The Invasion of the Tearling

Kelsea shook her head to clear it. He hadn’t spoken out loud, she was sure. But still, his voice echoed inside her head, a low hum with a clear Tear accent. Her pulse sped up and her breath shortened, as though both reactions had been set to a metronome. Her palms, dry as a bone moments before, had begun to sweat.

She opened her mouth to speak, and he put a finger to his lips.

We meet in the quiet, Tear heir.

Kelsea blinked. Behind the curtain drawn over the doorway, she could still hear Pen moving around, getting ready for bed. He hadn’t heard a thing.

Nothing to say?

She peeked down at her sapphires, but they lay dark and quiescent against the black silk of her dress, silk that now hung loosely on Kelsea’s frame. Her mind tilted dizzily, and she felt intoxicated, as though she should slap herself awake. She met the man’s eyes and a thought arrowed out of her, as cleanly as breathing.

Who are you?

A friend.

Kelsea thought not. Andalie’s warnings recurred to her, but she didn’t need Andalie to know that this man didn’t come in friendship. His gaze seemed to pin her where she stood, and she had the sense that all of his attention was focused on her, that nothing was so important to him as Kelsea Glynn at this moment. Handsome as sin, Andalie had warned, but she had failed to do him justice. Kelsea had never had any man seem utterly absorbed in her before, and it was a seductive feeling.

What do you want? she asked him.

Only to help you, Tear heir. Do you wish to know of the Mort Queen? Of the movements of her army? Where she is weak? I can tell you all of these things.

Free of charge, I suppose.

Wise child. Everything has a price.

What’s the price?

He pointed to her hand, which had crept up, almost unconsciously, to clutch her two sapphires. You hold jewels of enormous power, Tear heir. You could do me a great service.

Enormous power? After the Argive, Kelsea supposed that was true, but what good was all the power in the world if she couldn’t control it, couldn’t summon it on command? Inconsistent power would not mitigate the Mort army’s massive advantage in size and weaponry.

What power?

I have seen one jewel alter time and create miracles. But the other has the power of flesh, and you have a strong will, Tear heir. You will be able to flay skin and crush bones.

Kelsea considered this idea for a moment, darkly fascinated. She closed her eyes and saw it suddenly: the Almont, stretched between horizons, and the Mort army cowering, fleeing before her … was it possible?

The man in front of her smiled, as though he had read her mind, and gestured toward the fireplace. Look and see.

Kelsea found a wide mirage in front of the flames, a broad vista of salt flats and black water that could only be western Mortmesne. Lake Karczmar, it must be, where the Mort army lay massed at the base of the Border Hills. But now the hillside was in chaos, treetops aflame and men in black uniforms fighting wildly. A pall of smoke covered the trees.

Here are your soldiers, Tear heir. They will fall.

The Tear were being pressed back now, overwhelmed by superior numbers and forced back up the hillside. Hall’s battalion, Kelsea realized, and they were going to die. Pain sliced through her, and she reached out toward the mirage, wanting to grasp them, to carry them away.

The man snapped his fingers and the mirage winked out, leaving only firelight. She thought of calling for Pen, but the stranger’s gaze seemed to hold her frozen.

The Mort Queen has vulnerabilities. They are exploitable. And the service I ask in return is very small.

Thinking of Andalie’s warning, Kelsea shook her head. I want no part of you.

Ah, but that’s not true, Tear heir. I have watched you for some time. You long to be an adult, but those around you often treat you like a child. Is it not so?

Kelsea didn’t reply. The man stepped forward, giving her every chance to back away, and placed a hand around her waist. His hand was warm, and Kelsea immediately felt the skin beneath turn hot and feverish. Pressure echoed deep in the pit of her stomach.

I will never treat you as a child, Tear heir. I have never cared whether you were pretty or plain. I have known myriad women, but I will treat you as unique.

Kelsea believed him. It was the voice, its hollow tones so smoothly confident that they seemed to weave certainty out of thin air. She met his eyes and found them understanding, full of some sort of dark knowledge of Kelsea that he had no business having. For a moment she was tempted, so strong was the pull of being an adult with a life of her own, of making terrible mistakes the way everyone else was allowed to. And this man would be a good choice, for he had been the ruination of many women, she had no doubt.

But weaker women than me, a voice spoke up quietly inside her. I’m not one to be taken in.

Carefully, she removed his hand from her waist. His skin was oddly dry, but even this was exciting in its own way; she couldn’t help wondering what such dry hands would feel like between her legs, whether they would elicit the same sensations as her own. She backed away from him, trying to regain some control of herself, some equilibrium.

What do you want? she demanded. Be explicit.

Freedom.

Who imprisons you?