Page 57 of The Second Death of Locke

“Then I will remove your power,” Epras said.

Cleoc raised an eyebrow. “How do you intend to do that?”

“Because,” Epras said, leaning forward, his smile poisonous, “ I shall control Locke .”

“I believe we’re getting off topic,” Kier said quietly.

“My lord, my lady, I have agreed to marry Epras’s choice and name her my consort.

I have agreed to restore the Isle. But I will do it only on the understanding that the fighting will cease and the united council will re-form.

” He looked utterly resigned to his fate.

“There is no reason for the death to continue.”

“And you will restore power equally?” Scaelas asked.

A pause. “I will equip Epras and Luthos with a renewal of power,” Kier said, “since they have rescued me and restored me.”

Cleoc and Scaelas exchanged a glance. Grey drew a breath—so this was what they wanted. It was in Locke’s power to distribute wells unevenly; because Grey’s father had been Scaelan and their alliance was strongest, Scaela was the most power-rich nation when the Isle fell.

But now? Now it was all going to crumble. And Kier had agreed to it because he did not think he had the power for his promises to be fulfilled.

“We will not assent to that,” Cleoc said. As if sensing her unease, her horse danced under her. “All power should be restored equally—you cannot convince us of this farce. Locke is your prisoner, not your ally.”

Epras smiled thinly. “Semantics.” He nodded back to his soldiers. “And it matters not—we have brought the festivities here. Our chosen bride waits, and we have agreed to this meeting so you can witness the marriage—and our alliance.”

Grey’s heart dropped. Kier was still not looking at her, but it hardly mattered. She reached. She prodded. She pushed .

The thinnest thread of her power caught, and it held.

She pushed as much emotion his way as she could: love and apology and fury and relief, as much as she could muster. She was so busy pushing that it took her a moment to realize that the only feeling Kier was sending back was cold, hopeless dread.

“Eron,” Grey murmured. “Something is wrong.”

“Besides everything?” he whispered back.

Grey focused on the tether, tuning out the meeting, which had devolved into bickering about land parcels and borders if an alliance was formed. She focused only on Kier, and the dread he was sending through the tether, and tried to answer with her own comfort.

She would not let him marry into Epras. She would not let him take this burden on—he could not even know, now, that he was truly a player in this game.

“If I do something reckless,” Grey asked, “will you cover me?”

Eron sighed. “Yes,” he said.

Grey turned back to the tether. She focused on Commander Reggin, imagining the firm lines of his face, trying to send the image to Kier. Kier frowned, glanced up. He looked at Grey, then at Reggin. Grey nodded, ever so slightly.

A pause. A beat. She felt the moment he started pulling from her—not enough to do any true harm, but enough to cause notice. Behind Scaelas, Commander Reggin straightened—then slumped in his saddle, sliding around. Not dead, but unconscious.

Scaelas turned, aghast. “Did you just kill my commander?”

Grey was already moving. “To Scaelas!” Eron cried, summoning the guard to close in around the High Lord, to protect him. “They have attacked!”

“To Scaelas!” someone called back. The sound of metal on metal rang through the air as the field dissolved into chaos.

Grey took advantage of the confusion. Already, the guard folded around them, Reggin’s Hand recovering his unconscious body. The guard raced away, bearing Cleoc and Scaelas off, as Luthos and Epras’s guards scrambled to fold around their own sovereigns—leaving Grey an opening.

She tethered, pushing power at Kier. A scream as two of Luthos’s guard fell with no apparent reason; Grey felt the slice of the deaths as Kier pulled from her.

Behind her, she heard Scaelas calling for his forces to retreat.

“Go, Eron,” she urged—she would not risk him, too.

He spared her only a glance before he shook his head.

“I’m commanding you to trust me,” she begged. “ Run .”

He hesitated, looking at her for a half-moment more before he turned, following her order.

“ Get Locke!” someone shouted. Grey nearly looked over her shoulder—but they were screaming about Kier.

Kier ducked out of the way of a Luthrite guard trying to grab him—she pushed another swell of power at him and felt the answering tug. And then she was over him, so close—she reached out her free hand and he grasped it, his foot finding the stirrup as he launched behind her onto the horse’s back.

His arm wrapped around her, half hug, half for balance, and she felt his agony through the tether.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled into her neck even as he pressed a kiss to the leather of her pauldron, as close as he could get to her skin.

“Saving your ass, as usual,” Grey said. He straightened and pulled from her, more easily now that they were in contact.

She stripped power from the wells around her, trying her best to focus only on enemy forces—which was not difficult, as Luthos and Epras now directed their companies only at her.

She turned the horse and rode back toward the sea, the cliff; back toward Scaela’s retreating army.

“I love you,” Kier said against her skin, even as he ripped another rope of power from her middle. She hissed at the sensation—they could not keep going this recklessly.

“Save your declarations for when we’re off the battlefield,” she said, wincing as he directed his power at another mage.

She focused on those wells, even though her head ached, and tore the power from the root. She tasted blood in the back of her throat as Kier cut them down.

“Grey,” Kier said, his voice bleak. “Look.”

She did. From the top of the ridge, she saw Luthar and Eprain’s full companies spreading out, forming an arc to cover every escape route—coming straight for them.

She glanced on either side, but they were walled in, and faced with the cliffs behind them.

The riders were bearing down on them, and fast .

“Do you have enough?” he questioned, testing the tether.

“No,” she said. She swallowed hard—even if she pulled from the other wells on the field, it wouldn’t work. She was too tired, too depleted. If he tried to kill the riders who bore down on them, he might take her out, too.

She looked at him. “Do you trust me?”

He grinned, the sight like a hot metal brand on her heart. “Indubitably.”

She glanced at the cliff. “It’s time for us to get out of here.”

Kier dismounted, swinging Grey off with one arm as she dropped down, too. Like children, he gripped her hand as she turned to face the cliffs. She pulled off her helm, casting it aside. It wasn’t high enough to kill them—only high enough to hurt.

Gremaryse , Grey thought to her patron namesake as they broke into a jog. If you ever thought to claim me, now is the time to do it .

Together they picked up speed, racing to the edge of the cliff. When the empty air came, Grey was ready for it.

They fell and fell, the air pushed from her lungs as they hit the surface of the water.

The sea was merciless and terrible. As she dropped, falling through the dark, she clawed for any idea, any instinct of what she was meant to do—but she only felt her own cloudy terror.

And now, still miles from the place where Locke once was, she felt the dark sea coming to claim her.

She reached for the surface, but she could not find it.

She fought out of her armor, weighing her down, drowning her.

She couldn’t find Kier, either; she could only feel his pain and panic echoing in the tether like an animal cry.

She opened her mouth, and the water swelled inside of her.

She gasped, choking, and then she wasn’t swimming at all.

Forget about us , someone called in the back of her mind.

She opened her eyes, the salt water burning, and tried to claw for air. “I remember!” she shouted into the sea, where no one could hear her, where no one would watch the High Lady of Locke as she died. “I will never forget.”

I gave everything for you . She heard Severin’s voice, curling in the back of her brain. I gave everything. And what would you give, to bring it back?

Grey squeezed her eyes shut against the raging sea. Take it , she thought desperately, salt water invading her lungs. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. Take it all .

A hand grasped hers and tugged just as the sea started to roil.