There. A small patch of stone where no rain falls. The water splits in the shape of a person. Vana grabs Daromir’s arm and points. He doesn’t need to say anything. Daromir charges forward, Vana at his heels.
The shape in the water darts away, angling for the nearest large tunnel. Not fast enough to evade the piercing strike of a razor-sharp icicle.
Blood splatters in the water. The shape crouches without a sound of pain—then darts off in three different directions.
“Fuck,” Daromir spits.
“That one,” Vana says, darting after the just-a-bit more real figure.
Daromir yanks him back. “No, we’re done.”
“He’s getting away!” Vana protests.
Daromir grits his teeth. “My job isn’t catching him. It’s keeping you safe.”
The cave falls silent except for Vana’s ragged breath. The faint patter of rain. Vana wipes the water from his eyes and stops the rain with a slight flex of power. Magic runs electric beneath his skin, wanting more, wanting to explode. Holding it back, Vana crouches at the blood-stained stone. If he can soak up the blood with a handkerchief, even diluted by water, perhaps a blood mage can track the assailant down.
Except there’s no blood on the stone. The puddled water hisses a sickly gray-green instead, and unnatural pockmarks mottle the patch of stone.
Drasgard run up, late to the sounds of conflict. Daromir orders them to fan out and search for a soaking wet, injured person. He also calls for a blood mage, clearly thinking along the same lines as Vana.
Vana straightens up, uncaring of how bedraggled he must look. “No need for a blood mage. The attacker used acid to pollute the spilled blood.”
He makes eye contact with Daromir, who looks just as grim. An illusionist assassin—this was a professional.
An expensive professional. Far more dangerous than a scorpion moth.
?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Daromir
“Honestly, I didn’t expect anyone to catch them.” Daromir rubs the back of his neck, firm fingers bringing relief to tense muscles. Then he remembers the new strength of the bloodbond, and Vana’s reaction the last time Daromir rubbed his shoulders. Face flushing with embarrassment, guilt, and inappropriate heat, Daromir forces his focus back to the present.
He’s in the hallway, taking a briefing from Indra and Zuzana, while Vana bathes away the cold rain and dirt of battle. Which is another thing Daromir shouldn’t be thinking about.
“How hard could they be to catch? They were bleeding and soaking wet!” Zuzana says peevishly.
Indra tugs one of Zuzana’s pink braids. “They had illusion magic, idiot. They wouldn’tlookbleeding and soaked in rain.”
“Oh. Right.” Zuzana grabs her wife’s hand before she can pull another braid. Daromir catches a brief caress before Indra pulls away, stern and professional. “Who has illusion magic, anyway?”
“No high house in Draskora,” Daromir says. “I’ve seen minor tricks at masques, but nothing like this.”
Indra frowns. “There’s a clan up north that breeds a lot of it. It surfaces more frequently in South Fellrin than other places too, but it isn’t associated with a particular house there. Doesn’t breed as true as fire and ice and shit.”
“And shit?” Zuzana demands. “You’ve seen a shit mage wielding shit magic, and you didn’t tell me?”
Indra grins at her wife. “I’ve done a lot more than just see you, beloved.”
“Do you two need a room?” Daromir asks, more snappishly than he intended. He sighs, pulling himself together. “Coordinate with the palace drasgard on the search, but don’t rely on them for security. We don’t know who to trust.”
“You mean we know exactly who to trust.” Zuzana holds up a brown, callused hand. “I can count them on my beautiful, talented fingers.”
Deeper in their chambers, movement tugs Daromir’s soul. Vana must be done bathing. Did he dress in the bathroom or walk nude to his wardrobe? Questions and images Daromir shouldn’t be considering. He’s already violated Vana enough through the bond. Yet keeping his thoughts away from Vana is a skill Daromir has never practiced.
“How many air and light mages do we have in Vana’s drasgard now?” Daromir asks. “They’ll be the best at unobtrusively searching for illusions.”
