If he didn’t go, not only would he be dooming Ella and everything she loved, he would be giving his enemy a chance to gain a foothold that the Empire might never push him back from.
Killian made his decision. “I’m going to go,” he said. “My responsibility isn’t just to Tingara, it’s to the Empire as a whole. I need to show the houses I will defend their borders as staunchly as my own. For good or ill, this is what I’m going to do.” His voice strengthened as he spoke. “I’ll leave a force here, but I’m going to take the Legion to Altura.”
“I wish you hadn’t said that,” Carla murmured.
Everything happened very quickly.
Carla had a knife in her hand, and all thoughts of tiredness vanished as Killian felt adrenalin surge through his limbs. The knife was short, but silver symbols decorated the blade, and as Carla spoke an activation sequence, Killian knew it must be enchanted.
His mind whirled as he also saw a black paste smeared along the blade. Carla was taking no chances.
Carla lunged at him and Killian tried to dodge the blow, but she was fast and the knife scraped his arm, leaving a trail of dark poison. The runes on Killian’s skin flared brightly but the knife didn’t break the skin. Killian was surprised to see the blade still dark, as if Carla’s spoken rune had no effect at all.
Carla cursed and thrust again, but now Killian was more alert, and he warded her blow easily, grabbing hold of her wrist until she grimaced. Without thinking, Killian felt power surge through his limbs as he threw the young woman across the room. Carla crumpled against the wall, sending a shudder through the timber.
Killian came to his feet, confused, but knowing he was under attack.
Carla crouched on the floor, staring down at the knife in her hand and frowning. She glared at Killian, her eyes dark with malevolence.
Killian glanced at the empty glass on the side table. “You . . . drugged me?”
“How are you still moving?” she demanded. “They told me . . .”
“Who, Carla? Who is making you do this?”
She lifted her chin. “No one. It’s my choice!”
“Why?” Killian pleaded.
The door to Killian’s bedchamber opened.
Lady Alise stood in the doorway. With an acrobat’s agility Carla shot up, and her thoughts evidently turned to escape, for she lunged with the knife at Killian’s mother.
“No!” Killian cried.
Killian’s training at Evrin’s hands came to the fore, overriding all other thoughts, and he chanted runes in quick breaths. He pointed his fingers at Carla and felt the power well within him as symbols shone with blinding brightness on his hands. Twisted threads of blue lightning bathed his former lover before she could strike his mother. Carla writhed as the energy strengthened and thickened, ripping at her body until she screamed in agony. Finally, she collapsed on the ground and was still. Smoke rose from her clothes, and her eyes stared without seeing.
Killian dropped his hands.
“What have I done?” he whispered. “Mother.” Killian rushed to her side, stopping in surprise when Alise held him back, instead moving over to Carla and plucking the blade from her dead fingers.
Killian’s mystified eyes went from his mother, to Carla’s body, and back again. He crouched beside the young woman with the sharp nose and raven-black hair as the silence dragged out, but Carla was dead.
Alise drew in a shuddering breath. “I came as soon as I heard the news, but it seems she beat me to it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Look at the knife,” Alise said.
Killian tried not to look at Carla’s body as his mother handed him the knife. He expected it to be hot, burning with the power of enchantment. Instead it was cool.
As he held the knife out flat in his palm, Killian saw the symbols weren’t actual runes, they were mockeries of lore, and would do nothing at all. He’d heard Carla name an activation sequence, but the blade didn’t respond.
Alise took the knife back from her son, holding it by the hilt. She ran her finger along the black smear.
“Stop, the poison,” Killian cried, but then he stopped in wonder as his mother put her finger in her mouth.
“It’s only treacle,” Alise said. “I thought this might be when she made her move.”
“You knew?”
“I knew something, but not much, and no, I wasn’t certain. When I found an enchanted knife in her possession, along with two jars of strange liquid, one green and one black, then I had my suspicions.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I am sorry, but I did what I had to do. I had to let you discover her treachery on your own. If I’d said anything, it would have created a divide between us, and I would have showed my hand, leaving her and whomever she works for to find some other way to strike. No, don’t protest—you would have resented me, dear. I have been dealing with treachery a lot longer than you have. I was raised amid plots and whispered conversation, I am familiar with such intrigues.”