Page 49 of Magick and Lead (Dragons and Aces #2)

ESSA

I sat at the dining table across from Prelate Kortoi.

Though I wasn’t hungry, I realized I was feeling lightheaded, and Skrathan tradition held that it was bad luck to cross the sea on an empty stomach.

So, I’d rummaged in the icebox and found some food and a dusty bottle of Koratainian Red.

Now, a plate of cold chicken, a biscuit, and some leafy greens sat before me and another before Kortoi.

I poured the wine, then forced myself to take a bite, though at the sight of Kortoi’s smile, the food went tasteless in my mouth.

It was dangerous to be alone with a mage of Kortoi’s caliber.

Though, I reminded myself, I wasn’t really alone.

Charlie had left, and Bo had already gone off down the road in search of his pint, but Othura’s shadow passed by the window periodically as she paced outside—and the gods knew she’d smash through the wall to protect me if Kortoi tried anything.

Othura wasn’t entirely herself, though. Occasionally, I’d feel pain shoot through her, along with an alarming interruption in our connection that I’d never felt before.

And earlier, when I’d dismounted here at the farm, I’d seen something in the glowing orange orbs of her eyes.

A flickering wisp of shadow. Something was definitely very wrong with her. And it was getting worse.

“Now that we’re seated here together, breaking bread like a couple of civilized people,” I said to Kortoi. “I’m going to ask you again. Release whatever hold you have on my dragon.”

The prelate sipped his wine.

“I’d love to. Truly. But if we were to do that now, what’s stopping you from taking that dagger of yours and burying it in my chest?”

“If you don’t release her, I’ll definitely bury it in your chest,” I countered.

“That is a conundrum,” Kortoi said, tearing at a chicken leg with his teeth. “Here’s what I propose. We fly back toward Maethalia as we planned, except instead of taking me back to your rebel camp and?—”

“You’re the rebel,” I snarled. “I am the rightful queen of Maethalia.”

He tilted his head. “You haven’t been crowned yet, Your Majesty.

Regardless, rather than taking me back to your people and torturing me or whatever you had in mind, simply drop me off at Dorhane so I can visit my Lacunae generals.

I’d planned to stop at The Front anyway, on the way back.

Do that—release me on Dorhane unharmed—and I’ll give you the antidote for Othura. ”

I knew enough about dealing with the Gray Brothers. They never offered a deal that wasn’t one-sided and decidedly to their advantage. But I had very little leverage. Much as I wanted him dead, I needed Othura alive more—and Kortoi knew it.

“I’ll think about it,” I said at last.

The prelate gave me that smile of his that could have curdled milk. “That’s all I can ask, Your Majesty,” he said.

After that, we ate in silence, the only sound the heavy ticking of the necromancer clock on the wall.

In that drawn-out stillness, I was aware, more than anything, of Charlie.

How the distance between us was growing moment by moment.

We’d never spent as much sustained time together as we had the past couple of days, and I could feel his absence shifting something within me, the way a moon shifts a tide.

Kortoi’s dark eyes danced over my face. “You know, there’s an easy way to see if you can trust him or not,” he said. Apparently, his appetite was fine, because there was nothing but bones left on his plate.

“Trust who?” I shot back.

Kortoi’s rings glinted as he dabbed a napkin over his mouth.

“You might fool yourself, Essaphine, but you can’t fool me.

We both know who I’m talking about.” He sat up straighter, swished the wine in his glass before taking a sip.

“The two of you make a handsome couple. I’m not much of a romantic—none of us Gray Brothers are.

Still, I can see the appeal of love. The carnal pleasure.

The security of knowing there is at least one person in the world you can rely on no matter what. ”

“I don’t rely on Charlie,” I said.

“No?” he said. “Well, perhaps you could. Wouldn’t it be nice to know for sure?”

I put my hand on my dagger. “You’re talking about scrying.”

Pleasure permeated his too-smooth face. “You know, I taught your mother to scry.”

At these words, I fought the urge to draw the dagger and plant it in Kortoi’s forehead.

How many hours of my young life had I spent trying to get my mother’s attention while she was lost, staring into that cursed bowl of hers?

She always thought there was something important she’d see in those black waters.

Some critical piece of knowledge she’d gain that would allow her to win the war.

Save her kingdom. Find peace. We’d lost weeks, months, years together while she stared into that bowl of hers, looking for answers, while I wandered the castle, a child, alone.

And what had all those hours spent scrying gained her? In the end, the betrayal had come out of nowhere. She hadn’t seen it coming. Or at least, she hadn’t learned enough to prevent it.

“Much good it did her, all that scrying,” I said. “Ollie says the only thing more toxic than listening to the words of a Gray Brother is staring into their water.”

“Ollie! Your intrepid Torouman. Always a sensible fellow,” the prelate said. “Still… one can’t help but be curious…”

A bowl of fruit sat in the center of the table. He slowly reached out, dumped the fruit, then took the bottle of wine and began pouring it into the bowl.

“Don’t,” I warned, but he ignored me and kept pouring until the bottle was empty.

“You could know the truth, Essa. Will Charlie betray you? Will he remain true?”

“I’m not interested in the deceit of your demons,” I said through bared teeth, though it took effort to keep from looking down into the wine.

Kortoi was already gazing into the bowl.

“I see him flying over the water,” he said, his voice low and hypnotic. “I see ships. Hundreds of ships. An armada. An invasion is coming. It will wash over this land like a wave....”

At Kortoi’s words, curiosity rose in me like a thirst, and I felt my gaze drawn down to the wine.

For a second, I saw nothing but dark liquid.

Then, objects began to take shape in its depths, a series of fleeting images in rapid succession.

Charlie’s plane over the water. Hundreds or thousands of ships.

Fire. The towers Charlie had called skyscrapers, burning.

Charlie was trapped inside a smaller building, and it was on fire.

He tried to get out but couldn’t. Flames encircled him.

Smoke filled his lungs, blinding him. He was dying; I knew he was dying.

I stood up in a panic, banging into the table. Wine splashed out of the bowl, and the vision disappeared.

My first impulse was to go to Charlie, to save him.

But that was the trouble with scrying. There was no way to know if what I saw was taking place now, or whether it would take place soon, or in the distant future, or whether it was part of some hypothetical future that would never take place at all.

Even if it was happening now—or about to happen—I had come here to kill Charlie, hadn’t I? If he died and I didn’t have to be the one to do it, that would be the best outcome I could hope for, I told myself—as I clasped my hands together, trying to stop their trembling.

My eyes fell on Kortoi.

“Is this vision true?”

His smug grin made my blood sizzle like grease in a skillet. He shrugged.

My fist slammed down on the table. “ Is it true ?”

“All visions are true in one world or another, Essa,” he said. “But what will come to pass in this world? You must use your heart to discern that.”

I drew my dagger, pacing. What did my heart say? That an invasion was coming to Admar. That felt true. If the scale was as large as it appeared to be, it could wipe away our enemies and end the war. That would be welcome news. But if Charlie were to be caught up in it somehow…

I—Essa the woman—wanted to go to Charlie, to prevent whatever bad fate the vision foretold.

But Essaphine, queen of Maethalia, Irska of the Skrathan—her duty was to escape alive with her prisoner and save her dragon.

To let Charlie die. To break his bond with Parthar as I’d set out to do.

To bond the little stellhan with a loyal and experienced Skrathan, and in so doing, claim a weapon that might secure my kingdom for a generation.

But could I do it? Could I really let Charlie die?

“What will you do, Essaphine?” Kortoi asked in a teasing, singsong voice.

I stepped toward him, brandishing the dagger. “I ought to finish what I came for. Cut your throat and rid the world of you.”

“Yes, but what about your dear Othura?” he crooned. “Do you remember the dragon that attacked you and your mother, Essa? The day you lost your arm? If left unchecked, the poison in Othura’s veins will make her like that.”

His words stopped me cold.

Of course, I remembered that dragon. Even though I’d been only five years old, the memory would never leave me.

The beast had been skeletal, with vacant black eyes.

And it had radiated an empty malevolence that still haunted my nightmares to this day.

Had Kortoi’s dark arts created that beast?

Had he sent it after my mother that day?

Was Kortoi responsible for me losing my arm?

If so, the reasons to slaughter him were multiplying…

But my dragon sense told me he wasn’t bluffing. Cut his throat, and I’d be subjecting Othura to a horrible fate—a fate worse than death could ever be. I’d lose her.

The prelate seemed to understand my thoughts as clearly as if they were written on my face. His grin was one of a man finishing out a game he already knew he’d won.

“But,” he said, “Do as I said. Take me with you. Let me live. Deposit me on Dorhane, and I will lift Othura from her curse. And help you reclaim your crown.”

Othura heard his words through me.

Don’t give in to him, Dear Heart, she said . It’s true; there is something wrong with me. I can feel it. But don’t bend to this snake just to save me. Remember, it’s not so easy to kill a dragon.

Not so easy from the outside, I knew. Their scales could turn away fire and blades and even most bullets.

But from the inside? Perhaps Othura’s will could hold off the prelate’s dark curse for a while—but Kortoi did have the power to destroy her.

The dragon I’d seen in my childhood was proof of that.

“So? What will it be, Essaphine?” the prelate asked. “Kill me and let your dragon die? Go and save your foreign boyfriend? Or take me back to Dorhane and save Othura? If you do the latter, I swear on all the princes of the void that I will make sure you take the throne.”

“You would really support my rule?”

He nodded.

“Why? You led a coup against my mother.”

“I wanted to overturn the existing order,” the prelate said.

“That has been accomplished. But you, Essa, can be at the head of a new order. Bringing you back into the fold has always been our hope. Nay, more than our hope. We need you. There are still a great many people in Maethalia who are loyal to you. And until the crown, the Brothers, the nobles, and the Skrathan are all reconciled, there can be nothing but division and civil war in Maethalia. And it is the people, the common people, who will suffer most. You know it’s true.

So, come. Join in the new regime. Lead it.

And so much blood can be spared. Together, we will win the war.

End the civil unrest. Satisfy the nobles.

Banish the golenae. Give the Skrathan their rightful place of honor. And make a new, brighter world.”

It was a pretty speech. But did I trust him? Believe him?

Not at all.

And yet, for Othura, for Maethalia, what choice did I have? I did not have to trust Kortoi. But I did have to play the game.

“So?” the prelate prompted again.

I glared at him, pushing my chair back and rising to my feet. When I spoke, I heard my mother’s steel in my voice.

“On your feet, prisoner. It’s time to fly.”