‘A pure blood heir, but it doesn’t matter now. Thanks to a very grateful Light Fae herald, I have plans for the Wey Gates. When Tangra’s soldiers march through Dagome, and the king dies, the nobles will welcome me as their saviour.’ He sighed, pressing his forehead to the cold stone next to my chained hand. ‘Turns out, your alliances helped me form mine. I have your little whore to thank for this.’
‘You’ll fail,’ I whispered, because his obsession with power and bloodline could not win if a single honest man walked this earth. ‘As soon as your subjects learn of your plans, it will all be over.’ Was that why he’d sent his servants away? His plan was pure madness, but I doubted even those closest to him knew of this.
Tivala smirked before turning away and shouting, ‘Guards!’
I watched the four burly men who entered at his command, bowing to their lord. He barely acknowledged this. Instead, he pointed at me with an indifferent expression. ‘Have fun, but make sure she lives another day.’ He walked out without even looking at me. I turned my gaze to the men who stood there, glancing at one another before the shortest broke into a cruel smile.
‘I prefer her with hair, but a cunt is a cunt,’ he said, and I closed my eyes, calling on the steppes and everything good in my life to detach my mind. To help my thoughts wander off before I felt their dirty hands on me again. Then, with all the strength I had left, I slammed my head against the stone wall behind me. The pain blinded me for a moment, but oblivion didn’t come. Instead, a wave of nausea filled my throat with bile.
I heard their voices, the shouting, but my eyes couldn’t focus. There were only shadows flickering before me. The air filled with the sweet scent of oleander resin. I cursed myself for breathing in the toxic substance as it constricted my lungs.
Even now, weak and helpless, my mind teetering on the edge, I easily recognised the poison. It was Jagon’s signature blend. My body tried to heal, but the augurec collar interfered. I was dying, slowly but surely, as each breath filled my lungs with poison.
Poetic. I’m dying from the very poison I helped perfect.
When a man’s silhouette loomed over me, I smiled, my world growing dark. ‘See you in hell, bastard,’ I said, happy I didn’t have long to live.
Sudden movement confused me. I’d been picked up, and my hands were free from the heavy manacles. ‘It’s me, Roksana… Take the antidote.’ Jagon’s voice came from a great distance while something pressed against my lips.
‘Collar… Remove collar,’ I said, refusing his concoction.
After a moment of hesitation, his hands drifted to my neck, and I dropped my head to his shoulder. His work on the collar’s lock took longer than expected. I slowed my breathing, relaxing every muscle to calm my heart, buying myself time before my body stopped responding completely, paralysed by the poison.
I was past the point any antidote could help. Black dots were dancing in front of my eyes when, with a grating sound, the lock broke. Still, the metal collar opened, and with the last of my strength, I yanked it off my neck.
Green vivamancer’s magic flooded my soul like a forest fire, burning through the poison. Air filled my lungs – precious, life-giving air. My body was so weak that my muscles turned to jelly, but I still pushed Jagon away, falling to the floor. He rolled his eyes, lifting me off the ground.
‘There’s no time for your antics, Roksana. Tymon can’t hold off Tangra’s guards for long, even scared out of his wits from your death spell.’ He gestured to someone, and my world disappeared under a heavy winter cloak. ‘So be quiet if you want to live.’
I had no choice but to accept help from the man who, for most of my life, had been my worst enemy. Still, anything was better than the alternative. He carried me away from the stench of filth and blood. I recognised the pattern when his steps changed, and the coldness of the air when we walked outside.
‘Master Jagon? What are you carrying?’ The question stopped my former master in his tracks.
‘Just another body. Our lord burns through them faster than I can dispose of them. He wasn’t kind to this one.’ He pulled backthe edge of the cloak, and the cold air hit me straight in the face while I did my best to play dead.
‘Veles, save us. This is getting worse,’ the guard muttered, covering my face. ‘Place her with the others. We’ll bury them when the ground thaws.’
Jagon grunted something, and a few moments later, I was bundled onto something wooden.
‘Do you have her?’ As impossible as it was, Tymon’s voice came from above. My floor started moving. Ah, a cart. ‘Is she alive?’ The fabric disappeared from my face, and I looked at the Mule’s former master, as he gazed at me with an unreadable expression.
‘You call this alive?’ Jagon answered, propping me against the seat like an oversized doll. ‘Do you have everything ready? As soon as he learns who broke her out of his dungeon, we’re as good as dead.’
‘All ready and waiting for us.’ He looked at me, his eyebrow rising. ‘She won’t survive a journey by sea. Not like that.’
If these two idiots thought I’d let them load me onto a ship, they were sorely mistaken. Still, I wasn’t ready to discuss this essential flaw in their plans just yet. My world swam in and out of focus, proving that Tymon was right. I wasn’t healthy enough to survive anything.
In fact, I couldn’t even lift my head without begging Veles to end it all.
Chapter 34
Roksana
Time passed in a mess of nightmares and delirium. If the gods knew how long it was, they weren’t telling me. My existence was canvas, wood, and tears, because every time someone tried to move me, I screamed.
However, something must have changed. Maybe I’d finally slept, or my body’s needs were urgent enough to bring me back to a semblance of sanity, but I realised the cart was moving. The wobbling and my nausea were a dead giveaway. I pressed my forehead to the side, feeling the velvet fabric of my covering rub gently against my skin. I ignored my former master as he hovered over me, his eyebrows tightly knitting each time he looked at me.
I hadn’t spoken a word to him yet. Any gratitude I felt for my rescue evaporated when I woke up, wrists bound with crudely made augurec manacles fashioned from the broken collar. They weren’t blocking my magic, but the augurec affected it so much that I was afraid to even risk the simplest of spells. Not that I could concentrate enough to cast.
