Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(68)

She’d thrown her old master to the ground, but he was up again a moment later, trying to destroy her. She caught his fist and flipped him onto his back with jarring force. His eyes glazed over, and he slumped, either unconscious or dead.

“We trained you too well,” Jevin said. He held Trevon around the waist, pressing a dagger to his throat.

“Trevon,” Cettie said, walking toward them.

“Ah, not so close!” Jevin warned, jabbing the point of the dagger into his hostage’s throat. Cettie saw a trickle of blood.

Trevon’s eyes burned into hers. He begged her to save him with his gaze. His skin was raw, his eyes feverish, so different from the courtly man she’d known. A vivid memory surfaced in her awareness—the first time she’d suspected Sera and Trevon’s arrangement was not merely a political one was on a walk the three of them had taken in a garden in Lockhaven. The couple had bantered with a sweet familiarity, and she’d caught Sera looking at Trevon with longing. She’d asked Sera about that secret smile later, and her friend had actually blushed. Trevon had clearly been brought very low. But he was still alive.

Cettie kept walking, slow and sure.

“Your father is up there, destroying the soldiers you brought with you,” Jevin said. “And then he will destroy you. You failed us, Cettie. We would have made you our queen, but you betrayed us. And so you will die.”

She could hear shots being fired outside, their noise muted by the thick walls. Still she advanced.

“You want him dead?” Jevin challenged, jutting out his chin. “Do you really want to tell your precious friend that you let her love be murdered? You have the power to stop it, Cettie. You have the power to make a mark on both worlds in a way no one else can. Destiny brought you to us, Cettie. You were born to be our vessel, our queen. Accept your birthright, and I’ll spare his life.”

She vaulted at him. Words were his best weapons. He lied and deceived with every breath. They all did. Talking to him would only give him more power.

While she had no doubt he would do as he threatened, she had a small bit of Everoot left. If she could free Trevon quickly enough, his wounds would be healed.

Jevin’s eyes widened with surprise at her attack. He started to cut Trevon’s neck, but Cettie’s hand grasped his forearm and prevented the killing blow. Power radiated from him—a strength his thin frame belied. She tried to pry his arm away to free Trevon, but it was like pulling on a tree.

Darkness was at Jevin’s core. An unearthly darkness. A darkness she recognized.

His visage twisted with anger. “You cannot defeat me!” he snarled. His silver eyes burned with malevolent power. Yes, her ghost was inside him, the one that had tormented her for so many years. His agent—his servant—his master. Had it always been connected to Jevin? Had he been a secret tormenter for so many years, in league with her eyeless enemy?

She slammed the heel of her hand into his face. His head hardly budged. Then he suddenly released Trevon and, dropping the knife, seized her throat with his hands. She pummeled him, trying to break his grip, but her blows were ineffective. The strength she’d felt earlier was draining from her. The magic was shrinking, failing, as her lungs struggled for air.

She kicked him once, twice, trying to break the chokehold. She was on her back, not even sure how it had happened. Spots danced before her eyes.

“You are nothing! Nothing! You forsook them for us, and now us for them. What are you but a false traitor? Die! Die!”

Then, just when Cettie felt consciousness start to dance away from her, Adam smashed the lantern against the side of Jevin’s head. The blow broke the man’s nose, leaving an angry, weeping welt across his nose and eyebrow. It knocked him off her. Cettie could breathe again.

As she struggled to rise, trying to shake off the fog of unconsciousness, she saw Adam standing before her. The glass from the lantern had shattered, exposing the white-hot light of the Leering fastened to the iron. Jevin covered his face, the light seeming to scald him, or perhaps it was the creature inside him. He swore at them, oath after oath.

Trevon had staggered to his feet, holding his neck with one hand, trying to stanch the bleeding, and a pistol with the other. His arm was shaking, but the pistol was aimed at Jevin’s head.

The villain jumped as the blast boomed. The bullet ricocheted around the room, missing Jevin, who had leaped into the fountain around the Water Leering. Blood dribbled down his face as he stared balefully at them. Cettie felt an invocation of magic, a word of power uttered in his mind.

Kennesayrim.

A whorl of magic engulfed him. A conduit opened, just for a moment, a shaft of dark light pulling him away. It had a peculiar sound to it, like a certain set of chords played by instruments. Then the fountain was empty, and the song had ended.

He had escaped with his life, and she knew he would never stop hunting her until one of them lay dead.

Trevon sank to his knees, the smoking pistol falling from his hand. His fingers were smeared with blood, and his pale face went slack.

Adam rushed to him, catching him before he fell.

“It’s Trevon,” he said to her, setting the prince down.

Cettie nodded, still reeling from the fight. She felt bruises forming on her neck. Her vision had blackened at the edges, but she managed to cling to consciousness. Trevon tried speaking, but his words came out as gurgling gasps.

“Shhh,” Adam soothed, working frantically to stop the bleeding.