When he returned, it was with three guards, two women, and a young man, and my eyes jumped to Calix, but he was impassive. They looked tortured—there were bruises and cuts on their skin, and their eyes were sunken and smudged with darkness. The smaller woman was limping hard—her leg looked like it had been broken and never healed properly.
“Calix?” I breathed, but he held up a hand and didn’t look at me.
“What is the risk?” he asked the quaesitor.
“Minimal, my king. We have done frequent studies about how weak they need to be to prevent being a threat, while still being strong enough to make their powers present in some small way. It is quite an exact balance.”
Calix nodded sharply.
The man was first. Barely older than Kairos, he let himself be led, and the quaesitor directed him to a spot in the room. The young man stopped there, and the quaesitor took up another bowl.
“Water, my king,” he said, and poured it out in front of the man. To the young man, he said, “Do it.”
I held my breath as the young man raised his hand, and slowly the water lifted, trembling a little, betraying the weakness of either the man or his ability. I gasped, looking to my husband.
But instead of anger, there was a hungry greed on Calix’s face.
“And now,” the quaesitor said, reaching for the bottle. He unstoppered it, holding it out toward the young man expectantly.
The water stayed aloft, and the young man looked at the quaesitor, unsure of himself.
The quaesitor tilted his head and splashed some of the green liquid on the young man. He gasped, recoiling, and the water fell.
Calix pushed forward in his seat. “Raise the water again,” he ordered the young man.
The green liquid seemed to have only scared him; he was unharmed, but he shook his head. “I can’t,” I heard him whisper.
“Can’t or won’t?” Calix asked, standing from his chair. “Motivate him, Quaesitor.”
The Elementa man hurriedly held up his hand, and it shook visibly, but nothing happened.
“You see?” the quaesitor crowed.
The young man looked at me, and I felt the threads push up at my hands and skin, choking my throat, demanding I do something.
I shoved them away, trembling. I would not be exposed, not here, not now, not ever. Not if this was the result.
Not unless I knew that elixir worked, and I could get some for myself.
“Again!” Calix shouted, clasping his hands behind his back.
A girl was brought forward, the one with the bad leg, and her lip curled in fury as they pushed her. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled, but her eyes were locked on my husband.
“Stay back, my king,” the quaesitor said. “She was part of the Resistance.”
“I am part of the Resistance,” she corrected. “And you just put me in a room with the king.”
She raised her hand, and Calix made a choked noise.
“Calix?” I cried, jumping from my chair. I ran to his side as his face flushed darker and his hand clawed at his throat.
The quaesitor threw the liquid on her, and nothing happened.
She laughed. “You will die by an Elementa hand,” she snarled. “Isn’t that your fa—”
Calix dropped, and so did she. The guard behind her withdrew his sword from her chest with a disgusting crack. I stared at her in shock—she had landed on her knees, and she held there for a moment as blood bloomed on her chest, and she looked at me.
But then she fell, crumpling to the floor, and the spell was broken.
Shaking hard, I reached for Calix, who was gasping and coughing. I touched his face, but he sat up and pushed me. I fell back onto my hands as he stood, wiping spittle from his face as he went to the guard who had killed her and yanked a knife out of his belt.
The girl was dead, unmoving and quiet, and still Calix launched on her, stabbing her over and over and over again.
“Calix!” I sobbed, covering my mouth and trying to push away as her blood caught on my skirt and her body was mangled beyond recognition.
Calix threw down the blood-drenched blade and strode over to the quaesitor, grabbing the front of his black coat and dragging his face close. “Your elixir couldn’t stop an insect! You think this is a game?” he snarled. “You think I am joking about this? Next time you come to me with imperfect results I will take your head—do you understand me?”
“Yes, yes, my king!” the man cried.
“Get this scum out of my sight!” he roared, shoving the quaesitor toward the Elementae.
A loud sob escaped me, and I covered my mouth as my husband seemed to notice me. “Stop crying!” he roared. “Get up!”
I struggled to my feet, and as soon as I did, he grabbed my arm, dragging me into the hall with blood-drenched fingers. He stormed through the hallways, flinging open a door and pounding down a dark stone staircase echoing with chains and distant cries.
“Who else is with the Resistance?” he bellowed. I tugged against his wrist, too frightened to cry, too aware of the rocks around me that wanted to answer my fear with power. It felt like nausea, my body desperate to give in and desperate to resist in the same awful moment.
The quaesitori down here skittered to open more doors, and Calix yanked my wrist, turning me to face him. “You think I’m cruel, wife? You think I’m cruel because I try to eliminate enemies who try to murder me? They work on your brother’s command!” he roared at me.
“You’re hurting me,” I whimpered, trying to pull away.
He let me go, and I stumbled back against the rock as he turned to face the quaesitori. “Execute them,” he snapped.
“My king, it will destroy the validity of our information—” one protested.
“Your information is already invalid,” he snarled. “Now. So my wife can see.”
I screamed as they slit the throat of one middle-aged man, and I didn’t wait to see another. I turned and fled back the way I’d come, my heart pounding.
I kept running until I hit the open garden. A section of the garden was built around a large boulder, and the moment I fell against it, I felt stronger, and the revulsion brewing in my stomach eased.
Then I hated myself, that I could breathe easily again after watching those people murdered before me.
And worse, the fear that shook every bone and every bit of me wasn’t for them. I saw my face in their stead as I relived the murders I had just witnessed. My face, streaked with blood. My body, feeling the pierce and crunch of the blade that I was supposed to be able to control.
If I couldn’t get rid of this power, it would be my fate.
And if I couldn’t sway his heart, it would be the fate of hundreds of others.
It was a long while before Calix emerged. I had struggled to my feet and thought better of it, sitting down again on a bench and looking at the closed gates. As little as I wanted to, I knew I had to wait for him. I had to compose myself and put my fear behind me. I had to convince him to see the madness of his actions.
Then he appeared. He looked at me and moved past without touching me. A soldier brought his horse, and he waved it away, cutting a sharp look to me. “You like to walk, don’t you?” he snapped.
I nodded, silent, and he waited for me to step beside him before he started walking at a punishing pace. I kept up with him.