II
The room went deathly still.
Kell’s hand slipped from Rhy’s ribs, and his body tumbled from the cot to the stone floor with a sickening thud. Lila’s ears were still ringing from the force of her head meeting the wall as she pushed herself to her hands and knees, and then to her feet.
Kell wasn’t moving. Wasn’t breathing.
And then, after a moment that seemed to last hours, he drew a deep, shuddering breath. And so did Rhy.
Lila swore with relief as she knelt over Kell. His shirt was open, his stomach and chest streaked with blood, but under that, a black symbol, made up of concentric circles, was branded into his skin, directly over his heart. Lila looked up at the cot. The same mark was scrawled over Rhy’s bloody chest.
“What have you done?” she whispered. She didn’t know that much about magic, but she was fairly certain that bringing someone back from the dead was solidly in the bad column. If all magic came at a price, what had this cost Kell?
As if in answer, his eyes floated open. Lila was relieved to see that one of them was still blue. There had been an instant, during the spell, when both had gone solid black.
“Welcome back,” she said.
Kell groaned, and Lila helped him up into a sitting position on the cold stone floor. His attention went to the bed, where Rhy’s chest rose and fell in a slow but steady motion. His eyes went from the mark on the prince’s skin to the mirrored mark on his own, which he touched, wincing faintly.
“What did you do?” asked Lila.
“I bound Rhy’s life to mine,” he said hoarsely. “As long as I survive, so will he.”
“That seems like a dangerous spell.”
“It’s not a spell,” he said softly. She didn’t know if he lacked the strength to speak louder or was afraid of waking his brother. “It’s called a soul seal. Spells can be broken. A soul seal cannot. It’s a piece of permanent magic. But this,” he added, grazing the mark, “this is …”
“Forbidden?” ventured Lila.
“Impossible,” said Kell. “This kind of magic, it doesn’t exist.”
He seemed dazed and distant as he got to his feet, and Lila tensed when she saw that he was still gripping the stone. Black veins traced up his arm. “You need to let go of that now.”
Kell looked down, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. But when he managed to unclench his fingers, the talisman didn’t fall out. Threads of black spun out from the rock, winding down his fingers and up his wrist. He stared down at the stone for several long moments. “It appears I can’t,” he said at last.
“Isn’t that bad?” pressed Lila.
“Yes,” he said, and his calm worried her more than anything. “But I didn’t have a choice. … I had to …” He trailed off, turning toward Rhy.
“Kell, are you all right?” It seemed an absurd question, given the circumstances, and Kell gave her a look that said as much, so Lila added, “When you were doing that spell, you weren’t you.”
“Well, I am now.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked, gesturing at his hand. “Because that’s new.” Kell frowned. “That rock is bad magic; you said it yourself. It feeds on energy. On people. And now it’s strapped itself to you. You can’t tell me that doesn’t worry you.”
“Lila,” he said darkly. “I couldn’t let him die.”
“But what you’ve done instead—”
“I did what I had to do,” he said. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I am already lost.”
Lila scowled. “What do you mean by that?”
Kell’s eyes softened a little. “Someone has to return the stone to Black London, Lila. It’s not just a matter of opening a door and casting the object through. I have to take it there. I have to walk through with it.” Kell looked down at the stone binding itself to his hand. “I never expected to make it back.”
“Christ, Kell,” growled Lila. “If you’re not going to bother staying alive, then what’s the damn point? Why tether Rhy’s life to yours if you’re just going to throw it away?”
Kell cringed. “So long as I live, so will he. And I didn’t say I planned on dying.”
“But you just said—”
“I said I’m not coming back. The seals on Black London were designed less to keep anyone from going in, and more to keep anyone from getting out. I can’t strip the spells. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. And with the spells intact, even if I manage to make a door into Black London, the seals will never let me back out.”
“And you weren’t going to mention any of this. You were just going to let me follow you on a one-way trip to—”
“You said you wanted an adventure,” snapped Kell, “and no, I never intended to let you—”
Just then the door swung open. Kell and Lila fell silent, their argument echoing on the walls of the narrow stone chamber.
An old man was standing in the doorway wearing a black robe, one hand against the doorframe, the other holding up a sphere of pale white light. He wasn’t old in a withered way. In fact, he stood straight and broad-shouldered, his age belied only by his white hair and the deep creases on his face, made deeper by the shadows cast from the light in his palm. Kell pulled his coat around himself and buried his damaged hand in his pocket.
“Master Tieren,” he said casually, as if the informality of his voice could cover up the fact that he and Lila were streaked with blood and standing in front of the body of a nearly dead prince.
“Kell,” said the man, frowning deeply. “Kers la? Ir vanesh mer. …” And then he trailed off and looked at Lila. His eyes were pale and startlingly blue; they seemed to go straight through her. His brow furrowed, and then he began speaking again, this time in English. As if he could tell, with a single glance, that she did not understand, did not belong. “What brings you here?” he asked, addressing both of them.
“You said I would always have a room,” answered Kell wearily. “I’m afraid I had need of it.”
He stepped aside so that Master Tieren could see the wounded prince.
The man’s eyes went wide, and he touched his fingers to his lips in a small prayer-like gesture. “Is he … ?”
“He’s alive,” said Kell, hand drifting to his collar to hide the mark. “But the palace is under attack. I cannot explain everything, not now, but you must believe me, Tieren. It has been taken by traitors. They are using forbidden magic, possessing the bodies and minds of those around them. No one is safe—nowhere is safe—and no one is to be trusted.” He was breathless by the time he finished.
Tieren crossed to Kell in a handful of slow strides. He took Kell’s face in his hands, the gesture strangely intimate, and looked into his eyes as he had Lila’s, as if he could see past them. “What have you done to yourself?”
Kell’s voice caught in his throat. “Only what I had to.” His coat had fallen open, and the man’s gaze drifted down to the blackened mark over Kell’s heart. “Please,” he said, sounding frightened. “I would not have brought danger into these halls, but I had no choice.”
The man’s hands fell away. “The sanctuary is warded against darkness. The prince will be safe within these walls.”
Relief swept across Kell’s features. Tieren turned to consider Lila a second time.
“You are not from here,” he said by way of introduction.
Lila held out her hand. “Delilah Bard.”
The man took it, and something like a shiver, but warmer, passed beneath her skin, a calm spreading through her in its wake. “My name is Master Tieren,” he said. “I am the onase aven—that is to say, the head priest—of the London Sanctuary. And a healer,” he added, as if to explain the sensation. Their hands fell apart, and Tieren went to the prince’s side and brought his bony fingers to rest feather-light on top of Rhy’s chest. “His injuries are severe.”
“I know,” said Kell shakily. “I can feel them as if they were my own.”
Lila tensed, and Tieren’s expression darkened. “Then I will do what I can to ease his pain, and yours.”
Kell nodded gratefully. “It’s my fault,” he said. “But I will set things right.” Tieren opened his mouth to speak, but Kell stopped him. “I cannot tell you,” he said. “I must ask for your trust as well as your discretion.”
Tieren’s mouth became a thin line. “I will lead you to the tunnels,” he said. “From there you will be able to find your way. Whichever way you need.”