ROWE WAITED PATIENTLY for Darshan in the circular tower-tent. Warm sunlight filtered in through the tall stained glass windows, painting colors across the floor. The colors moved, shifted, twinkled with each slight rustle of the illusionary trees outside. He stared at the floor with a painfully tight grasp on the arms of his chair, watching the colors as they moved.
“Lord Blackwell,” Darshan greeted with a smile, falling weary into a chair that materialized behind him.
Rowe jerked from his thoughts, blue eyes flashing up from the floor to meet the rebel leader’s curious gaze.
“What brings you here?” the Water Mage continued.
“I’ve come on behalf of Saran.”
“Ah, yes. She did say she would send word on her punishment …” Darshan slid to the edge of his chair, resting his arms across his knees. “And?”
“It’s complicated. We may not be able to win this war without …” Rowe swallowed. “The king has placed a Bind on her. She cannot use her power. The Bind is also connected to his life. If he is hurt, she is hurt. If he is killed, she is killed. The only means of avoiding hurting her is if he dies naturally. We haven’t located a key to free her. That is my next goal once I’m through here.”
Darshan frowned, settling back in the old wooden chair. “I see …”
“If you raid the castle and kill the king, Saran will die with him. Neither I nor Keleir will allow you to kill him if it means losing her. You understand this, don’t you?”
“I understand.”
Rowe tilted his head. “And your thoughts?”
Darshan pursed his lips together and stared at the floor. Then he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes. “I loved her mother. Her mother loved me. We couldn’t be together because of her forced marriage to Yarin and the rules that come with those rituals. But we loved each other … It would sadden my heart greatly to lose Saran, but war often involves collateral damage.” His eyes flashed to Rowe’s and held them. “We must strike and rid ourselves of Yarin, no matter the cost.”
“Then imprison him,” Rowe said quietly. “Until he dies of old age or diseases or until we rid her of the Bind. You cannot afford to lose Saran. She is not a casualty of war. Not when there is so much at stake.”
“Are you saying this because you love her?”
“No,” Rowe groaned. “I’m saying it because I love my brother and he loves her. I’m saying it because my brother is losing the war with the Oruke and he needs Saran to keep him stable. If you take Saran away, the Oruke will consume him, and there will be no one to keep the creature in check. She is his Equitas. I know this to be true. You stand to lose quite a bit if you take her out of the game.”
“Game?”
“You know what I mean, Darshan.”
Darshan’s gaze turned piercing, and his face pinched with a frown.
“Have you had any visions?”
“No. The Prophetess has been quiet. No dreams either.”
The Water Mage tapped his fingers against the chair thoughtfully. Rowe fixated on the sound, as if he could decipher what the old man thought based on the rhythm he set. “Your brother is slipping. What is your opinion on the matter?”
“You know what my view of the matter is. I care a great deal for him. I will do anything to keep him. That includes going someplace I do not want to go. He speaks of travel to the Third as a means of hindering the Oruke. He thinks that a world without magic will stop the Oruke’s advances and save his sanity. He wants to go immediately, but I want to hold off until after Salara.”
Darshan nodded. “How do you know the Oruke hasn’t taken control of your brother already? You said he is slipping? What if he already slipped and the glimpses you are seeing now are merely the Oruke slipping up in his act? Of course he doesn’t want you to help with Salara. Ridding the king of the throne and his access to it would hinder his plans. He wants the rebellion to fail. It will ensure his succession.”
“It has already been ensured. Saran and Keleir were married today. He will be king once Yarin is gone.”
Darshan’s lips curled with a cruel smile. “How convenient.”
“Keleir doesn’t want to be king. He didn’t want to marry Saran. He only married her because Yarin tortured her. It was mercy.”
“The Oruke is good at acting human, isn’t he? He knows you and he knows Saran. He knows what you think and how you feel. He is playing you. Of course he wants to take you both to the Third immediately. He will strand you there, without magic to get you home, nor the means of technology to create a Gate. He will leave the two people most likely to stop him in a Deadworld and go about his plans without your threat. He is playing you, Rowe. He has been playing you all along. He fakes this slipping so it increases your desire to save him. But he will betray you.”
“He is not playing me,” Rowe growled.
“And you know this for sure?”
The Lightning Mage glared at Darshan and hesitated. “No.”
“If he is to prove himself to you and to me, he must go through with our plans. He must depose Yarin and relinquish control of Adrid to someone more trustworthy than a monster.” Ishep gave a sympathetic sigh. “I understand it is hard to believe. You love your brother very strongly. It blinds. In the end, all the things that Keleir claimed to not want, he did anyway, did he not? He married Saran. He accepted the title of Name Heir. He says one thing and does another. Are those the actions of your brother? Is that the standard you hold him to?”
Rowe’s lips pursed. He stared toward Darshan, long, hard, but not entirely at him. He looked past the old Water Mage into his own thoughts. Keleir had been acting unlike himself, and he’d attributed it to the ground the Oruke claimed on his mind. Was there truth in Darshan’s words?
“I will speak to my brother about Salara. I will push for him to help fulfill our promise. If he disagrees, then Saran and I will finish this on our own. We will not go to the Third until you sit on the throne.”
Darshan smiled softly. “I have every confidence in you, but what will you do if the Oruke doesn’t agree with your terms?”
Rowe stood up, smoothing his hands over his tunic. “Then I will kill him. If what you are saying is true, my brother died long ago.”
“Your brother died the moment the Oruke entered the womb. He never had a chance to exist. This is the way of Orukes. It is unheard of—impossible—for it to be any other way. If by some miracle the Oruke bonding couldn’t be completed or he managed to compartmentalize the creature inside him, it will not change the ending of his story. He is the Oruke.”