Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(78)

Finn only looked up at him, as if trying to decide if he was too confident, too stupid, or a bit of both.

Ignacio pulled a red apple out of the pocket of his cloak. He meant to hand it to her, but she snatched it from him without a word and bit into it savagely, juice dripping down her chin.

Ignacio stood, turned on his heel, and strode away. After five long strides he glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Are you coming?”

Finn stood still, her eyes still on the apple core. She tossed it over her shoulder and followed him like a dog after her master, as she always should.

When had she changed from that?

Ignacio. The dark magic purred in his mind insistently.

“What is it?” Ignacio snapped.

We must gain strength, we must spread our touch, only then will we—

“Have the strength to take what is ours from the palace. Yes, I understand,” Ignacio interjected, annoyed. The magic insisted upon filling his mind with images of what lay in wait in the palace, and the promise of untold power that would not fade. He need only infect as many as he could first, for each body he infected would in turn give him more strength, strength to storm the palace and take it for himself.

But each time he had spread the magic to another body, that euphoric burst in power had been temporary. Each body he took quickly expired under the weight of the magic, like an oil-soaked match tossed into a roaring hearth. With each loss, his strength dwindled along with them. He’d infected many from this pub before his encounter with Finn, the power blooming in him with frightening intensity as he’d conjured those strings and halted time around him. But it had quickly faded as those bodies burned away to dust, and he’d been left with nothing but exhaustion and a hunger for more. He could not storm a palace full of guards with this fatigue, this feeling of strength finding him only to trickle away in an instant.

You are not listening. We must seek dark hearts, the magic’s voice came again, an insistent whisper between his ears. Those are the ones that will carry our power without falling apart in a mere moment.

Find them and we will take what is ours from the palace and clear the throne for a true king. And you will be rewarded.

The magic filled his mind’s eye with visions of the power that would pour through him when he retrieved what he needed from the palace. Power that would give him the strength to take every throne that this world had to offer.

When we own the world, the magic purred, there will be no place for her to escape to. Nowhere for her to hide. I will deliver her to you.

Ignacio watched as the vision showed Finn fleeing from town to town, city to city, continent to continent. Every place she went, she saw Ignacio’s face, his reign. With every sight of his power her fear doubled and tripled, crippling her until she fell to her hands and knees, until she could run no more. Finn crawled to Ignacio’s throne, bowing, her forehead pressed shamefully to the ground at his feet. She shook with the fear that she wore so well for him. She begged him to take her back, to let her be his daughter again.

Please, she said, tears running down her face. Her begging sounded like prayers. Prayers to him, her only god. She grasped his hands in hers and pressed desperate kisses against his palms. Por favor, let me come home.

A ripple of euphoria rolled through him, spreading through his body like fire swallowing a dry twig. His hands shook in anticipation.

“Dark hearts?” he said. Ignacio stepped out of the pub and into the bustling marketplace as the sun dipped ever closer to the horizon. He turned his gaze to the north, where he knew the Clock Tower loomed tall somewhere in the distance—a beacon of blackened hearts, chained and ripe for the taking. “I know just the place.”





26


A Prince and a Thief Walk Into a Prison


The sight of the Clock Tower a mere mile before them struck Finn like a fist to the belly. Her fingers tight on the reins, she resisted the urge to turn the still horse beneath her and ride away.

This place was a thief’s nightmare. The Clock Tower was the prison where you entered and only exited as a corpse. To make it worse, they were going to this prison to find Xiomara—a woman with the power to create voids. Finn had certainly never seen a void, nor had she heard of one before the prince had explained the truth of his brother’s death, but she certainly didn’t want to see one any time soon. She swallowed thickly. Her horse whickered, seeming to sense the fear rippling through her.

“Can’t blame you, Gassy,” she mumbled to it.

“Finn.”

Alfie’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. He’d already dismounted while she’d stared at the prison, wide-eyed. He dragged his gaze away from the tower and cocked his head toward the thicket of sugarcane at his side. “We’ll take the horses into the field and hide them there before we head out.”

She nodded at that, her throat dry, and dismounted before tugging her horse into the field behind Alfie’s. The horses whinnied, only quieting when Alfie hummed at them in hushing sounds. When they’d walked deep enough into the field for the prince’s liking, he said, “Doblar.”

At his word, a wide circle of sugarcane bent to the ground, giving them a clear space to leave the horses comfortably hidden, as well as a space for her to set to work transforming him into an elderly due?o. It was a strange request, to say the least. She’d been asked many times to make someone look younger. This was the first time someone had asked her to age them.