Page 46 of Magick and Lead (Dragons and Aces #2)

“You are a traitor,” I said, fighting to keep my voice from wavering.

I’d rehearsed in my head all the things I planned to say to Kortoi before I watched his life’s blood spill from him.

Now that the moment had come, my tongue felt leaden, but I forced myself to press on.

“You tried to take my crown. You turned the nobles against us. You let Issastar be destroyed. You unleashed those horrible golenae on our country. You caused my mother to die.”

“All true,” Kortoi said, taking a sip of his tea. “Sometimes the things of the past must be cleared away to make room for the future, my dear Essa.”

“And you think you’re the future of Maethalia?” I snarled.

“No,” he said. “You are.”

Those were the last words I expected, and for a moment, I was too stunned to respond. Kortoi set his cup down on the table in front of him and stood, straightening his robes.

“Essa. As much as I hate to say it, your mother and all those around her would never have allowed the war with Admar to end. It was how they held on to power. A nation at war needs its mighty dragon riders and their royal knights. But the world is weary of war, Essaphine. And Maethalia needs a leader who appreciates what an alliance with our enemies across the sea could mean.” Here, he gave a meaningful glance at Charlie, who stood watching him with distrust. “You, Essa, are that leader.”

The Admite President, who had remained forgotten up to this point, shot to his feet and began bolting for the door. Charlie whipped his gun around to aim it at his head. Ramos froze.

“With respect, Mr. President—sit the hell down,” Charlie said with such command in his voice that the president immediately sat.

Just then, a side door to the room opened and a man walked in. I cocked my arm back, ready to throw my dagger, then froze. This new visitor bore the blue robes and the long braid of a Torouman.

“Hoatan?” In my shock, the name came out a whisper.

He gave a decorous bow while my mind spun, trying to process what I was seeing.

Hoatan was my mother’s most trusted advisor. I’d assumed he’d been killed in the assault on Charcain—or imprisoned, at least. But now, he stood before me holding a wine glass and a folder full of papers, as if he were just another member of the diplomatic entourage.

I adjusted my grip on my dagger.

“Hello, Essaphine,” he said—like Kortoi, he didn’t sound terribly surprised to see me.

“Why are you here?” I demanded, my words slow and exacting.

He pursed his lips, taking the Torouman’s customary pause for thought before responding. At last, he said, “Remember the Torzame, Essa. I know Ollie has taught it to you, our holy game. We play every side.”

I felt my heartbeat speeding up. “And was my mother just another piece on the board to be knocked off? Was Issastar? Were the Skrathan?”

“I did not kill your mother, nor did Prelate Kortoi, though one may posit that his plans contributed to her demise,” Hoatan said in his low, maddeningly smooth drawl.

“Still, you know the answer to your question, Essaphine. There is no piece too precious to sacrifice, so long as the game is won. What we do, we do for Maethalia.”

“Enough,” I snarled. “Your words twist like maggots. I came to kill this one.” I pointed my dagger at Kortoi. “And when I’m done with him, I’ll deal with you, too.”

I lunged for Kortoi. He didn’t move, but President Ramos did, pulling a small pistol from inside his suit coat. Before he could turn it on me, a gunshot rang out. Charlie.

The president fell back onto the couch, holding his face.

Gods. He killed his own president, I thought in shock.

For you , Othura’s voice added from the back of my mind.

But the president was not dead.

When he took his hands away, the skin on the left side of his face was gone, including his eyelid. But there was no blood. And where his eye had been, something glowed, red as a burning coal.

“A golenae,” I gasped. So that was how Kortoi planned to make his peace deal with Admar. He’d taken the president’s body and replaced it with one of his demons from the void—one that would doubtless agree to whatever Kortoi demanded.

It was a horrible, blasphemous thing to do.

It was another reason the prelate should die.

And the time to act was now.

In a blur of motion, I leapt over the table, my dagger streaking for Kortoi’s heart.

The golenae Ramos tried to grab my arm, but I stomp-kicked him in the gut, sending him flying backwards, where his head hit a side table and he fell limp.

Before I could strike Kortoi, the feeling in the air abruptly shifted, and I looked over to see a bluish aura surrounding Hoatan.

Torouman magic was so rarely used that most didn’t know what form it took, and so secretive that I’d never even been able to convince Ollie to tell me about it.

Many believed it was a myth. But Hoatan was conjuring something now, and it felt like the whole world tipped on its axis as he summoned his incredible power. I stumbled, almost falling over.

But the gun in Charlie’s hand cracked again, and Hoatan’s left leg buckled in a spray of blood.

He cried out, and the feeling of his gathering magic ceased in an instant.

Behind us, there were shouts in the hallway.

Someone was bashing into the door, the impacts rattling the whole room. Time was running out.

Where are you? I asked Othura.

Close, she said. But not there yet. I… Oh no, I… Essa, something’s wrong.

Her connection with me abruptly cut off.

Dread rose like ice water in my chest. But I had to focus. Whatever was happening to Othura, I couldn’t help her now. There was a task in front of me to finish.

I turned back to Kortoi. He stood gazing at me, a stupefying calm and menace in his dark eyes.

“For my mother,” I snarled, bringing my dagger to his neck.

He summoned no magic, made no move to stop me. He merely said,

“But what of Othura?”

I froze as his lips curled into a slow smile.

“What are you talking about?” I snarled.

“All those rats she was gobbling up below the city… rats carry illness, you know.”

This bastard knew full well that dragons weren’t affected by human or rat diseases.

“What are you talking about?” I snarled.

“One rat in particular,” the prelate examined his long fingernails, “carried an especially horrible malady. The Brotherhood calls it The Dark Finger.”

I felt Othura whimper. She was suffering. In pain. But she was still coming closer.

My eyes narrowed, my teeth grating as I glared at Kortoi. “You worm .”

“I may be a worm,” he chuckled. “But I am the only worm in the world with the antidote to save your dragon’s life. And we all know what happens to a rider when their dragon dies…”

“He’s bluffing,” Charlie said. “Kill him.”

But Kortoi wasn’t bluffing. The pain I felt radiating from Othura confirmed it.

My fury rose like a gale, and I pressed the blade of my dagger against the prelate’s neck so hard a thin line of crimson appeared.

He smiled back at me, the sick, triumphant grin of a man who had control over another person—and loved it.

How I longed to take my dagger and hack that smile off his smug face.

Behind us, someone banged against the door again. The wood groaned and cracked.

“Essa…” Charlie warned.

“Yes, Essa?” the prelate whispered. “What will it be? Me, or Othura?”

Gods, I wanted Kortoi dead with every fiber of my soul. But losing Othura would be too high a price to pay. With a growl of anguish, I sheathed my dagger.

“Fine. But you’re coming with us,” I grabbed the prelate’s arm. “Charlie, keep your gun on him.”

Disbelief crossed Charlie’s face. Clearly, he didn’t understand what was happening, but he trusted me enough to nod. “Fine. Let’s get out of here, then.”

But at that moment, there came a final impact, and the door behind us cracked down the middle. Half clattered to the floor, the other half swinging in on its hinges as gunmen in suits swarmed in.

We were caught.