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“The faas have brought a meal for you,” Pyrenth said with a gesture to the table as we returned to the main room, where there was enough food of sufficient variety to feed me for a week. At the sight and smell, my stomach woke up and not-so-gently reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything since…damn…since before we’d left Szerain’s palace. No wonder I was cranky.
“There is clothing in the wardrobe in the bedchamber,” Pyrenth added. “If you require anything else simply touch the sigil by the door.”
I managed a nod and a polite smile, and as soon as the reyza departed I fell upon the food with very unladylike gusto. As my hunger faded, my fatigue increased, but I continued to eat until I realized I was nodding off with my fork halfway to my mouth.
Pushing away from the table, I gave an even more unladylike belch, then tottered into the bedchamber, kicked off my shoes, and barely made it under the covers before collapsing into sleep.
Chapter 12
The mug of chak in my hands steamed in the chill morning air as I stepped out onto the balcony. A chaise lounge upholstered in maroon velvet nestled against the wall, along with a small table of the same dark red wood as my wardrobe. Large stone pots in the corners of the balcony held trees at least ten feet tall with gracefully draping limbs and blue-green leaves as large as my hand. Smaller planters along the wall contained a variety of purple and yellow flowers of varying hues. A gentle scent drifted around me, like vanilla and roses, and I couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure at the entire effect, despite being weirded out by everything else going on.
Wards and sigils flickered along the edge of the railing, and I cautiously extended my hand past them. Beyond the parapet frigid air touched my hand, which told me that at least some of the wards were there for climate control. My hand didn’t meet any resistance, so apparently none of the wards were meant to contain me. Then again, the three-story drop was probably sufficient for that purpose. I didn’t bother trying to get a better look at the wards. With the collar on it was too difficult to see any details, and I knew it would only leave me frustrated and annoyed.
I gazed out toward the grove while I did my best to parse the uneasiness that plagued me. Smaller trees, leafless for winter, clustered around the white trunks of the grove which were crowned in vibrant green and purple leaves as though on a midsummer day. Little bat-bird things fluttered through the canopy, their cries melodically sharp. Craggy, snow-covered mountains rose close beyond—steep and austere, with a beauty of their own, and distinctly different from Mzatal’s green realm. To the right, cliffs fell away to a turquoise sea.>I took a gulping breath. “H-he had me in a diagram—locked me down with potency. He called his essence blade and…started to unwind the mark.”
“Why did he not finish?”
I sucked my breath in as his eyes penetrated mine. I could feel him reading it from me, as if someone was literally moving through my head. It took me a couple of seconds to find my voice before answering. “I pushed him away, scattered the diagram,” I managed. “He said I used grove potency.”
Rhyzkahl continued to read deeply, eyes narrowing. “How did you get here?”
“I asked the grove to bring me here,” I told him. And boy, was I ever regretting that decision right now.
He let my wrist drop. The burning eased without the full contact, but the lingering blood still stung, like lemon juice on a sunburn. He began to trace sigils on the cylindrical shield. With the collar off I could see them clearly, but I didn’t have the faintest clue as to their meaning or purpose.
A tingling began behind my sternum, in the same place I’d felt the cramping at the grove. I lifted my hand to rub the spot, but Rhyzkahl let out a low hiss and reached toward me. His fingers grazed my skin as he closed his hand into a fist. I sucked in my breath as the strange tingle shifted to a deeply uncomfortable pulling sensation, as if he was tugging at the muscles of my chest. A dim arcane glow seeped from between his fingers, and a thread of potency trailed from his hand to my sternum.
Without warning, he yanked his hand back. Pain ripped through my chest, and I cried out, dropping to my knees within the cylinder. Shaking, I hugged my arms around myself as the pain dulled to a lingering, pulled-muscle discomfort. The whole process reminded me way too much of the horrible purification ritual. I was supposed to be safe here, I thought in deep misery.
“He failed to recall you,” Rhyzkahl snarled. “And now he has no chance of it.” I dragged my gaze up to see him grasping a complex sigil, tendrils twitching as if he held a mass of dying snakes.
He flicked the fingers of his other hand. The potency around me dropped, and the sigils vanished in a brief flare of arcane sparkles. He reached down and grasped my arm to draw me to my feet, then steadied me as I swayed.
“Mzatal,” he said with venom, “is devious and he is cunning. This—” He held his right hand before me and slowly closed his fist over the twisted, faintly pulsing sigil until there was no more light. “—would have destroyed you within minutes if it had not been extricated.” He opened his now empty hand and shook it, as if ridding himself of the detritus. “It had been activated very recently. He was most determined that you not come to me.”
I tried to work some moisture into my mouth. “Kill me?” I echoed. It didn’t surprise me at all that Mzatal would try to do so, but that he’d almost succeeded, even after my escape, was pretty damn unnerving.
Rhyzkahl’s expression softened as he pulled me into an embrace. “Yes, dear one. He likely triggered that implant when he pursued you here. It was in the process of unwinding to implode, and was very nearly complete. He…” Rhyzkahl hesitated a breath. “He would stop at nothing to use you toward his own ends, and to keep you from being with me.” He put a finger under my chin and gently tipped my head up, smiled down at me. “Where you belong.”
I put my arms around him, but uncertainty lingered. “Why did you have me tied up?”
He lifted a silky eyebrow. “You, a summoner of some skill, had just come from Mzatal.” He stroked the back of his fingers over my cheek, a frown touching his mouth. “Until I made assessments, I could not risk even a single tracing from you, for the welfare of all who reside in my domain.”
“Oh. Right.” It made perfect sense too, damn it, and annoyance curled through me that I hadn’t realized it. That sort of thing was standard procedure for any released hostage. Well, not the arcane assessment part, but the don’t-trust-them-until-they’re-checked-for-weapons-or traps part.
“You sent him a demand,” I said. “What would you have done if I hadn’t escaped?”
“I would have come for you, of course,” Rhyzkahl replied without hesitation. He lifted his bloody hand. “And was in final preparation to do so.”
I didn’t know what that meant and, frankly, right then, didn’t care. A shiver raced over my skin. “I just want to go home.”
“And you will as soon as it is possible,” he reassured me. “There is no summoner in my realm to accomplish it. I must confer with others about what method is most feasible.”
“All right.” I let out a shaky sigh. “I’ve had an amazingly shitty couple of days. Are you going to keep me locked up in here?”
“Here?” He stepped back and waved a hand dismissively toward the room. “No, you will be taken to chambers I have put at your disposal.”
I dared to feel a sliver of relief. “Thanks.”
