The news that Tivala knew about my vivamancy trumped even the fact that Jagon was trying to protect me. My mouth went dry, the walls of the cell closing like a trap on me. Still, I couldn’t lose my composure in front of Tymon. His scrutiny told me he was hoping for that. For the first crack to appear in my cold, controlled façade.
‘How much do they know?’ I asked, feeling a slight tightness in my chest when my aether finished filling the sigil. The spell was unproven, but if it worked… I’d found a vague description in a book on vivamancy Ciesko had given me, but since I had nothing better, I adapted it to my purpose.
‘Just that you have weird magic– Fuck… what is this?’ he said, collapsing as I entwined a strand of his aether with the sigil I’d created, before anchoring it to my power.
‘This is my weird magic,’ I said, finishing the weave that linked his life force to my essence. A chill breeze from the ventilation shaft cooled the prickly heat that using my magic had caused. The spell had appeared good on paper, but the amount of aetherit consumed significantly weakened me. Still, it was done, and now I needed to test my theory.
I reached for my dagger, and Tymon sneered before saying, ‘I thought we had an accord.’
I didn’t look at him, whispering the activation command, sinking the tip of the dagger into my forearm. I felt no pain at all while the sigil on his chest flared to life, and the wound appeared on Tymon’s flesh. Tymon cursed, reaching for his arm to staunch the blood.
‘What have you done to me?’ he asked, eyeing me warily.
‘I gave you a reason to be loyal to me. Don’t worry, you won’t experience everything I feel.’ I grinned, wanting to bounce with joy, after seeing the spell succeed. I placed my hand on the sigil again until it faded into his skin. ‘You’ll be fine unless I activate the spell. Then if I die, you’ll die, and if you sell me to Tivala, I’ll let you suffer whatever pain befalls me.’
Tymon tensed under my hand. ‘You turned me into one of those dolls witches sell on the market. Gods if I could only just–’
‘Kill me?’ I smiled, looking up at him.
Tymon paused. His chains rattled as maniacal laughter shook the interrogation room. ‘You’re worse than Jagon. I always wondered what he saw in you, but now I know. Your mercy is a curse, your touch a poison.’
‘Aww… Tymon, your courtly compliments belong in the highest nobles’ halls,’ I mocked him, rolling my eyes. ‘You should’ve worked as an actor. Splendid performance; extra points for the dramatic laughter,’ I said once he’d calmed down.
‘Why?’ New calculation entered his eyes. ‘You promised to let me live.’
‘No, I promised you that you won’tstaydead. First, you need to die, and in a way that satisfies my father.’
He frowned. ‘Fine, tell me what I must do.’
‘You will be the good little penitent. No provoking Boyan or the Blades. Remember, for this to work, I have to be the one who kills you. My poison will slow your heart and paralyse your body, but you will live, and I can reverse it. If Boyan loses his temper and opens your throat, not even gods can save you.’
At my words, his mouth fell open and genuine interest flashed in his eyes. ‘If you can do it. Hmm, that would make convoys so much easier,’ he murmured, but I shook my head.
‘If only we were friends, I would even tell you how to do it,’ I said, enjoying the annoyance that flashed in his eyes.
‘You’re a right royal bitch,’ he said, but before I could retort, the door to the cell opened, and three masked assassins came in armed to the teeth.
‘The assembly is ready to proceed. Boyan has asked to see you,’ one said, and I glanced at Tymon. His eyes widened at this display.
‘Remember your promise, Nightshade.’ Tymon’s voice fused with the clatter of the chains, and the guards looked at each other warily. I knew Boyan would hear all about this interaction.
‘Yes, I promised you death,’ I answered with a grin, watching them take him out until the door thudded closed. I leaned against the wall, breathing slowly. I’d done it. I forced Tymon to work for me, but at what cost? How long could I continue losing pieces of my soul until I turned into another Jagon, uncaring and manipulating people at my whim?
Still, the assembly was about to begin, and I had a job to do, as horrible as it felt to participate in the theatre of death. The Brotherhood had few rules, but betrayal always meant death, and it rarely came on swift and painless wings.
Chapter 21
Roksana
The dining hall was already full when I slipped into the room, keeping to the periphery, listening to the whispered conversations around me. The guards escorted their charge towards the raised dais on which the head table sat, halting before Boyan in his ornate chair.
The gathering exceeded my expectations. Everyone in the Brotherhood able to attend was here, not just the ones in the building. Gossip and bad news travelled swiftly in a group infamous for its secrets. Even the servants, usually invisible, stood quietly, huddled together as they discussed the announcement, their eyes lighting up with curiosity when Tymon entered. My gaze shifted to the head table with its two empty seats. It was a sad indictment of the Brotherhood’s current state.
Boyan sat tapping the heavy brocade on the arm of his chair. Even pale, he was still projecting an aura of menace that gave me pause. Next to him was Bolko, the Observer’s master, smirking as if he already knew what was coming. On my father’sleft, Irsha signalled to his Blades, positioning them strategically throughout the crowd to quell any resistance.
The sound of someone choking snapped me back to the centrepiece of this spectacle. Tymon was forced to kneel between his guards, a noose and pole leashing him like a rabid dog. My father hadn’t been joking when he promised to make an example of Tymon. Humiliation like this had to sting, but the former chapter master remained silent, his gaze darting in my direction.
When the crowd settled, Boyan hammered a dagger into the table, the gesture silencing everyone in the room. ‘I summoned you here to witness the end of a traitor unworthy of the Brotherhood’s mark,’ he said, pausing a moment to let his words sink in.
