The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price (39 page)

He’s watching us.

“Son of a…” I pushed myself back away from her and stood up. “What’s the matter?” I shouted at the corner. “Threats and torture not enough, you sick fuck? You had to send your whore to win me over?”

Craning her neck, Sienn followed my gaze. Her expression was wild as she looked back at me, but she didn’t even try to come up with a lie. She just sat there.

Furiously, I fastened my breeches. “How could you let him use you like this? Or was that story you told me just a tale to play at my sympathies?”

“That was true, Ian. All of it was true. Please,” she begged. “Stay with me. We belong together. Fate—”

“Don’t!” I reached down and snatched up my gear in one swift lunge. “Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it.” I threw the door open, so hard it slammed back into the wall and bounced off. Catching it as I stormed out, I threw a violent glance at the corner. “She’s all yours.”

THIRTY EIGHT

I
looked at Malaq’s empty bed and groaned.

I wanted to roll over and ignore it. Sleep pulled at me like hands in the dark. My blankets were warm. The bed was a welcome change from the ground. I’d dreamt of nothing for the first time in as long as I could remember and it felt good. But I’d played this game with Malaq once already and it didn’t end well. So I threw my legs over the side of the bed, armed myself, and went in search of him.

The upstairs hall was quiet. The majority of the rooms were unoccupied and empty. The rest were locked, with sleep sounds emanating from the other side.

I thought about finding Jarryd’s room, but Malaq had no cause to be there. Between the drink and Sienn’s magic, Jarryd was likely out cold till morning.

Muffled voices filtering up from downstairs, I headed toward them. Flames from the hearth painted hulking shadows on the wall of the stairwell as I descended into the main room. The shadows took form and became the stocky bodies of six Langorian soldiers. Marking their positions, I walked out onto the floor.

One man directed me with a hostile glance and an impatient jerk of his head to a grouping of three, tall-backed chairs near the fire. Two were occupied. Having a good idea by whom, I kept a hand on my sword and made my way over.

Malaq, in the middle, was hunched down in his seat. Eyes aimed securely downward, legs outstretched, ankles crossed, with a mug of something sitting on his chest, he didn’t acknowledge me in the least. Sitting to his left, his brother’s hawk-like gaze was on me in an instant.

Adorned in enough black to be night itself, King Draken of Langor took a sip of his drink and smiled. “Troy,” he said, revoltingly pleasant, “how good to see you. I trust you slept well?”

“Bastard.” I threw myself down in the empty chair to Malaq’s right. Gesturing at the cloak on his shoulders and the bag on the floor, I said to him, “Going somewhere?”

Maintaining a silent, stony vigil of his boots, Malaq replied, “Darkhorne.” And Draken laughed; a low, amused sound that instantly stabbed holes in my patience.

I glared at him. “How’s my spell treating you, Your Grace? You still
look
crazy.”

“Then I am in like company, am I not?” His laughter dying, Draken tilted his head, examining me. “No,” he said with disappointment, “I’m not. You’re not quite there yet, are you? How unfortunate. I thought the dreams would have crippled you by now.” He sniffed. “It would have been nice to have you grovel at my feet tonight.”

“You know,” I said, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

He flashed a tense smile. “Speaking of being crippled…how does it feel to be using magic again?”

“You tell me. You must have a good idea what it’s like for a Shinree to channel…since you own half of Jem Reth’s soul.”

“Ah. I told Reth you were smarter than you looked.”

“Smart enough to get his dream-weave broken.”

Worry lines contorted Draken’s highborn features. “No matter,” he said, shrugging them off. “The damage is irreversible.”

“I’ll find a way. Maybe in that old book Reth kept under his pillow?”

The lines came back. He rubbed at them. “I don’t know why I agreed to his damn dream spell. Having you drawn and quartered would have been much simpler.”

“Hold on,” Malaq barked. Curiosity had finally eaten through his steady demeanor. “What dream spell? What damage? And who the hell is Reth?”

“Reth is a dead man,” I said plainly.

Draken spared me a frown. He transferred it to Malaq. “The spell, my dear brother, was to keep your friend busy and out of the way. Break him, if I was lucky. Apparently, I wasn’t.”

Malaq chewed on his lip. His eyes darted between us like he had a head full of questions and accusations—for both of us. But Malaq was in a dangerous position. He couldn’t afford to show me sympathy or be too eager to cow to his brother. So he lowered his head and drank.

“The book,” I said to Draken. “Where did Reth get it?”

“Let’s see,” he sighed, “where would one find an ancient Shinree artifact?”

My lips curled at his sarcasm. “You dug up the ruins of the old empire.”

“Not personally. That was Jillyan’s project.”

“What was she looking for?”

“Something to tell her how to make me sane. You know, that poor girl was never meant to be Queen. She was such a timid little thing when she was young. Our father never appreciated her...sensitive side,” Draken said delicately. “He tried to beat it out of her, actually. I told him it only made things worse, but…luckily, she outgrew it. Jillyan actually took to ruling quite well when it was forced upon her. But she never stopped looking for a way to save me. As a result, with all that research, she’s developed quite an extensive knowledge of the Shinree. Not to mention a peculiar fascination.” He winked at me. “Jillyan does like her pets.”

Thinking of what my healing cost in Kael, I said dryly, “So I’ve heard. How did she learn about the journal?”

“She didn’t. Jillyan had no idea it existed, until she found it. All she knew was that the answer to breaking your spell must lie within the Crown of Stones. So she went to the one place that might have information on how it worked. It took years—tunneling at night, working in secret to keep the Rellans from discovering. But, eventually, she unearthed miles of structures buried beneath the ground.”

“Where does Reth fit in?”

“He was assigned to the digging crew. When he arrived he had no record. There were no papers of sale, no documents of breeding. He didn’t exist.”

“That had to be a mistake. An oversight,” I said, thinking of Sienn and the mislabeling of her name.

“I assure you, Reth’s enslavement was no oversight. Under the same impression, though, my sister, ever the curious one, had him weaned of
Kayn’l
for questioning. Imagine her surprise when he turned out to be useful.”

“He might have been more useful if you hadn’t joined souls and turned him mad.”

“Jem understood the dangers of our bond. He is a motivated man who will do anything to free the Shinree. Whereas you, Troy, are content to be Rella’s lapdog.”

I grunted at him. “Did you come all this way just to flatter me?”

“I came, as you requested. To barter for that little piece around your neck.”

“I don’t think I said anything about bartering.”

“Come now. There must be something you want. Money? Land? A title, perhaps?” Sly and persuasive, he whispered, “Neela Arcana?” and every muscle in my body constricted. “So,” Draken grinned eagerly. “You’ve discovered it’s her. What an unpleasant moment that must have been.”

I forced my voice steady. “She’s not yours to offer.”

“How chivalrous,” he teased. “She’s not yours either. But she can be.”

“What about your wedding?”

“I can be persuaded against it. Besides, who am I to stand in the way of a man’s dream coming true?” I said nothing and he leaned toward me. “Seriously, Troy, have you thought about what that means? All those nights you started out in her arms, happy and in love. And then woke up alone…with your cock aching. You could feel her on you. Taste her. But you couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t fuck her. Until now.” Watching me, he wet his lips. “Would you like that? Would you like to feel what it’s really like inside there? Because I’m betting it’s warm, wet, and hungry.”

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. I had to clench my teeth and grip the arms of my chair just to stop a ‘yes’ from bursting out of me. But I did.

A few hours ago I wouldn’t have. Draken’s lewd proposal would have sparked a delusion or a phantom touch. Either would have undone me.

Now, with the spell broken, Neela was just a painful memory. A deep-rooted temptation I couldn’t quench. And that was something I’d dealt with my entire my life.

“No,” I said.

Shock dampened the enjoyment in Draken’s eyes. “Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you. The answer is no.”

Slowly, his dismay slid away. It became a gradual smile, deep and full of meaning. As if he had something else in reserve. “Then perhaps, you would prefer another of Aylagar’s brood?”

“Another?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What are you playing at?”

“Neela is not the only Princess in the castle.”

“Aylagar bore only two daughters, Draken. One you sent to plague my dreams. The other has been dead a long time.”

“Elayna is a few years older than Neela. And a bit used,” Draken grimaced. “But she is certainly not dead. I just saw her this morning.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s a shame.” Draken pretended to inspect his sleeve, brushing at a speck of dust; drawing things out. “Because, trust me, Troy, if you secured her release, Elayna will show you gratitude in ways you will find most pleasing.”

“You’re lying.”

“I most definitely am not. That woman knows her place is on her knees and to tell you the truth, I think she likes it.” He moved on to shine a dingy spot on the cuff of his left boot. “And rest assured there’s enough family resemblance to satisfy your lustful craving for Arcana women.” Suspending his grooming, Draken flashed me a wicked grin. “Mother, daughter, sister…really Troy, someone should give you a medal.”

My eyes on him were fierce. “I was there when Aylagar got the news of Elayna’s death. I saw the message.”

“Well, that explains it,” he said, feigning exasperation. “Rellan messengers can be so unreliable.”

“They found her body in the mountains, Draken. Along with the men you sent to kidnap her. None of them survived.”

“If I recall, the poor, frozen, little thing didn’t have much of a face left.”

“No, she didn’t. The wolves saw to that.”

“Well, they certainly ate someone.”

“Enough!” I snapped. “Elayna Arcana is dead.”

“Elayna Arcana is in a cell underneath Darkhorne, lying in her own filth.”

Draken and I scowled at each other. Malaq continued (as he had been) scowling into his drink. No one said anything for a long time and the room seemed to grow smaller, the flicker of flames in the hearth louder.

It was Malaq that spoke first. “My Lord, please tell me this is a ruse.”

“Sorry, little brother.” Draken gave him a sad face. “I didn’t intend to reveal your cousin’s captivity like this, but your witch does bring out the worst in me.”

Malaq looked numb. “You’ve really held the true heir to the Rellan throne in Darkhorne for the last ten years?”

“More like, almost twelve,” Draken corrected him.

“Why?” Malaq said, working hard to hide his revulsion. “You could have ransomed her at any time, used her for leverage. Let her go,” he suggested forcefully.

“To be honest,” Draken said, “she was forgotten.”

“You son of a bitch,” I growled.

Draken’s brows came together. “I don’t think I like your tone.”

“Why the charade?” Malaq asked him. “Why make it out like she was dead?”

“Don’t be so naïve, little brother,” Draken scorned. “The ransom for a child is considerably higher after the mother has had a chance to drown in grief for a while.”

“Goddamn Langorian swine,” I muttered.

“Don’t blame this on me, Troy,” Draken countered. “Elayna was overlooked because of the chaos that ensued after the war—chaos you created with the Crown of Stones. All these years you’ve been tearing yourself up over Aylagar’s death, but it was her daughter you should have been grieving for. She became an animal in a cage because of you.”

The image unnerved me. Probably though, he was lying.
But if he isn’t…

“So is that a yes, or a no?” Draken made a show of trying to read my expression. “It’s a fair trade. And if you keep the lights low, she truly does resemble Neela. At least from behind.”

“Gods!” I shot up out of my chair. “Do you think I would use Aylagar’s daughter that way? No matter what Reth’s spell has done to me I would never—”

“Oh, yes you would,” he broke in, his voice dripping with pleasure. “All those dreams, all that dark, beautiful flesh. You used every piece of Neela. Many times. But,” he said firmly. “If you’re truly done with her, and if you
don’t want Elayna, I’ll take them both. There’s nothing in Langorian law against having two wives.”

Rage burned in my stomach. “Elayna is dead. And the dreams are over. You can’t use them against me. None of it was real.”

“It was real enough at the time. So real, that when you lay eyes on your little, Arullan beauty for the first time…” Draken left off in a husky laugh. “The spell may be broken, Troy, but can you honestly tell me that you wouldn’t give up your own life to have five minutes beneath Neela’s skirt?”

Malaq stood abruptly. He emptied his cup in one, long, furious gulp, went to the bar, and slammed it down with such force that Draken’s guards pulled their weapons.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Draken called after him. “You don’t approve?”

“No,” Malaq replied, loud and curt. “I don’t.”

“It was a harmless spell,” Draken reasoned. “Or would you rather I take your friend’s heart out of his chest?”

Malaq’s glare was frightening. “It sounds like you already have.”

Draken trained a quiet, feral look on his brother. It put me in mind of a wolf ready to pounce.

“Draken,” I said sharply. “I have a counter offer. Elayna’s life for yours.”