Brightly Woven(75)

“Oh, please continue,” Dorwan said.

“All this time,” I said, “I’ve been wondering why you didn’t just twist us away from the king, but it’s because you need him to destroy Provincia first, isn’t it? So that you can sweep in later and take over, just when he thinks he’s won the kingdom for himself.”

“Very good,” he said quietly. “Though I hope you’re not laboring under the misguided impression that I no longer want to collect your blood. The amount I would need would call for your death, and that simply won’t do until Provincia is nothing but rubble and memories.”

I sucked in a deep, angry breath. “You don’t have a curse.”

“It has hundreds of uses beyond curses and poisons.” Dorwan leaned forward in his seat, passing his talisman back and forth between his hands. “Your blood is pure magic. Mixing it with my own would give me power you can’t even imagine. After you destroy Provincia, I’ll be the only wizard left—and with your blood running through my veins, no nation will be powerful enough to defeat me.”

“Spoken like the despicable hedge you are,” I said. “No, you were too repulsive for them, weren’t you? You disgusted even them.”

His face curled into a snarl, and he backhanded me across the mouth so hard I tasted the very blood that tempted him.

I struggled to pull away from his gaze.

“You talk of curses as if they’re some sort of rarity. They aren’t. Everyone is cursed, from the farmer with the pain in his back to the girl who can destroy worlds,” Dorwan said. “And do you know how you destroy a curse, Sydelle? You become one. You consume your fear and become it. You plague everyone and everything that dares to hurt you or stand in your way.”

He pushed me back against the seat. Perhaps from the noise, the guards had jolted back into awareness, looking between Dorwan’s flushed face and my bleeding lip.

“There’s not a problem,” Dorwan told them. He leaned back in his seat, pulling out a small golden pocket watch and flipping open its cover with a small smile.

We were only halfway up the mountain path when a soldier rode up on horseback and told us to beware of snow ahead. There was no way for the carriages to fight through the icy covering that awaited us at the mountain’s summit, so the king improvised.

“That is the Sleven Mountain,” he told me. We were standing on the road, near where the horses and carriages had been left. The king pointed to a mountain, just across from us in the small range.

“If you can reduce that mountain to rubble, you will have proven yourself to be Salvala’s vessel.”

I turned my face away from him and walked forward, standing at the edge of the road. In the distance, I could make out the faint line of blue that was the Serpentine Channel, but mainly I saw the heavily forested and rocky slope of the mountain below my feet.

The wind increased, kicking up a smattering of snow. I drew the fur cloak around me tightly.

I closed my eyes again, feeling Dorwan’s presence beside me. “You heard the king, Sydelle.”

I turned around to face the others, not bothering to hide my disgust.

“Get this filth away from me,” I said.

“For what reason?” the king called.

“This man is a liar,” I said to the king, and the reaction was instantaneous. “He may be a wizard, but he is certainly no prophet. He found me in Provincia, saw the color of my hair, and decided to use both of us to his advantage.”

I relished the look of alarm that stole across Dorwan’s face when fifteen firearms and even more swords were turned in his direction.

“A lie,” Dorwan said, raising his arms slightly in surrender. “Your Majesty, I can prove her power.”

“Take him!” the king barked, waving the soldiers forward.

“They’ll kill us,” Dorwan said as the soldiers came closer. “They’ll kill us, you foolish little—”

He reached into his coat for the talisman waiting there, but even in my heavy robes I was faster. I shoved him as hard as I could; he stumbled back into the approaching soldiers, who pinned his arms behind him and forced him to the ground.

I was his curse now.

“Sydelle!” he snarled.

“Good-bye, Dorwan,” I said. “Good riddance.”

He saw my plan in my eyes: I would take down this mountain and everyone on it—the king, his men, but, most of all, Reuel Dorwan. And if I couldn’t escape the destruction, so be it. At least the war would be over before it had the chance to begin.

“Take the girl, too!” the king shouted. I heard, rather than saw, a few of the soldiers rush toward me. I held out a hand to stop them.

“Don’t touch me,” I said calmly.

I closed my eyes again, taking a deep breath as I searched for the magic that had once held so much fear for me. Magic is a tool, Pascal had said. Wizards open themselves up to it.

I focused not on my fear or my sorrow but on the world slowly spinning beneath my feet, on the anger I felt inside of me. I thought of those who had wanted to use me, who had thought I was a pawn in their games, and let myself feel every lick of disappointment and fury. This time, I knew how to control my powers. All along I had been feeling, and those feelings had driven the storms and quakes. Now, as the torrent of emotions passed through my heart and out into the world, I felt the familiar warmth of magic rise up with me.