Kirk took his hands away from his face, glaring. “I never should’ve helped you!”
“Please,” she said.
“You’re about to be dead,” he said. “There’s no point in serving you.”
“But this will take you back to the Lands,” she said, placing the green seed at the Kirk’s feet. Then she reached under her tank top and pulled out the Enneahedron. The loss of it against her chest left her doubled over, almost face down on the carpet. Creeping fingers of darkness clawed at her consciousness. “Take the Enneahedron back to the Lands,” she said, “to the Crown. Tell her that Lavana is serving the Elf King and that she cannot be allowed to become Radiant. Please.”
Kirk folded his arms stubbornly. “I told you, I cannot serve you. You will be dead soon. If I’m bound to you, then I will be weakened and eventually perish.”
“Listen, Kirk. Lavana is working for the Throne, the King, the descendent of the one who destroyed your home. If Lavana takes this now, then the Throne will be victorious. And if she becomes the Crown, then you can be sure there will be many more homes razed and burned as yours was. Please.”
Kirk swore under his breath as the ogre’s fist bashed into the balcony doors, but didn’t quite fit through. Magda toppled and slammed onto her face, screaming as her broken arm hit the ground. She rolled over onto her back and received a mouthful of dust as the ceiling cracked.
“Some mistress you are,” Kirk said near her ear. His tiny hand grazed her temple. She assumed the touch was binding him to her service, but she was so pain-addled she could not feel the power of the connection forming between them.
“I will take the Enneahedron, Mistress,” he said.
Then he turned and swept up the seed and the Enneahedron, even though it was as tall as he was and three times as wide.
She blinked through the dust-clouded tears pooling in her eyes. “Thank you, Kirk.”
“Where will this seed take me?” he asked.
“To an old friend, Tamia,” she said. “Tell her everything that’s happened. She will help you reach the Spire.”
“As you wish,” he said grimly, “Mistress.”
He popped the seed into his mouth and vanished.
And then, just as Python had said it would, everything went dark.
SHE WOKE TOLavana screaming at her. “Where is it? What did you do with it?”
Stunned to be opening her eyes, Magda smiled and received a sharp slap across the face for it.
She was in a dark room somewhere. Pain began to filter back into her consciousness, but her arm seemed to be somewhat better than before. She could wiggle her fingers at least. Either someone had healed her or enough time had passed—days—that her body had been able to heal itself. Pixies could heal more quickly than many races, though that did not mean they couldn’t be killed by particularly egregious wounds.
“She’s still in the healing slumber,” a bored voice said from the darkness.
“I know that!” Lavana shouted.
She seized Magda’s arms, sending a searing wave up Magda’s shoulder and into her head, causing her consciousness to cut in and out like a faulty light bulb.
“I will find out what you did with it! And then I will kill you.” She released Magda again, who began to sink away from Lavana and the shadows around her. “Put her back in the irons.”
“That will only slow her healing and make this process go on longer,” the bored voice reported.
“Shut up,” she said. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I hope so,” the voice said in a vaguely threatening manner. And then Magda slipped back into darkness.
When she woke again, she was face down on a freezing, grimy surface. Her head ached and she was glad not to have anything in her stomach, since she was sure she would’ve lost it. Instead, bile burned the back of her throat.
Something furry brushed by her face—a rat. Before she could think to send it off, the creature squeaked and darted away. A pebble struck her cheek, stinging. She winced and groaned.
“Oh, sorry,” a voice said. “I was trying to hit the rat.”
She touched her cheek. It came away red.
