Cautiously, I walk back towards her cell. “This is Reneta’s?”
Demica nods, and I take the trinket as she says, “My bet is they’re in Belingrad. If they’re not, Roger Barclay will know where they’ve been taken. He’s Diran’s father. He was closely involved in... in everything.”
She avoids my eyes, hiding from my gaze. But she can’t hide from her own shame, and I see it plainly now. She crosses her arms over her chest, shrinking into herself as she goes back to sit on her bed.
I drape the trinket around my neck with a sigh, my anger deflating as I say, “Thanks, Dem.”
She nods, still avoiding my eyes. “Just... whatever happens, promise me that you’ll get Marica somewhere safe. Promise me you’ll get my daughteroutof Belingrad.”
I rub my forehead, a headache already forming. The thought of Marica complicates this situation in ways I still need to pick apart, but at least in this, Demica and I want the same thing. Demica’s daughter doesn’t deserve to suffer for her mother’s actions any more than I do.
“I can’t promise that,” I say at last. I don’t take promises lightly, and there are so many unknowns that I can’t guarantee anything. “But I’ll do everything I can.”
Before Demica can respond, the dim dungeon is suddenly illuminated. It takes me a moment to realize the glow is coming from me.
Arlon’s spell is bright around my neck, yet even through the fabric of my shirt, I can feel the heat emanating from it.
“Shit,” I hiss. “I have to go.”
“Don’t forget about her, Galiva,” Demica calls after me, but I’m already halfway up the stairs, my escort right behind me. I ignore theguard as I hurry for the courtyard. The palace rests at the top of the hill, the city spread out below it, and from my vantage point, I can see the Crux in the distance.
The sun is low in the sky, but in the gloaming, the main tower stands out like a beacon. The magiline shines, and I realize that it’s not the same glow that I remember from when Arlon raised the shields. No, the tower shines like the silver does when a divining is within reach. It’s beautiful, but the sight of it makes dread drop like a stone into my stomach.
Yet even as I watch, the colors start to fade, slower this time than that first flash a few days ago. My dread does not.
Symon has me back to the Crux in record time, and when I reach the atrium, Garrett, Bridgette, and half of the wizards in residence appear to be waiting for me. I hold up a hand to forestall questions that I don’t have answers to as Bridgette says, “You need to see this.”
I follow her and Garrett into Arlon’s office, yet to my surprise, she doesn’t stop at his desk. Instead, she leads me to the false wall, opening it with a wave of her hand. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me that she has access to the spell stores and the heart of the Crux below.
Garrett stays at my back as Bridgette leads the way down the winding stairs. I’ve only been down here once, when Arlon collared me for my abjuration mastery, but the memory of the magiline crystals isn’t something I’ll ever forget.
“I was filing some spells away when the flash happened,” she says. “I heard something like - likeglassbreaking. I went down to look, and, well...”
Her voice trails off, and I realize all at once how strange it sounds to hear Bridgette afraid. But then I see what she’s looking at.
The monumental crystal that makes up the main tower of the Crux is... cracked. A jagged fracture mars the otherwise flawlesssurface of the stone. I step forward, running a hand down the length of the crack. It reaches up from the base of the massive crystal, stretching almost as tall as I am. It feels oddly warm to the touch.
“That... surge caused this?” Garrett asks.
“I’m not sure. It’s been some time since I’ve been down here, but... that crack may have even begun the last time it happened,” Bridgette says.
I let my hand fall away from the crack before I look around the softly glowing chamber. I wrap my hand around the spell Arlon left me. Down here, its power seems to thrum. A wave that ebbs and flows.
No, not a wave. I know that rhythm.
It’s a heartbeat.
It’s apulse.
Strip Search
Remember that as much power as wizards of the Crux carry, our authority does not supersede the Crown. When dealing with the Crown or any of its representatives, it’s imperative you show them proper respect. We are, at the end of the day, servants to the Kingdom of Straetham.
Fundamentals of Magic by Eroland Lockhart
I WATCH WITH A NUMBsort of shock as Nik digs through my pack. He tosses my spare clothes aside before he finally pulls out the rest of my spell strands. He adds them to what’s already around his neck, and watching him tuck every last spell I’ve made under his shirt feels like a violation. Finally, the crystal my mother left me goes into his pack.
He’s not wearing his armor, I realize. Just a shirt and breeches. There’s not even a sword on his hip. Just that godsdamned knife, now returned to the sheath on his belt. He was so confident in catching me that he didn’t even feel the need to armor up.
