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The sudden command took Adelaide aback. “What?”
Kirven bared his teeth. “I can’t take your power as my own, but I can still ensure your magic serves me.”
Serve...no. She remembered all too well how his mark burned. And he could torture her at any time. Take control of her body. He would force her to use her magic to harm.
She swallowed back her fear and straightened. Etiros, give me strength. “I’d sooner die.” Her voice shook, but she stared him down.
Kirven crouched in front of her. “Say you will serve me, or I will torture you again.”
“Because you never tortured Regulus while he served you? You’d torture me sooner or later.” Adelaide raised her chin, even though her lower lip trembled. “I know what you’re doing. You can’t put the mark on me unless I agree. I won’t.”
Before she could so much as flinch, Kirven placed the end of the staff on her stomach. Pain spread like ropes laced with sharp glass wrapping around her torso, then her arms, her legs, even her head. The invisible rope squeezed, and she felt like she should be bleeding everywhere. She fell to her side, writhing in mind-numbing agony. Her mouth was open, and she knew she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear herself. She thrashed against the ropes, against the pain. Kirven pulled the staff back and she curled into a ball. Sobs wracked her body. Fresh tears raced down her face and neck, soaking into her tunic.
Kirven grabbed the rope around her torso and hauled her to a sitting position. She was crying so hard her eyes wouldn’t focus on his face.
“Look at me!” He slapped her. She coughed, choking on her sobs. “Agree to serve me!”
Adelaide shook her head, even though she wanted to give in. A voice in her mind shouted to just say yes, it wasn’t worth it, do anything to prevent more pain now, sort the rest out later. But she pushed that voice away. There would be pain later, even if she agreed. He would have to give up eventually. She had already helped this monster too much. Never again.
He grabbed her face and leaned in close. “If you don’t agree to serve me, once I’m king, I’ll torture your entire family. Your father. Your mother. Any siblings you have. Hargreaves. The pain you’ve just experienced? I’ll make them feel it while you watch. Eventually, people can’t take it anymore, and their minds break, like shattered glass.”
A stifled cry shuddered through her. She pressed her eyes closed. Etiros, please, no! She couldn’t serve him. But how could she refuse?
Kirven’s fingernails dug into her face. “You will serve me, or you will watch your family suffer. And then you will suffer. Like this.”
Ice seemed to spread from his hand, freezing and burning at the same time. Adelaide shrieked and broke free of his grip. Released from the pain, she curled against the wall.
“Serve me, or my first act as king will be to summon your entire family to their slow and excruciating deaths while you watch.”
Adelaide cried silently. Etiros, help me. Kirven’s words replayed in her mind. “First act as king...while you watch.” To do that, he would have to leave her alive. If she lived, she would have a chance to escape and stop him. But she couldn’t stop him if she agreed to serve him like Nolan had. She shivered. She would never choose the same path as Nolan.
Kirven wrenched her chin up. “Swear to serve me.”
“No.” It was a near-silent whisper, but enough for him to hear. Kirven snarled and backhanded her face. Her teeth cut into the corner of her mouth, and she tasted blood.
“Mages!” He threw together a string of nonsensical curse words in Monparthian, Khast, and languages she didn’t know. He stopped short and looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. “Mages...”
Kirven bent down and pulled a crimson handkerchief from his obsidian-accented belt. He dried her face, his expression calm. “I thought I had eradicated mages from Monparth, because no one knew of any.” He dabbed at the blood on her lips. “You’ve been hiding all your life. I was surprised how much magic I pulled from you. All that power, and you hid. Why?”
“Because you killed everyone like me!”
“Not everyone.” He smiled wickedly. “If I had killed everyone like you, I would have had to kill myself.”
She recoiled, but already pressed against the wall, there was nowhere for her to go. “I’m nothing like you.”
He dropped his hand and let the handkerchief fall. “I was you, once. A mage. Powerful, but clueless. Uneducated. Talented but without knowledge, just as you are. I couldn’t help I was born a mage. But because of something out of my control, they took my birthright from me. Because of a centuries-old treaty, I wasn’t allowed to be king.
“My brother,” he bit out the word and spittle flew on her face, “would get everything that was rightfully mine. My throne. My crown. I could be his advisor. My brother and I studied together under the best tutors in government, military strategy, history, geography...but my parents refused to give me a tutor in magic. I was forbidden from even trying to use my power, punished when it accidentally escaped. My oh-so-loving father thought if I didn’t know much about my power, I would be less of a threat.” He laughed bitterly. “He was wrong. It just made me angry. When my mother caught me practicing, they forged a magic-suppressing cuff around my wrist.”
New dismay contorted her face, but she shoved away the pinch of empathy. She wouldn’t pity this monster.
He pursed his lips. “Your parents did the same, didn’t they? Forbade you from accessing the energy burning through you, tried to force you to ignore the roar of power, to pretend you weren’t what you are.”
His words hit too close to her heart, and her gaze fell. Anger snapped her back to her senses, and she snarled at him. “Because of you! Because it wasn’t safe!”
“Different circumstances, same lack of understanding.” Kirven leaned back. “The difference between us is I didn’t accept my cage. I left to find my own tutors. And you know what I discovered? Sorcery is far more interesting. More fun. More...useful.” He reached toward her, and she shied away with a whimper from the torture that would doubtless accompany his touch. He grinned and leaned back. “See? Anyway, I learned quickly. Made some of my tutors nervous. I realized the best way to use a tutor was to have them teach you everything they knew, then kill them by draining their magic. Then they couldn’t try to stop you, their knowledge died with them, and your power temporarily strengthened.”
She grimaced as revulsion filled her.
“When I thought I was ready, I returned to claim my throne and punish those who denied me my birthright. But I miscalculated.” He pulled the left side of his robe and tunic away from his neck and shoulder. Twisting white and pink scars covered every inch of exposed skin. “A gift from one of my father’s mages.” He shifted his collar back into place. “A burn covering most of the left side of my body. Don’t worry,” he said as she stared at his shoulder with horror, “after I learned how to track them all down, I killed every mage in the kingdom, including the ones who did this to me. So no one could stop me next time I tried to claim my throne. And yet,” he cocked his head, “here you are.”
“Then kill me.” She’d meant it as a challenge. But her voice was so weak and desperate, it sounded like a plea.
“Don’t you see? I’m offering to help you. To teach you. All this power, don’t you want to learn how to use it properly? Don’t you want to learn everything you are capable of?” Kirven’s eyes narrowed. “You have a choice, Adelaide. On the one hand, you have a future as Carrick’s wench. He’s immortal, you can’t fight that. A future filled with your family’s pain and suffering. A future of using your talents only when your husband tells you to.”
Her stomach churned, and she looked away.
“On the other hand, you have a future where you can show the world your power. You can control Carrick, not the other way around. You could avoid marriage to him. You can’t have had an easy life, being half Khastallander. If you desire, you would have the power to punish anyone who has ever treated you as inferior for the way you were born. Agree to serve me, and I will make you the second-most powerful sorcerer in the world. I haven’t waited so long to assemble the Staff of Nightfall to stop at Monparth. Together, we will conquer the known world. You could be ruler of Khastalland. I could even make you my queen. My empress.”
She jerked her head up, her lungs seizing.
He laughed. “All right, never fear, I wouldn’t force you. But perhaps one day you’d like to be queen. I’d even let you keep that self-righteous mercenary as your lover. All the freedom, all the power, all the status, all the wealth you desire. But even without the title of queen, you will be a sorceress of astounding power. You would never lose a battle again. Even Nolan Carrick would tremble at your feet.”
“I don’t want that.” Adelaide shook her head, hard and fast, trying to dislodge the voice that whispered she did. “I’m not a sorceress. I won’t corrupt my magic for personal gain.”
“Then what’s the point?” Kirven moved to the stool. “Don’t be unreasonable. I am offering you power beyond belief. I am offering you freedom—from Nolan Carrick, from a society that judges you for your heritage and fears you for your magic. I’m offering you the chance to save your family and friends. Don’t you want to protect them?” He crossed his arms. “Or I’m promising you the pain and suffering and death of everyone you care about. I’m promising you a life as Carrick’s wife and plaything.”
Adelaide trembled and fought growing nausea. It felt as if Kirven had peered into her soul and found all her deepest hurts, shames, fears, and desires. He took her experiences and emotions and twisted them to make his offer, his way of thinking, seem...tempting. No. I’m not him. I won’t become a monster. She swallowed hard.
“Do you think you can bully me into joining you?”
“And bribe.”
“I don’t want anything you can give me.”
It was half a lie, and she knew it. Part of her would love to relax, out of Nolan’s reach. She could give in, and her family would be safe. Regulus would be safe. She could learn more about her magic. But the cost was too great. She remembered the haunted look in Regulus’ eyes as he told her he had stolen and killed for Kirven. To knowingly agree to help the sorcerer murder the king and any other evil actions... Regulus would never look at her the same. Minerva would fear her. Mother and Father would be ashamed. And she would hate herself.
“I will never serve you.”
Kirven’s face hardened. He pressed the tip of the staff against her chest, pinning her to the wall. Her breaths came sharper, faster. “You will.”
Adelaide’s throat worked, but fear locked her words in her chest. Thousands of white-hot needles buried into her, ripping her apart. She screamed and curled forward. Her mind emptied of everything except the pain. The staff moved away, taking the pain with it. She fell onto her side and sobbed.
“Last chance.” She barely heard Kirven over her weeping. “Will you serve me? Or will you watch as I torture your family?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to control her crying. I’ll live. I’ll get free. Regulus will come. The king will have guards. Kirven won’t win. He can’t. Etiros, he can’t win.
“Answer me!”
“No,” she whispered.
“Fine.” He cursed. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back.” He strode out of the shed, throwing open the door so it banged against the wall.
Her throat was raw from screaming. Her head hurt, especially across her forehead. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up in a world without sorcery and evil men who hurt others to get what they wanted. Adelaide closed her eyes, curled her knees toward her chest, and prayed for the unconsciousness of sleep.
––––––––
SHE AWOKE TO KIRVEN pulling her off the ground. Her head still ached, but not as much. Her throat was swollen and parched. Kirven pushed her into a sitting position. The sunlight coming through the open door and the cracks in the walls had dimmed and taken on an orange hue. Outside, the long shadows cast by the trees had deepened to black.
“You want to be difficult.” Kirven moved slower and had bags under his eyes. “Fine. But I won’t have you causing more trouble.” He twisted around and picked up something. Two thick half-circles of hammered iron connected by a hinge on one side. The open sides turned out a ninety-degree angle with a hole in each end. It was just large enough to encircle her neck. Her heart beat faster.
“What is that? What are you doing?” Adelaide tried to squirm away, but he closed the cold metal around her neck.
“You’ll use your magic to serve me, or you won’t use it at all.”
She pulled against the collar. Kirven held it firmly as he slipped a small padlock into the holes where the two halves met. The lock clicked shut. He released the collar, and it settled against her skin.
Exhaustion overcame her panic as all her energy, magical or otherwise, drained away. Not like when Kirven had stolen her magic, but more like how she felt after using a lot of magic when training or fighting.
“What is this?”
“Magic suppressor.” Kirven sat back and rubbed his head. “Tricky spell. Saps a person’s energy. Takes a lot of power to create, which I’m not pleased about. But don’t worry, I’ll be at full strength to commit regicide. Fratricide, I suppose. You’ll find using magic while wearing that exceedingly difficult. You could, but not for long, and you’d likely pass out from the effort.” He sneered. “If you’d joined me, you would have learned how to do this yourself, instead of suffering the effects. But you’re too hung up on ideas of being noble. A true match for the mercenary.”
She wiggled her hands, contorting her wrists to grab the collar. She managed to lift it off her skin, but it didn’t help the drained feeling. Resigned, she let it fall.
Kirven stood. “I’ve contacted Carrick. Someone should collect you before you starve.” He paused at the door. “We’ll see each other again. In the meantime, give some thought to who I should torture first—your father or your mother?” He shut the door behind him.
Adelaide laid back down. The collar weighed against the side of her neck. A single tear fell from the corner of her eye.
The plan had disintegrated. She had failed the king. She had been a fool to part ways with Regulus. If they had stayed together, maybe she wouldn’t be in this mess. Perhaps if Regulus had been there, she might have won. Or escaped. And at least she wouldn’t be alone. Or maybe Regulus would be dead. She shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt her shoulders, back, neck, or hips. That proved impossible.
With nothing else to do, her thoughts wandered. The only spot of light in her dark mind was that people had witnessed her and Kirven’s magic on full display. Perhaps word would make it to the king, and he would be extra cautious. But that was small comfort against all her other concerns. Kirven was more powerful than she had feared. Would any amount of caution or security be enough to save the king?
And who would come for her? Would Nolan come himself, or would he send someone? What would he do when he had her? She pushed that thought away. Where was Regulus? Had he made it to Belanger castle yet? Did he stand a chance against Nolan?
“Please be safe, Regulus,” Adelaide whispered. She cried herself to sleep.
