The councilor held out a hand to pacify him. “Watch your tongue, Munney,” he said to the prisoner.
Munney dropped his gaze once again to the floor, repositioning his feet as he let out a long sigh.
“It is good to confirm what we have already discovered about this situation, but why did your attack not kill my son Aden when it deflected to him?” King Frederich took over the role of the questioning.
“Aden intercepted the intent of the magic, weakening its effect.”
“You will reverse this effect?” The tone of Queen Cara’s question held certain consequences for anyone who failed to answer it as she desired.
“I cannot.”
“You cannot, or you will not?” Her voice was quiet, which only intensified the weight of her words.
“I cannot.” This time, the sincerity in Munney’s voice surprisingly matched his humble posture.
Not that he was deserving of their trust, which he had already broken. But for the first time during this uncomfortable interaction, he was not speaking with disdain.
The king turned a questioning gaze to the councilor.
“To the best of our knowledge, this is true.” The councilor sighed heavily, his own confident aura slipping away with the gravity of this information. “We have questioned him under threat of death—and worse—to reverse this matter, and it seems that what he says is true.”
Aden could feel the tension in the room slowly ebbing toward despair. Hopelessness. His own powerlessness to get out of the nightmare in which he had found himself.
“Remember,” the councilor continued, “this is a magic that thrives on chaos. It seems that it cannot exert its power in an action that would restore balance and harmony. This coincides with what the examiners in Chendas have discovered about the magic as well.”
Aden’s body lost its ability to stand straight, his muscles sagging against his unfamiliar skeleton. To hear that there was absolutely no reason for hope felt as though someone had stabbed him and twisted the knife.
The previous night, when Onric and Ashlin had brought the old seamstress from the village, he had felt a flicker of hope. As though his interference with the magic might mean that his condition could be reversed. The woman had restored some of his sight, but the only thing she had uncovered about the situation was the rose.
The rose.
Aden leaped from the shadows, plowing past the seated Meena to grasp Munney’s upper arms. He released his claws just enough to cause a little bite.
“What about the rose?” Aden snarled.
“The... the rose?” Munney tried to regain his composure, but Aden could smell his fear.
“I was holding a glass rose when your curse attacked me. It was beautifully sculpted, an exquisite piece really. Probably created by your... ancestors.” Aden flexed his claws to emphasize the derision in the last word.
Munney’s face, inches from his own, was merely a wash of color in Aden’s straining eyes. But he could feel the man trembling in his hands. Aden relished the sense of power that brought him.
“That rose,” he continued, “apparently became a real rose as a result of your... little attack.”
Something stiffened in Munney’s body, as though he had regained some semblance of control despite the beast towering over him. “It did?” Munney asked, a touch of triumph in his voice.
“What did you do?” Aden increased the growl beneath his voice. Without turning his head, he spoke to his brother. “Onric, get the rose.”
The sound of Onric’s footsteps dashing out the door told him that his order had been obeyed.
“I did notdoanything,” Munney responded. He tried to use the momentary distraction to step backward, putting space between them.
Aden held him firmly in place.
“My magic should have transformed you totally and completely into a beast,” Munney continued. “In fact, even I will admit to being surprised that you retained some of your human functions.” Munney sniffed. “Though I see now I may have been mistaken in that.”
Aden snarled, shaking the man.
Munney instantly went stiff with fright, though he recovered himself quickly.
