck him down but had severed his magic from his control, leaving him vulnerable in a way I hadn't even considered. The same technique the druthi used to strip their captives of power, to render them helpless for harvest. I swallowed hard, shame curdling in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to do that to him. Hadn’t meant to take something so vital, so intrinsic, and rip it away like it was nothing.

‘I hope he gets better,’ I murmured, but the words felt hollow. A meaningless offering against the damage I had done.

’Would you like me to tell him you asked after him?’

‘No. No, I don’t think so.’ I wasn’t going to inflict my guilt on him. I would leave him in peace to think whatever he wanted of me, to be as angry as he wanted, to hate me as he wanted. I didn’t deserve his forgiveness.

I stared at the slit of the window as Daethie continued to bustle around her workroom. She’d been busy since the city had been reclaimed. There had been heavy losses on both sides. Not that I knew much about the logistics of it all, since I was no longer being included in the conversations surrounding the making of decisions. Never mind that it had been my strategy that won us the city. I should have marched into the room where Esario and Gwinellyn were holed up with their council and demanded the right to a say, but the idea made me… tired. I couldn’t even muster up the drive to demand they answer for the guard who had been assigned to follow me around the city ‘for my protection.’ Protection from what, no one seemed to be able to tell me.

As soon as they’re done using you, they’ll be working to end you.

But none of it touched me, because I barely felt like I was in Port Howl at all. Memories churned through my mind over and over and over, demanding a different resolution than the one I had chosen. Constantly, I wondered where Draven was. Whether he‘d found a boat. Whether he was alright. Weakly, I had tried a few times to tell myself I just wanted to know what he would do next, whether he’d turn around and strike the city again. But it was a pathetic lie that even I couldn’t manage to convince myself was true.

Daethie squeezed my shoulder, and I looked up to see the concern written in her eyes. ‘Where do you go in your head?’ she asked gently. I stared at her blankly, uncomprehending. ‘Wherever it is, you seem to be spending a lot more time there than here at the moment,’ she continued. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine. Elated. We won Port Howl.’ I said tonelessly. ‘All I wanted was to win.’

She stared at me a moment longer, then released a sigh before pressing a vial into my hand. ‘Take it before bed. It might help you get some sleep.’

I hadn’t told her I needed help sleeping. I must have looked as tired as I felt. ‘Thanks.’

I left her to her work, admiring how invaluable she’d made herself with her skills as a healer. She had surely done as much good for the cause of ending the blood trade as anyone, with her tireless mission to heal the sick and injured of this war. Though, I was sure many of those she’d treated would hold onto their hatred and fear. No one knew as well as I did how difficult that was to let go of, how much courage it took to let it fade away and be replaced by a different kind of understanding. Because it meant being unguarded, exposed. It meant the possibility of being wrong. Of being hurt.

When I reached the door, I paused at the muffled sounds of voices beyond. Something made me want to listen. A premonition, a shiver of instinct, something picked up from the way the voices were hushed and excited. Edging the door open, I pressed my ear up to the gap.

‘…and see for yourself. It’s a cracking way to have a little satisfaction. A good kick for every fallen friend. I’ll say he’s a bit unnerving, though. Just sort of takes it. Doesn’t make a noise, except to make some smartass comment that got him another kick. And then he just fucking smiled like he’d come and get me later.’

‘You’re having me on. They’d have crowed about it all over the city by now if it were true. All over the kingdom.’

‘Word is they’re keeping it quiet. Want to parade him through the capital before his execution. So make it quick if you want to come have a gawk, because I reckon they’ll be moving him soon. Old Lidello said as much when I was down there.’

Lidello. My heart was heaving, sinking, my vision narrowing with panic. Magic stirred restlessly in my blood, begging to be drawn to my fingers, excited by the height of my emotions, and the heady hit of nausea that followed reminded me that I needed to get ahold of it. I trembled with the temptation as I snuck the door open a little wider, until I could see them. The two men were standing a few strides away from the door. One was the guard assigned to me, the other just some other prat in a soldier’s uniform.

‘Seems a bit underwhelming, that he’s just been handed over by his own side,’ my guard said. ‘And all that magic he was ‘sposed to be known for just mysteriously gone.’

Magic gone ? How ? What did that mean?

‘Yeah, a little. But I’m looking forward to seeing him roast. Just don’t let it slip to her in there.’ The other man flicked a hand towards the door, and I ducked out of sight again, burning with anger and terror. ‘I think that might be the other reason they’re keeping it quiet. No telling what she’ll do.’

‘Yeah. And it’d be my job to stop her.’

The two exchanged a few parting words and then the hall was quiet again.

‘Rhi?’

I jolted out of my emotional spiral to realise Daethie was standing in the doorway of the adjoining room, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Leaving. Just leaving.’ The words came out garbled. And then I wrenched the door open and strode out of it like there was nothing wrong. Like inside I wasn’t screaming.

The guard dropped into place behind me. ‘Where to now, miss?’

‘To rest,’ I replied bluntly, trekking back through Saltarre castle to the room I’d been dumped in after I’d come staggering through the city gates, lips swollen, hair tangled with salt and smelling like Draven. It was a small, austere sort of room. Just a bed, a basin, a chest of drawers. Leela had been trying to spruce it up a little, bringing flower arrangements and changing out the blankets and pillows for a set made with embroidered silk that she’d pilfered from who knew where, and generally acting as though she was still my handmaid even though I’d told her time and again that she didn’t need to. When I reached the room, I practically ran to it, slamming the door before the guard had reached his spot beside it. Then I leaned against it, a hand pressed to my mouth, breathing fast and shallow as I slid down the wood and onto the floor.

Parade him through the streets of the capital before his execution.

Execution.

‘No.’ The word escaped into the empty room, seeming to hang before me, growing larger and larger until its echo was drowning out every other sound. No.

It wasn’t possible. I’d misunderstood them. They had been talking about someone else whose capture would be worth parading through the streets of Sarmiers.

And if it was possible… If it was Draven… I leapt to my feet and began to pace, hands clutching my head. I couldn’t breathe. I was strangled by horror, by helplessness. The soldier’s description of kicking the prisoner and being taunted for it weighed in my stomach, cold and heavy. I thought he’d got away. Could he really have been turned over by his own side? Could they really be keeping him locked up somewhere in secret? I felt sick as I considered it, considered what his captors would be doing to him.

I was gnawing on my lip so hard I could taste blood in my mouth, but I couldn’t stop. He’d be an impossible prisoner to contain. He’d surely be able to compel his jailers to let him out, or slit their own throats, or run screaming to their beds. But the soldier had said his magic was gone. Could that really be true? How could that be possible?

When it clicked, I stopped pacing, my breath releasing in a soft oh . Memory flashed through my mind, of a swaying bridge in a storm, of lightning tearing from my palm, hitting Draven square in the chest as he tried to get me to stop. It was possible because I’d struck him.

But if I’d damaged him the way I’d damaged Goras when I did…. those days in the cave… My hands moved to my hair as the thread on my final excuse snapped. If he’d lost his magic when I’d struck him, then he can’t have been using it to manipulate me in the cave. Then that impossible draw I felt to him, all those emotions, all the tears and longing, had just been… me. I swore, unwilling to believe it. Could I stand before him now and know once and for all if what I’d felt for him was real or simply enchantment? Would knowing that cure me of the clawing, caustic terror burning up my throat at the thought of his execution?

I pulled my hands from my hair as a decision formed. Nothing Draven had done justified that creature Lidello getting anywhere near him. I rubbed my thumbs along my fingertips, aching to give in to the fizz of magic. Just one little rush of sparks to remind myself that I was powerful. But already the walls were shifting, wavering in a haze, the floral wallpaper morphing into dozens of screaming faces, and I hadn’t even released the magic, only stoked it a little. I had to refrain, had to control the urge. I didn’t need it, I could still scare Lidello with the threat of it. Just because they all wanted to shut down my political influence didn’t mean I wasn’t fucking terrifying. I would make it clear that he needed to stay away from Draven or he would answer to me.

As I crossed back to the door, I paused by the dresser, where Leela had strung my belt of throwing knives up. It wouldn’t hurt to have another weapon at my disposal to bolster my threat. I strapped it on, then wrenched open the door. The guard jolted, clearly not expecting me to reemerge so soon, and then he was trotting after me.

I had to take a breath, consciously slowing my pace, because I had no idea where I was going. Saltarre Castle was huge, and gloomy, all stone blocks and guttering sconces everywhere. Where would I even start? When the guard caught up to me, I spoke without looking in his direction.

‘You must hate this assignment,’ I said lightly. ‘Babysitting me while I’m sure your friends are all celebrating their victory.’

He said nothing, but I felt a shift in the atmosphere between us. He seemed uncertain. Wary.

‘I suppose it makes sense,’ I continued. ‘It wouldn’t do to have me wandering about, listening at doors. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To make sure I behave? Seems a poor repayment for my service to your king. We would never have taken Port Howl without me.’ I shifted my glance sideways to him. He was young. Round-faced and scruffy. His fingers twitch toward the hilt of his sword, but it was just nerves, not aggression. ‘Did you see the harbour go up in flames?’

‘Only the aftermath,’ he said, relaxing a little. ‘I was at the gate. I saw their retreat when they realised what was happening, though. Shocked them good I reckon.’

‘It really did,’ I said with a frivolous laugh. Then I sighed dramatically. ‘It took quite a lot out of me, though, working that kind of magic. So many trips to the healer and still I feel just awful.’ I touched my fingers to my head, biting my lip. ‘I was thinking that perhaps Arch Magister Lidello could help me. Do you know where I’d find him?’

He gave me a sidelong look. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

A flash of irritation I barely leashed. It rubbed up against my sense of urgency, my panic, the feeling I had of time trickling away to a horrific finale. ‘Why not?’ I replied, trying to maintain my pleasant tone.

‘I don’t think he likes being disturbed.’

‘Neither do I, but here we are,’ I replied with a smile. He hesitated, shifting on his feet. I could feel him weighing his orders to watch me and keep me out of trouble against the ease of simply letting me do as I pleased. He wasn’t stupid, but he was young. Young men were easy to steer when you knew which way to push. ‘Do you think you could help me find him? I won’t need long. And then I’ll lock myself up in my room for the rest of the day and you’ll have nothing else to worry about.’

He studied me for a moment, then exhaled loudly through his nose. ‘Alright. But if he refuses to see you, we have to leave.’

‘Of course.’

He led me up a stairwell to one of the upper floors, and to a heavy wooden door. ‘In there. Just make it quick.’

‘Thank you for your help,’ I said, allowing a sharp note or sarcasm to creep into my tone before I pulled open the door and stepped into the dim room beyond. The guard opened his mouth—surely to insist that I knock first—but I was already closing the door behind me.

The room beyond was dimly lit, the daylight blotted out by heavy curtains across the windows. A heavy wooden desk stood against one wall, covered in neat stacks of parchment, each one meticulously arranged. A single candle burned low, casting flickering shadows that crawled up the stone walls. A door stood ajar, revealing what looked like a bedroom beyond, and through it a figure emerged, dusting his hands together as he took me in. A smile spread across his face like a pool of spilt ink.

‘What a surprise,’ he said in that soft, rustling voice that made my skin crawl. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Draven’s been captured, hasn’t he?’ All the feigned amicability I’d donned for the guard dropped from me like a sheet.

Lidello's smile widened, a slow, deliberate thing, as if he were savouring the moment. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he moved to his desk, fingers brushing over the parchment as though the papers were of far greater interest than my presence.

‘Straight to the point,’ he mused. ‘Interesting.’

I took a step closer, my pulse hammering against my ribs. ‘Is it true?’

He sighed, shaking his head. ‘You already know the answer. Why ask?’

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. The room was too small, too stifling, thick with the scent of melted wax and something metallic. ‘Has he really lost his magic?’

His hands still and he turned, brow arched in question as he studied me. Then, he snorted. ‘If you’ve been paying attention, then you’ll already know that too. Isn’t it strange that you wield magic that has the capability of destroying someone else’s? What does it make you feel, knowing you’re the one who took it from him?’

‘Where is he?’ The words left my mouth before I could stop them. It was the wrong question. The one I wasn’t supposed to ask. That was not why I’d come. I wasn’t going to find him .

I took another step closer with a purpose I couldn’t entirely understand. It was as though my body was acting before my mind could stop it.

His eyes flicked over me, noting the shift. ‘Quite wound up, I see.’ His smile became darker, a provocation, a taunt. ‘He isn’t. He seems completely empty. All that rage just washed away. It’s almost disappointing. He tells me he has nothing left to break, but I’m sure I can find something if I dig deep enough.’

I was trembling. ‘I think I have enough rage for both of us,’ I snarled, ‘so you’ll keep your fucking hands off him.’

He chuckled, a sound without humour, mocking. ‘You think your rage matters ? Sweet girl, this world doesn’t care about how angry or hurt you are. Just how much damage you’ve caused. And you’ve caused quite a lot. You can throw another magical tantrum here, it’s true, but if you do, you’ll be done. You can hop right up onto the pyre beside him.’

And in that single word, pyre , I lost the thread of what I was here to do. That hissing whisper in my head grew louder, a demand to strike , to burst through the tenuous control of my magic. All that kept me from obeying was the knowledge that I’d wind up unconscious again, or worse. And then it would be too late. I barely thought of what I was doing as my hand closed on the hilt of one of my knives, only trying to appease that incessant urge.

In a few short strides I’d crossed the room and slammed him against the wall. My blade was at his throat before he could react. ‘ Where, druthi. Where are they keeping him? ’

He held himself with his chin lifted high, away from the blade. He was a tall man, but he had the build of a scholar, not a fighter. He didn’t even try to struggle. ‘In the dungeons below the castle. Familiar surroundings for him. Well, for now, anyway.’ Then, he smirked. ‘I’m not afraid of you. You can’t touch me without condemning yourself,’ he taunted. ‘You’re already being watched and treated with suspicion.’ One of his hands went to my wrist, long fingers circling it, and his touch turned my stomach. ‘So come now, release me like we know you’re going to, and I won’t suggest to King Esario that his best option in the debate of what to do with you is to give you to me as a subject of my research.’

He thought a threat like that would scare me?

He was wrong.

The first strike wasn’t clean. Maybe I meant to slit his throat in one swift motion, but he jerked at the last moment, and the blade caught the side of his neck instead. Blood sprayed, and he let out a garbled sound, clawing at me. Strike, strike, strike. I drove the blade in again, this time under his ribs, twisting. Blood poured out of him, covering my hands, splattering my face, and his nails were scratching at my shoulders, my arms, my neck, but I just kept twisting, teeth gritted tight.

Until he stopped moving.

I stepped back, panting, staring at the mess I’d made. My hands were shaking. Not from regret, but from rage that still hadn’t burned out.

Well… that hadn’t gone to plan.

But fuck, it had been satisfying .

I stared at the blood on my hands, breathing slowly as my magic settled and as a little of my rational mind began to shout above that rushing, hissing whisper. How was I supposed to explain this? The debate of what to do with you , Lidello had said. Was that what was being discussed behind the closed doors of Esario and Gwienllyn’s council meetings? Had I just proved that I was as unstable and untrustworthy as I was sure they already believed?

Did I care?

I strode past the Arch Magister’s limp body and into the bedroom, wondering at how detached I felt from this kill. So unlike the stupor I’d been in for hours after I killed those men in Sentinel’s Tower. First thing was first—I needed to clean myself up. I could hardly walk out of this room covered in blood with that mistrustful soldier standing by the door. I’d figure out what I’d do next after that.

At least I’d achieved one thing. I knew where Draven was.

Though what I would do with that information… nothing, I told myself. I would do nothing with that information. With Lidello’s blood staining the water of the basin I plunged my hands into, I had already done too much. But as I scrubbed the blood from my hands and arms, I pulsed with the need to stand before him again. To check. To know . His magic, the thing that had bound us, was really gone. I needed to know what was left. What I’d left. If I could look at him now as he was, vulnerable and broken and powerless, could I finally sever the connection between us?

My heart throbbed as I dipped a cloth into the water and wiped at my face. My dress was a hopeless case. I’d have to hope Lidello had a cloak I could drape around myself to hide it. The idea of wearing anything he’d owned might have made me shudder before, but it didn’t now that he was dead. I could retreat to my room the way I’d promised the guard I would, change my clothes, and then… well, it wouldn't be impossible to give him the slip. Perhaps I’d climb out the window.

Not that I was going to find Draven. I hadn’t made that decision.

Not yet, anyway. I had to hide a body first.