“Diehle’s behavior has been consistent for a quarter of a century, and it never bothered you to the extent you needed to intervene.” Larkin’s attention moved to me again, giving me another long, assessing look. “So, brother,” he gritted out in a low and breezy tone, although his interest was anything but, “why did you break our rules? What made Diehle deserving of punishment now?”
“It was overdue. We are the few people who could deliver it,” Cirrian provided. Instead of meeting his brother’s eyes, he took a remarkable interest in the damage they’d caused.
“You’ve put Sayier in the compromising position of hiding your reckless behavior from the Bavelon.” He continued to study Cirrian, searching for answers in a situation that made no sense.His question sparked my own curiosity about why my bond to Cirrian unsettled Larkin so much.
“You killed Diehleandtethered your magic to this human.” Curiosity mingled with frustration, then Larkin stiffened, his expression becoming pensive. “Andthere’s uncollected magic.”
Crossing the room with liquid grace and practiced stealth, he hunted for the uncollected magic.
“Stop,” I demanded when he headed for the stairs. He stopped mid-movement, holding his position like a statue. Rushing to him, I placed a hand on his arm. “You can’t go up there.”
His voice was soft but held the edge of challenge. “Can’t? Surely you don’t believe you have the capabilities to stop me?”
They were precise in their wording. Seemingly hyperaware of the importance words held in creating spells and creating binding oaths. Where I’d considered it unnecessarily pedantic, they held a reverence for the significance and power of words, urging me to be equally cautious with mine.
“I am correct, there is uncollected magic here,” he posed to Cirrian, searching his face that remained an impassive mask. Perhaps it was years of familiarity, or Larkin was particularly perceptive, but disappointment shrouded his face. Seconds later, he disappeared. Tossing the bag of produce and eggs aside, which wouldn’t do anything to stop Larkin, I sprinted to the guest room. Mind racing and heart pounding, I had no idea how I’d stop him collecting the magic.
Larkin stood over Amelia, examining the marks Cirrian had left on her.
“This can’t be,” he told me regretfully. Making several rote movements with his hand, lances of silver light coiled around his fingers like a spool of thread. It slowly unwound and inched toward the markings on Amelia.
“No!” I darted toward him, slamming into a ward. Smashing my fist against it, I waited for it to dissolve like the few wards that managed to cause me slight resistance. It held strong.
“Please.” My voice was reedy with desperation.
Helplessly, I watched as the magic Cirrian had placed on Amelia became a pearl glow and pulled from her, intertwining with Larkin’s magic as it pulled away. The ward held under my ferocious pounding. No give, not even a pacifying undulation. Based on Larkin’s grimace, it took a great deal of effort to hold the ward and perform his magic.
I thought of my bond with Cirrian and how distraught it had made Larkin. Cirrian had used the bond to jolt me out of the mer-creature’s thrall, so I hoped I could use it in a similar manner. Somehow pull from the magic that bound us or force my erratic and inconsistent magic to make an appearance. Concentrating, I imagined the bond, searched for it, willed it to activate. To do something. Anything.
Nothing.
Refusing to give in to despair, I put everything I had into thrashing the ward. I got moments of renewed confidence when I believed it wavered, although that could have solely been sheer optimism. I’d come too fucking close for it to end like this. To dodge one shadow god’s collection only for another to execute it on a whim. The howl of anger and desperation didn’t sound like me. Larkin looked in my direction with a pitying look of regret.
Cirrian materialized in front of him. Seeing his work slowly being destroyed, he shoved Larkin, sending him careening across the room to hit the floor just short of the wall. His recovery was so fast it was a blur of movement. I couldn’t determine if he’d walked or transported back to Cirrian, who was examining the markings on Amelia.
I was still locked behind a ward. “Cirrian,” I whispered. Noticing my restriction, his mouth moved as he waved a hand inmy direction, collapsing the ward. I’d made it two steps before I slammed into another.
“Let me go, Larkin,” I demanded.
He responded by cuffing a hand around Cirrian’s neck. His anger and frustration had morphed into a turbulence of shifting emotions.
“Why do you do this to me—to us, Cirrian?” Sorrow stirred in me at his heartfelt desperate plea. An unexpected wave of sadness that he’d been placed in the predicament hit me.
“I’ve grown accustomed to your recklessness,” Larkin said. “But this? You’ve reversed a collection. You’ve killed. Why do you behave as if our rules are merely suggestions, when you know the penalty for breaking them? I can’t have you harmed over this.”
This wasn’t the time to point out the contradiction of him trying to beat the hell out of Cirrian while proclaiming his desire to keep him from harm.Nah, I’ll pass on drawing attention to that.
“Release me,” Cirrian demanded through clenched teeth.
I was expecting another bout of violence, but Larkin’s fingers slowly released.
Cirrian immediately returned to Amelia, studying the damage to his spell. Several minutes later, it looked like I was watching a surgeon at work as he mouthed spells, his fingers twisting and curling to mend the spell.
“The time has been restored, give or take a few minutes,” he disclosed. “Perhaps you should resume your tasks.” It was better than him tapping at some imaginary watch. “I didn’t stop a collection.” He breathed into a sigh. “I simply halted it to give Kara time to reverse a curse.”
Larkin nodded, urging him to continue. Cirrian’s hesitation prompted him to add, “Your explanation needs to include why you’re bonded to a human. It appears that you’ve extended akindness accompanied with cruelty. Explain it.” He turned on me. “And why would you agree to such a thing? Are you naïve enough to believe you can undo a curse? Or arrogant about your connections and resources?”
He’d moved back to Amelia, observing her with a new kindness. But the pity he’d shown me earlier had returned. “Do you need more time to process her death?”
