Death Marked (29 page)

Light flared in Karyn’s dark eyes, fierce and hungry, and doubt shivered through Ileni. Karyn caressed the dog with one hand and murmured a brief spell—too brief; the bulk of it must have been prepared before. Ileni’s stomach
twisted. Karyn had been
ready
for this—

But it was too late for second thoughts to make a difference. Magic poured into the wooden dog and leaked into the air around it.

“Now,” Karyn said. Her eyes were alight, almost madly so. “Let’s take care of our little assassin problem.”

“Now?”
Ileni gaped. “You think—you’re just going to go through? Right now? Into the caves? You’ll be dead before you can take a step.”

“Oh, no.” Karyn leaned forward. “The caves are a death trap. You know that, and I know it. That’s why no one is going there.
He
’s coming here.” Her teeth flashed white. She reared back and threw the dog—not just with her arm, but with her power. It arced across the bright blue sky, tumbling over and over like a falling bird, and settled lightly atop one of the Judgment Spires.

Karyn was smiling—or rather, hinting at a smile, as if the two of them were sharing a private joke—but the rest of her face made cold dread swirl in Ileni’s stomach. “Call him.”

“What?”

Karyn lifted both arms above her head and brought them down. Dizziness ran through Ileni’s body, followed by a swift wave of nausea. She didn’t need to reach for the
lodestones to know her magic was gone. She didn’t need to, and she
didn’t
, though it cost every ounce of willpower in her. She focused on Karyn’s face, on the sorceress’s glittering, predatory eyes.

“You won’t get the magic back,” Karyn said. “I’ll never give it back, not unless you prove you’re on our side. Call him.”

“You think he’ll
come
? Like a dog at my call?” Ileni tried to laugh, but what emerged was a sob. “Don’t underestimate him.”

Karyn’s whole face was as sharp as her fierce, triumphant smile. “If he thinks you’re in danger, he’ll come.”

“No.” As if this refusal would change the fact that she had already betrayed him. Ileni swallowed hard, past the solid block in her throat. “I’ve given you what you need to win this battle. I won’t lure him to his death.”

“Because you love him?” Karyn sneered.

Evin jerked, and despite herself, Ileni glanced at him. Then quickly away.

“I won’t do it,” she said. And she was talking to Evin, as much as to Karyn, when she added, “I’m sorry.”

Karyn laughed.

“No need to be,” she said. “Your answer, while disappointing, is not entirely unexpected. He’s already been told you need saving.”

Understanding rushed over Ileni.

“You know.” She stepped back. “You know Lis is sending messages to the assassins.”

Karyn stroked a finger against her cheek. “Of course I know. She honestly thought she was fooling me.” Her lip curled. “Lis always was a stupid girl.”

Which was how Karyn had known Sorin was the new master. Because she could tell Lis’s messages were going to someone new, even if Lis herself wasn’t skilled enough to realize it. But if Karyn knew, why hadn’t she stopped Lis . . .

Ileni took another step back. Karyn hadn’t stopped Lis because she could use her. To send false messages that Sorin would believe.

I know what Karyn has planned for you,
Lis had taunted her.

You’re in danger now,
Sorin had said,
more than before. Open the portal farther, and I’ll come through to you.

“You told Lis I was here, back when you first brought me, because you
wanted
Sorin to know.” Ileni forced herself to stop moving. There was nowhere to run, not anymore. “And you told Lis I was in danger. That you planned to torture and kill me. So she would pass it along.”

Karyn laughed. “Oh, yes. Right after talking to you, she flew away from the Academy so she could communicate with
your lover. I’d imagine he’s ready to play the hero.”

Ileni didn’t doubt it. She didn’t doubt it even before the air around them wavered, the ripple of power making her whole body vibrate.

“No,” Ileni said. Above the spire, the sky was solid and heavy. She screamed, “Sorin,
don’t
!”

But he was already there.

He stood atop the Judgment Spire like a bird poised for flight, a powerful and graceful creature, slim and taut against the fierce blue sky. He kicked the wooden dog over the side, and it fell, tumbling through the air and banging against the side of the spire.

Ileni met his gaze across the vastness of the space between them. His eyes were black and fathomless. And there she stood, on a windy plateau, alone with two imperial sorcerers.

Only two.
Because Karyn hadn’t dared wait long enough to summon the others. She needed Sorin to think it was Ileni, on her own, opening the portal.

So he wouldn’t suspect there was a trap waiting for him.

Ileni began to laugh, high and wild. Both sorcerers stared at her, but she didn’t care. For a moment, she didn’t even care which side she was on.

Karyn had made a fatal mistake.

Ileni felt the sorceress’s trap being sprung, a surge of magic that twisted and zigzagged across the vast space between the plateau and the spire, headed for Sorin. She didn’t bother to shout a warning. She just watched.

There was nothing to watch, not until the last second. The spell was invisible.

So was the shield Sorin had prepared.

It was all silent menace and still blue sky, and Sorin, motionless, a dark shadow with white-blond hair. Silent as a picture, until the spell hit the shield and the world erupted.

Light flared between them, all around them, so bright Ileni threw her hands over her eyes. When she peeked between her fingers, there was nothing but the light, blazing white, covering Karyn and Sorin and the space between them. Ileni sensed the two sources of light pushing at each other, one trying to overpower the other, but there was no visual sign of a fight. Just the light, vast and burning.

Then it exploded, so bright it wasn’t even a color, and Karyn screamed.

Ileni didn’t turn, not until a thud—and Evin’s horrified gasp—jerked her attention from Sorin. Karyn lay crumpled on the ground, eyes closed, unmoving. She wasn’t dead, but it would take her a while to recover from the backlash.

Ileni wondered how long it would take Karyn to understand her error, in assuming Sorin wouldn’t be prepared for a trap sprung by Ileni.

He did love her. But he wasn’t stupid.

A flicker of motion made her whirl back to the spire. Sorin lifted his hand, and a blurred black line flew across the blue sky. Not magic. Just a dagger. It flashed right past Ileni, passing inches from her shoulder.

This time, Evin’s gasp ended in a choked scream.

This time, Ileni leaped for him when she heard the thud.

She wasn’t in time to catch him. He fell backward, his body hitting the plateau hard. Ileni skidded across the few steps between them and dropped to her knees, right into the pool of blood spreading across the gray stone.

Evin’s eyes were wide and dark with panic. Ileni grabbed his hand and couldn’t help reaching for the magic, desperately and hopelessly. The lodestones were so close, and they might as well not have been there at all. She couldn’t heal him.

“Evin,” she whispered, and saw a drop of water hit his cheek before she realized she was crying. He blinked and tried to lift his hand toward her, but his arm fell back to the ground. He shifted his head slightly, so it rested against her leg.

“Ileni,” he gasped, and let his magic go. His eyes met hers. “It’s yours.”

At first, as the power flowed into her, Ileni didn’t understand what was happening. And then, as Evin made a gurgling, groaning noise, she did. She had felt this before, at Death’s Door—but not like
this
. Not the power of a full sorcerer.

It was real and alive, nothing like the power trapped in lodestones. It belonged to her. Her skin tingled, her hair brushed her face, and the world was a living, beautiful place. She was conscious of every breath of air, every prickle of her skin, every surge of her heart that pounded happiness through her.

Evin gasped in air, and she jerked and stared down at him. He was watching her, a faint smile on his face, as if even in dying he was happy for her joy.

While she, in her joy, had not even thought about him.

But she did now. She met his murky eyes, glazed with pain, and her heart stopped. The world was bright and beautiful, and in just a few seconds he would no longer be in it.

And she knew what she had to do with her power. With his power.

The magic connected them, letting her feel his death as well as his life, the faltering of his body. What was wrong inside him. She knew exactly what to do. She slapped one hand over the gaping hole in his shirt and the other on his forehead. The spell poured out of her as if she had last practiced it yesterday.

And the power flowed with it.

Evin screamed once, his back arching and his eyes squeezing shut. Then he thudded back to the ground and his eyes opened wide, black lashes glistening. He stared at her as if he had never seen her before.

With a great effort, he lifted his hand and closed it around hers. Their joined hands rested on his chest, still slick with blood. His heart pounded, hard and steady, against her palm.

Ileni looked away from him at the spire. Almost at once, her eyes met Sorin’s. He stood staring at the two of them, his expression frozen. She couldn’t read his face at all.

Not his face, but she saw the twitch in his shoulder, and knew he was reaching for another weapon.

She’d had a number of vague, desperate ideas—plead with him, go with him.
Go with him.
But Evin’s head was still on her lap, and her hands were sticky with his blood, and Sorin was reaching for another knife.

“Evin,” she gasped. “He won’t stop. You have to—”

Evin lifted his head and managed a short, curt spell.

Power lashed across the sky. Sorin flew backward, off the spire and into the empty air. His hand opened, and Ileni recognized the object that fell from it—a standard assassin’s dagger, turning over and over as it plummeted to the ground.

Evin muttered something, barely intelligible, and a ball of fire burst into the air above Sorin.

Raise a ward
, she had been going to say. But Evin was nearly dead, and Sorin was the man who had almost killed him, and both of them were soldiers. There would be no
wards
in this fight.

A plea caught in her throat as Sorin fell. The ball of fire chased him down the sky, hissing and roiling, orange and white against the brilliant blue. All she could do was watch.

He didn’t scream as he plummeted. It was almost graceful, the way his body twisted and arced, aiming at the impact far below. The fire flickered at his heels, spitting out tendrils of flame.

“Evin,” she gasped. But before she could form the impossible plea, a surge of power exploded through the emptiness below Sorin. The air rippled and opened. Sorin fell into the opening and was gone.

Ileni recognized the shape of that spell, its intricate weavings, and knew at once a Renegai Elder had formed it.

Evin struggled to a sitting position. His breath hitched, and Ileni felt another surge of power burst from him—an imperial spell, blunt and vicious and vastly powerful.

“He’s already through,” she cried, and then realized that Evin wasn’t trying to close the portal. He was holding it open for a few seconds longer.

Long enough for the ball of fire to follow Sorin through.

The air rippled violently, again, and a wave of heat surged over Ileni. Then the sky was bright and clear and empty, and Evin’s head sagged back against her legs. He closed his eyes.

“Don’t die,” Ileni said, and for a dizzying moment she wasn’t sure who she was talking to. Evin’s eyes opened a slit, and his hand moved, weakly. She tightened her fingers around his.

He tried to smile, but only managed a half-curve of his mouth—more a grimace than his usual grin—before his eyes closed and she was alone.

She sat for a long time, unable to move or think. Evin’s heart beat steadily under her hand. It was the only thing she could focus on. He was alive.

She couldn’t bear to think of who might not be alive anymore. Who might be dead because of her.

But if Absalm had opened the portal, he could have defended the two of them against fire. A fire shield was relatively simple, and could easily encompass two people . . . if Absalm wanted it to. If he didn’t see it as a chance to get rid of Sorin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, even though the one she was talking to would never hear her.

And wouldn’t have forgiven her even if he had.

CHAPTER

27

K
aryn didn’t wake until morning, which gave Ileni a long, long night to think about what she had done. She spent most of it staring into the mirror—just a mirror now, a pane of reflective glass—trying to figure out who she saw staring back at her.

Traitor. Killer. Coward.

But none of those were right. What she saw in the mirror was the person she had always, until very recently, believed she was.

The girl who would change the world.

Not, as it turned out, in some distant imagined future.
And not in one dramatic act. But slowly. Slowly, and laboriously, and without any certainty that she would ever succeed.

The girl in the mirror smiled at her, bright and luminous despite the tear streaks on her cheeks. The smile of someone who was no longer lost.

Finally, hours after nightfall but hours yet before dawn, she trod down the dark corridors to the room where Girad lay. Evin was there, of course, leaning over his brother’s bed. When the door opened, he straightened, his eyes bright.

Ileni’s heart stuttered in her chest, then leaped when she saw the reason for his joy. Girad’s eyes were open.

She walked over. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I need candy,” Girad said.

She laughed out loud, which offended Girad. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Be nice,” Evin said. “She saved your life.”