Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(13)
“You’re making people nervous,” Fred said, after the last messenger exited the room, leaving us alone.
“Blame your sister,” I muttered, throwing myself into the chair across from him with enough force that the wood creaked. I’d been almost to the gates when she’d stopped me in my tracks, leaving me to stare helplessly at the blizzard while she negotiated whatever disaster she’d stumbled upon. Or instigated.
It smacked of fey magic – powerful fey magic – and their involvement couldn’t be good. My uncle hadn’t provided the foretelling that had ultimately freed us out of the goodness of his heart – there was something in it for him. And if there were something in it for him, the Winter Queen would be doing her damnedest to counter him. The question was, and had always been, what did Summer have to gain from the curse being broken? And, conversely, what did Winter stand to lose?
“Cécile will have reasons for what she did,” Fred replied, interrupting my speculation before walking over to the illusion boxing Aiden away from the world. The man had been scratching and picking at my magic, and I wished Marie would hurry up with finding a place to lock him away. “She’ll probably even think they are good ones,” he added.
“I would have thought Sabine would temper her recklessness.”
Fred laughed as though my comment were ludicrous, then knocked a fist against the illusion. “What’s he doing in there?”
“A good question.” Marie stalked into the room. “And you might have more care, gentlemen. I should not like for our plan to fall apart because you were not mindful of who is listening.”
I’d spent the better part of my life being mindful about who was listening, but I let the comment slide. Blocking the doorway, I let the barrier holding Aiden turn transparent. And swore at what I saw.
My magic was streaked with blood and bits of fingernail; and though the tips of his fingers looked worn down to the bone, the wild-eyed Aiden continued to claw away, mouth open in muted screams.
“God in heaven, let him out,” Marie shrieked.
The second the barrier dropped, Marie flung herself at her son, but instead of welcoming her comfort, he snapped at her like some wild animal, a string of violent expletives streaming from his lips.
She recoiled, then rounded on me. “You said he’d be fine.”
“I said no such thing.” Pinning Aiden to the floor, I kneeled next to him, searching for any sign of sanity in his mad gaze. “He’s desperate to fulfill his word and we’re preventing him. He’s losing his mind.” And I’d never seen anything like this before. At least, not in a human. Did my father know his peon had been rendered useless and this was his way of disposing of him? Or…
“Help him.” Marie’s fingernails dug into my arm.
“I can’t. The only way to end this is to kill my father.” Or to let my father win.
“If he dies, I’ll make you pay.” Her voice was a whisper, but the threat was clear. And I didn’t think it mattered to her that the world might pay along with me. I needed to think of a solution, and quickly.
“We could drug him.” Fred was leaning over my shoulder, his breath coming in short little whistles past my ear. “Can’t harm himself or anyone else if he’s out cold.”
“Do you have something?”
“I’ve a sleeping draught in my chambers,” Marie answered, but she didn’t move.
“Go get it,” I snapped. “And Fred, linger in the corridor and keep everyone out. The last thing we need is an interruption.”
Both leapt into action, leaving me alone with the ailing lord. I watched his labored breathing for a long moment before asking, “Is there anything of you left in there, Aiden du Chastelier?”
There was power in a name – even in a human one, and he slowly turned his head, some level of sanity returning to his gaze. “Yes.”
“Good.” I sat back on my heels. “If you endeavor to hold on to that, I’ll endeavor to see you freed of this foolish promise you made.”
“Do I have your word on that, Your Highness?” He cackled softly, throat convulsing.
“No.” I tilted my head, listening to the frantic beat of his heart. “I’ve made a few foolish promises of my own of late, and I’m finding them quite taxing.”
“Wise.” He rested his forehead against the stone. “I was young. I didn’t know what I was doing when I made those promises to your father.”
“I’m not interested in your excuses,” I said, wishing Marie would hurry up. “And blaming one’s poor choices on youth is a derivative excuse most often employed by the old.”
“Not excuses,” he said. “Just an explanation. And I might never have another chance to voice it.”
Talking seemed to have improved his lucidity, if nothing else, so I shrugged. “Confess away.”
“I promised to cede the Isle to him peaceably should the trolls ever be freed of the curse.”
“I’d gathered that much,” I said, then bit my tongue to keep any further sarcasm from passing my lips. “Why?”
“I was young. Foolish. Desperate. And the curse had held for centuries, so what were the chances of my debt being called?” He twitched against the magic binding his wrists. “And I didn’t realize what giving my word to him really meant.”