Give the Dark My Love(96)

Master Ostrum drew closer to the Emperor. He was so young, small and weak. He raised his bony fingers in front of the blade, as if that would stop it from plunging into his heart.

I reached for Grey. He squeezed my fingers as if he thought I was scared of the impending murder of the Emperor, but that wasn’t it.

This Emperor . . . he was nothing. He wasn’t a necromancer. He had no power, none at all.

This room. My eyes scanned the iron walls. It would provide protection, yes, but it could also be a prison. Wellebourne’s incarceration was proof of that.

The Emperor looked like a prisoner. He held his hands up pitifully as Master Ostrum advanced, his blade glimmering in the oil lamp’s light.

“Please,” the Emperor whimpered. “I’ve been trapped here for weeks . . . months . . .”

Grey had described a puppet-lord, pulling strings from the protection of this tower.

“I’ve been hiding from—”

Master Ostrum kicked the Emperor in the jaw, his teeth clattering and blood spraying up. His eyes closed as he blacked out, but he wasn’t dead. Not yet.

Hiding from . . .

The Emperor was a coward, but a smart one. He knew the plague was caused by necromancy, and he hid here, in the one place that might protect him, the tower Wellebourne himself had made. He wasn’t the necromancer; he’d been hiding from the necromancer.

Master Ostrum’s lips curved up in a smile as the blade came rushing down to the Emperor’s chest.

No, I thought. Then I said aloud, “No.”

Without thinking, I rushed forward. I slammed my left shoulder against Master Ostrum’s back, and he stumbled, the blade sliding along the black iron wall instead of into the Emperor’s chest.

“Nedra?” Grey asked.

“It’s him!” I shouted, pointing at Master Ostrum. Master Ostrum had never liked the Emperor; he’d been Lord Anton’s friend. They’d plotted treason together.

Ernesta! I shouted in my mind. The last guard was taken care of. Her soft footsteps echoed up the steps. She burst through the door, moving between me and Master Ostrum. Behind Grey, I saw Governor Adelaide, frail and sick.

Master Ostrum had hated her, too.

“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking over the word. “I trusted you.”

“And look at what you became.” Master Ostrum’s voice rang with pride.

I tugged my crucible out, holding it in the palm of the only hand I had left. “You?” I asked again, incredulous. “You started the plague? You were the necromancer all along?”

He had been my mentor, my ally, my partner against the plague. But now he stood there, beaming at me as if everything he’d done had been honorable.

“Where’s your crucible?” I asked.

“In your hand,” he said.

My eyes widened as I realized what he meant. He’d used Grey to lure me here, corner me against the iron walls.

“You told the Emperor’s Guard,” I said, my voice catching up with my thoughts. The Emperor was a prisoner used as bait to lure me here. Master Ostrum had taken control of the Guard and used them to occupy my revenants and separate me from them. I had no protection. Just Nessie—who was strong, true, but perhaps not enough against another necromancer.

“I will take that crucible, girl,” Master Ostrum said, stepping closer.

Attack, I thought desperately to my sister.

Nessie had just single-handedly defeated more than a dozen guards, but she showed no strain. She moved silently and quickly against Master Ostrum. He countered her initial attack, but Ernesta slammed her arm against his. He dropped the knife from numb fingers, and Nessie swooped down, spinning the blade in her hand and plunging it into his chest.

He looked down at the hilt sticking out over his heart.

Then he looked up, meeting my eyes. He pulled the knife out of his body.

There was no blood.

“You cannot kill what is already dead,” he whispered.





SIXTY-SIX


    Nedra



“This has not gone according to my plan, but things rarely do.” Governor Adelaide’s clear, strong voice cut through the room.

I turned slowly—still keeping an eye on Master Ostrum—as the governor straightened, rolling back her shoulders. She was still sick, just not as ill as she had seemed moments before. She rolled Bennum Wellebourne’s crucible in the palm of her hand.

Noticing my gaze, Governor Adelaide held the iron bead up, looking at the cracked surface. “It belonged to a master,” she said, admiration in her voice, “but its time has passed. I’d hoped for something better when I raided the treasury.”

“It was enough to cause the plague, though,” I said. My eyes darted to Grey. He was closer to the door, but I knew he couldn’t escape.

The governor beamed. “The plague was already in the crucible. I just released it from its slumber.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked, spitting out the words. “To follow in Wellebourne’s footsteps?”

“To succeed where he failed,” Governor Adelaide said, as if it were obvious. “All of this, from the very start.” When I looked at her blankly, she added, “There would be no change without rebellion. Even Lord Anton, my opposition, knew that. But he had been a fool. Of course the boy Emperor would veto any election that elevated someone like Lord Anton as governor. If we want our island to be free, we have to take it. And we need an army that cannot fall.”