Brightly Woven(83)

Before I could take another step, a blast of water slammed into both the queen and me, knocking us back against the door. My forehead collided with the sharp edge of the doorknob, and it was enough to stun me for a moment.

I turned, searching until I found the queen a short distance away. She was on the ground, unmoving. Her dress was pooled around her, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if she was alive at all until I saw her breathe.

I pulled myself up onto my knees, but Dorwan was just as quick to knock me back down.

“You still have such spirit,” he said, laughing. “It breaks my heart.”

“As if it hasn’t already shriveled up,” I said. I rolled onto my side, trying to ignore the sharp pain in my head. He knelt on me, forcing the air from my chest. I tried to push him off, but it was like trying to move a stone wall.

“You let them suppress your magic, didn’t you?” Dorwan’s eyes narrowed. “Why is it so difficult for you to understand that power is a blessing? Why do you let them make you feel ashamed of it?”

His fingers traced the length of my arm, a disturbingly gentle act, until they came to rest on my wrist. His eyes flashed in recognition and I felt, rather than saw, his fingers seize the thin metal.

“Take it off,” I dared him. “I can control my magic with or without it.”

Dorwan tightened his hand around my wrist until the pain was nearly excruciating. “Take it off and give you the chance to use your magic? Nice try.”

The dagger slid deeply, unexpectedly, against the length of my arm, from elbow to wrist. I opened my mouth to release a scream of pain, but he pressed his hand firmly against my mouth.

“You asked me why I didn’t save the king?” Dorwan said. “It occurred to me that if I had your power, it really wouldn’t matter if they invaded or not. I’m tired of waiting for things to fall into place. I’ll be more than capable of ruining this kingdom with your blood.”

He pulled a flask from his side, twisting the top open methodically and placing it near the dagger. Dorwan was silent for a moment, bringing one of his bloodstained gloves up to my eyes. He licked the tip of its thumb. “Red, the color of life, of passion. You wear it so well.”

Dorwan cut into my arm again, this time a little lower. The warmth trickled down the length of my arm, collecting in the gaping mouth of the flask.

“You won’t win,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I already have, Sydelle,” Dorwan said softly. “Everyone above us will be overrun and torn—augh!” An unexpected crack sounded, cutting his words short.

The queen stood with one of the fireplace pokers in her hands. The tip of it had broken off in her strike and landed near my face. Her shoulders heaved as she took in deep gulps of air.

“What a vile, horrible man!” she cried, still holding the black metal rod, as if waiting to strike him again. “Did I kill him?”

I crawled closer to Dorwan’s prone form and, to my great disappointment, found him still breathing. I shook my head, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

Before either of us could do anything, the doors to the chamber burst open with a cloud of fire. I shielded my eyes from the intense light and heat.

“Lass!” Owain appeared out of the cloud of dark smoke, sword in hand. He coughed, waving a hand to clear away the smoke.

“We’re here!” I called, and he rushed toward us.

A group of two dozen wizards flooded into the room. Owain knelt beside me. He pulled off his leather glove to hold against my wound, but it did little to staunch the flow of blood.

I’m in a room full of wizards, I thought, and none of them have even looked my way. North’s bracelet really was a gift.

“What are you doing standing there like gaping idiots?” the queen shouted. “Someone take this man and throw him in the dungeons! If he’s alive, make sure there are at least ten men on him at all times. Are you out of your minds with shock or stupidity? For goodness’ sake, someone get the healers! If she or any of my guards bleed to death, it’ll all be on your heads!”

It might have been exhaustion or the loss of blood, but I let out a laugh. Queen Eglantine turned toward Owain and me.

“And who says these wizards are invincible foes?” she asked.

“You made quick work of him,” Owain noted in approval. “Cracked him on the head. Good girl.”

I watched as Dorwan was carried from the room, bound and gagged even in his unconscious state, and for the first time in weeks, I felt safe.

A small group of healers appeared at the door a few moments later. Most of them attended to the wizards that Dorwan had attacked, but one, an elderly gentleman, went straight for the queen.

“She’s the one bleeding, not me!” Queen Eglantine sighed. “Honestly!”

The healer went to work immediately, cleaning my cuts as best he could. “I’ll have to stitch these,” he said, glancing up at me through his spectacles. “It’ll hurt something fierce.”

I must have made a face because Owain suddenly slapped his hand on his knee and said, “Lass! Have I ever told you the story of Vesta’s glorious birth? It started on a cloudy fall day, several years back….”

It was enough to distract me from the needle, but I wasn’t sure which was worse.

“—and it felt like coming home, lass, such a beautiful moment.” He finished at the same time as the healer.