Four charges up the stairs two at a time and cuts off Kane’s path, standing like an immovable wall between the warrior and the king. “You will not touch our king. I can only guess the damage you will do.”
“You would rather your king die?” Queen Lockhart’s question is as sharp as the blade of the guillotine.
“I would rather our king is not used as a pawn in a condemned man’s last attempts at saving his neck,” Four sneers. “Magick is rarely given freely. It often comes with a price. One I am not sure Pentacles will be able to repay.”
“From what I saw inside the palace, Pentacles can afford to pay nearly anything,” I say, wincing when the guard digs his fingers into my bicep.
“You…” Four’s gaze snaps to me, his eyes narrowing. “Do not think I haven’t uncovered the truth of where you come from.”
“I do not care if they were birthed by dragons, so long as my son lives,” the queen snaps. “Now unhand her.”
The guard shoves me forward, and I manage to say upright, my arms windmilling by my sides.
“And what if news of this magick makes its way to the other kingdoms?” Four thunders. “They will see its use as an act of war. What are we to do then?”
“Is that not the very thing you have claimed to excel in resolving? Is your strategic prowess not why you have grown so close to my son, the king? You were supposed to protect him, prevent this. You failed. Now I must clean up your mess, and I have come to realize this is far from the only one you’ve made. Take care, Four, or you may end up in Blackthorne’s place on the guillotine.”
The muscles in Four’s jaw twitch as he struggles to maintain his composure, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“Do it,” the queen commands. “Save my son.”
Kane kneels beside the king. Alderic’s trembling ghost-white hand reaches out, and Kane takes it in his.
Sensing his friend, Alderic takes a deep, quaking breath. “You have come to set me free.” His words are rough wheezes that shudder through his body.
“I am here to help you, my king, my brother.”
“There is no taste, no sun. The world is empty,” Alderic mutters, his eyes unfocused, lost in a delirious haze. “Oh, brother, forgive me. Forgive me…” He writhes once more before his hand falls limp, and his breathing evens out, slow and rattling.
The card in my bodice hums against my chest, syncing with the very essence of Kane’s magick as he holds his hands over Alderic’s wounds and murmurs noiseless words.
Soft golden light falls from Kane’s palms. The faintshimmer is delicate and ethereal, but with each beat of my heart, it expands until it cascades from his hands and over the dying king like liquid sunlight.
A gasp reverberates from the crowd as the healing magickal light continues to pour over Alderic. The glow intensifies, swirling and pulsing, spinning through the air and enveloping the king in a cloud of golden brilliance that lifts him from the stretcher.
Queen Lockhart watches with bated breath, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white. Marion and McDougall stand nearby, their eyes never leaving Alderic. The entire kingdom holds its breath, waiting for the truth.
Dead skin drips from his wounds, mingling with the rain and splattering wet and rancid against the wood planks. The crowd’s gasp seems to pull the very air from the amphitheater. The guards stiffen, their hands inching toward their weapons.
“Wait!” I throw myself between Kane and the guards. “Let him heal King Lockhart. Let him finish.”
The golden light continues to pulse, each wave of energy bringing new life to the once-dying king. The light is warm and radiant, surging around Alderic like a gentle tide. His deathly pallor fades, his sickly-gray skin flushes healthy and rosy. The steady rain washes away the last bits of fetid skin from his abdomen.
I take a deep breath, the air clean and rich with the scents of pine and woodsmoke. Kane’s scents. Kane’s magick.
He continues to move his hands over Alderic’s middle, plucking the air, commanding the magick that’s been his since birth.
A velvety gold patch knits itself together within the gaping wound. The shimmering threads of magick twist and weave, sparkling like stardust. The aurous fibers spread slowly, filling and closing the wound as Alderic floats back down to the platform.
The queen falls to her knees beside her son, tears streaming down her face as she hugs him, her sobs muffled by his chest.
“The king lives!” McDougall shouts, and relief washes cold through my limbs as the crowd cheers.
It’s cut short when Four steps forward and raises his hands, commanding silence. “But what is the price for this magick? What other curses will befall our kingdom now that we have allied ourselves with a witch’s bastard?” His words are a venomous hiss, sending ripples of doubt and fear through the gathered townspeople.
The golden glow from Kane’s magick fades as he rises to his feet, his eyes locking onto Four. “We are brothers, then.” He’s calm, yet there’s an underlying threat that makes my heart race.
Four’s face is a rigid mask of feigned ignorance, but the flicker of recognition in his eyes betrays him.
